Andreas Willi - Origins of The Greek Verb (2018, Cambridge University Press)

ORIGINS OF THE GREEK VERB
ANDREAS WILLI
University of Oxford
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Situated at the crossroads of comparative philology, classics, and

general historical linguistics, this study is the first ever attempt to
outline in full the developments which led from the remotest recover-
able stages of the Indo-European proto-language to the complex
verbal system encountered in Homer and other early Greek texts.
By combining the methods of comparative and internal reconstruc-
tion with a careful examination of large collections of primary data
and insights gained from the study of language change and linguistic
typology, Andreas Willi uncovers the deeper reasons behind many
surface irregularities and offers a new understanding of how categories
such as aspect, tense, and voice interact. Drawing upon evidence from
all major branches of Indo-European, and providing exhaustive cri-
tical coverage of scholarly debate on the most controversial issues, this
book will be an essential reference tool for anyone seeking orientation
in this burgeoning but increasingly fragmented area of linguistic
research.
andreas willi is Diebold Professor of Comparative Philology at

the University of Oxford and a Fellow of Worcester College. He is
author of The Languages of Aristophanes: Aspects of Linguistic Variation
in Classical Attic Greek (2003) and Sikelismos: Sprache, Literatur und
Gesellschaft im griechischen Sizilien (2008). He is editor of The
Language of Greek Comedy (2002) and co-editor (with P. Probert) of
Laws and Rules in Indo-European (2012).
ANDREAS WILLI

www.cambridge.org
doi: 10.1017/9781108164207
isbn 978-1-107-19555-4 Hardback
Situated at the crossroads of comparative philology, classics, and

general historical linguistics, this study is the first ever attempt to
outline in full the developments which led from the remotest recover-
able stages of the Indo-European proto-language to the complex
verbal system encountered in Homer and other early Greek texts.
By combining the methods of comparative and internal reconstruc-
tion with a careful examination of large collections of primary data
and insights gained from the study of language change and linguistic
typology, Andreas Willi uncovers the deeper reasons behind many
surface irregularities and offers a new understanding of how categories
such as aspect, tense, and voice interact. Drawing upon evidence from
all major branches of Indo-European, and providing exhaustive cri-
tical coverage of scholarly debate on the most controversial issues, this
book will be an essential reference tool for anyone seeking orientation
in this burgeoning but increasingly fragmented area of linguistic
research.
andreas willi is Diebold Professor of Comparative Philology at

the University of Oxford and a Fellow of Worcester College. He is
author of The Languages of Aristophanes: Aspects of Linguistic Variation
in Classical Attic Greek (2003) and Sikelismos: Sprache, Literatur und
Gesellschaft im griechischen Sizilien (2008). He is editor of The
Language of Greek Comedy (2002) and co-editor (with P. Probert) of
Laws and Rules in Indo-European (2012).
ANDREAS WILLI

www.cambridge.org
doi: 10.1017/9781108164207
isbn 978-1-107-19555-4 Hardback
For Jonas, Mirjam, and Lea
Contents
List of Figures page xix

List of Tables xxi
Preface xxiii
Abbreviations and Conventions xxvii
1 The Greek Verbal System 1

1.1 Introduction 1
1.1 Variety and Economy in the Verbal System of Ancient
Greek 1
1.2–1.6 Verbal Endings 2
1.2 Overview 2
1.3 Athematic Endings: Active 3
1.4 Athematic Endings: Middle 5
1.5 Thematic Endings: Active and Middle 6
1.6 Perfect Endings 8
1.7–1.8 Modal Stem Markers 9
1.7 Subjunctive 9
1.8 Optative 10
1.9–1.13 ‘Tense’ Stems 12
1.9 Overview 12
1.10 Aorist Stems 13
1.11 Present Stems 15
1.12 Perfect Stems 19
1.13 Future and Future Perfect Stems 20
1.14–1.15 Non-finite Forms 21
1.14 Participles and Verbal Adjectives 21
1.15 Infinitives 22
1.16–1.18 Approaching Prehistory 23
1.16 Comparative (External) Observations 23
1.17 The Anatolian Challenge 24
1.18 Systemic (Internal) Observations 25
1.19 Agenda 26
1.19 Agenda 26
vii
viii Contents
2 From Greek to Proto-Indo-European 28
2.1 Introduction 28
2.1 Competing Theories 28
2.2–2.7 The ‘Hoffmann–Strunk Model’ 28
2.2 Hoffmann’s Graeco-Aryan Premise 28
2.3 Root Formations and Root (A)telicity 29
2.4 Radical or Phrasal Telicity? 30
2.5 Characterised Stems and Aktionsarten 31
2.6 Strunk on the Genesis of Tense and Aspect 31
2.7 A Special Role for the s-Aorist? 34
2.8–2.12 Cowgill’s Model and ‘Proto-Indo-Hittite’ 35
2.8 Positioning Anatolian 35
2.9 Cowgill on the Hittite ḫi-Conjugation 37
2.10 Cowgill’s ‘Nominal Verbs’ and PIE Aspect 40
2.11 Some Obstacles 42
2.12 Assessment 44
2.13–2.16 Early Aspect I: Jasanoff on the ‘Proto-Middle’ 45
2.13 Jasanoff against Cowgill 45
2.14 The ‘Proto-Middle’ 46
2.15 Jasanoff ’s ‘h2e-Conjugation’ 49
2.16 Reconstructive Aims and Ideologies 50
2.17–2.18 Early Aspect II: Kuryłowicz’s Framework 52
2.17 Telic Verbs and Aspectual Shifts 52
2.18 Shortcomings of Kuryłowicz’s Model 53
2.19 Conclusion 56
2.19 Conclusion 56
3 The Reduplicated Aorist 58

3.1–3.4 Searching for Early Perfectives 58
3.1 Introduction 58
3.2 Eliminating the s-Aorist 59
3.3 Eliminating the Thematic Aorist 60
3.4 The Reduplicated Aorist as the Earliest Perfective
Type? 60
3.5–3.14 Greek Reduplicated Aorists: Data and Analysis 61
3.5 Arrangement of the Data Survey 61
3.6 General Observations 61
3.7 Greek Data 62
3.8 Root Structure 62
3.9 Thematic Stem Structure 78
3.10 Reduplication Vocalism and ‘Attic’ Reduplication 79
3.11 Full ‘Attic’ Reduplication Patterns (*HeC- Roots) 80
3.12 Full ‘Attic’ Reduplication in the Perfect 82
3.13 Partial ‘Attic’ Reduplication Patterns (*HCeC- Roots) 82
3.14 The Reduplicated Aorist as a Relic Category 84
Contents ix
3.15–3.22 The Reduplicated Aorist in Indo-Iranian 85
3.15 Inherited Reduplicated Aorists 85
3.16 Causative Reduplicated Aorists in Sanskrit 86
3.17 Leumann’s Theory 87
3.18 Inheritance and Innovation in the Causative Aorist 88
3.19 Non-causative Reduplicated Aorists in Sanskrit 90
3.20 Reduplicated Aorists and Pluperfects 91
3.21 Athematic Reduplicated Aorists? 92
3.22 Synopsis 93
3.23–3.25 Reduplicated Aorists in the West (Italic and Celtic)? 94
3.23 Problems of Identification 94
3.24 Theoretical Backing for a Formal Merger 95
3.25 Latin Long-Vowel Perfects 96
3.26–3.31 The Tocharian Reduplicated Preterite 97
3.26 Reduplicated and Long-Vocalic Causative Preterites 97
3.27 The Reduplication Vowel 99
3.28 Non-causative Cognate Formations? 100
3.29 Malzahn’s Theory 100
3.30 An Alternative Proposal 101
3.31 Implications 103
3.32–3.36 The Reduplicated Aorist in Proto-Indo-European 104
3.32 Distributional Arguments for an Archaism 104
3.33 Lexical Illustrations 105
3.34 Kuryłowicz’s ‘Fourth Law of Analogy’ 107
3.35 Scalar (Semantic) Transitivity 107
3.36 Factitivity, High Transitivity, and the Reduplicated Aorist 109
3.37–3.42 Excursus on PIE Thematicity and Ablaut 110
3.37 The Reduplicated Aorist as a Thematic Category 110
3.38 Origins of the Thematic Vowel: Phonetics
and Phonology 111
3.39 Secondary Thematisation and the Reduplicated Aorist 112
3.40 Reconsidering Long-Vowel Preterites
and ‘Acrostatic’ Presents 113
3.41 Notes on PIE Ablaut 114
3.42 Operational Ablaut in the Reduplicated Aorist 116
3.43 Conclusion 116
3.43 Conclusion 116
4 The Reduplicated Present 118

4.1–4.7 Theoretical Considerations 118
4.1 Introduction 118
4.2 Reduplication and Iteration 119
4.3 Sources of Imperfectives 120
4.4 Plurality Types, Nominal and Verbal Aspect 121
4.5 PIE Reduplication from Verbal Collectives? 122
x Contents
4.6 Perfective vs. Imperfective Reduplication:
Stemmatic Models 123
4.7 Reduplicated Presents as Secondary Imperfectives? 126
4.8–4.14 Hittite Reduplicated Stems 127
4.8 Preliminary Remark 127
4.9 Classification of Hittite Reduplicated Verbs 127
4.10 Analysis of Group (i) 130
4.11 Analysis of Group (ii) 132
4.12 Formal Analysis of Group (iii) 132
4.13 Semantic Analysis of Group (iii) 135
4.14 Atelic Iteration and Bounding 137
4.15–4.17 Greek Reduplicated Presents 138
4.15 Reduplicated Presents without Suffix 138
4.16 Reduplicated Presents with Suffix *-i̯e/o- 158
4.17 Presents with ‘Full’ Reduplication and Suffix *-i̯e/o- 163
4.18–4.25 Formal Reconstruction 165
4.18 Overview 165
4.19 Problems of (A)thematicity 166
4.20 Thematic Primacy 167
4.21 Indo-Iranian Athematisation 168
4.22 Problems of Root Vocalism 169
4.23 Conflicting Analogies 170
4.24 Problems of Reduplication Vocalism 170
4.25 From e-Reduplication to i-Reduplication 172
4.26–4.33 Semantic Analysis: Vedic and Greek 174
4.26 Vendryes on the Thematic Reduplicated Presents 174
4.27 Reduplicated Presents in Vedic Polymorphic Systems 175
4.28 Polymorphic Reduplicated Presents and Verbal Voice 175
4.29 The Case of bíbharti 177
4.30 Greek ἔχω/ἴσχω, μένω/μίμνω, νέομαι/νίσομαι 178
4.31 Greek Reduplicated Presents without Polymorphic
Partners 179
4.32 Factitivity and High Transitivity among Reduplicated
Presents 182
4.33 Intermediate Summary 183
4.34–4.44 PIE Thematic Presents: Genesis and Distribution 184
4.34 PIE *CeC-o ‘Statives’ 184
4.35 PIE *CeC-o as a Nominal Form 185
4.36 Watkins on the Thematic Root Presents 186
4.37 Phonological Adjustments 187
4.38 Morphological Adjustments 187
4.39 Hittite Correspondents to PIE Thematic
Root Presents 188
4.40 Hittite and PIE Reduplicated Presents 189
4.41 A Semantic Query 190
Contents xi
4.42 Schematic Summary 191
4.43 Inferior Alternatives to Watkins’s Model 192
4.44 Thematic Root Presents and the Middle Voice 193
4.45–4.48 Systemic Consequences I: The Subjunctive 196
4.45 Thematic vs. Athematic Root Presents 196
4.46 Thematic Indicatives to Subjunctives 197
4.47 Semantic Evolution of the Subjunctive 198
4.48 Long-Vowel Subjunctives 200
4.49–4.52 Systemic Consequences II: Reduplicated Presents 200
4.49 Thematic Presents and Athematic Root Aorists 200
4.50 Reduplicated Presents as Imperfective Gap-Fillers 202
4.51 Perfective and Imperfective Stem Selections 203
4.52 Root-Aorist Subjunctives and ‘New’ Reduplicated
Presents 204
4.53 Conclusion 205
4.53 Conclusion 205
5 The Perfect 207

5.1–5.2 Introduction 207
5.1 Divergent Views on Perfect Reduplication 207
5.2 Reduplicated Roots or Reduplicated Stems? 209
5.3–5.9 Formal Prehistory of the Greek Perfect 210
5.3 Perfect, Middle, and ḫi-Conjugation Endings 210
5.4 Perfect Stems with Ablauting o-Grade 211
5.5 Non-ablauting o-Grade Perfect Stems 211
5.6 Perfect Stems to *HeC- Roots 211
5.7 Long-Vowel Perfects 215
5.8 Further Developments and Results of the
Perfect-Stem Survey 218
5.9 Middle Perfects 219
5.10–5.13 The Pluperfect 220
5.10 Pluperfects as Pivot Forms 220
5.11 PIE Pluperfects? 221
5.12 Early Active Pluperfects 222
5.13 Later Pluperfects 223
5.14–5.25 Semantics of the Perfect in Greek and
Proto-Indo-European 225
5.14 Wackernagel’s Taxonomy 225
5.15 Chantraine’s Classification of Homeric Perfects 227
5.16 Reconsidering Wackernagel’s Taxonomy:
‘Continuous’ Perfects 228
5.17 Perfects of ‘Lasting Effect’ 231
5.18 The PIE Perfect as a ‘Nactostatic’ Category? 232
5.19 The Problem of Root (A)telicity 234
5.20 Intensive Perfects 236
xii Contents
5.21 ‘Lexicalised Perfecto-Presents’ 237
5.22 Evolutionary Sequences 239
5.23 ‘Perfecto-Presents’ in the Evolutionary Sequence 242
5.24 A Slavic Comparandum 244
5.25 A Japanese Comparandum 245
5.26–5.33 A Form/Function Analysis of the PIE Perfect 246
5.26 Kuryłowicz’s Verbal Adjective 246
5.27 Cowgill’s Agentive Nominal 248
5.28 Accentual Matters 249
5.29 Reduplication and Perfect Semantics 250
5.30 *CóC-e Imperfectives I: PIE u̯ ói̯de 252
5.31 *CóC-e Imperfectives II: Anatolian 252
5.32 *CóC-e Imperfectives III: Germanic and Baltic 254
5.33 Jasanoff’s ‘h2e-Conjugation’ Root Presents Reconsidered 255
5.34–5.39 Related Formations I: *CoC-éi̯e/o- ‘Iterative-Causatives’ 257
5.34 The Formal Type 257
5.35 Greek Evidence 259
5.36 Semantic Variation 259
5.37 Iteratives to Factitives? 264
5.38 Denominal Iteratives and Factitives 265
5.39 Relative Chronology 266
5.40–5.42 Related Formations II: Zero-Grade Statives 268
5.40 *CoC-é and *CéC-o 268
5.41 Agentivity and Accent 269
5.42 Zero-Grade Statives 270
5.43–5.47 Related Formations III: *CC-éi̯e/o- ‘Iteratives’ 273
5.43 Greek Evidence 273
5.44 Problems of Identification 273
5.45 PIE *CC-éi̯e/o- Presents: Form 277
5.46 PIE *CC-éi̯ e/o- Presents: Function 277
5.47 Relative Chronology 279
5.48–5.50 The Constitution of a ‘Nominal-Verb’/Perfect Paradigm 280
5.48 Singular 280
5.49 Plural: Preliminary Observations 280
5.50 Plural: A Developmental Scenario 281
5.51 Conclusion 284
5.51 Conclusion 284
6 The Thematic Aorist 286

6.1 Revisiting Kuryłowicz’s Aorist Chain 286
6.2–6.10 Theories on the Origin of the Thematic Aorist 287
6.2 Kuryłowicz: Another Shifted Imperfective 287
6.3 Distributional Counter-Indications 288
6.4 Cardona: A Thematised Root Aorist 289
Contents xiii
6.5 Ablaut Inconsistencies in Indo-Iranian 290
6.6 Lack of Pivot Forms in Greek 293
6.7 Problems of Reconstructive Economy 294
6.8 The Evidence of *(h1e-)u̯ id-e-t 296
6.9 Root Aorists and Thematic Aorists
as Synchronic Competitors? 296
6.10 Argumentative Agenda 298
6.11–6.22 The Fate of PIE Root Aorists in Greek 299
6.11 Fully Preserved Root Aorists to *CeH- Roots 299
6.12 κ-Aorists 299
6.13 Partially Preserved Root Aorists:
Patterns of Innovation 304
6.14 Assessment 331
6.15 Aorists to *CeRH- Roots: Preliminary Remarks 332
6.16 Grouping the Data 333
6.17 Analysis of Group (i) 337
6.18 Analysis of Group (vii) 338
6.19 Inconsistencies with Roots in *-h2- and *-h3- 339
6.20 Inconsistencies with Roots in *-h1- 340
6.21 A New Scenario 342
6.22 Preferential Selections 343
6.23–6.27 The Thematic Aorist in the PIE Verbal System 345
6.23 A Functional Query 345
6.24 Reduplication and *h1e-Prefixation 346
6.25 Reduplicated Aorists to Thematic Aorists 347
6.26 Implications for the Augment 348
6.27 Reduplication, Augmentation, and Laryngeal Loss 350
6.28–6.29 The Sanskrit Class VI (tudáti) Presents 351
6.28 Greek ‘tudáti Presents’? 351
6.29 The Genesis of tudáti Presents 353
6.30 Conclusion 355
6.30 Conclusion 355
7 The Augment 357

7.1 The Communis Opinio 357
7.2–7.10 The Augment in Homer 358
7.2 Wackernagel’s Position 358
7.3 Wortumfang 359
7.4 Augmentation in Compound Verbs 361
7.5 Augmentation and Aorist Types 363
7.6 Augmentation and Iteratives in -σκε/ο- 365
7.7 ‘Drewitt’s Rule’ 366
7.8 Functional Tendencies 368
7.9 Histoire, discours, and the Augment 372
xiv Contents
7.10 Bakker’s ‘Immediacy’ 374
7.11–7.14 Theories on the Origin of the Augment 376
7.11 The Handbook Doctrine 376
7.12 Watkins’s Sentence Connector 377
7.13 An Emphatic Particle? 378
7.14 Intermediate Summary 379
7.15–7.19 Homeric Augmentation and Perfectivity 381
7.15 Reassessing the Data 381
7.16 Unaugmented Modal Forms 384
7.17 Augmented and Perfective Imperfects 385
7.18 Homeric Illustrations 386
7.19 Typological Support 388
7.20–7.22 The Augment in Mycenaean 389
7.20 General Situation 389
7.21 Earlier Explanations 389
7.22 Implicational Neutrality 391
7.23–7.27 The Augment in Phrygian, Armenian, and Iranian 392
7.23 Phrygian 392
7.24 Armenian 392
7.25 Old Persian 394
7.26 Augmented Aorists in Avestan 394
7.27 Augmented Imperfects in Avestan 395
7.28–7.37 The Augment in Vedic 397
7.28 Functions of the Vedic Injunctive 397
7.29 Hoffmann on the Vedic Augment 399
7.30 Hoffmann’s ‘Memorative’ 400
7.31 The Injunctive Paradox 403
7.32 On (Re-)reading the Vedic Injunctive 404
7.33 Vedic Illustrations 405
7.34 Vedic and Early Greek Augmentation 410
7.35 The ‘Aoristic Drift’ 411
7.36 Counter-Evidence from the History of Sanskrit? 413
7.37 The ‘Aoristic Drift’ in Old Indic Diachrony 414
7.38 Conclusion 415
7.38 Conclusion 415
8 The s-Aorist 417

8.1 A Mysterious Type 417
8.2–8.11 The Greek s-Aorist 418
8.2 The Creation of an Alphathematic Paradigm 418
8.3 Root Aorists to s-Aorists 421
8.4 i̯ -Presents and s-Aorists 422
8.5 Root Presents and s-Aorists 425
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Contents xv
8.6 Alternative Patterns 432
8.7 The s-Aorist and High Transitivity: Theoretical
Considerations 435
8.8 Functional Differentiation among Aorist Types 436
8.9 Factitive s-Aorists 437
8.10 Supporting Evidence 439
8.11 Reduplicated Aorists to s-Aorists 440
8.12–8.19 The Greek s-Future 441
8.12 The Aorist-Subjunctive Theory 441
8.13 The Desiderative Theory 443
8.14 Assessment 444
8.15 Greek Middle Futures as Support for the Desiderative
Theory? 445
8.16 A Morphological Hypothesis 447
8.17 Data Check 449
8.18 Asigmatic Middle Futures: πῑ ́ομαι 450
8.19 βε(ί)ομαι and ἔδομαι 451
8.20–8.23 s-Aorists in Italic, Celtic, Slavic, and Baltic 452
8.20 Italic 452
8.21 Celtic 455
8.22 Slavic 457
8.23 Baltic 458
8.24–8.27 The s-Aorist in Indo-Iranian 459
8.24 Medial Primacy in the s-Aorist? 459
8.25 On Aorist-Stem Distribution 462
8.26 Secondary Developments 463
8.27 Independent s-Subjunctives 464
8.28–8.30 Tocharian s-Formations 464
8.28 s-Subjunctives and s-Presents: Overview 464
8.29 Diachronic Interpretation 465
8.30 s-Preterites 468
8.31–8.36 Hittite Comparanda 473
8.31 s-Endings: 3sg. 473
8.32 s-Endings: 2sg. 474
8.33 Root Presents to s-Enlarged Roots 475
8.34 Systemic Placement 476
8.35 The Semantics of s-Enlarged Roots 477
8.36 Hittite Fientives in -ešš- 478
8.37–8.45 Presents in *-sk̑ e/o- 479
8.37 PIE *-sk̑ e/o- as a Composite Suffix 479
8.38 A Problem of Root Vocalism 480
8.39 k-Enlarged Roots, k-Presents, and Thematic Root
Presents 480
8.40 Middle Presents in *-sk̑ e/o- 482
8.41 The Presents in *-sk̑ e/o- as Secondary Imperfectives 483
xvi Contents
8.42 On the Aktionsart Values of *-sk̑ e/o- 484
8.43 Greek Unreduplicated Presents in *-sk̑ e/o- 484
8.44 Greek Reduplicated Presents in *-sk̑ e/o- 485
8.45 Reduplicated Presents in *-sk̑ e/o- outside Greek 488
8.46–8.52 Ablaut in the PIE s-Aorist 489
8.46 Regular s-Aorist Vocalism in Greek
and Indo-Iranian 489
8.47 Lengthened-Grade Evidence outside
Indo-Iranian 490
8.48 The s-Aorist as an ‘Acrostatic’ Type? 493
8.49 Theories of ‘Aufstufung’ 494
8.50 ‘Acrostatic’ Presents vs. s-Aorists 495
8.51 Monosyllabic Lengthening? 496
8.52 Szemerényi’s Law and the s-Aorist 497
8.53–8.54 Whence the s-Aorist? 498
8.53 An Action Noun Turned Verbal? 498
8.54 An Agent Noun Turned Verbal? 500
8.55 Conclusion 501
8.55 Conclusion 501
9 From Proto-Indo-European to Pre-Proto-Indo-European 504

9.1 Uhlenbeck’s Ergative Hypothesis 504
9.2 Chapter Outline 505
9.3 On Studying ‘Pre-Proto-Indo-European’ 506
9.4–9.11 Pre-PIE Nominal Ergativity after Uhlenbeck 506
9.4 Van Wijk on Genitives, Impersonal Verbs,
and Pronouns 506
9.5 Pedersen on Ergative → Accusative Alignment Change 507
9.6 Vaillant on Nominal Gender and Directional *-m 508
9.7 Martinet on Markedness 509
9.8 Split Ergativity and the Animacy Hierarchy 510
9.9 Pre-PIE ‘Split Ergativity’ or ‘Split Accusativity’? 512
9.10 Shortcomings of the ‘Split-Accusative’ Hypothesis 513
9.11 Countering Animacy-Based Objections to
the Ergative Theory 514
9.12–9.14 Early Views on Pre-PIE Ergativity and the Verb 515
9.12 Vaillant’s ‘Pseudo-Transitive Inflection’ 515
9.13 Critique 517
9.14 Pedersen’s Alternative 519
9.15–9.20 Pre-Proto-Indo-European as an ‘Active’
(‘Split-S’) Language? 520
9.15 Beginnings of the ‘Active Hypothesis’ 520
9.16 The Classical ‘Active Hypothesis’ 522
Contents xvii
9.17 Assessment I: Minor Evidence 524
9.18 Assessment II: ‘Active’ vs. ‘Inactive’ Verbs? 527
9.19 ‘Split-S’ vs. ‘Fluid-S’ 530
9.20 The Emergence of Verbal Voice 531
9.21–9.25 Pathways for an Ergative → Accusative Alignment
Change 533
9.21 Extension of A Marking 533
9.22 Passives and Antipassives 533
9.23 Reanalysis of Antipassives 535
9.24 Pre-PIE Antipassives and Nominal Inflection 535
9.25 Pre-PIE Antipassives and Verbal Inflection 536
9.26–9.27 Ergativity and Tense/Aspect Categories 538
9.26 General Principles 538
9.27 Implications for (Pre-)Proto-Indo-European 539
9.28–9.31 Reconsidering the Origin of the s-Aorist 541
9.28 From Pronouns to Personal Endings 541
9.29 Zero-Endings and Full Endings in the 3sg. 542
9.30 Spreading 3sg. *-t and the Genesis of Suffixal *-s- 543
9.31 Assessment 544
9.32 Conclusion 544
9.32 Conclusion 544
10 From Pre-Proto-Indo-European back to Greek 547

10.1 A Gap to be Filled 547
10.2 Chapter Outline 547
10.3–10.14 More on Verbal Endings 548
10.3 Singular Endings: Recapitulation 548
10.4 Remodellings of the h2-Series 1sg. and 2sg. 549
10.5 The 1pl. Endings 550
10.6 The 2pl. Endings 552
10.7 1pl./2pl. Endings: Summary 553
10.8 3pl. Endings: Preliminary Remarks 553
10.9 The Participial Connection 553
10.10 Anatolian and Pre-PIE Participial Orientation 554
10.11 From Participles to 3pl. Forms 556
10.12 Participles and *CéC-o ‘Statives’ 558
10.13 Endings of the m-Series and h2-Series: General
Summary 559
10.14 Composite Middle Endings 559
10.15–10.31 Categorial Histories 561
10.15 Introductory Remark 561
10.16 Root Aorists: Active 562
10.17 Root Aorists: Middle 563
xviii Contents
10.18
Root Presents (Athematic): Active 564
10.19
Root Presents (Athematic): Middle 565
10.20
Reduplicated Aorists 567
10.21
Thematic Aorists and Zero-Graded Thematic
Presents (tudáti) 568
10.22 s-Aorists 568
10.23 s-Presents 569
10.24 Thematic Root Presents: Active 569
10.25 Thematic Root Presents: Middle 573
10.26 Reduplicated Presents (Thematic) 574
10.27 Reduplicated Presents (Athematic) 575
10.28 Presents in *-sk̑ e/o- 575
10.29 Excursus: Hittite Imperfectives in -šša- 576
10.30 Perfects (and ‘Nominal Verbs’) 577
10.31 ‘Iterative-Causative’ Presents 578
10.32–10.39 Origin and Functions of the i̯-Present 579
10.32 Imperfectivising *-i̯e/o- 579
10.33 The Basic Formal Type 580
10.34 i̯ -Presents and (In)transitivity 581
10.35 The i̯ -Presents as Pre-PIE Antipassives? 583
10.36 On Denominal i̯-Presents 586
10.37 Antipassives and Relativisation 586
10.38 Suffixal *-i̯ e/o- and Relative *i̯e/o- 588
10.39 Paradigm Constitution 589
10.40–10.41 Alignment Change and PIE Aspectual Shifts 590
10.40 Building Blocks of the Pre-PIE Verbal System 590
10.41 New Perfectives through Alignment Change 591
10.42 Conclusion 593
Epilogue 595
References 602
Index of Forms 677
General Index 705
Figures
1.1 The distribution of ‘tense’ stems in classical Greek page 13

2.1 The development of the PIE aspectual system according 36
to Hoffmann and Strunk
2.2 The development of the PIE aspectual system according 54
to Kuryłowicz
3.1 The reduplicated aorist as a marginalised perfective 110
4.1 Theoretical models for the evolution of PIE reduplication 124
as a perfectivity marker
4.2 The genesis of the thematic present 191
4.3 The evolution of reduplicated and unreduplicated aorist 202
and present stems
5.1 The development of the classical Greek active pluperfect 225
(3sg. and 1sg.)
5.2 Semantic evolution of the PIE perfect with nactostatic 241
primacy
5.3 Semantic evolution of the PIE perfect without nactostatic 241
primacy
5.4 ‘Perfecto-presents’ in the evolution of the PIE perfect 243
(after Fig. 5.2)
5.5 ‘Perfecto-presents’ in the evolution of the PIE perfect 244
(revised)
5.6 A relative chronology of ‘nominal verbs’ and 268
*CoC-éi̯e/o- verbs
5.7 Formal relationships between PIE thematic presents, 272
‘nominal verbs’, and ‘statives’
5.8 A relative chronology of *CC-éi̯e/o- and *CoC-éi̯e/o- verbs 280
6.1 Some Indo-European thematic aorist ~ root aorist pairs 297
6.2 The development of aorists to *CeRH- roots: two scenarios 346
6.3 Systemic relationships between reduplicated, thematic, 349
and root aorists
6.4 The genesis of tudáti presents 355
xix
xx List of Figures
7.1 A model of the injunctive as a functionally recessive type 402
7.2 Old Indic verbal categories and the ‘aoristic drift’ 415
8.1 Systemic relationships between reduplicated, thematic, root, 502
and s-aorists
9.1 ‘Accusative’ vs. ‘ergative’ alignment systems 505
9.2 PIE case endings and accusative vs. ergative alignment 505
9.3 Silverstein’s animacy hierarchy 511
9.4 Ergative → accusative alignment change and the animacy 515
hierarchy
9.5 The emergence of verbal voice in Proto-Indo-European 532
9.6 Passive and antipassive transformations 534
9.7 Antipassive case marking and (Pre-)PIE ergative → accusative 537
alignment change
9.8 A new model for the genesis of the s-aorist 545
10.1 A model for the early evolution of the m-conjugation 558
third-person endings
A Origins of the Greek verb (master diagram) 600
Tables
3.1 Greek reduplicated aorists page 63

4.1 Greek reduplicated presents without suffix 139
4.2 Greek reduplicated presents with suffix *-i̯e/o- 159
5.1 Early Greek ablauting o-grade perfects 212
5.2 Early Greek non-ablauting o-grade perfects 213
5.3 Greek perfect stems to *HeC- roots 215
5.4 Greek *CoC-éi̯e/o- ‘iterative-causatives’ 260
5.5 Greek *CC-éi̯e/o- ‘iteratives’ 274
6.1 Greek root aorists to *CeH- roots 300
6.2 Partially preserved root aorists in Greek 305
8.1 Thematic/athematic root present ~ s-aorist pairs in Greek 426
8.2 Thematic root present ~ non-sigmatic aorist pairs in Greek 433
8.3 Factitive s-aorists in Greek 439
8.4 Greek reduplicated presents in *-sk̑ e/o- 486
xxi
Preface
Умный любит учиться, дурак учить.

The wise man loves to learn, the fool to teach.
(A. P. Čexov, Notebook I, p. 125)
The intention of this book is not to teach. The wish to write it arose when I
was teaching on the topics it deals with, and when I realised how often I
could not wholeheartedly agree with some of the things I had to say in order
to present my students with the state of the art in the field. However, I am
not naive (or conceited) enough to believe that I can do better than the great
scholars whose opinions I found myself questioning. My first and foremost
aim is therefore merely to set out where and why, in my view, their ideas call
for discussion and improvement. If I then also offer a theory of how I think
some improvement may be achieved, it is not because I believe to have found
the holy grail, but because it would be too easy to criticise others without
exposing one’s own views to the same kind of critical scrutiny. So what
follows wants to be read, not as a handbook, but as a contribution to an open
debate.
Even so, the study is not without ambitions. Whoever observes recent
developments in Indo-European comparative linguistics will notice that
there are two ever-increasing divides. The first is a divide between national
or local ‘schools’, which have all but stopped to engage with one another;
the second, a divide between ‘reconstructionists’ whose aim is to uncover
even the most recondite formal minutiae of the Proto-Indo-European
signifiant without spending much thought on the signifié, traditional
‘philologists’ who could not care less for that but rather concentrate on
the historical evolution of individual languages that just happen to be
Indo-European, and ‘typologists’ for whom the big picture of grammatical
design and language change counts so much that unwieldy details have to
be generously ignored. To be sure, the boundaries between these groups are
xxiii
of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/9781108164207.001
xxiv Preface
never hard and fast; but neither are efforts common really to listen and
respond to their adherents on an equal footing. Such an effort will be made
here, partly because there is often food for thought even in ideas one feels
the urge to reject, and partly because others may welcome an intentionally
wide-ranging coverage of diverse opinions as much as I would have
welcomed it, had it been available when I set out to write this book.
Unfortunately, though, so much has been and is being published that
even such an inclusive approach will inevitably overlook some contribu-
tions, and not necessarily the least valuable ones; and not every one of those
that are not overlooked can be engaged with in equal depth. For such
omissions and inadequacies I apologise: as best I could and space per-
mitted, I have sought to voice assent or dissent openly, not by inclusion or
exclusion.
If, then, the scope of the undertaking is avowedly Indo-Europeanist,
why entitle it ‘Origins of the Greek Verb’? That there is more emphasis on
origins than on what is specifically Greek will quickly become clear to the
reader. Although I have tried to be understandable also to those who have
so far spent more time thinking about Greek than about Indo-European, I
have had to assume some basic familiarity with many notions and concepts
of historical grammar and comparative linguistics. But the choice of title is
not of course meaningless, and it connects with what has just been said
about my ambitions for this book. One further trend that is discernible in
recent Indo-European studies is the shift of attention away from those
branches of Indo-European which dominated the discussion in the earlier
days of the discipline’s history, notably Greek and Indo-Iranian. Though
taking a long while to assert itself, this shift was essentially triggered by the
discovery of Hittite and, to a lesser extent, Tocharian some one hundred
years ago; but although Hittite and Tocharian still play a major role in
current reassessments of fundamental parts of Indo-European grammar,
their new status as ‘mainstream’ branches has also promoted a greater
equilibrium in the study of other members of the family. Given the relative
neglect from which all the ‘non-core’ branches had suffered under the
previous regime, such a corrective was overdue. And yet, the pendulum
may have swung too much to the other side – and perhaps especially where
Greek is concerned. Thanks to its combination of a uniquely rich mor-
phosyntactic system with an early, long, and varied attested history, no one
will ever question the relevance of Greek for Indo-European linguistics.
But precisely because Greek offers so much material for linguistic enquiry,
Preface xxv
its study has somewhat detached itself from research with a comparative
focus. As a result, there seems to be even less interaction than in other
domains of Indo-European between ‘reconstructionists’ and ‘philologists’ in
the narrow sense, to the detriment of both sides. This gap too can hopefully
be narrowed, if not bridged, by the present attempt to re-establish Greek at
the heart of the agenda, and to demonstrate afresh how much of crucial
importance is missed if the understandable fascination for hitherto less
explored subjects makes Indo-Europeanists forget what one of their most
informative ‘old’ sources has to tell. In this spirit, the Greek verbal system is
here used as an anchor point and primary explanandum, from which we set
out and to which we return. But (re)assigning Greek the leading solo part it
has not had for a while must not mean that other soloists will not be heard as
well. Ultimately, it is only in harmony with these, and the orchestra as a
whole, that Greek will be allowed to perform.
Orchestral, too, has been the support I have had in various forms
while writing this book. My deepest gratitude I owe to the Leverhulme
Trust, for awarding me a Major Research Fellowship that freed me from
virtually all teaching and administrative duties during three blissful years
of uninterrupted research: I know of no other funding body that fosters
research in the humanities in an equally generous, unintrusive, and
therefore fruitful manner. During this period of leave, Peter Barber
covered for my absence, and did this so well that my return could have
been a real loss for the students had he not continued to be with us in
another role. Meanwhile, little regret will have been felt by my other
philological colleagues at Oxford, Philomen Probert and Wolfgang de
Melo, when I finally took over again some of the additional burdens they
had to shoulder for far too long.
For invaluable advice I am grateful to Alessandro Vatri and John
Penney: to the former because he made up for my ignorance in statistical
matters by testing all the relevant data for their significance; to the latter
not only because his unsurpassably clear lectures and lecture handouts first
introduced me to the Indo-European verb many years ago, but because he
also kindly read and gave much-needed feedback on several sections in
which Tocharian issues are dealt with – as he put it, “what an intractable
language Tocharian is!” Less directly, but no less profoundly, my thinking
on all that is presented below is also indebted to Anna Morpurgo Davies,
whose death overshadowed the last year of work on it. Even if the outcome
is unlike anything she would have promoted, she never failed to encourage
xxvi Preface
everyone to ‘think for themselves’, no matter what the great and good had
said. Without that encouragement, I would hardly have dared even to start.
On several occasions, I had the opportunity to air my ideas by attend-
ing conferences or giving lectures at home and abroad. So many discus-
sions and casual conversations at such events have shaped and refined
them that I would be sure to forget someone if I began to enumerate all
those who (often unwittingly) helped me along. I must however single
out David Langslow, Brent Vine, and Rudolf Wachter who put enough
trust in my plans to write in support of my application to the Leverhulme
Trust; John Lowe who – together with many other colleagues and
students – eventually sat through an entire seminar series devoted to
these ‘Origins’ and who, during that time, more than once pinpointed
areas where what I thought was final was clearly not; the reviewers for
Cambridge University Press who suggested further improvements at an
even later stage; and finally, Michael Sharp, Marianna Prizio, Lisa
Sinclair, and Kate Moreau without whose guidance the manuscript
could never have turned into the book I had always hoped it would one
day become.
Never before have I spent so many sleepless nights over a research
project as this time, not rarely did I feel overwhelmed by the self-imposed
task. If such periods did not last forever, it is because my family knew how
to cure them: Helen by laughingly asking if I had discovered yet another
etymology, Jonas, Mirjam, and Lea by reminding me that almost every
aspect of life is more important than the life of aspect.
Abbreviations and Conventions
Authors and Texts

Greek authors and texts are abbreviated according to the Oxford Classical
Dictionary (3rd edn., Oxford 1996).
AV Atharva Veda (Ved.)
DB Dareios inscription, Bīsutūn (OPers.)
RV Rig Veda (Ṛg Veda) (Ved.)
V Vidēvdād (Av.)
Y. Yasna (Av.)
Yt Yašt (Av.)
Dialects and Languages

Aeol. Aeolic (Greek)
Alb. Albanian
Anat. Anatolian
Arc. Arcadian (Greek)
Arm. Armenian
Av. Avestan
Boeot. Boeotian (Greek)
CLuw. Cuneiform Luwian
CSl. Church Slavonic
Cypr. Cyprian (Greek)
Dor. Doric (Greek)
Engl. English
Finn. Finnish
Fr. French
Gaul. Gaulish
Germ. German
Goth. Gothic
xxvii
xxviii List of Abbreviations and Conventions
Gr. Greek
Hitt. Hittite
HLuw. Hieroglyphic Luwian
Hom. Homeric (Greek)
IE Indo-European
It. Italian
Lac. Laconian (Greek)
Lat. Latin
Lesb. Lesbian (Greek)
Lith. Lithuanian
Luw. Luwian
MidPers. Middle Persian
Mod. Gr. Modern Greek
MW Middle Welsh
Myc. Mycenaean (Greek)
OAv. Old Avestan
OCS Old Church Slavonic
OE Old English
OHG Old High German
OHitt. Old Hittite
OIr. Old Irish
OLat. Old Latin
OLith. Old Lithuanian
ON Old Norse
OPers. Old Persian
OPhryg. Old Phrygian
OPr. Old Prussian
PGmc Proto-Germanic
PGr. Proto-Greek
PIE Proto-Indo-European
PIIr. Proto-Indo-Iranian
Russ. Russian
Skt. Sanskrit
Span. Spanish
Toch. Tocharian
Umbr. Umbrian
Ved. Vedic (Sanskrit)
YAv. Young Avestan
List of Abbreviations and Conventions xxix
Grammatical Notation and Terminology
In reconstructed forms, C stands for any consonant, V for any vowel, H for
any laryngeal, I for any semivowel (i, u), R for any resonant (l, m, n, r), L for
any liquid (l, r), and N for any nasal (m, n). T is the cover symbol for any
stop, D for any voiced stop, and K for any voiceless tectal stop.
In structural formulae, -CeC- and -CoC- represent e-graded and o-
graded roots, -CC- zero-graded roots, and -CēC- roots with lengthened ē-
grade (even when more than one consonant precedes/follows the syllable
nucleus).
Asterisks (*) indicate reconstructed forms, obeli (†) forms that are set up
for argumentative purposes, but whose (pre)historical reality is denied.
A logical subject in a transitive clause

abl. ablative
abs. absolutive
acc. accusative
act. active
aor. aorist
coll. collective
dat. dative
dir. directional
du. dual
erg. ergative
fem. feminine
fut. future
gen. genitive
impf. imperfect
ind. indicative
inj. injunctive
instr. instrumental
intr. intransitive
ipfv. imperfective
ipv. imperative
loc. locative
masc. masculine
med. middle (medium)
nom. nominative
NP noun phrase
ntr. neuter
xxx List of Abbreviations and Conventions
O logical direct object in a transitive clause
obl. oblique
opt. optative
pass. passive
perf. perfect
pfv. perfective
pl. plural
plupf. pluperfect
pres. present
pret. preterite
pron. pronoun
ptcpl. participle
rel. relative
S subject in an intransitive clause
sg. singular
subj. subjunctive
tr. transitive
VP verb phrase
Journals
AGI Archivio Glottologico Italiano
BSL Bulletin de la Société de Linguistique de Paris
BSOAS Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies
HS Historische Sprachforschung
HSCP Harvard Studies in Classical Philology
IF Indogermanische Forschungen
IIJ Indo-Iranian Journal
IJDLLR International Journal of Diachronic Linguistics and Linguistic
Reconstruction
IL Incontri Linguistici
JAOS Journal of the American Oriental Society
JIES Journal of Indo-European Studies
MSL Mémoires de la Société de Linguistique de Paris
MSS Münchener Studien zur Sprachwissenschaft
NAWG Nachrichten von der Akademie der Wissenschaften in
Göttingen, Phil.-hist. Klasse
NGWG Nachrichten von der Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften zu
Göttingen, Phil.-hist. Klasse
NTS Norsk Tidsskrift for Sprogvidenskap
List of Abbreviations and Conventions xxxi
RANL Rendiconti dell’Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei, Classe di
Scienze Morali, Storiche e Filologiche
REA Revue des Études Anciennes
REArm Revue des Études Arméniennes
REIE Revue des Études Indo-Européennes
RIL Rendiconti dell’Istituto Lombardo, Classe di Lettere e Scienze
Morali
RPh Revue de Philologie
SbAWW Sitzungsberichte der Kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften
Wien, Phil.-hist. Klasse
SbPAW Sitzungsberichte der Preussischen Akademie der Wissenschaften,
Phil.-hist. Klasse
SCO Studi Classici e Orientali
SMEA Studi Micenei ed Egeo-Anatolici
Sprache Die Sprache: Zeitschrift für Sprachwissenschaft
SSL Studi e Saggi Linguistici
TAPhA Transactions of the Americal Philological Association
TIES Tocharian and Indo-European Studies
TPhS Transactions of the Philological Society
VJ Voprosy Jazykoznanija
ZAssyr Zeitschrift für Assyriologie und vorderasiatische Archäologie
ZDMG Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft
ZVS Zeitschrift für Vergleichende Sprachforschung
Translations
Modern secondary literature in languages other than English is quoted in
translation. While double quotation marks are used for literal quotations,
such translations are enclosed in single quotation marks or, where set off
typographically from the surrounding text, labelled by the addition of
‘(translated)’ to the source reference.
chapter 1
The Greek Verbal System
1.1 Introduction
1.1 Variety and Economy in the Verbal System of Ancient Greek
In learning Ancient Greek, most speakers of modern European languages
will be surprised by the richness and complexity of its verbal system.
According to a basic analysis, we can distinguish
• three persons (first, second, third);
• three numbers (singular, plural, dual);
• seven ‘tenses’ (present, imperfect, aorist, future, perfect, pluperfect,
future perfect);
• four moods (indicative, imperative, subjunctive, optative); and
• three voices (active, middle, passive).
If there were no combinatory restrictions, this would mean that there are
756 functional slots in the paradigm of the finite verb. Effectively the
number is somewhat lower because there is no imperfect and pluperfect
imperative, subjunctive, or optative, no future and future perfect impera-
tive or subjunctive, and no first-person imperative. Even so, the range of
possibilities is impressive and could not be handled if each of the remaining
slots were randomly assigned a formal correlate (e.g., in the form of a
separate stem/ending construct).
Fortunately this is not the case. Considerable formal economy is achieved in
a number of ways. For example, the verbal endings, tasked with encoding
person and number, differentiate well between eight out of nine relevant
person/number combinations (1sg., 2sg., 3sg., 1pl., 2pl., 3pl., 2du., 3du.; but
1du. = 1pl.), and homonymy is fairly marginal there (e.g., 1sg. = 3pl. -ον in the
active voice of thematic imperfects and aorists). But the same ‘sets’ of endings
are attached to several different tense/mood stems, as when the (thematic)
present, future, and future perfect share one set, and the imperfect and
(thematic) aorist another. Similarly, whereas one can functionally distinguish
actives, middles, and passives in all tenses, the passive voice is formally distinct
2 The Greek Verbal System
from the middle only in the aorist and future (where it has its own stem, even
though voice is otherwise also encoded in the ending). And although there are
seven ‘tenses’, there are only five different tense stems for any verb: the present
and imperfect and the perfect and pluperfect always share a stem (while using
different sets of endings).
Once the principles informing this system are grasped, the learner or
user of Ancient Greek ‘only’ has to deal with a manageable range of
grammatical formants:
• the verbal endings as exponents of person, number, and voice (as well as
imperative mood and perfect ‘tense’);
• the markers of the subjunctive and optative moods;
• the markers of the different ‘tense’ stems.
Without entering into every detail, the following paragraphs (1.2–1.13) will
review the main data for each of these groups. Although reference will
already be made to related evidence in other Indo-European languages, the
aim is not to replicate the existing reference works1 and to offer an
exhaustive sketch of comparative grammar. Instead, the presentation is
merely meant to provide general orientation before formulating the ques-
tions this study hopes to answer.
1.2–1.6 Verbal Endings

1.2 Overview
As noted in 1.1, the verbal endings convey information about person, number,
and voice. In the singular, the first person refers to the speaker (addressor), the
second to the listener (addressee), and the third to a person or thing spoken
about. In the dual and plural, the first person refers to the speaker and one
(dual) or more (plural) others, the second to the listener and one or more
others, and the third to two or more persons/things spoken about.
In contrast to the unmarked active voice, the middle voice is character-
istically used when the subject is in some way especially involved in, or
affected by, the action, for instance as an experiencer or beneficiary.2
Where there is no formally separate passive (1.1), this remit includes the
subject being a patient.
1
Such as Chantraine (1961), Rix (1992), Sihler (1995); cf. also Schwyzer (1939), Meier-Brügger (1992a),
Duhoux (2000), and works with a more Indo-European focus (e.g., Szemerényi 1996, Meier-Brügger
2002, Beekes 2011).
2
See Rijksbaron (2002: 161–3), Allan (2003); cf. also 9.20, with fn. 71.
In purely descriptive terms, we can distinguish not only active vs. middle
endings, but also, in each group, thematic vs. athematic and ‘primary’ vs.
‘secondary’ ones. The ‘primary’ endings are used in the indicative of non-
past tenses (present, future; also future perfect) and in the subjunctive, the
‘secondary’ endings in the indicative of past tenses (imperfect, aorist; also
pluperfect (5.11–5.13)) and in the optative (with exceptions in the 1sg. active).
The perfect has its own set of endings in the singular; also (partly) separate
are the imperative endings, which we shall leave out of consideration.3
In a diachronic perspective, however, the thematic and athematic
endings turn out to be identical except in the 1sg. active; and where the
‘primary’ and ‘secondary’ endings diverge, they do so in a systematic
way as the former commonly equal the latter with an added *-i
(‘primary’ *-i).
Almost all finite verb forms – with rare exceptions in thematic aorist
imperatives – have a recessive accent; for reconstructive purposes the
accentuation of Greek verbs is therefore uninformative.
1.3 Athematic Endings: Active

The following list presents the athematic endings of the active voice, as
found in verbs like φημί ‘say’ or δίδωμι ‘give’, in their classical Attic form. It
includes the mostly uncontroversial reconstruction of the endings for later
Proto-Indo-European, selected comparanda in other languages that sup-
port this reconstruction, and brief notes. Here and elsewhere in this
chapter, we shall not consider questions relating to ‘deeper’ reconstruction;
these matters will occupy us later (in Chapters 9 and 10).
‘Primary’
1sg. -μι *-mi Ved. -mi, Hitt. -mi, Lat. -m
2sg. -ς *-si Ved. -si, Hitt. -ši, Lat. -s
3sg. -σι *-ti Ved. -ti, Hitt. -zi, Lat. -t
1du. = 1pl. *-u̯ e(s) Ved. -vah, Lith. -va
2du. -τον ? ˙ , Lith. -ta
Ved. -thah
3du. -τον ? Ved. -tah˙, OCS -te/-ta
1pl. -μεν *-me(s) ˙ , Lith. -me, Lat. -mus
Ved. -mah
2pl. -τε *-te Ved. -tha,˙ Lith. -te, Lat. -tis
3pl. -(ᾱ)σι *-(e)nti Ved. -a(n)ti, Hitt. -anzi, Lat. -(u)nt
3
They are active 2sg. -Ø (thematic *-e), sometimes extended as -θι (*-d hi; cf. Skt. -(d)hi), 3sg. -(έ)τω
(*-tōd; cf. Lat. -tō), 2pl. -(ε)τε (*-te; = indicative), 3pl. -(ό)ντων (analogical: cf. 3sg. ind. *-ti : ipv.
*-tō(d) = 3pl. ind. *-nti : X → X = *-ntō(d) + added -ν); and middle 2sg. -σο (thematic -ου < *-eso)
(*-so; = indicative), 3sg. -(έ)σθω (analogical), 2pl. -(ε)σθε (*-d hu̯ e; = indicative), 3pl. -(έ)σθων
(analogical). For more detailed discussion, see Forssman (1985).
‘Secondary’
-ν *-m Ved. -m, Hitt. -un, Lat. -m (1)
-ς *-s Ved. -h (-s), Hitt. -š, Lat. -s (2)
-Ø *-t ˙ Hitt. -t, Lat. -t (< -d)
Ved. -t, (3)
= 1pl. *-u̯ e Ved. -va, Lith. -va (4)
-τον ? Ved. -tam, Lith. -ta (5)
-την ? Ved. -tām, OCS -te/-ta (6)
-μεν *-me Ved. -ma, Lith. -me, Lat. -mus (7)
-τε *-te Ved. -ta, Lith. -te, Lat. -tis (8)
-(ε)ν *-(e)nt Ved. -an, Lat. -(e/u)nt (9)
(1) After consonant, *-m is realised as *-m̥ > -α; cf. e.g. s-aorist 1sg. act. -σα <
*-s-m̥ (8.2).
(2) Greek ‘primary’ -ς is a product of analogy; in stems ending in a vowel,
*-Vsi > *-Vhi > *-Vi̯ would have been regular, but since this lacked an overt
person marker, the ‘secondary’ ending was added (and the preceding
stem-final diphthong usually eliminated by analogy with the 1sg./3sg.).
(3) Unassibilated ‘primary’ -τι is preserved outside Attic-Ionic; cf. also Att.
ἐστί ‘is’ < *h1es-ti.
(4) Lith. -va points to *-u̯ o(s); cf. 10.5, fn. 10, on similar 1pl. forms. On the
question of final *-s, cf. below on 1pl. *-me(s).
(5), (6) On the reconstructive problems posed by the 2du. and 3du. endings, see
10.14, fn. 26.
(7) In West Greek (Doric) dialects, -μες is found instead of -μεν, and -μεν is
probably a dialectal innovation within Greek, based on *-me (10.5, fn.
12). Although the distribution of *-mes : *-me in Indo-Iranian corre-
sponds to that of ‘primary’ vs. ‘secondary’ endings, and is so represented
above, it is not clear that this was systematically the case already in the
proto-language, and that the final *-s is therefore of the same order as
‘primary’ *-i. Compare the 2pl., and see further 1.6, 5.50, 10.5.
(8) The aspirate in Vedic ‘primary’ -tha is an Indo-Iranian innovation; Lat.
-tis is from *-tes with *-s after the 1pl.
(9) The complexity in the 3pl. results from the fact that the athematic
ending occurs with ablaut variants depending on paradigmatic patterns,
and interparadigmatic analogy (also with thematic paradigms) has
further complicated the picture. In root formations, for example, one
expects *-ent(i) (6.5–6.6), whereas in the s-aorist *-s-n̥ t is regular (8.2).
Attic-Ionic ‘primary’ -σι < *-nti is paralleled by preserved -ντι in other
dialects. Where -ᾱσι occurs (e.g., διδόᾱσι ‘they give’), this originates
from *-(C)n̥ ti > *-(C)ati → remade *-(C)anti (after postvocalic *-(V)nti)
> Att.-Ion. -ᾱσι. In postvocalic positions, ‘secondary’ -ν is usually
replaced by -σαν in Attic-Ionic (e.g., 3pl. aor. pass. -θη-σαν for -θεν <
*-t hē-nt), following the model of 3pl. ἦσαν ‘they were’ (itself formed
after the s-aorist, while *h1e-h1s-ent > ἦεν > ἦν was reinterpreted as a 3sg.:
8.2, fn. 11).
1.4 Athematic Endings: Middle
The reconstruction of some of the middle endings is more challenging,
even if one merely targets a period when Greek and Indo-Iranian were still
developing jointly. In the following list, this is reflected both by the more
limited comparative evidence cited and by the brackets/alternatives in
certain reconstructions. A more detailed exposition of the problems will
follow elsewhere (10.4–10.7, 10.14).
‘Primary’
1sg. -μαι *-(m)h2ei̯ Ved. -e, Hitt. -hha(ri)
2sg. -σαι *-soi̯/*-sai̯ Ved. -se, Hitt. ˘-ta(ri/ti)
˘
3sg. -ται *-toi̯ (*-oi̯) Ved. -te (-e), Hitt. -(t)a(ri)
1du. = 1pl. ? Ved. -vahe
2du. -σθον ? Ved. -āthe
3du. -σθον ? Ved. -āte
1pl. -μεθα *-med hh̥ 2 Ved. -mahe, Hitt. -u̯ ašta
2pl. -σθε *-(s)d hu̯ e Ved. -dhve, Hitt. -tuma(ri)
3pl. -νται *-ntoi̯ Ved. -ate, Hitt. -anta(ri)
‘Secondary’
-μην *-(m)h2(e) Ved. -i, Hitt. -hat(i) (1)
-σο *-so Ved. -thāh, Av.˘ -sa, Hitt. -tat(i) (2)
-το *-to (*-o) ˙
Ved. -ta (-at), Hitt. -(t)at(i) (3)
= 1pl. ? Ved. -vahi (4)
-σθον ? Ved. -āthām (5)
-σθην ? Ved. -ātām (6)
-μεθα *-med hh̥ 2 Ved. -mahi, Hitt. -u̯ aštat(i) (7)
-σθε *-(s)d hu̯ e Ved. -dhvam, Hitt. -tumat (8)
-ντο *-nto Ved. -ata, Hitt. -antat(i) (9)
(1) Att.-Ion. -μην corresponds to -μᾱν in other dialects; in postconsonantal
environments this is derivable from an immediate pre-form *-(C)m̥ h2-m
whose *-m may be secondarily added. Note that OHitt. -hha continues
˘˘
*-h2e/o-r and therefore suggests a relatively late addition of ‘primary’ *-i to
*-h2e; -t(i) in the ‘secondary’ endings has been added within Anatolian.
(2) The Hittite endings demonstrate that the reconstructions given are at
best reliable for Graeco-Aryan; even for this period the seemingly
straightforward ‘primary’ *-soi̯, though usually posited, remains uncer-
tain, and the presence of a Vedic ‘secondary’ ending with a dental as in
Hittite is noteworthy (cf. 5.3, 10.14 on *-(s)th2e as a possible predeces-
sor/competitor of *-so; 5.11 on Ved. -thāh).
(3) ˙
In Greek, *-toi̯ > -τοι is attested in Arcado-Cyprian and Mycenaean; -ται
is analogical after the 1sg./2sg. For reconstructive purposes, the Vedic
and Hittite variant endings without a dental are of some significance: see
4.34, 4.42, 10.14.
(4)Given the general parallelism of 1du. and 1pl. forms, one might (intern-
ally) reconstruct *-u̯ ed hh̥ 2.
(5), (6) The evidence is too scarce to allow a meaningful reconstruction; Gr.
2du. -σθον : 2pl. -σθε is clearly analogical to active 2du. -τον : 2pl. -τε,
and the distribution of -σθον/-σθην matches that of active -τον/-την.
(7) The differentiation of ‘primary’ and ‘secondary’ endings is an Indo-Iranian
innovation (modelled after the 1sg.). Since -μεθα has a poetic by-form
-μεσθα and since an internal *-s- is also seen in Hittite, a parallel existence
of *-medhh̥ 2 and *-mesd hh̥ 2 in the proto-language is conceivable (cf. 10.5).
(8) On the *-s- of *-(s)d hu̯ e, which may be secondary, see 10.6, fn. 13.
(9) Like Ved. -ate/-ata < *-n̥ to(i̯ ), postconsonantal -αται/-ατο < *-n̥ to(i̯ ) is
also found in Greek, notably in the optative and perfect/pluperfect.
1.5 Thematic Endings: Active and Middle

A full list of the thematic endings need not be given since most of them
replicate the athematic ones. The main difference consists in the ‘thematic
vowel’ *-e/o- preceding the ending. In the first person, the thematic vowel
appears as *-o-, in the second and third as *-e-; on this distribution, and its
possible origins, see further 3.38. Note the loss of intervocalic *-s- and the
subsequent vowel contraction in the 2sg. middle (‘primary’ *-e-sai̯ > -εαι
> -ῃ; ‘secondary’ *-e-so > -εο > -ου).
In the ‘primary’ active singular, the situation is more complex. 1sg. -ω
cannot straightforwardly continue a late-PIE ending *-o-mi, but rather points
to *-oH (cf. 10.4). In the 2sg., *-e-si > *-e-hi > *-ei̯ is unproblematic as such, and
*-ei̯ may have been differentiated from the 3sg. by the analogical addition of *-s
as a 2sg. marker (→ -ει-ς). Regarding the 3sg. -ει itself, however, two funda-
mentally different lines of thought exist. Some scholars analyse this as *-ei̯, i.e.
*-e with added ‘primary’ *-i, and see in it a survival from a time when the
thematic conjugation had not yet adopted the 3sg. marker *-t(i).4 The advan-
tage of this approach is its phonological simplicity; and as we shall see, there is
much to be said for an early PIE thematic 3sg. without *-t(i) (4.34–4.44).
Nevertheless, given the overwhelming evidence for thematic 3sg. *-e-ti in other
branches of Indo-European, including Indo-Iranian which generally matches
Greek quite well, another explanation is preferred here. In prevocalic sentence
4
See especially Bonfante (1934: 222–3), Pedersen (1938a: 87–8), Ruipérez (1952: 12–13), Lazzeroni (1965:
81–3), Watkins (1969: 121–3), Negri (1974: 361–71), Kortlandt (1979a: 61; 1979b: 37–9; 1997: 134), Erhart
(1984: 242–3; 1989: 47), Hart (1990: 448–50). Since the 3sg. pres. -(ä)s of Tocharian A
probably continues *-(e)ti (Jasanoff 1987a: 110–11, Ringe 1996: 80), the main ˙supporting evidence
from outside Greek would be found in Baltic, with Lith. thematic 3sg. -a also apparently reflecting an
ending without *-ti. However, here too *-eti has been defended, either by reference to an early i-
apocope (Vaillant 1966: 10, Hock 2007) or by a (prosodically conditioned?) generalisation of the
‘secondary’ ending *-t (Stang 1942: 230–1; 1966: 410, Mottausch 2003 [2009]: 83–4, Olander 2015: 327).
sandhi, Proto-Greek *-e-ti V- first became *-e-ti̯ V- > *-e-t i̯ V- in a phonolo-
gically regular manner. This variant of the ending was then generalised to all
positions. Finally, the loss of final stops affected palatal *-t i̯ as much as non-
palatal *-t, except that its palatal feature was retained and reported onto the
preceding vowel (*-e i̯ > -ει).5 Accordingly, Greek only superficially diverges
from most other Indo-European languages, and the reconstruction of *-e-t(i)
need not be questioned.
Act. ‘Primary’
1sg. -ω *-oH Av. -ā(mi), Lat. -ō, Lith. -ù
2sg. -εις *-e-si Ved. -asi, Hitt. -eši, Lat. -is
3sg. -ει *-e-ti Ved. -ati, Hitt. -ezzi, Lat. -it
1pl. -ομεν *-o-me(s) Ved. -āmah, Lith. -ame, Lat. -imus
etc. ˙
‘Secondary’
-ον *-o-m Ved. -am, Hitt. -anun, OCS -ъ (1)
-ες *-e-s Ved. -ah (-as), Hitt. -eš, OCS -e
-ε *-e-t ˙ Hitt. -et, OCS -e
Ved. -at,
-ομεν *-o-me Ved. -āma, OCS -omъ (2)
(1) The Vedic ‘primary’ ending is -āmi, but OAv. -ā which is subsequently
remade into -āmi suggests a similar story for Vedic, and hence PIIr. *-ō >
*-ā. Cf. 10.4, with fn. 3, on a parallel but probably independent process
in Anatolian. In Hittite ‘secondary’ -anun, -un is analogically added to
*-om > -an.
(2) The issues regarding -(ο)μες vs. -(ο)μεν, *-(o)mes vs. *-(o)me, and *-(o)mes
vs. *-(o)mos are parallel to those in the athematic inflection (1.3).
Med. ‘Primary’
1sg. -ομαι *-o-(m)h2ei̯ Ved. -e, Hitt. -ahha(ri)
2sg. -ῃ *-e-soi̯/*-e-sai̯ Ved. -ase, Hitt. ˘-atta(ri/ti)
˘
etc.
‘Secondary’
-ομην *-o-(m)h2(e) Ved. -e, Hitt. -ahhat(i) (1)
-ου *-e-so Av. -aŋha, Hitt.˘-attat(i)
˘ (2)
(1), (2) The divergences among the attested endings again match those in the
athematic conjugation; but note that Hittite generally uses the o-variant of
the thematic vowel in the mediopassive (4.42, fn. 154).
5
For a more detailed account, see Willi (2012a: esp. 266–9) and, independently, Ellsworth (2011),
following Kiparsky (1967a) and Cowgill (1985a: 99–101; 2006: 536–9). Similar ideas were already
mooted in the nineteenth century (Bopp 1837: 649–50, 652–3, 660, Curtius 1877–80: 1.205–10; cf.
Cowgill 2006: 537 n. 3). Other scholars tried to save *-eti by postulating analogical processes pivoting,
rather implausibly, around either the 2sg. or the ‘secondary’ 3sg. endings (Brugman 1878: 173–9; 1903/4;
1904/5: 179–81, Brugmann and Thumb 1913: 397–8, Devoto 1929, Kuryłowicz 1967: 166; 1977: 29–30,
Hoenigswald 1986; 1997: 93–5, Bammesberger 1993 [1994]: 13–14); or by assuming an irregular,
frequency-conditioned, loss of *-t- (Mańczak 1992: 72).
1.6 Perfect Endings
The perfect has its own set of endings not only in Greek, but also in Indo-
Iranian; and reflexes of a separate set of PIE perfect endings are observed in
other languages too, for instance in the perfect endings of Latin. The
comparison of these data shows that Greek has innovated (and regularised)
in the 2sg. and throughout the plural, introducing an alphathematic pattern
reminiscent of the s-aorist (8.2). However, Homeric forms such as ἴδμεν ‘we
know’, μέμαμεν ‘we are keen’ still show an earlier state of affairs with a truly
athematic ending (*u̯ id-me(n), *me-mn̥ -me(n); cf. e.g. Ved. 1pl. perf. ja-gan-
má ‘we have gone’ for *ja-ga-má < *gu̯ e-gu̯ m̥ -mé). As in the s-aorist, the
alphathematisation may have been prompted not only by the 1sg. in -α, but
also by the phonologically regular development of athematic 1pl. *-me(n) after
heavy bases. Following the generalisation of the singular stem (5.5), a form
like *de-dork-me(n) ‘we look, stare’ would have been realised as *de-dork-m̥ e
(n) > δεδόρκαμεν; and the 2pl. could then be adjusted accordingly (-ατε
for athematic *-te). Similarly, once the inherited 3pl. *-r̥ s (> *-ar(s)/*-as,
depending on sandhi) had been replaced by the more familiar-looking
athematic *-n̥ ti (cf. 1.3), the latter also had to develop a-vocalism (> *-ati,
whence *-anti > -ᾱσι by analogy with 3pl. *-nti in postvocalic contexts).
In the middle voice, the perfect uses the regular athematic ‘primary’ middle
endings (1.4). A distinctive perfect inflection can therefore safely be postulated
only for the active singular and 3pl. of the late-PIE paradigm, although the 2pl.
is suggestive too (cf. below, and see 5.50 for further exploration). The discus-
sion of Hittite comparanda is postponed to 5.3, 5.33, and 5.50.
1sg. -α *-h2e Ved. -a, OLat. -ai > -ī (1)
2sg. -ας *-th2e Ved. -tha, Lat. -(is)tī (2)
3sg. -ε *-e Ved. -a, OLat. -eit (3)
1pl. -(α)μεν *-me Ved. -ma, Lat. -imus (4)
2pl. -(α)τε *-te (*-e) Ved. -a, Lat. -(is)tis (5)
3pl. -ᾱσι *-(e)rs Ved. -uh, OAv. -ǝrǝš, Lat. -ēre (6)
˙
(1) The presence of a laryngeal is indicated by the differential treatment,
according to Brugmann’s Law, of 1sg. vs. 3sg. perfect forms in Vedic:
the non-lengthening of radical *-o- in 1sg. ja-gám-a ‘I have gone’ <
*gu̯ e-gu̯ óm-h2e (≠ 3sg. ja-gā́ m-a < *gu̯ e-gu̯ óm-e) is regular in a closed
syllable. In Latin, ‘primary’ *-i has been added (since the early perfect
had present-tense reference: cf. 5.14–5.23).
(2) Gr. 2sg. -ας : 1sg. -α follows the s-aorist pattern (although 2sg. -(σ)ας is also
innovated there: 8.2). A trace of the original ending persists in the synchro-
nically irregular 2sg. perf. οἶσθα < *u̯ oid-th2e, whence -(σ)θα was occasion-
ally copied into non-perfect forms (esp. 2sg. impf. ἦσθα ‘you were’ for *ἦς).
Whereas the aspirate of Ved. -tha is due to the laryngeal, in Greek it may
rather be owed to the sibilant preceding the ending. On the element -is- in
the Latin ending (which again contains ‘primary’ *-i), cf. 8.20, fn. 87.
(3) After the addition of ‘primary’ *-i, Latin *-ei̯ was recharacterised by
adding 3sg. -t, and -eit > -īt is still reflected in Plautine scansion; but the
classical Latin ending -it < OLat. -ed continues thematic ‘secondary’ *-et
(1.5; cf. 3.23).
(4) The ending *-me is not specific to the perfect (cf. 1.3). Since the perfect
originally had present-tense reference, it should be noted that the Vedic
ending is -ma, not -mah; this weakens the idea that the initial function of
*-s in *-mes was similar˙to that of ‘primary’ *-i. In any case, 1pl. perf. *-me is
best regarded as an archaism beside 1pl. pres. *-mes.
(5) Ved. -a (e.g., ja-gm-á ‘you have gone’ < *gu̯ e-gu̯ m-é) is so irregular that an
archaism is more likely than an innovation;6 by contrast, *-te is as
unspecific to the perfect as is 1pl. *-me.
(6) On the Greek ending, see above. Ved. -uh and OAv. -ǝrǝš continue *-r̥ s,
whereas Lat. -ēre < *-ēri goes back to *-ers˙> *-ēr with added ‘primary’ *-i.
1.7–1.8 Modal Stem Markers

1.7 Subjunctive
Whereas the imperative shares the stem of present, aorist, and (rarely)
perfect indicatives, but has its own endings (1.2, fn. 3), the subjunctive and
optative moods are characterised by adding a modal stem suffix to an
indicative stem, followed by the normal non-perfect endings: ‘primary’
ones for the subjunctive, ‘secondary’ ones for the optative (1.2, 1.8; but cf.
4.47, fn. 170, on the subjunctive7).
The subjunctive marker in classical Greek regularly appears as a length-
ened thematic vowel -η/ω- with the same distribution among persons as for
the unlengthened -ε/ο- of thematic indicatives. In Homeric Greek, however,
a healthy number of short-vocalic -ε/ο- subjunctives to athematic stems are
still attested.8 Together with concurrent data in other languages these show
that the original subjunctive marker was just *-e/o-, with long *-ē/ō- arising in
thematic stems from contraction already in the proto-language (*-e-e- > *-ē-,
*-o-o- > *-ō-). Because of its greater distinctiveness, *-ē/ō- was then trans-
ferred from thematic to athematic stems as well. Note that the original
6
Weiss (2009: 393) tentatively compares Paelignian lexe ‘you have read’ (?) (< *leg-s-e?). However, it seems
unlikely that an underspecified ending such as 2pl. perf. *-e not only survived as an isolated relic in a
perfect paradigm but was even transferred from there into a form with a preceding aorist formant (*-s-).
7
Some subjunctives with ‘secondary’ endings are also found in Greek dialect inscriptions: cf. Schwyzer
(1939: 661).
8
The Homeric text is normalised in that these short-vowel subjunctives are only attested where a different
metrical structure results (Chantraine 1958: 454): thus, e.g., s-aor. subj. 1pl. act. -σομεν (*-s-o-mes), 3sg.
med. -σεται (*-s-e-toi̯), but 3sg. act. -σῃ (*-s-ē-ti), not *-σει (*-s-e-ti). Outside the s-aorist, examples are
rarer, but see, e.g., ἴ-ο-μεν ‘let us go’ for ἴ-ω-μεν (ind. ἴ-μεν ‘we go’).
homology of subjunctives to athematic stems with thematic indicatives
extends to the 1sg. act., where the subjunctive ends in -ω, not †-ομι.
Example (thematic φερε/ο- ‘carry’, active voice):
Indicative Subjunctive
1sg. φέρω *-oH φέρω *-ō̆ H Ved. -ā(ni) (1)
2sg. φέρεις *-e-si φέρῃς *-ē-s(i) Ved. -ās(i), Lat. fut. -ēs (2)
3sg. φέρει *-e-ti φέρῃ *-ē-t(i) Ved. -āt(i), Lat. fut. -et (3)
1pl. φέρομεν *-o-me(s) φέρωμεν *-ō-me(s) Ved. -āma
2pl. φέρετε *-e-te φέρητε *-ē-te Ved. -ātha, Lat. fut. -ētis (4)
3pl. φέρουσι *-o-nti φέρωσι *-ō-nt(i) Ved. -ān (5)
(1) The ending -āni is an Indo-Iranian innovation.
(2), (3) Vedic uses ‘primary’ or ‘secondary’ endings in the subjunctive singular,
but ‘secondary’ endings in the 1pl. and 3pl. (cf. 4.47, fn. 170). In Latin,
the future continues inherited subjunctive forms (with -ē- generalised
throughout the paradigm: e.g., 1pl. -ēmus). For the development of
subj. -ῃς, -ῃ, cf. 1.5 on ind. -εις, -ει.
(4) Vedic ‘primary’ -ātha for *-āta is an Indo-Iranian innovation, also
observed in the indicative (2pl. -atha); contrast ‘secondary’ ind. -ata.
(5) In Gr. -ωσι, *-ō- is analogically retained; by Osthoff’s Law, *-ōnti should
have yielded *-onti > †-ουσι.
The subjunctive is used in a variety of functions. In main clauses it occurs
as an adhortative or deliberative subjunctive in the first person (‘let me/us
X’, ‘shall I/we X?’) or as a prohibitive subjunctive in the second person (‘do
not X!’). In subordinate clauses, final and prospective subjunctives are most
common (‘in order that he/she X-es . . .’, ‘if/when he/she X-es . . .’). The
common denominator appears to be the speaker’s expectation that an
eventuality is or may be coming about (cf. 4.47).
1.8 Optative
For the optative, an ablauting suffix *-i̯eh1-/-ih1- can be reconstructed. The
variant *-ih1-, added to the thematic vowel *-o-, yields the thematic
optative suffix *-oi̯(h1)- > Gr. -οι- (~ Ved. -e-). Unlike *-ē/ō- in the
subjunctive, this -οι- has not been generalised to all athematic stems (but
see at least ἴοι ‘might go’, δεικνύοι ‘might show’, etc.). However, its
diphthongal nature was perceived as characteristic of the mood and exerted
some analogical influence. Thus, following the alphathematisation of the s-
aorist (8.2), the corresponding optative9 acquired the suffix -σαι- (in lieu of
9
Contrast the perfect optative, which has -οι- despite its alphathematic remodelling (1.6).
*-s-ih1- > †-σῑ-10). Diphthongal structures were also maintained where they
should have been lost by sound change (loss of intervocalic *-i̯-): e.g., opt.
3sg. aor. *dh3-i̯eh1-t ‘might give’ > *do-i̯ē-t → δοίη (not: †δόη), 3sg. aor.
pass. *-t hē-i̯ē-t → -θείη (not: *-θήη > †-θῆ); contrast 1pl. aor. (*dh3-ih1-me
→) *do-ī-me(n) > δοῖμεν, 1pl. aor. pass. *-thē-ī-me(n) > -θεῖμεν (whence also
δοίημεν, -θείημεν by analogy with -ιη- in the singular).
As in Vedic, ‘secondary’ endings are used. Only in the 1sg. do thematic -οιμι
and, by analogy, s-aor. -σαιμι depart from this rule (contrast δοίην, -θείην,
etc.). Even here, dialectal -οια (with -α < *-m̥ ) preserves the older situation.
Examples (thematic φερε/ο- ‘carry’ and athematic ἐσ- ‘be’, active voice):
Thematic
1sg. φέροιμι *-oi̯(h1)-m(i) Ved. -eyam, Goth. -au
2sg. φέροις *-oi̯(h1)-s Ved. -eh, Goth. -ais
3sg. φέροι *-oi̯(h1)-t ˙ Goth. -ai
Ved. -et,
1pl. φέροιμεν *-oi̯(h1)-me(s) Ved. -ema, Goth. -aima
2pl. φέροιτε *-oi̯(h1)-te Ved. -eta, Goth. -aiþ
3pl. φέροιεν *-oi̯(h1)-(e)nt Ved. -eyuh
˙
Athematic
εἴην *h1s-i̯eh1-m Ved. syām, OLat. siēm (1)
εἴης *h1s-i̯eh1-s Ved. syāh, OLat. siēs
εἴη *h1s-i̯eh1-t ˙ OLat. siēt
Ved. syāt,
εἶμεν *h1s-ih1-me(s) Lat. sīmus (2)
εἶτε *h1s-ih1-te Lat. sītis (3)
εἶεν *h1s-ih1-ent OLat. sient (4)
Ved. -eyam is analogical for *-aya(m) < *-oi̯(h1)-m̥ (as is Arc. -οια for
(1)
*-οα). The Latin subjunctive siēm continues the inherited optative (→
classical Lat. sim, by analogy with non-alternating s-aorist optatives
(subjunctives) in *-s-ih1-m: type OLat. faxim).
(2), (3) In Vedic, the singular alternant of the suffix has been generalised (1pl.
syāma, 2pl. syāta), as in the Greek by-forms εἴημεν, εἴητε, εἴησαν.
(4) In Vedic, the old perfect ending *-r̥ s (1.6) has replaced *-n̥ t (as also in the
s-aorist); -eyuh is analogical for *-ayuh < *-oi̯(h1)-r̥ s. Gr. -οιεν is remo-
˙ < *-oi̯(h )-n̥ t; -εν for *-αν
delled for *-οαν ˙ follows the athematic paradigm
1
with ablauting suffix (cf. regular εἶεν).
10
The so-called ‘Aeolic’ optatives (type 2sg. δείξειας, 3sg. δείξειε, 3pl. δείξειαν) may also be due to
analogical diphthongisation if they reflect the old s-aorist optative in *-sī-. 3sg. *dei̯k-s-ī-t > *dei̯ksī
would have been recharacterised, after the loss of *-t, as 3sg. by the addition of ‘thematic’ -e, allowing a
further transformation *dei̯ksī-e > *dei̯ksii̯-e → dei̯ksei̯e (= δείξειε) with ‘optatival’ diphthong. 2sg.
δείξειας, 3pl. δείξειαν : 3sg. δείξειε analogically match ind. 2sg. ἔδειξας, 3pl. ἔδειξαν : 3sg. ἔδειξε. For a
similar explanation, but with a less likely starting point in the 3pl., see Rix (1992: 233), after Pisani (1943/4:
537–8); for other opinions and earlier literature, Schwyzer (1939: 796–7), F. Thomas (1957; 1961), Forbes
(1958), Chantraine (1961: 266), Taillardat (1967), Hilmarsson (1977: 197), Jasanoff (1991a: 116–19),
Kortlandt (1992), Sihler (1995: 598).
Like the subjunctive, the Greek optative has various syntactic functions. In
main clauses we can distinguish a ‘cupitive’ optative in wishes (‘may I/you/
he/she X . . . !’) and a ‘potential’ optative in statements referring to possible/
conceivable eventualities (‘I/you/he/she might/would X . . .’). The poten-
tial optative also occurs in subordinate clauses, notably conditional and
relative ones (‘if he/she might X . . .’), but also past iterative temporal
clauses (‘whenever he/she would X . . .’). A special development is the
‘oblique’ optative, which replaces indicatives and subjunctives in depen-
dent clauses if the verb in the main clause has past-tense reference; the
future optative is restricted to this environment. Overall, if the subjunctive
is the mood of expectation, the optative is the mood of (mere) possibility.
1.9–1.13 ‘Tense’ Stems

1.9 Overview
Although the term ‘tense stems’ is handy, it is somewhat misleading when
applied to the Greek verbal system. Only the future and future perfect
stems are tense stems in the strict sense, as they unequivocally refer to
future not-now eventualities.
By contrast, the present and perfect stems are found with either present
(now) or past (not-now) reference. The former are shared between the
present (with ‘primary’ endings) and the imperfect (with ‘secondary’ end-
ings); the latter, between the perfect (with perfect endings) and the
pluperfect (with ‘secondary’ endings: for detail, see 5.11–5.13).
The aorist stems generally have past (not-now) reference as well, but
only in the indicative; in the other moods, they are not past-tense stems.
The real contrast between at least present and aorist stems is therefore
aspectual, not temporal. Whereas the present stems are aspectually imper-
fective, being used to view eventualities ‘from the inside’, as internally
structured or ‘unfolding’, the aorist stems are aspectually perfective and
therefore employed when eventualities are viewed ‘from the outside’, in
their entirety and without regard for their internal structure (4.4). If the
aorist indicative has present reference only in exceptional circumstances,
this is because a truly presentic eventuality cannot normally be viewed in its
entirety as it is still ongoing (as opposed to extratemporal or ‘timeless’: cf.
5.29 and 7.15 on the ‘gnomic aorist’).
With regard to this aspectual contrast, the position of the perfect stems is
more ambiguous. Although the perfect is sometimes presented as such, it is
not a ‘third aspect’: an eventuality can only be viewed ‘from the inside’
(imperfective) or ‘from the outside’ (perfective), tertium non datur. Because
perfective aspect imperfective aspect stative domain
future tense future stem future perfect stem

(future) (future perfect)
present tense – [except ‘gnomic’ aor.] present stem perfect stem

(+ non-indicative moods) (modal: aorist stem) (present) (perfect)
past tense aorist stem present stem perfect stem

(augmented) (aorist) (imperfect) (pluperfect)
Fig. 1.1. The distribution of ‘tense’ stems in classical Greek
the perfect has present (now) reference in early and classical Greek, it might
thus be classified as aspectually imperfective. However, the perfect char-
acteristically refers to states, whether or not these result from a past action
(5.14–5.23); and since states are by definition internally unstructured, view-
ing them from the inside or from the outside makes little difference. In this
sense, a typical perfect can be compared as readily to a ‘timeless’ perfective
as to a ‘general’ imperfective present. As we shall see, to acknowledge this
ambiguity is not without importance for our understanding of the pre-
history of the perfect category (5.29).
Finally, in the future the imperfective vs. perfective contrast could in theory
be realised as easily as in the past (with the imperfect vs. aorist indicative); but
in Ancient Greek it is neutralised here, so that one and the same formation
regularly serves for both aspects. Similarly, all indicatives with past reference,
regardless of aspect, share the use of the prefixed augment (*h1e-) in the
classical language. On the more complex situation in Homer, see 7.2–7.10.
1.10 Aorist Stems

With the exception of some aspectually defective items (e.g., λέγω ‘say, speak’,
with suppletive aorist εἰπε/ο-), each verbal lexeme has both an aorist and a
present stem. Since there are various types of both, which aorist and which
present stem type are selected is not entirely predictable but lexically deter-
mined. There are of course recurrent patterns, like the frequent pairing of
simple thematic presents with s-aorists (e.g., pres. νεμε/ο- < *nem-e/o- : s-aor.
νειμα- < *nem-s(a)- ‘distribute’, Table 8.1), but exceptions are easy to find (e.g.,
pres. ἔχε/ο- < *seg̑ h-e/o- : thematic aor. σχε/ο- < *sg̑ h-e/o- ‘have, hold’,
Table 8.2). The available formations must therefore be reviewed separately.
The following aorist stem types (active/middle voice) can be distinguished:
(i) Root aorists: The stem is identical with the root: it contains no affixes
and is followed directly by athematic endings. Although analogical
levelling has taken place in many cases, it seems that the root originally
alternated between full-grade forms (in the active singular) and zero-
grade forms (in the active plural and in the middle) (6.11). In early and
classical Greek, the root aorist is relatively rare and mostly confined to
roots in a long vowel (often, but not always, *CeH- roots; 6.11–6.13).
Other old root aorists are hidden behind certain thematic and s-aorists
(6.15–6.21, 8.3). A special offshoot of the root aorist is the κ-aorist. This
is restricted to very few roots and even there to the active singular and,
sometimes, 3pl.; see 6.12 for further detail.
Examples (cf. Table 6.1, Table 6.2): act. βη- ‘go’ (root *gu̯ eh2-), γνω- ‘recognise’
(*g̑ neh3-), στη- ‘(take a) stand’ (*steh2-), med. χυ- ‘pour out (intr.)’ (*g̑ heu̯ -); κ-aor.:
δωκ(α)- ‘give’ (*deh3-), θηκ(α)- ‘put’ (*d heh1-).
(ii) Thematic aorists: The non-ablauting root, which is mostly but not
always in the zero grade, is followed by thematic endings (stem
structure *CC-e/o-). It is indisputable that some thematic aorists
represent secondarily thematised root aorists, but the extent to
which this is true for the type as a whole requires further discussion
(Chapter 6).
Examples (cf. 6.22): (ϝ)ιδ-ε/ο- ‘see’ (root *u̯ ei̯d-), λιπ-ε/ο- ‘leave’ (*lei̯ku̯ -), πυθ-ε/ο-
‘become aware’ (*bheu̯ d h-), σχε/o- ‘hold’ (*seg̑ h-), τεμ-ε/ο- ‘cut’ (*temh1-), τραπ-ε/ο-
‘turn’ (*trep-).
(iii) Reduplicated aorists: The zero-graded root is preceded by a redupli-
cation syllable, normally with e-vocalism, and followed by thematic
endings (stem structure *C1e-C1C-e/o-). On the principles governing
the shape of the reduplication syllable, also when vowel-initial roots
are involved, see 3.10–3.13.
Examples (cf. Table 3.1): ἀγ-αγ-ε/ο- ‘lead’ (root *h2eg̑ -), εἰπ-ε/ο- ‘say’ ← *u̯ e-u̯ ku̯ -e/o-
(*u̯ eku̯ -), πε-πιθ-ε/ο- ‘persuade’ (*bhei̯d h-), πε-φν-ε/ο- ‘kill’ (*g u̯ hen-).
(iv) Aorists in *-s(a)- (s-aorists): Where the s-aorist is a primary (root-based)
formation, the root typically shows full-grade vocalism throughout the
paradigm. It is suffixed with *-s- before an ‘alphathematic’ set of endings,
which is ultimately based on the inherited athematic endings (8.2: stem
structure *CeC-s(a)-). However, due to regular sound change, the stem
marker *-s- is no longer recognisable in many cases (e.g., νειμα- < *nem-
s(a)-; cf. also 8.18 on ‘restituted’ intervocalic *-s-). On the PIE back-
ground of the root vocalism, see 8.46–8.52.
Being the only fully productive aorist type, the s-aorist is also used to
form secondary (stem-based) aorists next to denominal or deverbal
present stems which never had, or have lost, a corresponding aorist.
In these cases, the stem suffix *-s- replaces the present-stem suffix (e.g.,
*-i̯e/o-), but otherwise the present-stem structure is replicated (e.g., aor.
βασιλευσα- to denominal pres. βασιλευε/ο- ‘be king’, 8.4; aor. γραψα-
with zero-grade root to γραφε/ο- ‘write’, 6.28; cf. also 5.44 on aorists
in -ησα- to presents in *-ei̯e/o-).
Examples (cf. Table 8.1): δειξα- ‘show’ (root *dei̯k̑ -), θεινα- ‘strike’ (*g u̯ hen-),
πεισα- ‘persuade’ (*bhei̯d h-), τεινα- ‘stretch’ (*ten-), τρεψα- ‘turn’ (*trep-).
A separate stem is used in the aorist passive. Here a suffix -η- or -θη- is added to
the root, which is in the zero grade unless it is analogically influenced by the
active aorist or the present. For the endings, the athematic active set is used.
Together with a number of distributional features within the history of Greek
and the likely connection of -η- with a PIE stative-intransitive suffix *-eh1-
(cf. 5.44), this suggests that the passive use represents a late specialisation of an
originally intransitive type. In fact, intransitive but not passive uses of aorists
in -(θ)η- are also commonly found, both among deponents and elsewhere,
and in Homer middle aorists often still serve in the passive voice. In classical
times, the variant -θη- dominates and is the productive counterpart to active/
middle -σα-. The origin and genetic relation of -θη- with -η- are controversial
(cf. the Epilogue, with fn. 3).
Examples: δειχ-θη- ‘be shown’ (root *dei̯k̑ -), δο-θη- ‘be given’ (*deh3-), μαν-η- ‘be
mad’ (*men-), τα-θη- ‘be stretched’ (*ten-), τραπ-η- ‘turn (intr.), be turned’ (*trep-).
1.11 Present Stems

The variety of present-stem types is even greater than that of the aorist
ones. The following list is not exhaustive but concentrates on the more
prominent formations, most of which will be discussed in greater detail in
subsequent chapters. Occasional mention will also be made there of Greek
presents in *-ke/o- (8.39) and *-se/o- (3.2, 8.29, 8.41).
(i) Athematic root presents: As in the root aorist, the root equals the stem;
it is followed by athematic endings. Only very few such presents
survive with full paradigms in historical Greek, but those that do
preserve well the ablaut pattern with a full-grade root in the singular
and a zero-grade root in the plural. (On athematic middles like κεῖμαι
‘lie’ with full-grade root, see 4.34 and 4.44, fn. 159.)
Examples: εἰ-/ἰ- ‘go’ (root *h1ei̯-), ἐσ- ‘be’ (*h1es-), φη-/φα- ‘say’ (*bheh2-).
(ii) Thematic root presents: Most thematic root presents have a non-
ablauting full-grade root, followed by thematic endings (stem struc-
ture *CeC-e/o-); a much smaller group shows a zero-grade root (6.28).
The formation is common and in many cases a thematic root present
may supersede a previous athematic one. However, the thematic root
present as a type must not be regarded as a straight descendant of the
athematic root present (4.34–4.44).
Examples (cf. 4.44, Table 8.1, Table 8.2): ἀγ-ε/ο- ‘lead’ (root *h2eg̑ -), ἐχ-ε/ο- (*seg̑ h-),
λεγ-ε/ο- ‘collect, say’ (*leg̑ -), λειπ-ε/ο- ‘leave’ (*lei̯ku̯ -), μεν-ε/ο- ‘stay, remain’ (*men-),
φερ-ε/ο- ‘carry’ (*bher-).
(iii) Reduplicated presents: There are both athematic and thematic redu-
plicated presents. The former have a root with full-grade vocalism in
the active singular and zero-grade vocalism in the plural and middle,
the latter a non-ablauting zero-grade root followed by the thematic
vowel, or in some cases the suffixes *-i̯e/o- (4.16) or *-(i)sk̑ e/o- (8.44;
cf. below). Both types share the reduplication syllable: with
consonant-initial roots, this differs from the reduplication syllable
of the reduplicated aorist (1.10) in showing i-vocalism. This feature
certainly reaches back to the proto-language, although it need not be
equally old everywhere (stem structure athematic *C1i-C1eC-/
C1i-C1C-, thematic *C1i-C1C-e/o-). Like the relationship between
the thematic and athematic types (4.19–4.21), this matter will be
considered more carefully later (4.24–4.25).
Examples (cf. Table 4.1): γι-γν-ε/ο- ‘become’ (root *g̑ enh1-), δι-δω-/δι-δο- ‘give’
(root *deh3-), ἱ-ζ-ε/ο- ‘sit down, seat’ (*sed-), ἱ-στη-/ἱ-στα- ‘set up, stand’ (*steh2-),
μι-μν-ε/ο- ‘await’ (*men-), τι-θη-/τι-θε- ‘put’ (*d heh1-).
(iv) Presents in *-sk̑ e/o-: Presents with the suffix *-(i)sk̑ e/o- > -(ι)σκε/ο-
occur either with or without reduplication syllable (cf. above). The
non-ablauting root is usually in the zero grade in either case, and
the endings are thematic (stem structure *[C1i-]C1C-(i)sk̑ e/o-). On
the (unclear) origin of the suffix variant -ισκε/ο- next to -σκε/ο-, see
8.44, with fn. 192.
Examples (cf. 8.43–8.44, Table 8.4): βα-σκε/ο- ‘go, come’ (root *gu̯ em-), βλω-σκε/ο-
‘go, come’ (*melh3-), θνη-(ι)σκε/ο- ‘die’ (*d henh2-); ἀρ-αρ-ισκε/ο- ‘fit together’
(*h2er-), γι-γνω-σκε/ο- ‘recognise’ (*g̑ neh3-).
(v) Presents in *-i̯e/o- (i̯-presents): Because the suffix *-i̯e/o- was a highly
productive means to form secondary denominal verbs both within
Greek and already in Proto-Indo-European, present stems in *-i̯e/o-
are very common. Several composite suffixes, which have become
productive in their own right and sometimes yield deverbatives as
well, originate from such denominal items: e.g., -αε/ο- < *-ā-i̯e/o-
(*-eh2-i̯e/o-), -αινε/ο- < *-n̥ -i̯e/o-, -ιζε/ο- < *-id-i̯e/o- (cf. 8.4; also 5.44
on -εε/ο-).
However, *-i̯e/o- is also a frequent primary suffix. As such it char-
acteristically occurs after a zero-grade root (stem structure *CC-i̯e/o-).
Where the root appears in the full grade instead, this is usually because
a zero grade would have created phonotactic problems (8.4, 10.33)
and/or because the vocalism has been adjusted to other parts of the
paradigm, notably a corresponding s-aorist (cf. Table 4.2 on τείνω
(*ten-), 6.20). Although regular sound change has led to the disappear-
ance of *-i̯ - in all positions in Greek, the suffix is recognisable thanks to
the phonological effects *-i̯- had on preceding segments.
Examples: ἁλλε/ο- ‘jump’ (root *sel-), βαινε/ο- ‘go, come’ (*gu̯ em-), θεινε/ο- ‘strike’
(*g u̯ hen-), μαινε/ο- ‘be crazy’ (*men-), νιζε/ο- ‘wash’ (*nei̯gu̯ -), χαιρε/ο- ‘rejoice’
(*g̑ her-).
(vi) Presents in *-ei̯ e/o-: Although there is a remote connection with the i̯-
presents (5.34), *-ei̯e/o- was used as an independent primary suffix in
both Proto-Indo-European and Greek, with very limited productiv-
ity in historical times. Many formations in *-ei̯e/o- show a non-
ablauting root with o-grade vocalism (stem structure *CoC-ei̯e/o-;
5.34–5.39), but some lexemes with a zero-grade root are also found
(5.43–5.47). Since certain representatives of the class could be seman-
tically reanalysed as denominal verbs to related o-stem nouns (e.g.,
φοβέομαι ‘fear’ ~ φόβος ‘fear’), *-ei̯e/o- > -εε/ο- became a denominal
suffix, and as such it is still productive in classical Greek.
Examples (cf. Table 5.4, Table 5.5): δοκεε/ο- ‘expect, suppose’ (root *dek̑ -), σοβεε/ο-
‘scare away’ (*ti̯egu̯ -), φοβεε/ο- ‘(act.) scare, (med.) fear’ (*bhegu̯ -), φορεε/ο- ‘carry’
(*bher-).
(vii) Nasal presents: Like the i̯-presents, the nasal presents come in a variety of
subtypes. Apart from the root, the stem always contains a nasal affix
(*-n-), but this can be realised as a root infix, a root suffix, or even both.
Also, both athematic and thematic variants are frequent; and although
sometimes the thematicity of the latter has to be a recent (and occasion-
ally still incomplete) innovation, the situation is too complex to assert
that thematic nasal presents were unknown in Proto-Indo-European.11
11
Against today’s communis opinio, a PIE thematic suffix *-ne/o- was accepted by García Teijeiro (1970:
143), after Meillet (1908/9a: 100–1).
Within Greek, the athematic type is represented by verbs
with an ablauting stem in -νη-/-νᾰ- or -νῡ-/-νῠ-. Whereas the
former belongs to roots in *-h2- (typically *CeRh2-: stem struc-
ture *CR̥ neh2-/CR̥ nh2-; e.g., δαμνη-/δαμνᾰ - ‘tame’ to *demh2-),
the latter may continue, at least in part, an already PIE suffix
*-neu̯ -/-nu- that arose by resegmentation of similarly built nasal-
infix presents to roots in *-u̯ -.12 Since -νῡ-/-νῠ- was a productive suffix, it
is no longer restricted, as it was originally, to formations with a preced-
ing zero-grade root (e.g., ζεύγ-νῡ- ‘yoke’ < *i̯eu̯ g-nū- vs. (med.) τά-νυ-
‘be stretched’ < *tn̥ -nu-).
The thematic type comprises verbs in *-νϝε/ο- > -νε/ο-, which are
analysable as thematised versions of the athematic -νῡ-/-νῠ- group
(e.g., τῑνε/ο- ‘(act.) pay, (med.) punish’ < *ku̯ i-nu̯ -e/o-), but also
verbs in simple -νε/ο- behind which thematised variants of nasal
presents in *-neH-/-nH- can be suspected (e.g., βαλλε/ο- ‘throw’
with -λλ- < *-ln-, to *gu̯ elh1-). Because synchronically suffixed nasal
presents predominated over infixed ones, a mixed type was created
on this basis by addition of *-n[H]e/o- – realised as *-n̥ e/o- > -ανε/ο-,
notably after *-CC- sequences – to formations that already con-
tained an infixed *-n-13 (e.g., λιμπανε/ο- ‘leave’ < *li-n-ku̯ -n̥ e/o-,
replacing either athematic *lineku̯ -/*linku̯ - or thematic *linku̯ -e/o-:
cf. Ved. rinakti ‘leaves’ vs. Lat. linquō ‘leave’14). Moreover, next to
thematic ˙aorists in particular, the type in -(α)νε/ο- eventually
extended its productivity (e.g., λαμβανε/ο- ‘take’ ~ aor. λαβε/ο-,
replacing earlier (Hom.) λαζε/ο- < *slagu̯ -i̯e/o-).
12
Cf. e.g. Rix (1992: 210); but via ‘Cowgill’s Law’, -νῡ-/-νῠ- also continues *-neh3-/-nh3-: see Cowgill
(1965: 157), Willi (2012a: 269–70).
13
This innovation may be shared with Armenian, but the Armenian evidence is at best indirect: see
Kuiper (1937: 117), Hamp (1975: 106), and Clackson (1994: 84–5), and on the general recency of the
type already Thurneysen (1894).
14
Stems whose structure is comparable to that of Lat. linque/o- < *linku̯ -e/o- (to *lei̯ku̯ -) are so widespread
in Indo-European (cf. e.g. Gr. πυνθάνομαι ‘become aware, learn’ ~ OIr. ad‧boind ‘gives notice’, Lith.
bundù ‘wake up’ < *bhund h-e/o- to *bheu̯ d h-) that it may be wrong to equate the Indo-Iranian athematic
type with the Proto-Indo-European one in cases like this. An Indo-Iranian athematisation is by no
means excluded (cf. 4.21 for a similar development), and the athematic prototype envisaged by Strunk
(1969: 222–6; 1973: 68–73; 1979b) (e.g., *lei̯nku̯ -/linku̯ -) clarifies the thematic material no more than
*lineku̯ -/linku̯ - does. The matter will not be fully investigated here, but see the Epilogue for some further
remarks. A similar question is whether formations like Gr. φαίνω ‘reveal’, πλνω ‘wash’ < *bhh̥ 2-ni̯e/o-,
*plu-ni̯e/o- require a PIE present class in *-nei̯-/-ni- (Sandoz 1974, Praust 2004), rather than just *-ni̯e/o-.
Were it not for controversial evidence for *-ni̯e/o- (or *-nH-i̯e/o-?) in other branches as well (esp. Ved.
-anyá-, Hitt. -annye/a-: cf. Jasanoff 1983: 74–5 and 2003: 122–6, F. Bader 1987: 132–5, Oettinger 1992
[1994], Lindeman 2001, Meier-Brügger 2005), an inner-Greek remake of *-ne/o- into *-ni̯e/o- could
hardly be doubted (cf. Tucker 1981: 28).
Further examples: δεικνῡ-/δεικνῠ- ‘show’ (root *dei̯k̑ -), θῡνε/ο- ‘rush’ (*dheu̯ -),
λανθανε/ο- ‘escape notice, hide’ (?*leh2dh-), περνη-/περνᾰ- ‘sell’ (*perh2-), ταμνε/ο-,
τεμνε/ο- ‘cut’ (*temh1-; 6.20).
1.12 Perfect Stems

Because of intricate restructuring processes within Greek, even a summary
account of its perfect-stem formation is complicated; for more detail, see
5.4–5.8. Broadly speaking, we may separate a root-based ‘strong’ perfect
from an innovated ‘weak’ perfect with κ-suffix in the active voice. Since the
latter is an offshoot of the former, without direct comparanda outside Greek,
only the strong perfect is relevant for reconstructive purposes.
Except for οἶδα ‘know’ (5.30), all Greek perfects are reduplicated. Where
applicable, the reduplication syllable contains an e-vowel. Also shared are
the special endings of the active perfect (1.6).
(i) Strong perfects: Although residual paradigms still show root ablaut, with
o-grade singular vs. zero-grade plural and participle (5.4; stem structure
*C1e-C1oC-/C1e-C1C-), this has mostly been levelled. As may be expected,
it is often the o-grade of the singular that has been generalised. However,
since the ‘active’ perfect originally paired with middle presents and aorists
(5.9, 5.26; e.g., perf. γέγονα ‘have become, am’ ~ pres. γίγνομαι) and
since this form–function mismatch was partially remedied by the sec-
ondary creation of formally middle perfects (with zero-grade roots) (5.9),
the resulting functional similarity of old active with newer middle
perfects could also trigger the generalisation of the zero-grade variant, a
development supported by the prominence of the participles in the
perfect paradigm. With certain roots (*CeRH-), the regular outcome
was then a long-vowel perfect (e.g., 3sg. med.(-pass.) εἴρηται ‘is said’ <
*u̯ e-u̯ r̥ h1-toi̯); and because independent developments had generated a
long vowel also in at least some active perfects, a range of (analogical)
long-vowel perfects was built as well (5.7). Finally, in the wake of these,
and of the weak κ-perfect, the root shape of corresponding presents was
occasionally copied into the perfect (e.g., πέφευγα ‘have fled’ ~ pres.
φεύγω).
Since only the active endings underwent alphathematisation (1.6),
root-final stops were regularly assimilated to consonant-initial middle
endings (e.g., 3sg. med.-pass. κέ-κρυπ-ται ‘is hidden’, τέ-τακ-ται ‘is
arranged’ to κρυφ-, ταγ-). The neutralised outcome of labials and
velars so affected was then interpreted as representing an underlying
aspirate, and root-final (non-etymological) aspiration generalised as a
categorial marker in (new) transitive active perfects (‘aspirated per-
fects’: e.g., 3sg. act. τέταχε ‘has arranged’ to ταγ-).15
Further examples (cf. 5.4–5.7): εἴληφ(α)- ‘have taken’ < *se-sl̥ h2gu̯ - (root *sleh2gu̯ -),
κε-κλοφ(α)- ‘have stolen’ (*klep-), λε-λοιπ(α)- ‘have left’ (*lei̯ku̯ -), πε-ποιθ(α)-
‘trust’ (*bhei̯d h-).
(ii) Weak perfects (κ-perfects): The κ(α)-suffixed perfect is restricted to the
active voice, and in some of the earliest (Homeric) examples to the active
singular. Secondary verbs in need of a middle perfect add the relevant
endings directly to the verbal base (i.e., the stem without tense suffixes:
e.g., 3sg. τε-τίμη-ται ‘is honoured’ to τιμη-; contrast 3sg. act. τε-τίμη-κ-ε
‘has honoured’). As in the strong perfect, where an o-graded active may
coexist with a zero-graded middle (cf. above), this means that active and
middle perfect stems are similar, but not identical.
Apart from being the only perfect formation available to secondary
verbs, in classical times the weak perfect also encroached upon the
strong perfect in the paradigm of primary verbs (except where a
strong perfect was firmly established and/or the addition of the κ-
suffix would have caused phonotactic difficulties, notably with roots
in a velar or labial). Unlike the inherited perfects and also the older
(Homeric) κ-perfects, all such newly-built perfects in -κ(α)- are
transitive (‘resultative’: cf. 5.14).
On the background and original role of the suffix -κ(α)-, see 5.7
and 6.12.
Examples: ἔ-σταλκ(α)- ‘have sent’ (root *stel-), πε-πεικ(α)- ‘have convinced’ (*bhei̯dh-),
τε-θηκ(α)- ‘have put’ (*dheh1-), τε-θνηκ(α)-/τε-θνα- ‘be dead’ (*dhenh2-), τε-τληκ(α)-/
τε-τλα- ‘endure’ (*telh2-).
1.13 Future and Future Perfect Stems

The Greek future is built with a thematic s-suffix. In the active voice and
middle voice of primary verbs, this is added directly to the root, which
shows a full grade unless it has undergone analogical levelling from the
present or aorist stem (stem structure *CeC-se/o-). Save for the thematic
nature of the future, this means that future and s-aorist stems coincide (e.g.,
15
The exact mechanism of this innovation has caused much debate: apart from the handbooks, see
Osthoff (1884: 284–91), J. Schmidt (1885; 1887), Meillet (1905/6: 50–2), Kent (1941) (against Sturtevant
1940a), Christol (1972), Ringe (1984), Slings (1986). Based on Christol, but responding to the
objections of Ringe (1984: 130), it seems most promising to assume that, because aspirate-final roots
yielded forms like 3sg. med. ἔστραπται (< *-ph-toi̯, to στρεφ- ‘turn’) vs. 3pl. med. ἐστράφαται (< *-ph-
n̥ toi̯), the middle 3pl. ending was taken to include a feature [+aspirating] and then, as /-hatai̯ /, extended
to other roots (e.g., 3pl. τετράφαται, to τρεπ- ‘turn’). Thus transformed into a categorial marker, the
aspiration was transferred from the frequent middle/passive to the corresponding active voice.
1.14–1.15 Non-finite Forms 21
fut. δειξε/ο- ‘will show’ ~ aor. δειξα-), and that many futures are formally
indistinguishable from s-aorist subjunctives before the latter generalise the
subjunctive’s characteristic long-vowel marker (1.7).
There is, however, some discussion as to whether the future suffix is in origin
just *-se/o- and not rather *-h1se/o-, with loss of *-h1- in certain environments.
The main language-internal argument for the latter assumption comes from
the so-called Attic (or ‘contract’) futures to roots/bases in nasals and liquids
(type μενῶ ‘I will stay’ < μεν-εε/ο-). These regularly feature a suffix *-ese/o- >
*-ehe/o- > *-ee/o- (with no analogical restitution of *-s-, but vowel contraction);
and this allows a reconstruction *-h1se/o-, no matter if the laryngeal
involved always formed part of the suffix or was missegmented from
roots in *-h1-. In the West Greek dialects, the future in *-h1se/o- > *-ese/o-
was generalised so that the future marker *-s- is virtually repeated in stems
like δειξεε/ο- (as if from *-s-ese/o-: ‘Doric future’). See further 8.15–8.19,
also on the tendency of the Greek future to inflect medially and on some
exceptional asigmatic futures.
Further examples: δωσε/ο- ‘will give’ (root *deh3-), ἐλευσε/ο- ‘will come’ (*h1leu̯ d h-),
ἐρεε/ο- ‘will say’ (*u̯ erh1-), λεξε/ο- ‘will collect’ (*leg̑ -), στελεε/ο- ‘will send’ (*stel-).
A future passive which is formally distinct from the middle is only gradually
developing; in Homer it is still all but inexistent. The formation combines the
passive-intransitive aorist stem in -(θ)η- (1.10) with the future suffix -σε/ο-. In
classical Greek, the endings used are the middle ones, in line with the
tendency just mentioned but in contrast with the aorist in -(θ)η-.
Examples (cf. 1.10): δειχ-θη-σε/ο- ‘will be shown’, δο-θη-σε/ο- ‘will be given’,
τραπ-η-σε/ο- ‘will be turned’.
The rare future perfect stem also uses the suffix -σε/ο-, adding it to the
perfect stem (in the case of secondary κ-perfects without the -κ(α)- suffix).
However, this formation almost exclusively occurs in the mediopassive,
and not with all perfect stems. Elsewhere, and throughout the active voice,
the future perfect is formed periphrastically (perf. ptcpl. + fut. of εἰμί).
Examples (cf. 1.12): κεκρυψε/ο- ‘will be hidden’, τεθνηξε/ο- ‘will be dead’, τεταξε/ο-
‘will be arranged’.
1.14–1.15 Non-finite Forms

1.14 Participles and Verbal Adjectives
In addition to the finite forms, there are participles and infinitives to all the
‘tense’ stems. Whereas some of the participles will occasionally be referred
to in the following chapters, the infinitives are mentioned here only to
complete the survey.
Active participles are built with an athematic suffix -(ο)ντ- < *-(o)nt- (fem.
*-(o)nt-ih2- > *-(o)nti̯ā̆ -), middle ones with a thematic suffix -(ο)μενο/η- <
*-(o)meno/ā- < *-(o)mh1no/eh2- (s-aor.: -(σ)α-μενο/η-). Where there is a separate
passive, the participial form selected corresponds to the set of finite endings
used (cf. ‘active’ -(θ)ε-ντ- in the aorist passive). Also, just as there are separate
finite endings in the active perfect, so the active perfect participle has its own
suffix *-u̯ os- (fem. *-us-ih2- > *-usi̯ā̆ - > -υια-). In post-Mycenaean times, but
already in archaic Greek, this appears as remodelled *-u̯ ot- > -(ϝ)οτ- (except
in the endingless nom.-acc. ntr. sg. -(ϝ)ος; the long-vocalic masculine
nom. -(ϝ)ως is ambiguous).
As expected, the active participle to thematic stems shows invariant *-ont-
(e.g., φεροντ- ‘carrying’ < *bher-o-nt-). In most athematic stems, we similarly
find invariant *-nt- (e.g., s-aorist: -σαντ- < *-s(a)-nt-; aor. in -(θ)η-: -(θ)εντ- <
*-(th)ē-nt-; pres. in -νῡ-/-νῠ-: -νυντ- < *-nu-nt-). However, there are traces of
an older state of affairs with ablaut in the suffix (*-ont-/-nt-): see especially the
present participle of athematic εἰμί ‘am’, Ion. ἐοντ- (Att. ὀντ-) < *h1(e)s-ont-,
with dialectal fem. ἐασσα- < *h1s-n̥ ti̯ā̆ -.16 In the perfect participle, only the
derived feminine stem still reflects the erstwhile ablaut variant *-us- of *-u̯ os-.
Functionally similar to the perfect (medio)passive participle is the verbal
adjective in -τό- < *-tó-. When formed to primary verbs, this normally adds
the suffix to the zero-grade root (e.g., τατό- ‘stretched’ < *tn̥ -tó-, to *ten-;
cf. perf. pass. ptcpl. τεταμένο- ‘stretched’). A parallel formation is the
deontic verbal adjective in -τέο-, which has no direct correspondent out-
side Greek (e.g., τατέο- ‘to be stretched’).17
1.15 Infinitives
Among the Greek infinitive formations there is some dialectal variation. As
a rule, they continue case forms of verbal action nouns, which were
grammaticalised as infinitives in the strict sense only in Proto-Greek.
In classical Greek (Attic-Ionic), the normal athematic active infinitive ends
in -(ε)ναι (≠ Hom., Dor. -μεν; Hom. -μεναι by contamination), the thematic
one in -ειν < *-e-sen (e.g., athematic ἰ-έναι ‘to go’ to *h1ei̯ -, δοῦναι < *do-enai̯
‘to give’ to *deh3-; thematic φέρειν ‘to carry’ to *bher-). While the endings
16
For more detail on this participle, see Morpurgo Davies (1978) and Meier-Brügger (1999); cf. also
10.9 on the wider question of PIE participial ablaut, and 6.6, fn. 27, on (probably secondary) forms
with e-grade in the suffix. Note that among the nasal presents, *-nu-ont- would probably also have
resulted in *-nunt- (via *-n(u)u̯ -ont- and ‘Cowgill’s Law’).
17
For discussion of the (controversial) origin of this formation, see Willi (2009b).
without -αι may be traced back to endingless locatives, of abstract nouns in
*-s-en- and *-m-en- respectively, the explanation of -(ε)ναι as an old dative – of
yet another abstract noun in *-en- (?) – is phonologically difficult. Possibly the
regular dative ending *-ei̯ was adjusted to *-ai̯ under the influence of another
active infinitive, in -(σ)σαι < *-d hi̯ eh2-i, locative of a further abstract noun in
*-d hi̯ eh2. Gr. -(σ)σαι is associated with the s-aorist in historical times, but
comparative evidence (Ved. inf. (< dat.?) -(a)dhyai in e.g. bhára-dhyai ‘to
carry’) suggests that this is a secondary restriction due to the superficial
similarity of -σαι with the s-aorist suffix -σα-. Such a view would be strength-
ened if the middle infinitive ending -σθαι (thematic -εσθαι) were somehow
descended from an originally voice-neutral -(σ)σαι:18 for -(ε)σθαι is used in all
‘tense’ stems.
1.16–1.18 Approaching Prehistory

1.16 Comparative (External) Observations
If we want to understand not only how the verbal system of Ancient Greek
worked in synchrony but also how its richness is to be explained in
diachrony, we may approach this question from two complementary angles,
an external and an internal one. Externally, the comparison with the verbal
systems of related Indo-European languages immediately reveals that the
Greek situation is by no means ‘normal’. A language like Latin, for example,
still shows much more morphological complexity in its verbal inflection
than, say, modern English, but its categorial layout is noticeably simpler
than that of Greek: there is no dual number, no optative mood, no aorist
‘tense’, and no middle voice. Vedic Sanskrit, on the other hand, does
provide a good match for Greek. In fact, the homologies between the
Greek system and that of Vedic are so remarkable, in terms of both
categories used and formal expression assigned to them, that the reconstruc-
tion of the verbal system of Proto-Indo-European has traditionally been
based on these concordances more than anything else. It is thus no coin-
cidence that Vedic comparanda have featured prominently in the preceding
sections. Also, it has long been recognised that if we posit for Proto-Indo-
European a verbal system similar to the one observed in Greek and Vedic,
18
See in this sense Rix (1992: 239), who adds that ‘the genetic process is unclear’; Sihler (1995: 609–10).
In 10.14, it will be argued that 2sg. med. *-sai̯ > -σαι may have replaced *-s-thai̯. If this process was
completed only when *-d hi̯ai̯ had also become *-sai̯, the *-sai̯ ~ *-sthai̯ equivalence in the 2sg. middle
could have triggered the introduction of *-sthai̯ as a variant of *-sai̯ in the infinitive as well. In the
2sg., *-sthai̯ would then have disappeared, whereas in the infinitive the voice differentiation between
act. *-sai̯ (surviving in the s-aorist: see above) and med. *-sthai̯ would have been established.
Obviously, much is uncertain here.
we can without difficulty derive from it the verbal systems of languages like
Latin. This is all the more true since the processes of categorial simplification
that tend to be involved have often left in the historical data unmistakable
morphological traces of the earlier state of affairs. To give but one example,
although there is no longer a categorial separation of aorists and perfects in
Latin, the Latin perfect stems are a mixed group consisting of stems that
match either aorist or perfect stems in Greek or Vedic.
And yet, Greek and Vedic are of course not identical. Discrepancies that
go beyond what is predictable from the different phonological developments
affecting Greek and Indo-Iranian therefore have to be accommodated in our
reconstruction of Proto-Indo-European. If, say, the future formations of
Greek and Vedic do not correspond to each other, we have to decide whether
we believe that Proto-Indo-European had (a) two different future forma-
tions, each of which survived in one branch but not the other, (b) only one
future formation, which is continued in one branch whereas the other has
innovated, or (c) no future formation that is ancestral to those of Vedic and
Greek, so that both branches have innovated independently. In order to
choose between these scenarios, evidence in other languages will be of great
help. But often language-internal clues may already point in the right
direction – as when we see that one of the candidate formations is still in
its infancy and only gradually expanding in the branch in which it occurs. In
other words, even the most rigorous comparative reconstruction must never
forget the many things philology can tell us.
1.17 The Anatolian Challenge

As long as all ancient (or modern) Indo-European languages could be
accommodated, like Latin, within an essentially Greek/Vedic-based (i.e.,
‘Graeco-Aryan’) framework, there was little incentive to look beyond the
proto-language thus reconstructed. This is not to say that scholars never
tried to do it, for the morphological intricacy of this Graeco-Aryan Proto-
Indo-European provided fertile ground for further, ‘internal’, recon-
struction (cf. 1.18). The real game-changer, however, came with the
decipherment of Hittite, and with it the discovery for comparative
linguistics of the Anatolian branch of Indo-European.
At first sight, the verbal system of Hittite may also look like an impoverished
version of the Graeco-Aryan one, as it contents itself for instance with just two
tenses (present, preterite) and two moods (indicative, imperative). That Hittite
is attested relatively early – though not that much earlier than the earliest layers
of Greek and Vedic – does not of course invalidate such a supposition. In
the linguistically diverse world of ancient Anatolia, sociocultural factors like
language contact with non-Indo-European idioms could easily account
for accelerated systemic simplification. The real issue is a different one.
Certain morphological features of the Hittite (and Anatolian) verbal
system are not straightforwardly derivable from Graeco-Aryan
Proto-Indo-European; but neither are they so completely alien that a
non-Indo-European source must be envisaged. The most important such
feature is the existence of two separate conjugation classes, one in (1sg.)
-mi, the other in -h i. Although this dichotomy is unattested elsewhere in
Indo-European, the ˘ inflectional characteristics of both classes have unmis-
takable correlates in the Graeco-Aryan system. Once Anatolian is added to
the dossier, the task is therefore to ‘adjust’ the Graeco-Aryan reconstruction
in such a way that it also accounts for any recalcitrant data. And if it is indeed
the case that the Anatolian idiosyncracies are such that they cannot easily have
developed from a ‘Graeco-Aryan’ starting point, it becomes unavoidable to
extend the reconstruction of Proto-Indo-European into a more distant past,
to a point when there was a common ancestor of both the Anatolian system
and that of Graeco-Aryan Indo-European – whether or not that ancestor is
then given the label ‘Proto-Indo-Hittite’ (2.8).
1.18 Systemic (Internal) Observations

While the advent of Anatolian has thus led to intense scrutiny of traditional
‘Graeco-Aryan’ models of Proto-Indo-European, often prompting funda-
mental revisions (2.8–2.16), it would be wrong to assume that without
Anatolian the Graeco-Aryan reconstruction would not have invited further
thought. As mentioned above (1.17), its very nature calls for internal as well
as external clarification.
In 1.1 we started our survey of the Greek verbal system by setting out not
only how its grammatical categories, for all their diversity, are functionally
well-ordered, but also how substantial formal economy is achieved within
them. However, Ancient Greek is not as simple as it could be, even without
abandoning its categorial layout. The descriptive overview provided in 1.2–
1.15 immediately shows some areas in which there is a serious lack of
linguistic economy. In particular, the following features are noteworthy:
(i) there are athematic and thematic inflections/endings (1.3–1.5), with-
out a difference in function, and the relation of the thematic
‘primary’ 1sg. ending (*-oH > -ω) to its athematic counterpart
(*-mi > -μι) does not formally match the same relation in other
persons like the 3sg. (*-e-ti > -ει : *-ti > -σι);
(ii) the perfect has a (partly) separate set of endings (1.6) when its stem is
already distinctive on its own (1.12);
(iii) the original subjunctive stem formant *-e/o- is indistinguishable
from the stem formant of thematic indicatives (1.7);
(iv) there are four different types of aorist stems, the use of which is
lexically rather than functionally determined (1.10);
(v) there are even more different types of present stems, occasionally with
but more often without a clear-cut functional division of labour (1.11);
(vi) certain aorist-stem formations are identical to certain present-stem
formations (1.10–1.11); and
(vii) the future-stem formant -σε/ο- is identical to the stem formant of the
oldest layer of s-aorist subjunctives (1.13).
Among these, features (iii), (vi), and (vii) form a group. They are instances
where there is too little formal differentiation to achieve an ideally economical
1:1 form–function relationship. They could therefore perhaps be explained as
due to chance: since there is only a limited number of simple formal elements
which a language can assign to its functional categories, some overlap may be
unavoidable. But with features (i), (ii), (iv), and (v), there are also areas in
which there is too much formal differentiation. And since all of these are
features where reconstructed ‘Graeco-Aryan’ Proto-Indo-European matches
historical Greek, they constitute the classical input for ‘internal’ reconstruc-
tion, under the premise that a language may tolerate redundancies when they
arise from systemic rearrangements, but not actively create such redundancies
ex nihilo.19 In other words, whether we start from Greek or ‘Graeco-Aryan’
Proto-Indo-European, the synchronic set-up of the grammatical system calls
for additional diachronic elucidation by whatever method is feasible: com-
parative reconstruction where ‘outside’ evidence like that of Hittite is available,
and internal reconstruction where it is not but where the general (typological)
principles of language development and change still allow us to make infer-
ences that are no less controlled than those based on the comparative method.
1.19 Agenda
1.19 Agenda
In the following chapters, we will thus try to form a better understanding
of how the Greek verbal system came to be what it is in historical times. In
order to achieve this, we must take into account not only the wealth of
comparative data at our disposal, but also the systemic shortcomings
highlighted in 1.18. In fact, our ability to explain the genesis of these
19
According to Bechert (1962), the extent of uneconomical form–function relationships in the older
Indo-European languages is typologically remarkable; but even if it were not (as implied by Di
Giovine 1999: 35–6, 44), it is not clear why internal reconstruction should be less applicable to a
proto-language than to historical idioms (Di Giovine 1997a: 19–22). Against such doubts, the
method is justly defended by Rix (1986: 6–7), Morpurgo Davies (1994: 262–3), and Bauer (2009).
1.19 Agenda 27
shortcomings within an overall model of Indo-European morphosyntactic
evolution must constitute a crucial measure of success for a study entitled
‘Origins of the Greek Verb’.
As in the present chapter, our aim will not be to reiterate well-known
facts of late-PIE or Proto-Greek comparative morphology. To the extent
that these are not covered by the above overview, they can be looked up in
many reliable handbooks (1.1). Such matters will be discussed only if and
where they have a direct impact on the broader argument. Similarly, all
established principles of comparative phonology will be adhered to – so
much so that a certain amount of anachronism may result when forms in
earlier phases of Proto-Indo-European are given as if we could take it for
granted that the phonology of that period was identical to that of later
Proto-Indo-European.20
Instead, the focus throughout this book will be on the history of the verbal
system as a system: how the historical categories come into being, interact, and
are formally and functionally renewed. This too has been discussed before, of
course, but in comparison with the vast amount of secondary literature on
individual topics and problems, relatively little effort has been made to present
such a larger picture in any detail. Some of the more influential and prominent
Indo-Europeanist theories on what is probably the single most burning issue,
the historical interrelation of aspect and tense, will be reviewed in Chapter 2,
in preparation for our own exploration of the subject. Chapters 3–5 will then
concentrate on reduplicated ‘tense’ stems, arguing that reduplication played
an important role in the evolution of aspect in Indo-European. Chapters 6–8
will complement these by looking at the systemic position of a range of
unreduplicated tense/aspect stems and stem features that are not covered in
the earlier part but whose traditional explanation has to be revisited in the light
of the preceding discussion. In Chapters 9–10, the results will be integrated in
a wider typological framework: while most scholars studying the development
of Indo-European verbal grammar have been neglectful of the long-standing
debates about early PIE alignment, it will be shown that these questions too
are key to a comprehensive and internally coherent reconstruction. Finally, a
short Epilogue will highlight certain issues that are left open, make a few
suggestions as to how they might be addressed in the future, and draw some
general conclusions.
20
Judgment is thus suspended, in particular, on the ‘glottalic theory’ (cf. Mayrhofer 1986: 92–7). If,
say, a notation *t, *d, *d h is adopted for what ‘glottalicists’ would note as *t(h), *t’, *d(h) at least at
earlier stages of PIE, this is done for the sake of clarity and not meant to imply a categorial rejection
of the latter reconstruction.
chapter 2
From Greek to Proto-Indo-European
2.1 Introduction
2.1 Competing Theories
Ever since the beginnings of modern comparative philology, scholars have
asked how best to explain the bewildering formal variety and structural
complexity we encounter in the verbal system of Indo-European languages
such as Ancient Greek. A history of these investigations would fill a book,
not least because there is hardly any point on which complete consensus
has been reached. Looking back over the past few decades, it seems
however possible to distinguish some particularly prominent lines of
thought, which are often associated with one or two specific names
although of course all of them are equally rooted in the long history of
the discipline. The present chapter will briefly review some of these ‘main’
theories, paying particular attention to overlaps and disagreements and also
to their respective advantages and disadvantages. As we shall see, one key
issue in most of them is the relationship between (grammatical) aspect,
tense, verbal stem formation, and lexical Aktionsart (or ‘lexical aspect’); but
the origins of voice too have become an important matter of debate.
2.2–2.7 The ‘Hoffmann–Strunk Model’

2.2 Hoffmann’s Graeco-Aryan Premise
A good starting point for our survey, and still one of the most influential
treatments of the topic, is Karl Hoffmann’s incisive article on the categorial
system of the Indo-European verb.1 In this piece, Hoffmann set out from
the premise that the reconstruction of PIE verbal grammar should be
most deeply informed by the evidence of Greek and Indo-Iranian
(cf. 1.16). Although Hoffmann’s defence of this ‘bias’ reflects his
1
Hoffmann (1970); cf. also the summary by Haug (2008: 63–5).
28
Indo-Iranian interests, the formulation makes it clear that Greek must be
regarded as an equivalent partner:
The totality of the morphological facts that can be ascertained in their
relation to the grammatical and noematic categories makes the verbal system
of Vedic appear to be largely well-founded and consistent. Now, it is known
that most of the morphological paradigms and classes of Vedic have their
respective correspondents in one or several other Indo-European languages:
they thus turn out to be inherited from Proto-Indo-European. Put the other
way round, this means: the relevant morphological paradigms and classes of
Vedic already belonged to Proto-Indo-European. The individual formation
patterns of this Proto-Indo-European stock which are preserved in other
Indo-European languages do not as a rule contradict the syntactic usage that
can be inferred from Vedic; moreover, Greek shows a far-reaching similarity
in the overall structure of its verbal system. Hence, one cannot but suspect
that the internal consistency of the Vedic verbal system and its Greek
correspondent is descended in its entirety from Proto-Indo-European.2
2.3 Root Formations and Root (A)telicity

Against this background, Hoffmann grounds his reconstructive proposal
in one particularly striking homology of the Greek and Indo-Iranian verbal
systems: the existence in these branches of two general types of present
(imperfective) and aorist (perfective) stems (cf. 1.10–1.11). On each side of
the aspectual divide, we find
(i) root formations, which consist of nothing but a verbal root and
personal endings; and
(ii) characterised formations, which consist of a verbal root, a ‘character-
ising’ affix, and personal endings.
Of special interest is the aspectual ‘indeterminacy’ of group (i). Since the
personal endings are not aspectually distinctive (cf. 1.2), Hoffmann con-
cludes that the classification of any individual root formation as either
perfective (i.e., as a ‘root aorist’) or imperfective (i.e., as a ‘root present’)
must have depended on the lexical meaning of the root involved. In this
context, Hoffmann distinguishes between durative (e.g., ‘search’), punctual
(e.g., ‘find’), momentative (e.g., ‘stand up’), and terminative (e.g., ‘come’)
2
Hoffmann (1970: 26–7) (translated); similarly Eichner (1975: 71–2): ‘The special importance assigned
to Aryan and Greek in Indo-European studies is due to the fact that in these languages the
presumptively old system has undergone fewer substantial transformations and losses than elsewhere,
that the original functional mechanism has partly stayed alive and may be concretely observed in the
texts. It would be a misunderstanding therefore to speak of a specifically Aryo-Graecan tendency in
the traditional reconstruction of the verbal system at the expense of the other evidence.’
30 From Greek to Proto-Indo-European
roots. However, only the difference between the first and the latter three
types is truly essential for his further argument; for Hoffmann’s ‘durative’
refers to what may also be called ‘atelic’, and his ‘punctual’, ‘momentative’,
and ‘terminative’ may be subsumed under the label ‘telic’ since in each case
the denoted eventuality has a temporal boundary (τέλος). ‘Telic roots’ would
thus yield root aorists because their inherent semantic boundedness aligns
with the conceptual boundedness or ‘complexivity’ of the perfective aspect
(cf. 1.9, 4.4), whereas ‘atelic roots’ would yield root presents because their
lack of semantic boundedness matches the notionally similar ‘non-complex-
ive’ or ‘cursive’ nature of the imperfective aspect.3 Examples for the former
would include *deh3- ‘give’, *steh2- ‘take a stand’, *d heh1- ‘put’, etc. (with
the root aorists (3sg.) *(h1e-)deh3-t ‘gave’, *(h1e-)steh2-t ‘took a stand’, *(h1e-)
d heh1-t ‘put’ >→ Gr. ἔδωκε, ἔστη, ἔθηκε; 1.10), examples for the latter *h1ei̯-
‘go’ or *h1es- ‘be’ (with the root presents (3sg.) *h1ei̯-ti ‘is going, goes’, *h1es-ti
‘is’ > Gr. εἶσι, ἐστί; 1.11).4
2.4 Radical or Phrasal Telicity?

Unfortunately, in order to make them fit the theory, the primary meaning of
a number of roots must be adjusted in an ad hoc manner. That a root *steh2-
should originally have meant (telic) ‘take a stand’ rather than (atelic) ‘stand’
may be acceptable, even if ‘stand’ looks like the more basic notion which one
might perhaps expect to appear in the root formation. More artificially,
though, Hoffmann also has to posit punctual primary meanings such as ‘take
a step’ or ‘take a sip’ instead of ‘go’ and ‘drink’ for roots like *gu̯ eh2- (root aor.
*(h1e-)gu̯ eh2-t > Gr. ἔβη ‘went’) or *peh3- (root aor. *(h1e-)peh3-t > Ved. ápāt
‘drank’). Yet, this need not trip up the theory. What Hoffmann fails to note5
is that (a)telicity is often a matter of entire phrases rather than individual verb
forms. For example, Engl. go home or drink a glass of beer are telic, as the two
3
See in this sense already Delbrück (1897: 74–6), Meillet (1922d: 70–5), or Safarewicz (1965); later e.g.
W. P. Lehmann (1974: 144), Risch (1985: 408), García Ramón (2002: 109–12). However, already
Meltzer (1904/5: 229) remarked that ‘in any case Delbrück has hardly provided a real proof for the
punctual nature of his roots’, and he stressed ‘that punctual and perfective . . . are not the same’
(cf. 4.6). More questionably, Drinka (1995b: 146–7) claims that Vedic root aorists “showed almost the
same proportion of durative to punctuative meanings” as root presents.
4
Hoffmann (1970: 30) also mentions *h1ed- ‘eat’ (3sg. *h1ed-ti > Ved. átti ‘eats’), where the situation is
less clear. Some would posit an ‘acrostatic present’ (3.40) next to a root aorist (cf. LIV 230–1, s.v.
*h1ed-, after Kümmel 1998: 203–4 and others), although the evidence is not strong (e.g., Lat. subj.
edim ‘I shall eat’ may well show analogical *(h1)ed- for *(h1)d-).
5
Instead, he envisages semantic analogies: ‘If such meanings [e.g., “went”, “drank” for ἔβη, ápāt] have
developed in the Indo-European daughter languages, this is due to the fact that, by the addition of
formants – e.g., in creating the present stem –, semantic changes were triggered which led to a
simultaneous change of the Aktionsart’ (Hoffmann 1970: 31).
eventualities come to a natural end when home is reached and the glass is
empty. In other words, one may retain ‘go’ and ‘drink’ as the fundamental
meanings of *gu̯ eh2- and *peh3-, but assume that these roots occurred often
enough in telic phrases to ensure the classification of the respective root
formations as root aorists. In order to capture this, it may be best merely to
speak of prototypically telic roots (cf. further 5.19).6
2.5 Characterised Stems and Aktionsarten

Things become more complicated when we turn to the characterised stems
(group (2) in 2.3). According to Hoffmann, all of the stem formants used
here must have made a distinct contribution to lexical semantics at some
point in the remote past. In the historical period, however, this is often no
longer visible. For example, the formant *-s- of the s-aorist δειξα- (1.10)
endows the root *dei̯k̑ - with the grammatical value [perfective], but the
root’s lexical meaning ‘show’ is not affected by this; and similarly, the
formant *-i̯e/o- of the i̯-present βαινε/ο- ‘go’ (1.11) specifies the value
[imperfective] for the root *gu̯ em-, but again the lexical – as opposed to
grammatical – semantics remain unchanged. The one exception, where the
original situation is said by Hoffmann still to be recognisable, concerns the
reduplicated presents: these are alleged to share an iterative-durative
Aktionsart conveyed iconically by their reduplication. So, for example,
Ved. 3sg. píbati ~ Lat. bibit ‘drinks’ (< *pi-ph3-e-ti) is to be explained as
*‘takes a sip repeatedly’ (“wiederholt einen Schluck tun”). But since these
matters are not fully explored by Hoffmann, one is left to wonder why, say,
Gr. ἵστησι ~ Lat. sistit ‘sets up’ agree in their factitive meaning (*‘makes
stand’), but diverge from Ved. tísthati ‘steps, takes a stand’: after all, only
˙˙ result from an iterative-durative ‘take
the latter meaning can (more or less)
7
a stand (repeatedly)’.
2.6 Strunk on the Genesis of Tense and Aspect

Leaving aside such quibbles, we must pose the more fundamental question
of how to explain the functional distribution that is observed in historical
6
Cf. already Pedersen (1904: 220–2). Precisely because of the aspectual classification of Indo-European
root formations, Bartolotta (2009) and (2016) argues that telicity should also be seen as an inherent
property of lexical roots, but for her too this results from them being “naturally associated with one
prototypical syntactic context” (italics added). In Homeric Greek, Napoli (2006: 85–128, 190; 2007)
makes out a comparable tendency of durative process verbs to select the aorist when they occur in
telic phrases.
7
Importantly, the Vedic meaning can be explained as analogical more easily: cf. LIV 590–1, s.v. *steh2-
(‘originally probably factitive; . . . the meaning “to take a stand” has been transferred from the root
aorist’), and see further Table 4.1, 4.32.
times. If we concentrate on one typical pattern and abstract from secondary
remodellings and suppletion phenomena, we may acknowledge with
Hoffmann that either a root aorist pairs with a characterised present (e.g.,
root aor. *d heh1- >→ Gr. θη(κα)- : reduplicated pres. *d he/i-d heh1- > Gr.
τιθη- ‘put’), or a root present with a characterised aorist (e.g., (thematic) root
pres. *h2eg̑ -e/o- > ἀγε/ο- ‘drive, lead’ : reduplicated aor. [*h2e-h2g̑ -e-t →]
*h2g̑ -h2g̑ -e/o- > ἀγαγε/ο-). If, according to Hoffmann, differences of gram-
matical aspect have superseded differences of Aktionsart here, his ideas
naturally lead to the conclusion that Aktionsart distinctions preceded aspect
distinctions in Indo-European prehistory. So is it possible to identify a
trigger for the rise of aspect?
While Hoffmann himself did not spell out his thoughts on the origins of
the new aspectual shape of Proto-Indo-European, he probably had in mind
(something like) the development subsequently detailed by Klaus Strunk.8
Accepting Hoffmann’s overall views, Strunk highlights the Indo-European
marking of the present tense by means of the ‘primary’ endings with added
*-i (1.2). This *-i he plausibly takes to have been used at first only in
progressive ‘actual presents’ (e.g., John is singing [now]; cf. 7.30, with fn. 131):
Thus, PIE *weg̑ he-ti (Ved. váhati, Lat. vehit, OCS vezetъ) with marked
(‘primary’) ending *-ti meant ‘is carrying’. A corresponding form with
unmarked (‘secondary’) ending such as *weg̑ he-t (Ved. inj. váhat), however,
either meant ‘(usually) carries’ without any reference to actual time; or it
meant ‘was carrying’ with reference to the past, optionally specified by
prefixation of a former temporal adverb *e-, i.e., the augment of some
south-eastern IE languages (Ved. impf. ávahat). On the contrary, since
root-verbs with non-durative or punctative semantic characters expressed
actions and events being conceived of as momentarily effected, they could
do so only in injunctive or preterite forms. It would have been paradoxical to
designate such actions or events by present tense forms. For these – as long as
8
Strunk (1994a); cf. Di Giovine (1997b: 326–7), Clackson (2007: 134–5). Drinka (1995b: 152–6)
implausibly ascribes the same consequences to the introduction of the augment rather than ‘primary’
*-i and therefore has to claim that aspect never existed in augment-free Western Indo-European (and
that the augment was a past-tense marker: but see 7.11). Already before Strunk, ideas like his were
voiced by scholars such as Porzig (1927: 153), Velten (1933), Safarewicz (1963a), Adrados (1971: 112–13;
1974: 1.213–23; 1981: 109–11), Lazzeroni (1980: 48–52), and Back (1991). Adrados, however, restricted
the aspectualisation process to Proto-Greek, or at best Central Proto-Indo-European (Adrados 1974:
1.273–9), and assumed arbitrary ‘semantisation’ processes for previously ‘meaningless’ formants (cf.
8.9, fn. 31). By contrast, essential disagreement is voiced by Giannakis (1993), Hewson and Bubeník
(1997: 245–7), and Napoli (2006: 210–12), who all think that aspect must be older than tense; but they
fail to explain what made this or that root/stem formation perfective (or not) before tense distinctions
came into being: it cannot have been a stem’s (prototypical) telicity if, say, the nasal present stems are
imperfective when they are just as telic as the average root aorist (cf. below and the Epilogue, with
fn. 7).
the category ‘injunctive’ was also still alive – normally presupposed the
unfolding of an actual event synchronous with that of a speaker’s wording
it. Thus injunctive and preterite forms of the type *gweh2-t (Ved. gāt)
‘(usually) takes a step’ and *(e)gweh2-t (Ved. ágāt, Gr. ἔβη) ‘took a step’
were quite natural. Present forms such as +gweh2-ti + ‘is taking a step’, however,
were impossible and never coined, because their punctative root-meaning
(‘verbal character’) and the function of the present tense excluded each other.9
A certain paradox is undeniable here. Modern English is the perfect
example of a language with a formal distinction between progressive/
actual and non-progressive/general presents. And yet, Strunk comfortably
glosses the allegedly “impossible” *gu̯ eh2-ti with the English progressive
present “is taking a step”. This is because even notionally “punctative”
eventualities can be conceptualised as extending beyond the point on
which they focus – to say nothing of non-punctative telic eventualities
such as drink a glass of beer.10
One could perhaps try to save Strunk’s argument by postulating for
Proto-Indo-European a particularly strong aversion to such extended con-
ceptualisations of punctative eventualities, and of telic eventualities more
generally. But in doing so one would run into another difficulty as soon as
Strunk turns to the rise of aspect:
Secondly, if an action or event referred to by a punctative or non-durative
verbal root was nevertheless to be expressed in the present tense, such a root
previously had to be either enlarged or replaced. Roots enlarged by different
affixes or by the nasal infix yielded differently marked present stems. The
‘Aktionsarten’ thereby effected had – unlike the underlying roots – not
punctative, but iterative, intensive, inchoative, terminative etc. meanings.
In this way, the respective verbs could adopt primary endings, that is, they
could be used in the present tense. Or, for the same purpose of present forms
being rendered possible, punctative root-lexemes were replaced by others
which were partly synonymous, but not punctative. This procedure is
known as ‘suppletion’.11
9
Strunk (1994a: 420); similarly Back (1991: esp. 285, 299).
10
But as Ö. Dahl (1985: 91) points out, the labels ‘progressive’ and ‘durative’ must not be mixed up
anyway. Hence, Haug (2008: 65) also remarks that “[o]n typological grounds, it seems unlikely that
telic verbs could not form a present in PIE”, without pursuing the matter further; nor does
Bartolotta (2016) really address the issue. Pooth (2009a: 397–400) seeks to avoid the obstacle by
postulating that only ‘totally terminative’ roots (e.g., ‘find’) never formed a ‘progressive’ with *-i; but
many root aorists do not have pertinent semantics, and for these it therefore remains unclear why
affixed imperfective stems should have been preferred to simple forms in *-i in the incipient aspect/
tense system.
11
Strunk (1994a: 421).
In other words, even according to Strunk the Proto-Indo-Europeans
occasionally wanted to refer to telic eventualities in the (actual) present
tense. But if this is so, why did they not do it by building forms such as
*gu̯ eh2-ti, but instead resorted to formations that initially had a (slightly)
different lexical meaning (such as *gu̯ i-gu̯ eh2-ti >→ Ved. jígāti ‘strides’; cf.
Hom. βιβάς ‘striding’, Table 4.1). This might perhaps make sense if the
substitute stems had lost their distinctive (iterative, intensive, etc.) nuance
and become synonymous with the root formations. However, for Strunk’s
theory it is essential that this was not the case: for outside the present – in the
pre-aspectual preterite – the retention of a separate semantic nuance is
needed to justify the continued coexistence of a ‘root preterite’ and a
‘characterised preterite’ as the germs of the later aspectual contrast. More
concretely, if in the preterite a punctual 3sg. *gu̯ eh2-t ‘took a step’ contrasted
with an iterative *gu̯ i-gu̯ eh2-t ‘took steps (repeatedly)’, and if in the present
*gu̯ i-gu̯ eh2-ti meant ‘is (in the process of) taking steps’ (as allegedly still seen
in Ved. jígāti12), why should a Proto-Indo-European have thought that
*gu̯ i-gu̯ eh2-ti was an adequate form also to express the novel concept of ‘is
(in the process of) taking a step’? And to make things worse, if we look
beyond the presumed iterative Aktionsart of the example just discussed,
several of the potential Aktionsarten Strunk himself enumerates as sources
of later present stems are quintessentially telic rather than atelic. Both
inchoatives and terminatives, which focus on a starting or end point respec-
tively, fulfil the basic criterion of telicity since they refer to eventualities with
a temporal boundary; and as we shall see later (4.2), intensives too have a
greater affinity with aspectual perfectivity than with imperfectivity.
2.7 A Special Role for the s-Aorist?

It is possible that Strunk himself perceived some weaknesses in his account.
To support his general point that aspect arose fairly late in Proto-Indo-
European (2.8), he stresses that while there are various present-stem
formants which never serve as aorist-stem ones (infixed *-n-, suffixed
*-i̯e/o-, *-sk̑ e/o-, *-ei̯e/o-), the aorist-stem formants (i.e., perfectivity mar-
kers) seen in Greek or Indo-Iranian tend to be matched by similar or
identical formants among the present stems. Just as there are root aorists
and root presents, both athematic and thematic, there are also reduplicated
aorists and reduplicated presents (1.10–1.11). Disregarding the marginal
existence of Indo-European s-presents (3.2, 8.29, 8.41), he sees however one
exception:
12
Gotō (2013: 83 n. 197) speaks of an “iterative meaning ‘repeat striding action’”.
On the level of Proto-Indo-European only the sigmatic subclass of aorist-
formations in its definitive structure never applied to anything else. Its
main function presumably consisted in bestowing perfectivity on durative
verbs, so that these could be used in the sense of a perfective past (aorist).
That means, only when this morphological sub-class was in fact available,
a clear-cut aspectual system based upon a ubiquitous distinction of pre-
sent- and aorist-stems was really established. Now the sigmatic aorist for
its part seems to have arisen comparatively late in the prehistory of IE verb
morphology, as has repeatedly been supposed since Meillet 1908 . . .
Consequently, ascribing the sigmatic subclass of aorists and thereby the
category of aspects altogether to a late period of Proto-Indo-European may
be a rather consistent conclusion.13
Once again this formulation raises concerns. On the one hand, Strunk
seems to admit that his earlier hypothesis was insufficient to explain the
conversion of lexical Aktionsart into grammatical aspect: otherwise one
would not have to wait for the advent of the s-aorist until “a clear-cut
aspectual system . . . was really established”. On the other hand, the s-aorist
itself, which is supposed to have settled the matter, was “bestowing perfec-
tivity on durative verbs”. But whatever the source of the s-aorist may have
been, we should then be told why this new formation was deployed to
establish a grammatical category (perfectivity) that had not truly existed in
the language before (as long as no “clear-cut aspectual system” was available).
In the end, then, the Hoffmann–Strunk model (summarised in Fig. 2.1)
still contains too many loose ends to provide a fully convincing account of
the rise of aspect in Proto-Indo-European. However, this should not
detract from the important insights it contains, notably with regard to
the connection between the aspectual categorisation of root formations
and their prototypical (a)telicity. As the next section will show, these same
insights do not lose their relevance when the matter is approached from a
different, and less ‘Graeco-Aryan’, angle.
2.8–2.12 Cowgill’s Model and ‘Proto-Indo-Hittite’

2.8 Positioning Anatolian
In the article in which he outlined his ideas on the emergence of PIE
aspect, Strunk’s principal aim was to demonstrate that this development
took place only after the Anatolian branch had split off the Indo-European
family tree. The essential argument here is that all the major present-
stem formations of Proto-Indo-European are reflected, with or without
13
Strunk (1994a: 428–9).
STAGE I telic roots atelic roots
e.g., *d h eh1- ‘put’ e.g., *h1ei- ‘go’ ˘
3sg. *d h eh1-t ‘put(s)’ 3sg. *h1ei-t ‘goes/went’
˘
STAGE II formation of derived Aktionsarten

e.g., reduplicated iterative
*d h eh1-t *d h e-d h eh1-t
‘put(s)’ ‘put(s) repeatedly’
STAGE III introduction of (actual) present with*-i
˘
pres.*h1ei-ti ‘is going’
pres.*d h eh1 -ti pres.*d h e-d h eh1-ti ˘
pret.*h1ei-t ‘went’
‘is putting’ ‘is puttting repeatedly’
pret.*d h eh1-t ‘put’ pret.*d h e-d h eh1-t
‘put repeatedly’
STAGE IV aspectualisation of the system
→ perfective aspect → imperfective aspect → imperfective aspect
(+ possible perfectivisation with *-s-)
STAGE V telic root formations (> root aorists) atelic root formations (> root presents)
paired with characterised presents paired with characterised aorists (in *-s-)
= aspectual pair pfv. : ipfv. = aspectual pair ipfv. : pfv.
Fig. 2.1. The development of the PIE aspectual system according to Hoffmann
and Strunk
recognisable Aktionsart values, in Hittite and other Anatolian languages,

but that the same languages feature a simple preterite tense without aspect
differentiation. Obviously, this need not reflect an older state of affairs since
Anatolian might have lost the category of aspect. However, to counter such
a ‘reduction hypothesis’, Strunk observes that
in its framework Old Anatolian preserving different present stems and
thereby ‘Aktionsarten’ from an earlier period of Proto-Indo-European
would have abandoned the distinctive aorist-stems and thereby the aspects,
although these had arisen later on in the parent language, and that in the
relatively short time span between this late stage of Proto-Indo-European
and the first appearance of Hittite texts in the middle of the second
millennium B.C. To be sure, such a sequence of processes with somewhat
curious implications concerning their relative chronology may not be
wholly impossible, but in any case it is far from being probable.14
Of course, even if one subscribes to the Hoffmann–Strunk model, there is
nothing to establish in absolute terms how much or little time there would
have been available for the loss of aspect in Anatolian, that is, exactly how
late Strunk’s “late stage of Proto-Indo-European” would have been. In fact,
14
Strunk (1994a: 431); cf. also Adrados (1981b: esp. 99), and contrast the view previously expressed by
Strunk (1968: 309) himself: ‘The deep-rooted aspectual reference of the Indo-European verb as a
function of oppositional verbal stems was joined . . ., at least in later prehistory, by the temporal
reference, initially as a function of oppositional verbal endings.’
the ‘reduction hypothesis’ may create less of a chronological difficulty than
Strunk’s own assumptions. If aspect had really arisen only in post-Anatolian
Proto-Indo-European, it would be curious that in the large majority of non-
Anatolian Indo-European languages traces of aspect are still visible but a
fully-fledged aspect category of the kind seen in Greek has disappeared. In
order to explain this situation, we would have to assume that aspect first
blossomed and then withered away again in the time between the separation
of Anatolian and the historical period.15
Having said that, Strunk is certainly right when he stresses the need to
accommodate within the model the evidence of the earliest attested
branch of Indo-European. As already noted (1.17), the Anatolian verb is
similar enough to what we find in other Indo-European languages to put
its Indo-European nature beyond doubt; but it also features certain
peculiarities that are remarkable enough to have been used in support
of the ‘Indo-Hittite hypothesis’, whereby Anatolian branched off the
Indo-European family tree before the rest of the family underwent its
latest shared innovations. A landmark contribution to the verbal dimen-
sion of this debate was made in the late 1970s in two articles by Warren
Cowgill.16
2.9 Cowgill on the Hittite hi-Conjugation

˘
Regarding the origins of PIE aspect, Cowgill at first explicitly subscribed to
Hoffmann’s views; only later did he dissent in some important details
(2.10). To begin with, Cowgill’s agenda was rather to underline the impos-
sibility of deriving the Anatolian – and more specifically Hittite – verbal
system from Hoffmann’s ‘Graeco-Aryan’ reconstruction:
The basic difficulty is the Hittite hi-conjugation. Hittite has no aspect as a
grammatical category, and only two tenses, present (or non-past) and past.
The lack of a distinction between perfective and imperfective aspect is easy
to see as a loss. . . . Of the three main types of Hittite verbs – mediopassive,
active in -mi, and active in -hi – the first two correspond excellently, in form,
in meaning, and in lexical constituency to the mediopassive presents and to
15
For critical remarks along these lines, see also Kammenhuber (1968: 87).
16
Cowgill (1975; 1979). The ‘Indo-Hittite hypothesis’ was first promoted by Sturtevant (1929), and the
term ‘Proto-Indo-Hittite’ (PIH) remains a convenient shorthand for ‘Proto-Indo-European before
Anatolian split off’ (cf. also Sturtevant 1962). Some scholars prefer labels such as ‘early Proto-Indo-
European’ (“Frühindogermanisch”, cf. Meid 1975: 212); but Neu’s (1976: 243–4) attack against the
term ‘Indo-Hittite’ is odd when his stance is even more clearly ‘Indo-Hittite’ than that of Meid
(1979: 161–2) whose ‘space/time model’ he promotes.
the active presents respectively of Greek and Indo-Iranian and the other
Indo-European languages.17
A number of equations illustrate this point. For the middle, Cowgill
compares
• Hitt. arta(ri) ‘stands, is stationed’ ~ Gr. ὦρτο ‘arose’, Ved. aor. (prá)
ārta ‘has moved’ < *(h1e-)h3r-to,
• Hitt. kitta(ri) ‘lies’ ~ Gr. κεῖται, Ved. śéte ‘lies’ < *k̑ ei̯-to(i̯) (cf. CLuw.
zīi̯ ari ~ Ved. śáye < *k̑ ei̯-o),
• Hitt. u̯ ešta ‘is dressed’ ~ Gr. (ἐπί-)εσται, Ved. váste ‘wears, is dressed’ <
*u̯ es-to(i̯ ),
and for the active mi-conjugation,
• Hitt. ēšzi ‘is’ ~ Gr. ἐστί, Ved. ásti ‘is’ < *h1es-ti,
• Hitt. kuenzi ‘kills’ ~ Ved. hánti ‘strikes, kills’ < *g u̯ hen-ti (cf. Gr. θείνω
‘strike’ < *g u̯ hen-i̯e/o-),
• Hitt. u̯ ekzi ‘wishes, desires’ ~ Ved. vásti ‘wants’ < *u̯ ek̑ -ti (cf. Gr. *ptcpl.
ἑκών ‘willing’), ˙˙
as well as entire stem classes like the mi-conjugation verbs with nasal infix/
suffix -nin-/-nu-, with the imperfective marker -ške/a-, or with the denomi-
nal suffix -i̯e/a-: these mirror the Indo-European nasal presents, presents in
*-sk̑ e/o-, and presents in *-i̯e/o-, respectively (1.11).
By contrast, the hi-conjugation displays (a) endings that are unquestionably
related to the PIE˘perfect endings 1sg. *-h2e, 2sg. *-th2e, 3sg. -e (1.6), all with
added ‘primary’ *-i yielding OHitt. 1sg. -he (later -hi), 2sg. *-te (later -ti), 3sg.
-i,18 and (b) a singular stem whose radical ˘ a-vocalism
˘ matches the o-grade of
the Indo-European perfect. From a structural point of view, the singular of the
Hittite hi-conjugation thus resembles a PIE perfect, save for its usual lack of
˘
reduplication (e.g., 3sg. *CoC-e(i̯) ~ PIE perf. *C1e-C1oC-e: 1.12); but this
divergence Cowgill – like many others before and after him19 – regards as
17
Cowgill (1975: 563–4).
18
The connection of the Hittite hi-conjugation endings with those of the PIE perfect was recognised
by Kellogg (1925). Kuryłowicz ˘(1927c: 102–3; 1932) and Stang (1932) added the comparison with the
middle (cf. 2.14, 5.3; Pedersen 1938a: 80–100, 115–25). That the Hittite endings must be diphthongal
in origin, hence contain added *-i, was first acknowledged by Sturtevant (1933: 257; cf. 1938) and
Rosenkranz (1952/3: 344–7); cf. now Jasanoff (2003: 4–7).
19
E.g., Risch (1975: 250), Kammenhuber (1980: 36); further references in 5.30, fn. 115. However, Jasanoff
(2003: 15–16) pertinently remarks that “the nearly complete loss of reduplication [sc., except in u̯ eu̯ akk-i
‘demand’ (2.13, 4.11)] in the perfect in Anatolian would not have been a trivial occurrence. Most of the
other IE branches that retain the perfect as a finite tense – Indo-Iranian, Greek, and even Italic and Celtic
– also maintain reduplicaton in the perfect with considerable regularity. The only real exception is
negligible, not least because the equation Gr. οἶδε ~ Ved. véda ‘knows’
(< *u̯ oi̯d-e) also allows the reconstruction of at least one unreduplicated PIE
perfect. Yet,
[t]he difficulties come when we try to compare the Hittite hi-conjugation
to the Indo-European perfect on the semantic and lexical levels.
Semantically, very few Hittite hi-verbs have a stative value comparable
to that reconstructed as original for the Indo-European perfect. The
best case is šakk- ‘know’, comparable to οἶδα, véda. Good also is dakk-
‘correspond to, resemble’ beside Gk. ἔοικα ‘am like’. Still other hi-verbs
have stative meanings, even if these meanings elsewhere are expressed by
various present formations; e.g. au- ‘see’, waggar- ‘be lacking’, karmalaššai-
‘is stiff’. There are also verbs for vocal actions, mema- ‘speak’, halzai- ‘call’,
išhamihhi ‘I sing’, malt- ‘vow’, that compare with the Homeric type
κεκληγώς, ἄνωγα, μεμηκώς, μέμυκε, γέγωνα, Ved. āha. But by and large,
Hittite hi-verbs express decidedly non-stative ideas, e.g. ar- ‘arrive’, ak-
‘die’, huwai- ‘run’, šipant- ‘pour a libation’. Often they are transitive as
well, e.g. arr- ‘wash’, ark- ‘cut up’, haš- ‘open’, išhai- ‘bind’, kank- ‘hang’,
lahu- ‘pour’, pai- ‘give’, da- ‘take’, dai- ‘place’, wak- ‘bite’. This is true of
the whole class of ahh-factitives, which inflect basically according to the hi-
conjugation, e.g., šuppiyahh- ‘make pure’, dašuwahh- ‘make blind’.20
Furthermore, Cowgill points out that quite a few of the verbs listed
have well-established present-stem or aorist-stem cognates in other lan-
guages, but no equally well-established perfect-stem cognates (e.g., dai-
‘put’ to *d heh1-, da- ‘take’ to *deh3-, šipant- ‘libate’ to *spend-, etc.).
Hence, he concludes, the only way in which the Hittite h i-conjugation
could in theory be derived from a PIE perfect would be ˘to assume that
such a perfect expanded considerably and took on preterital value in
Anatolian (as in many other languages: 5.24); and that subsequently new
presents were formed to supplement the paradigms of these novel pre-
terites (e.g., unreduplicated perf. 3sg. *d hoh1-e ‘has placed’ > pret. ‘placed’
→ new pres. *d hoh1-ei̯ ‘places’ > Hitt. dāi). But although precisely this
scenario was in fact promoted by others at the same time,21 Cowgill justly
Germanic, where strong verbs of the ‘normal’ ablaut types (classes I–VI) have given up reduplication in
the preterite completely . . .; yet even here the tenacity of reduplication in the perfect is shown by the
survival of nearly two dozen reduplicating strong verbs in Gothic alone.”
20
Cowgill (1975: 566–7), to be held against S. R. Rose (2006: 171–470) who claims ‘medial’ values for
even the most patently non-medial hi-conjugation verbs; cf. more sensibly Rosenkranz (1952/3; 1958:
215). That Hittite hi-conjugation root ˘ presents often feature roots appearing in root aorists (and/or
˘ languages was already stressed by Ivanov (1965: 77–112).
i̯-presents) in other
21
See Risch (1975: esp. 255–7) and Eichner (1975: esp. 87–92), to whom Cowgill (1979: 28–32) replies;
cf. now also the critique in Jasanoff (2003: 10–17). Against Neu (1968a: esp. 154–60) (2.14), Risch and
Eichner do agree with Cowgill that the Anatolian and non-Anatolian mediopassives belong closely
felt that the absence of comparable depreterital presents in Indo-
European, coupled with the general unlikelihood of the presumed pre-
terite → present analogy, make “[a]ll of this . . . too arbitrary and
implausible to be believed”.22 Instead, he argued, “the Indo-European
perfect, as we know it, can have arisen only as an innovation common to
the ancestor dialects of Indo-Iranian, Greek, Germanic, etc., during a
period of several centuries after their split from the dialect ancestral to
Hittite”. And if this is the case, we have here a feature of the Anatolian
verbal system that vindicates the Indo-Hittite hypothesis.
2.10 Cowgill’s ‘Nominal Verbs’ and PIE Aspect

In Cowgill’s ‘second instalment’, published a few years after the first, the
aspectual questions raised by Hoffmann’s model gained in prominence.23
Here, Cowgill proposed for Proto-Indo-Hittite (PIH) “two types of verbs,
‘verbs proper’ and ‘nominal verbs’”:
The former are ancestral to the presents and aorists, of both voices, of Indo-
European and to the mi-conjugation and the mediopassive of Anatolian. They
distinguished tense (present and past) and voice (active and mediopassive)
much as in PIE and Hittite; the agreements in formation of primary vs.
secondary endings and of active vs. mediopassive endings in both branches
attest to that. But they did not in PIH distinguish a grammatical category of
aspect, perfective vs. imperfective, any verb being conjugatable in both tenses,
regardless of its semantic Aktionsart.
Nominal verbs, ancestral to the Indo-European perfect and the Anatolian
hi-conjugation, did not distinguish tense or voice, and were based on a third
singular of nominal origin, comparable (typologically!) to the Sanskrit peri-
phrastic future (type dātā́ smi, 3rd. sg. dātā́ ) or to the Semitic formation that in
Akkadian functions as stative (permansive) and elsewhere as ‘perfect’. Similar
views have been expressed before, of course, in recent years, notably by J.
Kuryłowicz . . . and O. Szemerényi . . .; but I differ from these authors in
together, whereas the hi-conjugation should be kept separate, despite its similar endings. In essence a
perfect derivation for˘ the Hittite hi-conjugation may already inform Kuryłowicz (1927c: 103).
Eichner’s account was followed by˘ Oettinger (1979 [= 2002]: 399–512; 1992: 227–30); but it no
longer is (Oettinger 2001a: 80–3; 2002: XXIII–XXVI). Most recently, Lazzeroni (2011a) has sought
to avoid a depreterital present by postulating that the perfect became transitive (‘resultative’) in
Proto-Anatolian as in Greek (5.14); but effectively he thus just replicates, with more traditional
terminology, the central ideas of Cowgill’s nominal-verb theory (cf. 2.10, 5.27–5.29).
22
Cowgill (1975: 568). The argument is questioned by Cardona (1992: 8–10), but Cardona’s ‘parallels’
do not involve the creation of new present types. The mere addition of ‘primary’ *-i to the perfect
endings in languages like Latin (1.6) is of course a different matter since this did not have semantic
repercussions: cf. Cowgill (1979: 29), also in response to Oettinger (1976: 109, 114) who wondered if
*-i was added already in Proto-Indo-European.
23
Cowgill (1979), followed by Hart (1988: 84–5); cf. also Austefjord (1988).
supposing that the underlying nominal was not a passive participle
(Kuryłowicz) or an endingless root noun (Szemerényi), but rather a thematic
adjective or noun of basically active meaning, comparable to the agent noun
that lies at the base of the Sanskrit periphrastic future . . . As such, the
meaning of the PIH nominal verb would have been to assert only in the
most general way that the subject was involved in the action, state, or process
denoted by the verb stem, a meaning sufficiently vague and labile that I think
it possible to imagine without excessive straining of credulity that it could
have gone off in one direction to become the PIE perfect and in another to
become the Anatolian hi-conjugation.24
Against this background, Cowgill suggests, both the Anatolian branch
and the rest of Proto-Indo-European began to develop aspectual distinc-
tions, by a process that may have just started when Anatolian split off, but
was implemented separately. Since tense distinctions already existed, as
witnessed by the use of ‘primary’ *-i endings in both Anatolian and
elsewhere, the trigger for the rise of aspect is not as clearly identified as
with Strunk; but in principle Cowgill might still have held the introduc-
tion of a distinct present responsible if this had happened just before the
Anatolian departure. More crucially, however, Cowgill does not think
that prototypically telic roots failed to acquire the newfangled present in
*-i. Instead he assumes that they lost their presents.25 He thus avoids the
objection that one can easily say things like ‘is taking a step’ (*g u̯ heh2-ti)
(2.6). The reasons for the loss are not specified, somewhat curiously; for if
Cowgill subsequently argues that in Anatolian the ‘nominal verbs’
stepped in to fill the gap (i.e., notional *g u̯ hoh2-e(i̯) ‘(is a) step-taker’;
cf. 5.27), whereas in the other branches the various characterised present
stems did the same job (e.g., reduplicated *gu̯ i-gu̯ eh2-ti: 2.6), and if he
recognises that therefore the present-stem affixes in non-Anatolian Proto-
Indo-European must have been emptied of their semantic content, one
may easily hypothesise that, when the characterised presents (or, in
Anatolian, the ‘nominal verbs’) had lost their semantic autonomy, it
was precisely the resulting synonymy with the old telic root presents
that caused the loss. In this way, Cowgill’s theory acquires greater
24
Cowgill (1979: 33–4); he makes reference to Kuryłowicz (1964a: 62), which is comparable to Watkins
(1969: 107), and Szemerényi (1970: 306) (cf. Szemerényi 1996: 333). A nominal source for the PIE
perfect was already postulated by Brugmann (1913–16: 435; 1921a: 139) (‘verbal abstract’; contrast
Brugman 1878: 161), Grünenthal (1936: 138–40) (‘a verbal adjective, i.e., a root noun’), and others
cited in Szemerényi (1996: 335 nn. 6, 7). Particularly close to Cowgill’s position is Hirt (1913: 313–17;
1928: 270–1, 273).
25
Thus already Curtius (1877–80: 2.22); see also Safarewicz (1974: 61) on the feasibility of ‘determined
[i.e., telic/bounded] radical presents’.
coherence than the Hoffmann–Strunk model, and it is even able to
explain why some characterised present stems – notably the factitive
nasal presents – show more semantic independence in Anatolian than
elsewhere: for only outside Anatolian would their original function have
been given up. Moreover, Cowgill’s set-up helps to account for the
occasional appearance of Hittite radical mi-presents with roots that are
generally thought to be telic. Thus, Hitt. šanh zi ‘seeks, is seeking < is
obtaining (?)’ could continue an inherited *senh ˘ -ti, which according to
2
Strunk should never have existed in the light of the Vedic thematic root
aorist ásanat ‘has obtained’ (< *h1e-sn̥ h2-e-t).26
2.11 Some Obstacles

Despite these advantages, Cowgill’s proposal too is open to objections. In
theory, it would predict that Hittite hi-verbs are generally telic because the
˘
replacement of a radical mi-present would have been needed only for telic
verbs; nor should we find Hittite hi-verbs next to non-Anatolian root
˘
presents, thematic or athematic. However, Cowgill acknowledges as coun-
terexamples “Hitt. na-a-i ‘turns, leads’ and ši-pa-a-an-ti ‘libates’, cognate
with Vedic náyati ‘leads’, aor. (2d. pl.) naista and Homeric σπένδω*,
˙˙ an explanation analogous
ἔσπεισαν respectively”, suspecting that “these have
to the mi-verbs corresponding to IE aorists, i.e. there has been a shift of
Aktionsart in one branch or the other”.27 Similarly, it is odd that some
affixed formations of Hittite – durative/iteratives in -anna-, -šša-, and
factitives in -ahh- – inflect according to the hi-conjugation, when “[i]n
˘˘
Proto-Indo-European ˘
it seems that all verb-deriving affixes other than the
-s- of the s-aorist were of atelic Aktionsart, leading to the various kinds of
derived presents found in Indo-European languages”. Here too, the idea that
the Anatolian affixed types underwent a telicity shift is unsubstantiated and
at odds with the historical value of the two durative/iterative (i.e., atelic)
types.28
26
But Cowgill (1975: 565; 1979: 37) prefers to explain such equations by “semantic shift of the roots,
entailing shift between telic and atelic Aktionsart”. Thus, *senh2- ‘seek’ (atelic) would have assumed
the new meaning ‘obtain’ (telic) outside Anatolian, leading to the replacement of *senh2-ti by the nasal
present *sn̥ -ne-h2-ti > Ved. sanóti. For a number of similar candidates, see Eichner (1975: 82), on the
underlying assumptions already Delbrück (1897: 75). Cf. also 2.17 on Hitt. tēzzi ‘states’ (< *d heh1-ti).
27
Cowgill (1979: 38).
28
In Eichner’s (1975) model, these formations belong to a ‘tertiary group’ of hi-verbs, whose transfer
from the mi-conjugation was due to superficial features such as radical ˘a-vocalism or semantic
affinity to hi-verbs of the ‘primary group’ (~ old preterite-presents as in Germanic) and ‘secondary
group’ (new˘ presents backformed from preterital perfects: cf. 2.9); but are such motivations
sufficient?
In addition, there are two obstacles of a less atomistic kind. The first is
the plausibility issue raised by Strunk (2.8). If ‘Proto-Indo-Hittite’ had
only just started to grow a category of grammatical aspect when Anatolian
went its own way, and if Anatolian then developed it fully in the way
envisaged by Cowgill, it is awkward that the same branch has already
abandoned it again by the time of our first (and early) texts, by selecting
the imperfective variant in every aspectual pair. For Strunk, such an
abortive development at least had to happen only once, in non-Anatolian
Indo-European, but for Cowgill it must have happened twice, within and
outside Anatolian.
Secondly, for all that has been said in 2.10, the rise of aspect itself remains
ill-motivated. For one thing, one might object in principle to the notion that
the introduction of tense into a previous more ‘primitive’ system should as a
corollary bring with it the creation of aspect: more typically, languages are
either predominantly ‘tensed’ or predominantly ‘aspectual’. Moreover, just
as in the Hoffmann–Strunk model, the transformation of Aktionsart (lexical
aspect) into grammatical aspect cannot be taken for granted. Let us suppose
that ‘Proto-Indo-Hittite’ had a verb *dheh1-t ‘(he/she) put(s)’. When tense
was introduced through the addition of ‘primary’ *-i, the new *d heh1-ti ‘is
putting, puts’ contrasted with the old *d heh1-t ‘put, was putting’ – aspect did
not exist as yet. Subsequently, an originally nominal *dhoh1e ‘putter’ was
integrated into the verbal system, first in the sense of ‘(is a) putter’, whence
‘puts habitually’, but eventually as a synonym of *d heh1-ti ‘is putting, puts’.
After the removal of the by now redundant *d heh1-ti, the innovated *dhoh1ei̯
(with newly added presentic *-i) correlated (a) with the preterite *dheh1-t,
but also (b) with its own preterite *d hoh1e (without *-i). This double
preterite should now have caused the creation of aspect according to
Cowgill (as for Hoffmann and Strunk: Fig. 2.1). Once again, the necessary
prerequisite for both preterites to survive in the first place would be the
existence of some semantic difference between them (cf. 2.6). Given the
assumed prehistory of *d hoh1e, the initial difference should have been that
between ‘put, was putting’ (*dheh1-t) and ‘[was a putter >] put (habitually)’
(*d hoh1e). In order for this to become a truly aspectual contrast, however,
one must additionally postulate that *dhoh1e took on the meaning ‘was
putting’ from *d heh1-t, leaving only ‘put’ to the latter. Why? To be sure,
because of its habitual meaning ‘put (habitually)’ has some affinity with
aspectual imperfectivity (cf. 4.3); and ‘was putting’ too is imperfective. But
before a perfective vs. imperfective dichotomy existed in the language, how
decisive would this similarity have been for classificatory purposes? Strictly
speaking, grammatical aspect is not, after all, concerned with the ‘objective’
difference between a single event X and the repeated (habitual) occurrence of
X-like events, but with the ‘subjective’ conceptualisation of an event X as
either unfolding/internally structured (= imperfective) or complexive/
internally unstructured (= perfective) (1.9, 4.4). This is not to say that
such a birth of aspect is impossible, but neither is it so straightforward
that its double occurrence, in both Proto-Anatolian and non-Anatolian
Proto-Indo-European, makes for an economic reconstruction.
2.12 Assessment
All in all, it would be easier if we could assume that grammatical aspect in
some form already existed in Proto-Indo-European (‘Proto-Indo-Hittite’)
before Anatolian split off. In that case, Cowgill’s nominal verbs (*d hoh1e)
and the various types of characterised present stems of Anatolian and non-
Anatolian Indo-European could all have belonged to the imperfective
aspect, no matter what Aktionsart nuances the characterised presents still
conveyed. The frequency of the *d hoh1e type in Anatolian, and its absence
elsewhere (save for its reduplicated descendant, the PIE perfect), might still
be due to it being the least ‘specialised’ imperfective until the time when
Anatolian went its own way. However, even in this respect a caveat is in
order. The suffix *-sk̑ e/o- is not only a well-attested present-stem formant
outside Anatolian, it is also a prominent imperfectiviser in Anatolian itself
(7.6, 8.37). As a consequence, for it – as well as for *-i̯e/o-, for example
(10.32–10.39) – one may wonder whether it can really still have played a
distinct Aktionsart role in later ‘Proto-Indo-Hittite’.
However that may be, whereas Cowgill’s derivation of the Anatolian hi-
conjugation from a nominal starting point convinces by its elegance, ˘his
treatment of aspect is unduly complex. If an aspectual system already
existed in ‘Proto-Indo-Hittite’, Anatolian could lose it – or rework it –
just as easily as if it had arisen only after the ‘Proto-Indo-Hittite’ stage. Not
even Strunk’s argument against the Anatolian ‘reduction hypothesis’ (2.8)
bears weight against such a revision, for Strunk’s objection stands and falls
with his belief that “the aspects . . . had arisen later [sc., than the
Aktionsarten] in the parent language”.29 If we were to question that, and
abandon the idea that aspect is a by-product of the introduction of tense
into the system, we might end up with the simplest reconstruction of all:
one in which aspect was a central grammatical category in the early Proto-
Indo-European (or ‘Proto-Indo-Hittite’) verb, which gradually lost in
importance throughout the family as tense was introduced and became
29
Strunk (1994a: 431).
increasingly dominant over time. Some branches, like Anatolian, would
have made the transition to an almost exclusively tensed system more
quickly than others, notably Greek, where aspect has not given in until
today.
2.13–2.16 Early Aspect I: Jasanoff on the ‘Proto-Middle’

2.13 Jasanoff against Cowgill
The idea just mooted, that aspect may not be a ‘late’ development,30 is not
a new one. However divergent they are in most other respects, it unites the
treatments of the PIE verb by Jerzy Kuryłowicz and Jay Jasanoff, which
thus counterbalance the theories discussed so far.31 Of the two, Jasanoff is
less directly concerned with aspect or tense as such. However, since
Jasanoff’s wide-ranging book on Hittite and the Indo-European Verb not
only deals with a variety of topics that will also occupy us later, but directly
responds to Cowgill, we shall first look at it and turn to Kuryłowicz
afterwards (2.17–2.18).
According to Jasanoff,32 Cowgill’s theory not only incurs the objections
detailed in 2.11, but with its reliance on the Indo-Hittite hypothesis “allows
such wide latitude for speculation about the prehistory of ‘Indo-European
Proper’ that it runs a serious risk of circularity”. In particular, Jasanoff
argues, the reduplicated Hittite hi-conjugation verb u̯ eu̯ akki ‘demands’
(< *u̯ e-u̯ ok̑ -e(i̯)) looks so much like˘ a PIE perfect to the root *u̯ ek̑ - ‘wish’ (cf.
Gr. ἑκών ‘willing’) that it is counterintuitive to postulate the creation of
such perfects only in the Indo-European branch of ‘Indo-Hittite’.33 To be
sure, this alone is no real blow against Cowgill, since Cowgill’s views do not
30
Let alone a post-PIE innovation of one or two selected branches only (Szemerényi 1969; 1985b: 521–
8; 1987, Schmitt-Brandt 1987, Duhoux 1993; cf. already Pedersen 1904: 220, Adrados 1974: 1.166,
1.213–23, 1.273–9). This extreme position is mainly backed by the claim “that the aspect of Slavic is
demonstrably not something primeval but a fairly late innovation” (Szemerényi 1987: 11, after van
Wijk 1929; 1935). Though superficially true (cf. 4.6), this overlooks the pre-existing aorist/imperfect
divide which is continued in South Slavic (cf. 7.6, fn. 22, 7.17) and may well continue the similar
PIE opposition since it does reach into prehistory (H. Andersen 2009, pace Safarewicz 1974: 359).
Moreover, the extensive homologies between aorist-based preterital forms far beyond the Graeco-
Aryan domain (cf. 3.23–3.31, 8.20–8.23, 8.30) and other aspectual relics in branches like Indo-
Iranian (cf. e.g. 7.28, 7.37, fn. 162) or even Anatolian (cf. below in the main text) must not be
disregarded either. For similar criticism, see Di Giovine (1997b; 2009: 6.10–6.15), Napoli (2006:
53–5).
31
See especially Kuryłowicz (1964a) and Jasanoff (2003). 32 Jasanoff (2003: 18–21).
33
Pace van Brock (1964: 153), it may not be said that ‘Hitt. we-wakk- . . . could not have arisen from an
old perfect, from which its function absolutely differs’. This statement is based on van Brock’s (1964:
127–8) own iterative reading of wewakk-, but similar readings are possible, for instance, for some
Homeric perfects (5.16).
crucially depend on the non-existence of (something like) proto-perfects –
or reduplicated ‘nominal verbs’ – in ‘Proto-Indo-Hittite’. If Anatolian
could lose many other things, why not also this category? More seriously,
however, there seems to be some evidence to suggest that an aspectual
contrast did already exist in ‘Proto-Indo-Hittite’. In this context, Jasanoff
firstly points to the Hittite hi-conjugation 3sg. pret. ending in -š(ta) (8.31),
which “is almost certainly ˘connected with the sigmatic aorist of the other
IE languages . . .; yet the sigmatic aorist, under Cowgill’s interpretatio indo-
hethitica, ought to go back to the telic preterite of a telic s-present, neither
of which should have survived into Hittite” (since such a telic present
would first have been replaced by a nominal verb with two aspectually
differentiated pasts, of which the perfective one would then have been
abandoned: 2.11). Moreover,
[s]trong evidence against Cowgill’s model comes from the cases in
which a single Hittite verb is attested with two stems, one correspond-
ing to an IE present and the other to an aorist. Thus, for example,
Hitt. tarhuzzi (taruhzi) ‘overcomes, is able’ beside tarhzi ‘id.’ seems to
point to˘ an original˘ u-present *t(e)rh -u- (cf. Ved. tarute
2
˘ ‘conquers’)
beside a root aor. *t(e)rh2- . . . Similarly, the pair parkiya- : park- ‘rise’
(root *bherg̑ h-) recalls the Vedic (and PIE) pattern mányate ‘thinks’ :
aor. amata (GAv. man tā), mriyáte ‘dies’ : aor. amr̥ ta, etc.; note also
˙ karaššiye/a- : karaš- ‘cut’, etc. According to
karpiye/a- : karp- ‘lift’,
Melchert (1997[a]), some pairs of the latter type, both in Hittite and
in Luvian, show the remains of a synchronic distribution in which the
stem in *-i̯e/o- was confined to the present indicative while the shorter
stem was used in the preterite and imperative. If confirmed by further
philological research, this pattern would virtually guarantee the exis-
tence of the standard PIE aspectual system for some stage of Proto-
Anatolian.34
2.14 The ‘Proto-Middle’

Beyond all this, there is a more fundamental point where Jasanoff
dissents from Cowgill. While not doubting the ultimate connection of
the perfect and h i-conjugation endings with the endings of the Indo-
European middle ˘ voice, Cowgill had explicitly rejected the idea of a
34
Jasanoff (2003: 19). Melchert’s (1997a: 85–7) prime example is OHitt. pres. karp(i)i̯e- ‘lift’ vs. (later
generalised) kar(a)p-; but following Neu (1968a: 42), he also highlights “cases where we find a medial
stem in -ye- for verbs which otherwise have an athematic (root) inflection”, reminiscent of
Indo-Iranian passives in -ya- (10.34), as well as Luwian material. For further evidence, see García
Ramón (2002: 126–33), for some less detailed observations of a similar kind, already Eichner (1975:
83–5).
single source formation for the PIE middle and the Hittite h i-con-
˘
jugation: the former had to be a separate thing already in ‘Proto-Indo-
Hittite’ since there is a distinct middle in both Anatolian and non-
Anatolian Indo-European. By contrast, Jasanoff’s system pivots around
the primeval existence of a unitary ‘proto-middle’ conjugation with
1sg. *-h2e etc. From this, the PIE (or ‘Proto-Indo-Hittite’) middle, the
PIE perfect, and the Anatolian h i-conjugation would all be descended,
˘
following a series of complex transformations.
Jasanoff is here taking up ideas previously explored by Rosenkranz,
the late Kuryłowicz, and in particular Erich Neu and Wolfgang Meid.
All these scholars had assumed some (proto-)middle origin for the
Hittite h i-verbs: Rosenkranz and Kuryłowicz without, Neu and
Meid with˘ additional links to the PIE perfect.35 However,
Rosenkranz’s notion that an initial middle category underwent a
split when middles used in opposition to actives acquired an addi-
tional r-marker (e.g., Hitt. 3sg. med. -a(ri) < *-o-r(i): 1.4), whereas
non-oppositional ‘deponent’ middles without added *-r yielded the
h i-conjugation, encounters the difficulty that “[t]he o-vocalism and
˘perfect-like ablaut of many primary h i-verbs are not explainable on
the basis of any ordinary PIE middle ˘ paradigm”, that “the 3pl.
preterite in -er, which must have originated in the h i-conjugation,
suggests a connection with the perfect rather than the ˘ middle” (cf.
1.6, 5.3), and that “the claim that deponents were originally marked
by the r-less endings *-h ai, *-tai, and *-ai, while oppositional middles
and passives took the ˘endings *-h ar(i), *-tar(i), and *-(t)ar(i) (< PIE
˘ contradicted by the comparative
*-h2e-r, *-th2e-r, *-(t)o-r), is flatly
evidence” since “[t]he familiar Hittite verbs eš- ‘sit down’, ki- ‘lie’,
wēšš- ‘wear’, mar- ‘disappear’, and ar- ‘stand’ all correspond to roots
which formed deponent presents or aorists in the parent language . . .
yet all inflect as ordinary middles rather than as active h -verbs”.36 Nor
does Kuryłowicz’s proposal fare any better: if the Hittite˘ h i-conjuga-
˘
tion had originated from a group of new actives formed oppositionally
to deponent, middle-inflected, verbs in 1sg. *-h a, 2sg. *-ta, 3sg. *-a by
the addition of – normally diathetically neutral ˘ – ‘primary’ *-i, why is
there a difference in vowel grade and ablaut pattern between the
35
See Rosenkranz (1952/3), Kuryłowicz (1979), Neu (1967; 1968a; 1976; 1985; 1989b), and Meid (1971;
1975; 1979). In linking the PIE perfect and middle, via a ‘perfect diathesis’, Stang (1932) had pointed
the way.
36
Jasanoff (2003: 22).
Hittite middles and h i-conjugation verbs, and why are there virtually
˘
no active h i-conjugation : medial middle-inflection pairs?37
˘
Like Rosenkranz, meanwhile, both Neu and Meid regard the h i-
conjugation as a stranded proto-middle.38 For them, the insertion˘ of
the perfect into the group becomes possible by assuming a first differentia-
tion of their proto-middle, through the introduction of separate ‘primary’
endings in *-i, into (a) middles (with *-i) and (b) perfects (without *-i).
Subsequently, group (a) split further either (i) when the third-person
endings partially adopted *-t- as a person marker from the active endings,
so as to yield (a') real middles with *-t- (3sg. *-to(i̯) for previous *-o(i̯)) vs.
(a'') semantically demedialised middles without *-t-, whence the hi-
conjugation (Meid),39 or (ii) when, at a late (Proto-Anatolian) stage, ˘
‘primary’ *-i was partially substituted by *-r to mark voice more clearly,
so as to yield (a') real middles with *-r in the ‘primary’ endings (e.g.,
1sg. *-hai̯ → *-har, 3sg. *-ai̯ → *-ar) vs. (a'') semantically demedialised
middles˘ without˘ *-r, whence the hi-conjugation (Neu).40
Here too, apart from anything˘ else – such as the question why Hittite
should retain many dental-less middles in *-o (if Meid were right), or why
Proto-Anatolian should share with various other Indo-European languages
the spread of ‘medial’ *-r (if Neu were right) – not only does the deme-
dialisation process envisaged for the hi-conjugation remain remarkably
˘
vague,41 but crucial ablaut differences between middles and hi-conjugation
verbs are also disregarded. This is where Jasanoff tries to do˘better, arguing
that there are many ways that shifts in the form and meaning of ‘primitive’
categories could have taken place in the period before and after the
37
Kuryłowicz (1979: 144) rightly stresses that the plural endings of the hi-conjugation, which equal those of
˘ which are unrelated to those of the
the mi-conjugation (1pl. -u̯ eni, 2pl. -teni, 3pl. -anzi; 1.3, 10.5–10.11) and
middle (1pl. -u̯ ašta(ti), 2pl. -d/tuma(ri), 3pl. -ant/da(ri); 1.4), must also be taken into account; but his
explanation why the mi-conjugation endings spread is unsatisfactory since 1pl. †-u̯ aštai etc. would have
been more systemically consistent than -u̯ eni etc. See further 10.30.
38
Neu (1968a: 133) posits for early Proto-Indo-European ‘the activum and the perfectum, the former
diathesis referring to an action, the latter to a state’ (cf. Neu 1976: 247; 1985: 278–83; 1989b: 153–4).
Meid variously calls the common source ‘perfect’ (Meid 1975: 216), ‘medioperfect’ (Meid 1971: 36),
or ‘middle’ (Meid 1979: 174, “Medium”).
39
Meid (1971: 35–9; 1975: 215–17; 1979: 173–5).
40
Neu (1968a: esp. 154–60; 1976: 247–53; 1985: 283–94). Note that Neu’s scenario entails a separation
of the Hittite mediopassive r-endings from those of Italic, Celtic, and Tocharian (cf. Eichner 1975:
76; Epilogue, fn. 1).
41
Cf. the paradoxical endorsement of the Neu–Meid theory by Tischler (1982b: 249), who writes that
‘the Hitt. hi-conjugation and the mediopassive go back to a common category, which originally also
possessed˘the feature intransitivity; when this category split into the two formal series of Hittite, the
hi-conjugation preferentially took on the transitive verbs, the mediopassive the intransitive ones’
˘(italics added).
separation of Anatolian from the rest of the family. The task of a theory of the
hi-conjugation cannot therefore simply be to invent reasonable-seeming
˘inner-PIE (or inner-PIH or inner-‘Frühindogermanisch’) scenarios; it must
be to show how a particular reconstruction of the latest PIE/PIH system –
with or without accompanying speculations on the prehistory of that system –
can account for all the facts in the daughter languages.42
2.15 Jasanoff’s ‘h2e-Conjugation’

This focus on “the latest PIE/PIH system” informs much of Jasanoff’s
thinking. According to him, the verbal system of Proto-Indo-European,
just before Anatolian split off, must be reconstructed in a conservative
manner:
The PIE verb . . . had the usual three persons and three numbers, as
well as the familiar two voices, active and mediopassive. It also had a
fully grammaticalized aspectual contrast between present/imperfect and
aorist; the reductionist view that the parent language had only a system
of Aktionsarten is not supported, and is if anything undercut, by our
findings here. The new PIE verb, like the old, had a perfect – a
resultative-stative present with both an active and a middle, and a
preterite (pluperfect) that patterned as a stative imperfect. It likewise
had the classical four moods – indicative, imperative, optative, and
subjunctive.43
All that is truly new44 in Jasanoff’s framework is the existence of a
complete active conjugation pattern with the singular endings *-h2e, *-th2e,
*-e, matching the commonly recognised active conjugation pattern in
*-m(i), *-s(i), *-t(i) and comprising, like this ‘mi-conjugation’, both root
formations and various derived stems. The ultimate source of the ‘h2e-
conjugation’ is to be identified, as per Meid and Neu, with the source of
the PIE middles and perfects (the latter descending from reduplicated h2e-
presents45). Unlike these authors, however, Jasanoff reconstructs a full
paradigm, whose peculiar o-grade singular vs. e-grade plural ablaut is
thought to be reflected most directly in Anatolian. For a characteristic
42
Jasanoff (2003: 26). 43 Jasanoff (2003: 215).
44
In some respects, Pedersen (1938a: 80–6) is a forerunner (cf. Jasanoff 1979: 83 n. 11; 2003: 26–7), also
because Pedersen already brought in the thematic conjugation (4.34–4.44). However, like the even
earlier hints by Grünenthal (1936: 140), Pedersen’s views on the original functions of his “-m-
Konjugation” and “-H-Konjugation” were more specific than Jasanoff’s: see 9.14.
45
See esp. Jasanoff (1979: 89). This assumption is shared with Oettinger (2001a: 80–3; 2006: 36–42;
2013/14: 159–60), but for Oettinger the formation in question (structurally 3sg. *C1e-C1oC-e) was the
main or only ‘h2e-present’ when Anatolian split off, so that dereduplication must be assumed for
verbs such as Hitt. dāi ‘takes’ ←< *de-doh3-e(i̯) (cf. Eichner 1975: 86).
root formation, based on *melh2- ‘grind’ (cf. Goth. malan, Lith. málti), this
would have looked as follows:46
sg. 1 *mólh2-h2e pl. 1 *mélh2-meH (?)
2 *mólh2-th2e 2 *mélh2-(H)e (??)
3 *mólh2-e 3 *mélh2-r̥ (s)
2.16 Reconstructive Aims and Ideologies

Importantly, Jasanoff insists that PIE synchrony and diachrony must not
be mixed up:
Proto-Indo-European was as much a real language as its attested daughters,
where purely morphological features like the distinction between strong and
weak verbs in modern English or German, or the distinction between nasal
and reduplicated presents in Sanskrit, have no synchronic functional corre-
lates. Synchronically speaking, the h2e-conjugation : mi-conjugation oppo-
sition was just such a feature. An Indo-European child learned to say
*mólh2-e for ‘grinds’ rather than, for instance, *mélh2-ti or *ml̥ h2-é-ti,
because this was what other PIE speakers said, not because the root *melh2-
was coded in his mental lexicon with an array of subtle diathetic and
aspectual specifications that modern philologists, writing six thousand
years after the fact, have thought themselves able to discover.
None of this is to deny, of course, that there was a rationale for the
assignment of a given present stem to the mi- or h2e-conjugation. It was,
however, a historical rationale. The original status of the h2e-conjugation can
be inferred from the history of the PIE perfect ‘active’, which is transpar-
ently a kind of middle déclassé, with middle-like semantics and endings
related to, but more archaic than, those of the classical middle. In exactly
the same way, the h2e-conjugation arose from a nucleus of pre-canonical
middles (‘protomiddles’) that were ‘stranded’ by the emergence of the true
middle and reinterpreted as actives (‘neoactives’). In some cases we can see,
or at least plausibly guess at, the likely semantic development: *mólh2-e may
originally have been an intransitive verb of process (‘grind away (at)’);
*k̑ ónk-e ‘hangs (tr.)’ was probably once specifically intransitive and acquired
its transitive sense by polarization with a new middle in 3sg. *-or. In other
cases the reason for the h2e-conjugation inflection of a given present or class
of presents is no longer recoverable. This is not a shortcoming of the
h2e-conjugation theory as such, but an inevitable side-effect of the normal
processes of morphological change.47
46
Jasanoff (2003: 71); but other ablaut patterns are admitted for example to allow the derivation of the
middle inflection from forms such as 3sg. *k̑ éi̯-e ‘lies’ and *dhugh-é ‘gives forth’ (Jasanoff 2003: 146–
7). See further 5.33.
47
Jasanoff (2003: 217–18).
Given this stance, which encourages non liquet verdicts in matters
relating to linguistic function while trying to reconstruct forms in the
most minute detail, Jasanoff can freely criticise “the tendency to impute
a discoverable, logically specifiable function to every stem class or gram-
matical idiosyncrasy that we reconstruct in a protolanguage” as “a constant
and unwholesome temptation in current-day comparative-historical lin-
guistics”.48 And yet, there is something to be said for those who succumb to
the temptation. The wish to pin down functions as well as forms usefully
constrains the reconstructive endeavour, for example by preventing scho-
lars from assuming too much linguistic redundancy in the proto-language.
Moreover, where Hoffmann, Strunk, or Cowgill had primarily sought to
provide a functional explanation of the regularities and irregularities of the
historical data, Jasanoff concentrates on a formal description of prehistorical
(later) Proto-Indo-European. Both are legitimate undertakings, and the
latter may be methodologically safer; but it is also the one that promises less
enlightenment – as Jasanoff concedes:
We are not now in a position, and may never be, to give a detailed
description of the functions of the pre-PIE protomiddle or to specify the
conditions under which some protomiddles were renewed as middles
while others were reinterpreted as h2e-conjugation neoactives. More
important still, we have no way of knowing how our ‘deep’ reconstructions
patterned as part of a coherent pre-PIE system. If pre-PIE *mólh2-e qua
protomiddle meant ‘grinds away (at)’, and pre-PIE *nóiH-e qua proto-
middle meant ‘turned (intr.)’ how did pre-PIE speakers say the equivalent
of ‘grinds’ (present active) and ‘led’ (aorist active), respectively? Forms like
*ml̥ -né-h2-ti (nasal present) and *néiH-t (root aorist) come immediately to
mind, but at the remote linguistic stage before the h2e-conjugation and
the middle parted company we have no way of excluding a hundred other
possibilities. Such uncertainties are inevitable when we press the compara-
tive method to its limits. As Kurylowicz once said, we cannot reconstruct
ad infinitum.49
That, of course, is true; but neither is the comparative method all we
have. After all, Jasanoff himself makes use of internal reconstruction when
48
But see at least Jasanoff (1979: 90 n. 35): “One possibility . . . is that the pre-IE endings ancestral to
those of the middle and the h2e-conjugation were originally used to characterize durative, as well as
stative and properly middle presents.” Krasukhin’s (2012: 181) idea that the ‘proto-middles’ were
used with non-controlling subjects is neither supported by Jasanoff’s main examples (e.g., *molh2e
‘grinds’) nor by the Hittite hi-conjugation.
49
Jasanoff (2003: 222). More ˘extremely, S. Zimmer (1988: 374) wants “linguists . . . to abstain from
using the term IE or ‘PIE’ for anything older than roughly 2500 BC” because he thinks it impossible
to reconstruct stages of the proto-language that predate our records by more than 500 years; for a
rejection of this arbitrary “call for honesty”, see W. P. Lehmann (1989: 240).
he talks of “the pre-PIE protomiddle”. So, to return to the question of
aspect, is it really a reconstruction ad infinitum when we ask, for example,
how it came that a structure such as 3sg. *CóC-e could allegedly be either
imperfective (as with Jasanoff’s ‘h2e-present’ *mólh2-e) or perfective (as with
his ‘h2e-aorist’ *nói̯H-e)? If we refuse to address such issues, our under-
standing of Proto-Indo-European is impoverished, not enriched.
2.17–2.18 Early Aspect II: Kuryłowicz’s Framework

2.17 Telic Verbs and Aspectual Shifts
To doubt that Indo-European aspect was a late innovation of the proto-
language need not entail the agnosticism advocated by Jasanoff. A different
attitude is observed in the work of Kuryłowicz, even though he had
acknowledged that we cannot reconstruct ad infinitum.
Like Cowgill later on (2.10), Kuryłowicz saw nothing impossible in
a PIE telic verb having a present; but he too noted that such telic
presents may undergo renewal and be replaced, for example, by derived
iteratives:
An important function of the form of the present is durativity (imperfectiv-
ity, simultaneity with the moment of speaking), implying a developing or
progressive action, but there may be also other functions. If, besides dur-
ativity, the present develops, in certain contexts, the semantic shade of
punctuality, due e.g. to the use of preverbs or of other elements limiting
the action to a single moment, the general durative (imperfective) aspect of
the present form becomes blurred because of such text-conditioned shades
of meaning. A new morphological marker is then assigned to the durative
function. To restore the homogeneous durative function of the present the
language has often recourse to derived iterative verbs. This substitution
changes them to normal durative verbs, whereas the form of the old present
is restricted to secondary non-durative (chiefly punctual) functions.50
Kuryłowicz illustrates the principle with Slavic *pri-pekǫ ‘I cook’, whose
preverb pri- signals telicity (~ ‘I make sth. ready by cooking’). Originally no
less employable as a progressive (‘durative’) present than its non-prever-
bated atelic counterpart OCS pekǫ ‘I cook’ (~ ‘I am busy in the kitchen’),
*pri-pekǫ was at some point replaced by the marked durative (< iterative)
derived formation *pri-pěkajǫ . Following that replacement, *pri-pekǫ itself
only survived in some secondary functions, notably as a future and/or
general present. A similar change, Kuryłowicz suggests, will have affected
50
Kuryłowicz (1964a: 98).
PIE telic root formations such as *d heh1-ti ‘puts, is putting’: a reduplicated
(< iterative) *d he-d heh1-ti superseded older *d heh1-ti, except in some sec-
ondary (non-progressive/durative) functions of the present. But this also
had consequences for the past tense (3sg. *d heh1-t):
The imperfects of ousted punctual presents are liable to become aorists. This
is clear in the case of the Slav. aorist of the type po-vede and explains the type of
the I.E. aorist which is not to be morphologically distinguished from the
present system, e.g. the root aorist. Cf. Vedic kr̥ nóti, gácchati, dádāti, dádhāti,
tísthati : aor. ákar, ágan, ádāt, ádhāt, ásthāt, Greek˙ ἔθη(κε), ἔδω(κε), ἔστη.
˙˙ It is incorrect to assume that these verbal roots were punctual and could
not therefore be used in the present. The correct statement is that they had
been used in the present but owing to the secondary rise of a punctual
function they had to be replaced by new present types, their imperfect being
henceforth used as an aorist. From the use of kr̥ , gam, etc., as aorist we may
infer that their prehistoric present had developed a secondary punctual
(terminative > perfective) sense. The Slav. parallel proves that Delbrück . . .
was right in assuming a prehistoric coexistence of two present forms, e.g.
*dhēti and *didhēti (or *dedhēti), the latter being originally an iterative.
Whether the Vedic forms with primary endings, like dhā́ ti etc., are archa-
isms (= residues of the old present) or poetical creations, is not pertinent to
this issue. But the first alternative is more probable.51
Thus, again as with Cowgill, Hittite mi-presents which correspond to root
aorists in other languages may be accommodated. Like Ved. dhā́ ti ‘puts’, its
Hittite counterpart tēzzi ‘states’ (< *d heh1-ti) can be an archaism.52
Importantly, though, Kuryłowicz is not here describing the creation of
aspect: “The I.E. verbal system was based on the contrast of aspects.
Expression of tense was notoriously posterior to this opposition.”53 This
is why old imperfects of telic root formations can turn into (root) aorists. In
other words, Kuryłowicz assumes that some older type of aorist (or perfec-
tive past) already existed before ‘root aorists’ came into being (Fig. 2.2).
2.18 Shortcomings of Kuryłowicz’s Model

The obvious question arising from Kuryłowicz’s model is what had filled
the perfective slot before the telic root formations shifted there. In
51
Kuryłowicz (1964a: 104–5); cf. Kuryłowicz (1977: 75–6).
52
Ivanov (1965: 80–1) further compares Old Czech 1sg. dím ‘speak’ < *d heh1-mi (?). In the wider context, it
may be worth noting that the Greek root ‘imperfect’ (ἔ)φατο ‘said’ (cf. root pres. *bheh2-ti ‘says, speaks’ >
Gr. φησί, Arm. bay; LIV 55, s.v. 2. *bheh2-) has aoristic connotations (Debrunner 1936). Following
Kuryłowicz, this could be due to an aspectual shift without concomitant present-stem loss, but other
explanations are also conceivable (cf. 6.13, fn. 51).
53
perfective aspect imperfective aspect
telic roots atelic roots telic roots atelic roots
STAGE I aspect opposition only (+ esp. iterative Aktionsarten, but no tense)
h ˘
? ? *d eh1-t ‘puts’ *h1ei-t ‘goes’
STAGE II introduction of tense (addition of ’primary’ *-i)

h ˘
(pres. ?) (pres. ?) pres.*d eh1-ti pres. *h1ei-ti
h ˘
past ( = aor.) ? past ( = aor.) ? past ( = impf.) *d eh1-t past ( = impf.) *h1ei-t
STAGE III functional restriction of telic presents; new durative (progressive) presents (e.g., < iteratives)
pres. (*d heh1-ti),
˘
(pres. ?) (pres. ?) pres.*h1ei-ti
h h ˘
aor. ? aor. ? *d e-d eh1-ti impf.*h1ei-t
h
impf. *d eh1-t,
h h
*d e-d eh1-t
STAGE IV aspectual shift of telic imperfects; complete replacement of old telic presents
pres.*d he-d heh1-ti
˘
(pres. ?) (pres. ?) pres.*h1ei-ti
h h h ˘
aor.*d eh1-t aor. ? impf.*d e-d eh1-t impf.*h1ei-t
(→ s-aor.)
Fig. 2.2. The development of the PIE aspectual system according to Kuryłowicz
principle, any other aorist formation – especially one that looks like a relic
category – might be a candidate. However, Kuryłowicz does not part
company with scholars like Hoffmann, Strunk, and Cowgill when he
considers all the non-radical aorist types that are historically attested as
younger, not older, perfectives than the root aorist.54 In particular, the
most prominent aorist type of Greek and Indo-Iranian, the s-aorist, is no
real option for him. Given some evidence for Indo-European s-presents as
well as s-aorists (3.2, 8.29, 8.41), Kuryłowicz is naturally inclined to treat
the s-aorist’s prehistory as parallel to that of the root aorist: “Etymologically
the s-aorist is the preterite of an s-present just as the root aorist is by its
origin the preterite of a root present.”55 Similarly, the thematic and
reduplicated aorists (1.10) are thought to be successors to the root aorist,
though earlier ones than the historically productive s-aorist. We thus end
up with a succession root aorist → thematic aorist → reduplicated aorist →
s-aorist, but no information about the primeval PIE perfective type
before this chain shift started. Though avoiding the difficulties which
beset the theories of Hoffmann–Strunk and Cowgill, Kuryłowicz’s model
too is therefore not quite satisfactory. Undoubtedly, one could again
defend it by saying, with Jasanoff, that some things simply lie too far
54
Contrast Rix (1986: 15–16) and Erhart (1989: esp. 25, 41–51), whose approach otherwise resembles
Kuryłowicz’s; but in treating the s-aorist (Rix) or thematic aorist (Erhart) as the oldest perfective
stem formation, neither of them discusses the theoretical and philological problems these positions
entail (3.2–3.3), nor do they offer more than passing remarks on the background of their candidate
(cf. 3.3, fn. 5; 8.53, fn. 230).
55
Kuryłowicz (1964a: 110); cf. Kuryłowicz (1977: 76–9) and see further 8.53, fn. 229.
back in the past to be recoverable. But if Kuryłowicz expressly allows for
relics like a telic present *d heh1-ti to survive, how likely is it that the oldest
perfective past should have disappeared without even the faintest trace?
Moreover, there is a second point to be raised against Kuryłowicz’s
hypothesis. In it, the various present-stem types are explained not so
much as reflexes of different Aktionsarten, but rather as a succession of
derived iteratives, each of which was replaced by a new one when it had
completed its turn: “[T]he method, still to some extent current in I.E.
linguistics, of establishing semantic differences between the several present-
formations is to be replaced by a chronological approach.”56 In origin,
Kuryłowicz claims, the present stems may all have been denominal verbs
used iteratively:
The formations serving to renew the present system of course go back to
different periods. The most recent type is represented by -i̯e/i̯o- derivatives,
forming the base of the productive conjugations of the historical period: -ei̯e/o-
(Lat. -ēre, Greek -εῖν, Goth. -jan, Slav. -iti); -āi̯e/o- (Lat. -āre, Greek -ᾶν,
Goth. -on, Slav. -ajǫ , -ati); -ii̯ō, -(e)ui̯ō, -n̥ i̯ō, -idi̯ō (Greek -ίζω), etc. All these
types are by their origin clearly denominal, secondarily only deverbative. . . .
This being the case, denominal origin may be conjectured also
for older formations like the presents in dental (e.g. Lat. fu-d- in fundo,
Goth. giutan) or in guttural (cf. e.g. Greek βρῡ́ χω, Slav. gryzǫ ), in -sk̑ e/o- (cf.
Skt. gacchati, Greek βάσκω), and even for presents with nasal infix. The fact
that certain derivative devices, like the use of -sk̑ e/o-, may have been obsolete
or even unknown in primary nominal word-formation, cannot be alleged as
an objection.57
Apart from the fact that at least those *-i̯e/o- stems where the suffix
directly follows the root look fairly archaic and not particularly
denominal (e.g., βαίνω < *gu̯ m̥ -i̯e/o-; 10.33), a fundamental problem
with all this is that, save perhaps for Kuryłowicz’s “most recent type”,
the imperfects of all the others should have been aoristified just as
much as the telic root imperfects were; but there simply are no PIE
‘nasal aorists’ or ‘aorists in -sk̑ e/o-’.58 So, not only is there a blank at
the start of Kuryłowicz’s aorist chain, the chain is also inexplicably
defective in the middle.
56 57
Kuryłowicz (1964a: 109) Kuryłowicz (1964a: 105).
58
The Armenian weak aorist in -c‘- probably does contain the suffix *-sk̑ e/o- (pace Klingenschmitt 1982:
286–7; cf. 7.24 with fn. 105), and it is used by Kuryłowicz (1964a: 107) to support his claims; but if
*-i̯e/o-, which is common throughout Indo-European, were indeed the latest ‘de-iteratival’ present-
stem formant, aorists in *-sk̑ e/o- too should exist in more than a single branch.
While Kuryłowicz’s approach thus appears to be too monocausal to
explain the diversity of Indo-European verbal stem formation, its deriva-
tion of the root aorist from an aspectually shifted telic imperfect never-
theless remains attractive. If we retain just this idea, the parallel existence of
root aorists and root presents no longer forces us to overlook everything
that speaks against the alternative models presented earlier in this chapter.
2.19 Conclusion
2.19 Conclusion
The present chapter has surveyed some major theories on the evolution of
the PIE verbal system. Although certainty cannot be achieved, the best
option in such a competition will be the one that accounts for the
descendant systems in the most economical and typologically natural
way. All of the proposals discussed have their strengths and weaknesses.
It therefore makes sense to persist with the search for an ideal reconstruc-
tion. In doing so, the following chapters will not start from a tabula rasa.
They will seek to combine, and build upon, all that seems plausible and
promising in the diverging strands of earlier research. In particular, the
following points are worth retaining:
1. In agreement with all the scholars referred to above, we may recognise
an intrinsic connection between the grammatical aspect of perfectivity
and the lexical/semantic feature telicity. Root aorists thus typically
denote telic eventualities (2.3). However, this does not mean that the
root semantics themselves were invariably telic. There is no need to
replace root meanings such as ‘drink’ by ‘take a sip’ merely because the
root in question forms a root aorist (2.4).
2. In agreement with Strunk, a model that does not assume a brief
rise-and-fall of aspect in the prehistory of Anatolian is preferable to
one that does (2.8); but similarly, and in agreement with Kuryłowicz
or Jasanoff, a model in which an aspect-dominated PIE system was
gradually superseded, after the differentiation of ‘primary’ vs. ‘second-
ary’ endings, by the tense-dominated system feeding into the Indo-
European descendant languages is preferable to one which has aspect
arise as a by-product of tense and which presupposes a Pre-PIE
situation with neither grammatical aspect nor tense (2.12).
3. In agreement with Jasanoff, there is strong evidence that Proto-
Indo-European before Anatolian split off had two ‘active’ conjugation
patterns, one in 1sg. *-mi and one in 1sg. *-h2e, and that the latter is
2.19 Conclusion 57
somehow linked to the middle voice (2.14–2.15). In agreement with
Cowgill, however, the idea of a class of originally nominal verbs,
inflecting according to the *-h2e pattern, is too powerful a means of
explaining the relationship between the PIE perfect and the Hittite
hi-conjugation (as well as correspondences between hi-conjugation
˘verbs and non-Anatolian root aorists) to be abandoned˘ (2.10).
In pulling these threads together, we will have to look deeply into

prehistory. Internal reconstruction will thus be as important as the
comparative method. However, a focus on systemic coherence together
with constraints imposed by the general principles of linguistic change
will provide a check against free-floating speculation. For practical rea-
sons, we will have to deal with the central tense/aspect, voice, and mood
stems one by one; but the following chapters should all be read, and
judged, as parts of a bigger picture. Our search for the origins of the
Greek verb will have succeeded only if it eventually leads to the vision of
PIE grammar as ‘a system where everything hangs together’ (“un système
où tout se tient”).59
59
Meillet (1903: 407).
chapter 3
The Reduplicated Aorist
3.1–3.4 Searching for Early Perfectives

3.1 Introduction
In the preceding chapter we have seen that there is widespread agreement
on root aorists belonging with roots that prototypically occur in telic (or
‘temporally bounded’) phrases. According to some, PIE aspect developed
as a by-product of tense because present-tense marking was barred from
such telic root formations. This assumption is problematic since various
present formations are equally telic/bounded. They intimate that telicity/
boundedness and present marking were no more incompatible in Proto-
Indo-European than in modern languages (2.6). By contrast, it is indeed
conceivable that all root formations were initially imperfective, but that the
prototypically telic ones among them shifted into a pre-existing perfective
aspect domain because of their intrinsic point-focus (2.17). The reasons for
this shift will occupy us later (10.41); but it should already be clear that they
need not have anything to do with the introduction of tense marking by
means of affixal *-i. In any case, such an aspectual shift à la Kuryłowicz
allows a reconstruction that is duly economical in two important respects.
Firstly, it explains the coexistence of structurally identical imperfective root
presents and perfective root aorists; and secondly, it entails a unidirectional
transition from a primarily aspect-based system (in early Proto-Indo-
European) to a more tense-based system (in later Proto-Indo-European
and the daughter languages).
Yet, it also raises a crucial question not answered by Kuryłowicz
(2.18): how were originally perfective forms marked before the proto-
typically telic root formations shifted aspect? Unless we reckon with
the complete disappearance of a morphological class, we must suspect
that the primeval perfective marker is hidden among those markers
that actually characterise the early Indo-European perfectives of a non-
radical type. Since the other languages do not offer any plausible
58
3.1–3.4 Searching for Early Perfectives 59
candidates beyond the ones found in Greek, and since all the
perfective (i.e., aorist) formations of Greek have parallels elsewhere
in Indo-European, all the non-radical aorists reviewed in 1.10 may be
considered here: the s-aorist, the thematic aorist, and the reduplicated
aorist. That Kuryłowicz himself regarded all of them as shifted
imperfects (2.18) does not of course oblige us to follow him in this
respect as well.
3.2 Eliminating the s-Aorist

We may start our search for the earliest perfective type with the s-aorist.
Here, Kuryłowicz’s notion that this represents the aspectually shifted
imperfect of an s-present is shared more widely,1 and it does enjoy some
philological support. Firstly, one may note root pairs like the following,
where the formant *-s- is not confined to the aorist, or even absent
from it:2
• *h2lek- ‘ward off’ (Gr. aor. ἄλαλκε < *h̥ 2l-h̥ 2lk-e/o-; cf. Table 3.1, 3.11) ~
*h2lek-s- ‘ward off, protect’ (Gr. pres. ἀλέξω, Ved. ráksati < *h2lek-s-e/o-);
• *h2eu̯ g- ‘become strong, increase’ (Goth. pres. ˙ aukan ‘increase’,
Lith. áugti ‘grow’) ~ *h2u̯ ek-s- (< *h2u̯ eg-s-) ‘grow, increase’ (Gr. pres.
ἀέξω/ἀέξομαι ‘increase (tr./intr.)’ < *h2u̯ eks-e/o-, αὔξω/αὔξομαι ‘do.’ <
*h2(e)u̯ ks-(i̯)e/o-, Av. uxšiieitī ‘grows’, etc.; cf. s-aor. *h2ēŭ ̯ g-s- behind
Lat. perf. auxī ‘increased (tr.)’, Av. aor. vaxšt ‘let grow’).
Secondly, ever since Meillet’s pioneering article on it,3 the s-aorist has
been regarded as a late development for other reasons as well. Not all of
these are valid (8.48), but one consideration is relevant in our context.
Throughout the Indo-European world, the s-aorist shows a remarkable
productivity in the creation of new perfectives, for instance next
to denominal verbs. If its *-s- were the oldest perfectivity marker of
Proto-Indo-European, this would therefore imply the unlikely revival in
late Proto-Indo-European of a formant that had previously been mar-
ginalised, in early Proto-Indo-European, when the prototypically telic/
bounded root formations turned into a new type of aorists.
1
Cf. e.g. Jasanoff (2003: 193), and already Kuiper (1934: esp. 210–14). The existence of s-presents is
disregarded by Hermann (1927: 222) and Rix (1986: 16) when they treat the PIE s-marker as
unambiguously perfective. See further 8.29 and 8.41.
2
Cf. LIV 264, 274–5, 278, 288–9, s.vv. *h2elk-, *h2eu̯ g-, *h2leks-, *h2u̯ eks-. The transitivity status of
*h2u̯ eks- is at least uncertain, given Gr. ἀέξω/αὔξω (explained by LIV as an innovated oppositional
active): see further 8.29, 8.35.
3
Meillet (1908).
60 The Reduplicated Aorist
3.3 Eliminating the Thematic Aorist
With the thematic aorist, the situation is different but no more promising.
According to widespread doctrine, the thematic aorist constitutes a thema-
tised remake of the root aorist. Although this view will be questioned later
(6.4–6.9), it is true that the thematic aorist contains nothing that a priori
looks like a distinctive aspectual marker. Apart from the optional augment
and the ‘secondary’ endings, both of which are shared with other past-tense
formations, it merely consists of the root (usually in the zero grade) and the
thematic vowel (structurally: 3sg. act. *(h1e-)CC-e-t). In historical times, the
vowel grade alone can serve as an aspectual marker, as in aor. ἔλιπε vs. impf.
ἔλειπε ‘left’, but it would be difficult to admit something similar for early
Proto-Indo-European. Vowel-grade differences are commonly assumed to
have been phonotactically conditioned (i.e., accentually motivated) at the
outset (cf. 3.41); and while it is easy to accept that such differences could at a
later point be associated with specific grammatical functions, it would seem
far-fetched to postulate a genetic link between perfectivity and lack of root
accentuation, this latter circumstance being the most likely cause of radical
zero grades.
Meanwhile, the thematic vowel might at first look like a more plausible
grammatical formant. However, it too fails to display any particular affinity
with, or preference for, perfective4 formations: it occurs with greater
frequency than in the aorist in various kinds of present stems, to say
nothing of its appearance also in the nominal system (cf. 3.38, 4.34–4.50).5
3.4 The Reduplicated Aorist as the Earliest Perfective Type?

We are thus left with the reduplicated aorist. The basic structure of this
formation is similar to that of the thematic aorist. Like the s-aorist, however,
it contains one element with the looks of a distinct grammatical marker: the
reduplication syllable (structurally: 3sg. act. *(h1e-)C1e-C1C-e-t; cf. 3.37). So is
there any promise in assuming that this aorist’s reduplication syllable once
signalled perfectivity?
After what has just been said about the thematic vowel occurring in both
aorist and present stems, one might instantly object that there are also
4
Or perfective-like: a potential exception among the present stems is the Sanskrit Class VI (type
tudáti), which is used by Kuryłowicz (1964a: 118) to turn the thematic aorists into shifted thematic
imperfects as well (6.2). However, the philological evidence rather suggests a deaoristic origin for this
group (6.3, 6.29).
5
While Puhvel (1970: 632) does not address these difficulties, Erhart (1989: 22–4) seeks to avoid them
by postulating an earlier suffix *-Cé/ó- added to CeR- roots; but since he cannot specify what suffix-
initial -C- would be involved (and subsequently reanalysed as part of a CeRC- root suffixed with
simple *-é/ó-), this approach too is unsatisfactory.
reduplicated imperfective (present) stems (Chapter 4). In fact, because of
the very existence of reduplicated thematic presents Kuryłowicz treated the
reduplicated aorist as a further shifted imperfect.6 To this, one could
counter-object that the parallelism is only partial, since the reduplication
vowel in the present stems is typically *-i-, whereas the aoristic evidence
points to *-e- (cf. 3.10, 4.24–4.25). But this would be a last resort, and we
shall see in due course that the matter requires a more nuanced approach.
For the moment, let us simply try and see how far we can get with the
following two working hypotheses:
(i) the reduplicated aorist was the primeval perfective type we are look-
ing for as the precursor of the root aorist; and
(ii) its reduplication syllable may therefore be regarded as an early PIE
perfectivity marker.
3.5–3.14 Greek Reduplicated Aorists: Data and Analysis

3.5 Arrangement of the Data Survey
If the two hypotheses just formulated may seem unappealing at first, this is
because the reduplicated aorist is not only marginal in Greek, but even
more so elsewhere in Indo-European. Should we therefore doubt that it
ever existed outside the Graeco-Aryan area? In order to answer this ques-
tion, we first have to survey the main evidence, in the wake of the
monographic treatment by Bendahman.7 We shall begin with Greek, not
just because this is our focus throughout the study, but also because its data
are here less complex than those of Indo-Iranian (3.15–3.22), Tocharian
(3.26–3.31), and Western Indo-European (3.23–3.25).
3.6 General Observations

In Greek, Bendahman finds around thirty reduplicated aorist stems.8 The
exact number is difficult to determine because the status of some, often
scarcely attested, items is ambiguous, particularly in its relation to the
perfect stem, and also because a number of forms are no doubt artificial
poetic creations; to build any reconstructive conclusions on these would
obviously be wrong.9
6
Kuryłowicz (1964a: 119); 2.18. Erhart (1989: 79) dismisses the reduplicated aorist as a derailed
pluperfect.
7
Bendahman (1993). 8 Bendahman (1993: 9–10).
9
Most likely artificial are, for example, λελάκοντο (h.Merc. 145, built from aor. ἔλακον after e.g.
λελαχεῖν, λελαβέσθαι ~ ἔλαχον, ἔλαβον?; or pluperfectal with Nussbaum 1987: 232–6?), τέτορεν
Semantically, the attested stems can be divided into a non-factitive and a
factitive (or ‘causative’) group. This dichotomy is determined by the lexical
meaning of the roots involved. Roots that prototypically surface in transi-
tive action verbs with an agentive/controlling subject retain this valency,
whereas roots that prototypically refer to intransitive or non-agentive
states/processes acquire a factitive reduplicated aorist.10 For example, the
root *g u̯ hen- with its transitive value ‘strike’ appears in an equally transitive
reduplicated aor. *g u̯ he-g u̯ hn-e/o- > πεφνε/ο- ‘kill’, whereas the root *h2er-
‘fit (intr.)’ is seen in the reduplicated aor. *h̥ 2r-h̥ 2r-e/o- > ἀραρε/ο- ‘fit (tr.),
adapt’ (i.e., ‘make fit’). Occasionally, the middle voice can then be used to
(re)neutralise the factitive value, by making the formation more subject-
centred (‘reflexive-factitive’; e.g., *bheu̯ d h- ‘be(come) awake/aware’, with
redupl. aor. *bhe-bhud h-e/o-: cf. active Ved. abūbudhat ‘has awakened’, but
medial Gr. πεπυθέσθαι ‘find out, learn’, as if *‘make oneself aware’).
3.7 Greek Data

Table 3.1 presents the reduplicated aorist stems in Greek whose real
existence is at least arguable. These are arranged alphabetically by root.
The commentary concentrates on issues relating to the root reconstruc-
tion, potentially related formations in other languages, and relevant pre-
sent stems. Factitive items are signalled by a bolded ‘F’. For fuller
discussion, especially of the more controversial items, the reader must be
referred to Bendahman’s work.11
3.8 Root Structure

The Greek material shows considerable formal consistency. The root of the
reduplicated aorists appears in the zero grade, no matter if it is inherited
or innovated (cf. *bherd-, πεφραδε/ο-). Root-final *-h1- is generally lost
(Hsch. τ 606, τέτορεν· ἔτρωσεν ‘wounded’, analogically built after aor. ἔτορε (6.16) : pres. τορέω
with s-aor. τορησα- (e.g. h.Merc. 283 ἀντι-τοροῦντα ‘penetrating’, Il. 10.267 ἀντι-τορήσας) when Il.
5.337 ἀντ-ετόρησεν was missegmented as ἀν-τετόρησεν as if from pres. *τετορέω; see also Peters
1980b: 349–50 n. 53, Harđarson 1993a: 220), and already Homeric ἐρῡ́ κακε ‘warded off ’ (next to pres.
ἐρῡ́ κω with s-aor. ἔρυξε; ἐρῡ́ κακε/ἠρῡ́ κακε seems to be modelled after ἐνῑπ
́ απε/ἠνῑπ
́ απε, notably to
fill the fourth foot before the bucolic diaeresis: cf. Chantraine 1958: 398).
10
This vague formulation is chosen on purpose. As observed by Benedetti (2002: 34–8; 2002/3: 38–42),
the classification of IE roots as ‘transitive’ or ‘intransitive’ is often difficult and may even be as
misleading as it would be for Modern English (where the valency of, e.g., fit entirely depends on
context). The difficulty can be illustrated with *h2er-, on which LIV 270, s.v. 1. *h2er- (“‘sich
(zusammen)fügen’”) remarks: ‘The perfect requires the fientive meaning given; a prehistoric con-
nection (identical stem formation) with 2. *h2er- “take, acquire” is conceivable, but would call for
semantic clarification’ (cf. Table 3.1). For similar cautioning remarks, see Pooth (2004b: 461–71;
2012: 283).
11
Bendahman (1993: 40–115); cf. also Schwyzer (1939: 748–9), Risch (1974: 243–5).
Table 3.1. Greek reduplicated aorists
Root
Reduplicated aorist
(usually 3sg. act. or med.,
stem reconstruction) Commentary
*bhei̯d- ‘split’ (LIV 70–1) Like the reduplicated aorist and the fut. πεφιδήσομαι based
(ἐ)πεφίδετο ‘spared’ on it, the thematic middle present φείδομαι ‘spare, save’ (+
< *bhe-bhid-e/o- gen., < self-benefactive ‘split off from sth.’, i.e. ‘use
sparingly’) is already Homeric (4.44). The later s-aorist
ἐφείσατο appears just once in Homer (Il. 24.236). A root
aorist is attested in Vedic (ábhet ‘has split’), and the root
forms a nasal present in both Vedic (bhinátti ‘splits’) and
Latin (findō ‘split’).
*bhei̯d h- ‘trust’ (LIV 71–2) The reduplicated aorist semantically corresponds to the
F (ἐ)πέπιθε ‘made trust, post-Homeric thematic present πείθω ‘convince, persuade’
persuaded’ (with s-aor. ἔπεισα), itself an oppositional active to med.
< *bhe-bhid h-e/o- πείθομαι ‘trust’ (cf. Specht 1939: 205–6, 4.44; contrast Lat.
active fīdō ‘trust’). Within the aorist system, (ἐ)πέπιθε (like
its later substitute ἔπεισε) represents the factitive counterpart
to the thematic aorist ἐπίθετο ‘trusted’. The rare middle
πεπιθέσθαι is reflexive-factitive, expressing the nuance
‘bring oneself to do sth.’ (cf. Latacz 1966: 61, Bendahman
1993: 67). The reduplicated aorist is also the basis of a
Homeric factitive future πεπιθήσειν (~ later πείσειν).
[*bherd- ‘take notice, pay The reduplicated aorist belongs to the family of the Homeric
attention’] i̯ -present φράζομαι ‘consider, reflect < (actively) pay
F (ἐ)πέφραδε ‘made attention, observe’ and its s-aorist ἐφρασ(σ)άμην. The post-
someone pay attention/ Homeric oppositional active φράζω may be backformed
observe, pointed out’ from the later Homeric factitive s-aorist ἔφρασα (Od. 11.22),
[< *bhe-bhr̥ d-e/o-] which replaces the reduplicated aorist.
The entire family is probably young. In the absence of
obvious cognates securing a root *bherd-, one may consider a
connection with *bhergh- ‘observe, preserve’ (LIV 79–80,
with OCS ne-brěgǫ ‘neglect’, Goth. bairgan ‘safekeep’, Av.
bərəjaiiat̰ ‘welcomed, honoured’, etc.). A middle i̯-present to
this root should have yielded *φράσσομαι (< *bhr̥ gh-i̯e/o-),
with a corresponding aorist *ἐφραξάμην; but given the
fluctuation between aorists in -ξα- and -σ(σ)α- (cf. Risch
1974: 296, e.g. ἁρπασα-/ἁρπαξα-), the latter might have
been substituted by ἐφρασσάμην, whence a neo-root φραδ-
with pres. φράζομαι. Such an account avoids the
conventional but problematic comparison of φράζομαι etc.
with φρήν, pl. φρένες ‘mind’ (Frisk 1960–72: 2.1038, s.v.
φράζομαι; Chantraine 2009: 1180, s.v. φράζω; Beekes 2010:
2.1588, s.v. φράζομαι): in a denominal verb, one would not
Table 3.1. (cont.)
Root
Reduplicated aorist
expect a root extension *-d- (i.e. *bhrn̥ -d-i̯e/o-), and cases like
κλάω/κλάδος provide no real parallel.
*bheu̯ d h- ‘be(come) Cf. Ved. abūbhudat ‘has awakened’ (?).
aware/awake, notice’ Mutatis mutandis, the reduplicated aorists of Vedic and
(LIV 82–3) Greek are comparable, as are the thematic aorists Ved. 3pl.
F (ἐ)πεπύθετο ‘found med. inj. budhánta ‘they wake up’ and Gr. ἐπυθόμην
out’ ‘learned, became aware’; compare also the thematic present
< *bhe-bhud h-e/o- Gr. πεύθομαι ~ Ved. bódhati ‘notice’, next to the nasal
present πυνθάνομαι. However, independent creations are
likely since the Greek formation is effectively restricted to
formulaic πεπύθοιτ(ο) in Il. 6.50 = 10.381, 11.135. A reflexive-
factitive interpretation (‘(actively) find out’ < ‘make oneself
aware’) is possible in these passages, but the same is true for
many attestations of ἐπυθόμην. Hence, πεπύθοιτο might
simply step in for πύθοιτο to fill the line (in analogy with real
semantic pairs such as ἐλάθετο vs. λελάθετο: cf. *leh2d h-).
*dens- ‘learn, be(come) Next to the reduplicated aorist, there is a reduplicated
competent’ (LIV 118–19) present in *-sk̑ e/o-, διδάσκω ‘teach’ (< di-dn̥ s-sk̑ e/o-;
F (ἐ)δέδαε ‘made Table 8.4); this eventually acquires a new s-aorist ἐδίδαξα,
competent, taught’ which is still rare in Homer. A factitive reduplicated present
< *de-dn̥ s-e/o- without *-sk̑ e/o- is attested in Av. 3sg. inj. didąs ‘teaches’ and
1sg. med. dīdaiŋ́ hē ‘learn’ (< *di-dens-t, *di-dn̥ s-h2ei̯), whereas
in Vedic we find causative *dons-éi̯e/o- instead (2sg. inj.
dam sáyas ‘you made capable’). The intransitive aorist δαῆναι
˙ (< *dn̥ s-eh -) may be compared with medial
‘learn’ 1
*δεδαέσθαι > *δεδᾱ́ σθαι, whence δεδάασθαι by diectasis
(Od. 16.316; Wackernagel 1878: 310); but the latter is
reflexive-factitive (‘make oneself understand’) and implies a
greater agentivity of the subject than does δαῆναι
(Bendahman 1993: 70–1).
*d heu̯ gh- ‘hit upon, The reduplicated aorist τετυκεῖν, whose more common
succeed, be useful/ready’ middle τετυκέσθαι is not reflexive-factitive but self-
(vel sim.) (LIV 148–9) benefactive (‘prepare for oneself’), must be related both to
F (ἐ)τέτυκε ‘made ready, the thematic present τεύχω ‘prepare’ (itself probably
prepared’ backformed from the factitive s-aorist ἔτευξα) and to the
< *te-tuk-e/o- nasal present τυγχάνω ‘hit upon, happen’ (aor. ἔτυχον).
← *te-tukh-e/o- The lack of aspiration in the root-final consonant may be
due to a contamination, within Greek, of *d heu̯ gh- with
*teu̯ k- ‘knock, hammer’ (cf. LIV 148–9, 640, s.vv.), or else to
analogical influence from forms like 3sg. perf. med. τέτυκται
Table 3.1. (cont.)
Root
Reduplicated aorist
‘is ready’, verbal adj. τυκτός ‘prepared’, and the cognate

reduplicated present in *-sk̑ e/o-, τιτύσκομαι ‘prepare, take
aim’ (< *ti-tuk(h)-sk̑ e/o-; cf. Osthoff 1884: 304–7, Bendahman
1993: 76–7, Table 8.4). In any case, given the prominence of
*d heu̯ gh- in Greek, and since *teu̯ k- specifically refers to
hammering (cf. τύκος ‘mason’s hammer’) whereas τετυκε/ο-
has become specialised for the preparation of meals (unlike
its later substitute τευξα-), the reduplicated aorist must not
be separated completely from τυγχάνω, τεύχω, etc., and be
related only to *teu̯ k-.
*g̑ her- ‘rejoice, be glad’ The structure κεχαρε/ο- instead of *κεχρε/ο- suggests a
(LIV 176–7) recent formation, making 3sg. *g̑ he-g̑ hr-e-to a rather
F (ἐ)κεχάρετο ‘enjoyed, theoretical construct (cf. 3.8). Through a semantic
took pleasure’ comparison with the intransitive aor. ἐχάρην (< *(h1e-)g̑ hr̥ -
[←< *g̑ he-g̑ hr-e/o-] eh1-) and the i̯ -present χαίρω ‘rejoice’ (cf. Ved. háryati
‘enjoys, likes’), Latacz (1966: 62) detects a reflexive-factitive
nuance in the medial reduplicated aorist and its derived
future κεχαρησε/ο-: a conscious and purposeful form of
enjoyment (‘take pleasure’, e.g. through Schadenfreude),
rather than joy as a sudden experience (cf. factitive fut.
κεχαρησέμεν ‘bring pleasure’ in Il. 15.98). The isolated s-
aorist χήρατο in Il. 14.270 appears to be metrically
conditioned (Bendahman 1993: 102).
*g u̯ hen- ‘strike’ (LIV 218– Cf. Av. (auua-)jaγnat̰ ‘killed’.
19) The secondary i̯-present θείνω ‘strike’ matches a more recent s-
(ἔ)πεφνε ‘killed’ aorist ἔθεινα (Table 8.1). Occasional non-indicative forms such
< *g u̯ he-g u̯ hn-e/o- as 1sg. subj. θένω, ipv. θένε may be explained on the basis of a
thematic aorist *ἔθενε ← *ἔθανε ← *ἔφανε < *(h1e-)g u̯ hn̥ -e-t
(cf. Harđarson 1993a: 156), but they could also be based directly
on a stem (*)θένε/ο-, which would match the thematic root
present Lith. genù, OCS ženǫ ‘drive’ and recall the athematic
version Ved. hánti, Hitt. kuenzi ‘strikes, kills’ (< *g u̯ hen-ti)
(cf. Schwyzer 1939: 746 n. 3, Cardona 1960: 86–7, 127, Beekes
1969: 225; Table 8.1). Vedic also shows a reduplicated present
jíghnate ‘strikes, kills’ (< *g u̯ hi-g u̯ hn-e/o-).
*h1nek̑ - (*h1enk̑ -) ‘take, Cf. Av. nąsat̰ ‘obtained’.
reach, obtain’ (LIV 250–1) Current opinion separates two roots, *h1nek̑ - ‘take, obtain’
ἔνεικε (*ἔνεγκε)/ἤνεικε and *h2nek̑ - ‘reach’ (Beekes 1979: 18–19, García Ramón
(ἤνεγκε) ‘brought’ 1999b, LIV 250–1, 282–4, s.vv.). Given the etymological
uncertainty surrounding Hitt. hinkzi ‘bestows, offers, bows’
˘
Table 3.1. (cont.)
Root
Reduplicated aorist
< *h1n(e)-h1nk̑ -e/o- (cf. Kloekhorst 2008: 268–71, s.v. hai(n)k-tta(ri), to be held
[← *h1e-h1nk̑ -e/o-?] against García Ramón 2001), the case ˘ for a separate *h -root
2
crucially depends on OIr. pret. -ánaic ‘reached’, assumed to
represent perf. *h2e-h2nonk̑ - (cf. Anttila 1972: 34–5, McCone
1991b: 2). However, the Old Irish form is also explainable
otherwise. A reduplicated present *h1i-h1n̥ k̑ -e/o- ‘reach’ and a
perfect *h1e-h1no(n)k̑ - (with secondary nasal as in Ved. perf.
ānám śa ‘has obtained’: cf. Kümmel 2000a: 284–7) should
have˙ yielded Proto-Celtic *īnke/o- (> OIr. -icc ‘reaches’) and
*īnonk-, respectively, but the synchronically irregular *ī- of
the perfect form could then be remade into a more
conventional [*ō- >] *ā- (i.e., *ānonk- > -ánaic) after a model
like pres. *īd- ‘eat’ : perf. (*h1e-h1od- >) *ōd- > *ād-, or more
generally the so-called ā-preterites (on which see
Schumacher 2004: 75–6).
Overall, it seems counterintuitive to separate forms meaning
‘obtain’ (e.g., Av. nąsat̰ ) from others meaning ‘reach’ (e.g.,
Ved. root aor. ā́ nat < *(h1e-)h2nek̑ -t according to LIV 282, s.v.
*h2nek̑ -) when the˙ roots involved are near-identical.
Semantically, Gr. ἐνεγκεῖν ‘bring’ and Balto-Slavic forms for
‘carry’ (e.g., OCS nesǫ < *h1nek̑ -e/o-, nošǫ < *h1nok̑ -ei̯ e/o-) are
in fact rather more distant. One could perhaps derive the
Greek reduplicated aorist’s value from factitive ‘make obtain’
(cf. García Ramón 1999b: 76–7, Kölligan 2007a: 336), but
the Balto-Slavic forms without a factitive formant rather
suggest that ‘take’ developed into ‘bring’ along the lines of
Engl. take in the sense of ‘carry, convey’ (esp. of gifts); note
in this context that aor. ἐνεγκεῖν stands in a suppletive
relationship with pres. φέρω ‘carry’, mirroring a similar
situation in Avestan (cf. Humbach 1959: 57, Kölligan 2007a:
322–38), and that Greek knows no present formations from
*h1nek̑ - (or *h2nek̑ -).
Although firm evidence for the reduplicated aorist only
comes from Greek and Indo-Iranian (3.15), PIE *(h1)ne-
h1nk̑ -e/o- may also shed light on Lat. nancīscor, OLat. nanciō/
nancior ‘acquire, obtain’, whose initial nasal is difficult (cf.
García Ramón 1999b: 64–5). If such a stem survived into
Proto-Italic *(h1)ne-h1nk̑ -e/o- > *nēnk-e/o- (e.g., 3sg. *nēnk-e-t
‘reached, obtained’), a present nanciō → nancior
(→ nancīscor) could be formed by analogy with e.g.
*fak-i̯e/o- : *fēk-e-t, with the subsequent disappearance of
Table 3.1. (cont.)
Root
Reduplicated aorist
*nēnk-e-t being due to the semantically motivated shift

into the deponent class (cf. ad-ipīscī, adeptus sum ‘reach,
obtain’ from *h1p-i̯ e/o- > OLat. apiō ‘fasten’, next to perf.
*h1e-h1p-e-t preserved only in coepit ‘began’).
Turning to Ion. (etc.) ἐνεῖκαι, given its functional and
semantic equivalence with Att. ἐνεγκεῖν this can hardly
be anything other than a phonetic remodelling (via
dissimilation) of /eneŋk-/ > /eneik-/ (cf. Meier-Brügger
1987, Strunk 1988b: 576–80, against older theories
deriving ἐνεῖκαι from *sei̯k- ‘reach’ vel sim., e.g.
Brugmann 1892a: 174). As with εἶπα (*u̯ eku̯ -), the fact
that ἤνεικα was no longer recognisable as reduplicated
triggered its alphathematic inflection (3.9).
Both ἐνεγκε/ο- and ἐνεικα- are frequent enough to
remain in use in classical times. In other languages, a
(secondary?) s-aorist is attested (esp. OCS něsъ ‘carried’,
Toch. B eṅksate ‘took’; cf. LIV 250–1, s.v. *h1nek̑ -). If
there is no separate *h2nek̑ -, there is also the root aorist
mentioned above for Vedic (and cf. further e.g. Av. 3sg.
med. inj. frąštā ‘obtains’ ←< *pro-Hn̥ k̑ -to; LIV 282–3,
s.v. *h2nek̑ -).
*h2eg̑ - ‘drive’ (LIV 255–6) Given Ved. ájati, Gr. ἄγω, Lat. agō, etc., the thematic
ἄγαγε/ἤγαγε ‘led, present *h2eg̑ -e/o- is clearly of PIE date. By contrast, a
brought’ reduplicated present is found only in Indo-Iranian (Ved.
< *h̥ 2g̑ -h̥ 2g̑ -e/o- ī́jate ‘drives’ < *h2i-h2g̑ -e-toi̯ ; 4.28). Thanks to the frequency
[← *h2e-h2g̑ -e/o-] of the verb, aor. ἀγαγε/ο- survives into classical Greek.
While artificial ‘mixed aorist’ and ‘future imperative’ forms
are occasionally attested in Homer (Il. 3.105 ipv. ἄξετε, etc.;
cf. Wackernagel 1914: 104 n. 1, Debrunner 1922: 111–12,
Wahrmann 1926: 311–12, M. Leumann 1953, Prince 1970,
Hooker 1979), true s-aorist forms are exceptional even in
later texts and cannot therefore claim a genetic relationship
with the Celtic t-preterite (< s-aorist, 8.21) OIr. -acht ‘drove’,
whatever the age of the latter.
*h2egh- ‘be(come) The root involved in ἀκαχεῖν is also seen in the middle
worried/troubled’ (LIV thematic present ἄχομαι < *h2egh-e/o- ‘grieve’ (4.44; cf.
257) Goth. un-agands ‘fearless’) and its nasal synonym ἄχνυμαι <
F ἄκαχε/ἤκαχε ‘(made) *h2gh-nu-. From the factitive reduplicated aorist stem are
worried/troubled’ built the present ἀκαχίζω ‘trouble’, the future ἀκαχήσω (h.
< *h̥ 2gh-h̥ 2gh-e/o- Merc. 286), the perfect ἀκάχημαι, and the secondary s-aorist
[← *h2e-h2gh-e/o-] ἀκάχησε (Il. 23.223, metri gratia). Middle forms of the
Table 3.1. (cont.)
Root
Reduplicated aorist
reduplicated aorist are often no longer clearly reflexive-

factitive, but occasionally Bendahman (1993: 85–6) still
detects an ‘active nuance’: the aggrieved person reflects on
something and thus ‘troubles himself’ (whereas ἄχνυμαι
rather expresses a reflex-like act of becoming troubled).
*h2eku̯ - ‘hurt, harm (?)’ Although the etymology is far from clear, the most satisfactory
ἐνίπαπε/ἠνίπαπε explanation involves a root *h2eku̯ - ‘harm (vel sim.)’ (Beekes
‘reproved, reproached’ < * 1969: 129–30 n. 59; cf. Ebel 1853: 48, Table 4.2 on ἰάπτω).
(h1eni-)h2ku̯ -h̥ 2ku̯ -e/o- With the preverb ἐνι-, a regular reduplicated aorist would take
[← *h2e-h2ku̯ -e/o-] the form *(h1)eni-h2ku̯ -h̥ 2ku̯ -e/o- > ἐνῑπαπε/ο-, next to a
i̯-present *(h1)eni-h2ku̯ -i̯e/o- > Hom. ἐνίσσω ‘reproach’.
Especially in the latter paradigm, the preverb was no longer
recognisable, so that enīp- (< *enīku̯ -) was treated as a (neo-)
root (allowing initial augmentation: ἠνῑπ-). The reduplicated
aorist can have been brought in line with this secondarily (*en-
enīku̯ -e/o- > ἐνενιπε/ο-, again with ‘Attic’ reduplication), just
like the i̯ -present (*enīp-i̯e/o- > Hom. ἐνίπτω).
A semantic change ‘aggrieve’ > ‘reproach’ is no more
problematic than the semantic changes needed if these forms
were connected with roots like *seku̯ - ‘say’ (Hackstein 1997) or
*u̯ eku̯ - ‘speak’ (Bendahman 1993: 58–60). Although the former
alternative also has its merits (cf. 4.30, fn. 122), it fails to
account for the ‘internal’ reduplication of ἐνιπαπε/ο-. Thus,
this aorist would have to be artificially created, but after what
model?
*h2ep- ‘join, attach (vel The reconstruction offered is uncertain since the etymology
sim.)’ (?) (LIV 269) of ἀπαφεῖν and the corresponding present ἀπαφίσκω
F (?) ἄπαφε/ἤπαφε (Table 8.4; both often with preverb ἐξ-) is obscure (Frisk
‘cheated, beguiled’ 1960–72: 1.119, Chantraine 2009: 92, Beekes 2010: 1.114, all
←< *h̥ 2p-h̥ 2p-e/o- s.v. ἀπαφίσκω). Within Greek, one could perhaps consider a
[← *h2e-h2p-e/o-] connection with the equally elusive i̯ -present ἅπτω ‘touch’,
med. ἅπτομαι ‘hang on (to sth.)’, with s-aor. ἧψα, and argue
for a semantic change from factitive ‘make someone hang on
to sth.’ ~ ‘make someone (misleadingly) attend to sth.’ to
‘cheat, beguile’. To link ἅπτω via a root *h2ep- ‘join’ with
Lat. aptus ‘fit, apt’, Hitt. happ-zi ‘join’ presupposes a
secondary (analogical?) origin ˘ of both the initial aspiration
and the aspirated root-final stop (cf. ἁφή ‘grip’) (Kretschmer
1916: 352; cf. Table 4.2); but if this is accepted, one may
envisage the same explanation for the -φ- of ἀπαφε/ο- (for
*ἀπαπε/ο-).
Table 3.1. (cont.)
Root
Reduplicated aorist
*h2er- ‘fit, join’ (LIV 269– Cf. Arm. arari ‘made’.

70) The transitive reduplicated aorist pairs in Greek with the
F (?) ἄραρε/ἤραρε ‘fit/ reduplicated sk̑ -present ἀραρίσκω ‘fit together (sth.)’
joined together’ (Table 8.4), whereas Vedic and Armenian point to a nasal
< *h̥ 2r-h̥ 2r-e/o- present *h2r̥ -neu/nu- (Ved. 2sg. inj. rnós, Arm. thematised
[← *h2e-h2r-e/o-] ar̄ nem ‘make’: cf. LIV 270, s.v. 1. *h˙2˙er-).
˙ An s-aor. ἦρσα
begins to compete with ἤραρον already in Homer (cf.
Table 6.2). Given immutably intransitive root semantics, the
reduplicated aorist would have to be regarded as factitive.
However, LIV 270–1, s.v. 2. *h2er-, also posits a
homonymous root meaning ‘take, acquire’ for the Armenian
active aor. ar̄ i ‘took’ (pres. med. ar̄ nowm ‘take’), matching
Gr. med. ἀρόμην ‘acquired’ (pres. ἄρνυμαι; cf. ἄρχω ‘begin’
+ gen. < *h2r̥ -sk̑ e/o- ‘take off from’?). It is conceivable that a
root for ‘fit, join’, when used transitively, came to signify
‘add’ and then (via ‘add (to what one already has)’) also ‘take’
(esp. in the middle voice). If so, and if the reduplicated aorist
were old, its factitive classification would be less clear since
all the intransitive usages of *h2er- in Greek and Indo-Iranian
could be tied to the middle (and perfect) morphology with
which they appear (e.g., root aor. ptcpl. ἄρμενος ‘fitting’,
perf. ptcpl. ἀρηρώς ‘fitting’; Table 5.3, Table 6.2). In any
case, the intransitive use of ἤραρεν in Od. 4.777 is
exceptional and no doubt secondary (cf. Bendahman 1993:
80–2).
*h2lek- (or *h2elk-) ‘ward The reduplicated aorist belongs with the s-present ἀλέξω
off’ (LIV 264) ‘ward off, support’, Ved. ráksati ‘protects’ < *h2lek-s-e/o- (3.2,
ἄλαλκε/ἤλαλκε ‘warded 8.29; Hill 2002). Gr. ἀλέξω˙ is accompanied by a new
off’ Homeric s-aorist middle ἀλέξασθαι, morphologically
< *h̥ 2l(e)-h2lk-e/o- clarified in the largely post-Homeric active ἀλεξῆσαι.
[← *h2e-h2lk-e/o-?]
*h2u̯ er- ‘lift up’ (LIV 290) Cf. Av. vāura- (3.15)?
(ἐπ)αύρετο/(ἐπ)ηύρετο Both the etymology (considered unknown by Frisk 1960–72:
‘enjoyed the benefit of’ 1.532–3, Chantraine 2009: 340, and Beekes 2010: 1.437, all s.v.
< *h2e-h2u̯ r-e/o- (?) ἐπαυρίσκω/-ομαι) and the analysis of the aorist stem αὐρε/ο-
as reduplicated are uncertain. Even if the connection with
*h2u̯ er- and a semantic development (med.) ‘lift up > take >
enjoy’ are accepted, a simple thematic aorist *h̥ 2u̯ r-e/o- would
also produce the attested outcome. Moreover, the
comparison with the Avestan form presupposes that both
*(h2)u̯ e-h2u̯ r-e/o- and *h2e-h2u̯ r-e/o- were acceptable
Table 3.1. (cont.)
Root
Reduplicated aorist
realisations of the reduplication syllable (3.13); and if *h2e-

h2u̯ r-e/o- should normally have been remade into Proto-
Greek *h̥ 2u̯ -h̥ 2u̯ r-e/o- > †ἀϝαυρε/ο- (3.13), an exception
would be needed. On the positive side, though, the pairing
of aor. (ἐπ)αυρε/ο- with pres. (ἐπ)αυρίσκω/-ομαι would fit
into a pattern that is common with reduplicated aorists
(Table 8.4). On further potentially related forms, see
Table 6.2.
*h3er- ‘rise, move’ (LIV The reduplicated aorist has an intransitive counterpart in the
299–301) middle root aorist ὦρτο ‘arose’ (cf. Ved. (prá) ārta ‘moved’,
F ὄρορε/ὤρορε ‘raised, set Table 6.2). As a present stem to *h3er-, Greek uses the
in motion’ factitive nasal formation ὄρνυμι ‘raise, incite’ (cf. Ved. rnóti
< *h̥ 3r-h̥ 3r-e/o- ‘sets in motion’, Kümmel 2000b: 253, Pooth 2012: 272); ˙ but
[← *h3e-h3r-e/o-] in Indo-Iranian a reduplicated present is attested as well
(Ved. íyarti ‘sets in motion’, med. ī́rte ‘moves’ < *h3i-h3er-ti/
h3i-h3r-toi̯; 4.28). Although the equally factitive s-aorist ὦρσε
is more common than ὤρορε already in Homer, and
although it has a parallel in Toch. B ersate ‘caused’ (LIV 300,
s.v. *h3er-: ‘independent factitive formation in Greek and
Tocharian’), the reduplicated aorist need not be regarded as a
late analogical creation (pace Bendahman 1993: 91).
In a few Homeric passages, (ὑπ-)ὤρορε may be interpreted
intransitively (Il. 13.78, Od. 8,539, 24.62; cf. Bendahman
1993: 88–91). Unless they are merely apparent (Heubeck
1984), such usages could be triggered by phrases in which a
direct object was understood, especially since the verb then
means little more than ‘begin’ (cf. Rix 1965a: 29–30 n. 14;
compare absolute ἄρχω ‘begin’).
*k̑ ad- ‘fall’ (or *k̑ eh2d-?) Cf. Lat. perf. cecidī ‘fell’ (?).
(?) (LIV 318/319) The difficulties posed by this verb are largely due to the
F ptcpl. κεκαδών question whether or not to connect κήδομαι ‘be anxious/
‘depriving’, 3pl. med. concerned for’ (cf. Bendahman 1993: 72–4, Hackstein 2002:
κεκάδοντο ‘they 234–6; the latter offers a complex account involving the root
retreated’ *(s)k̑ end- of κέκασμαι ‘excel’: cf. 5.46, fn. 186). The middle
< *k̑ e-k̑ ad-e/o- fut. κεκαδησόμεθ(α) ‘we will care for’ in Il. 8.353 matches the
(or *k̑ e-k̑ h̥ 2d-e/o-?) pres. κήδομαι semantically, but its active counterpart
κεκαδήσει ‘will deprive of’ in Od. 21.153, 21.170 pairs with
ptcpl. κεκαδών, as both are construed with the ablatival
genitives θυμοῦ καὶ ψυχῆς.
Although a conservative reconstruction has to separate two
roots (LIV 318–19, s.vv. *k̑ ad-, *k̑ eh2d-), a unitary account,
Table 3.1. (cont.)
Root
Reduplicated aorist
assuming the basic meaning ‘fall’ (cf. Lat. cadō ‘fall’, perf.
cecidī; Ved. perf. śaśāda ‘has fallen off ’), remains possible.
For the reduplicated aorist of Greek, this would presuppose a
factitive meaning ‘make fall (off/away from)’ (+ gen. of
separation: ‘separate from (tr.), deprive of’), whence (a)
κεκαδεῖν θυμοῦ καὶ ψυχῆς as a euphemism for ‘kill’ and (b)
reflexive-factitive κεκαδέσθαι ‘retreat, separate from (intr.),
[lit.] make oneself fall away from’ (cf. Hsch. ε 1359, with
plupf. ἐκεκήδει· ὑπε<κε>χωρήκει). The meaning of κήδομαι
in turn might originate in a physical or metaphorical act of
‘falling (cowering?)’ or ‘retreating’ in situations of anxiety
and concern. Such a scenario would further account for
nominal cognates of κῆδος ‘anxiety, concern’, such as Goth.
hatis n. ‘hatred’ and Osc. gen. cadeis ‘enmity’, referring to the
result of one party ‘falling away from’ or ‘falling out with’
another party.
Synchronically, however, κήδομαι was hardly attached to
κεκαδε/ο-. In that sense the latter remains isolated and
the fut. κεκαδησόμεθα is probably due to a secondary
(re)association with perf. κέκηδα ~ pres. κήδομαι.
*k̑ leu̯ - ‘hear’ (LIV 334–5) While nothing conclusively disproves a classification of these
ipv. κέκλυθι, κέκλυτε isolated imperatives as relics of an (athematic!) reduplicated
‘hear!’ (?) aorist, other interpretations are preferable: one may think of
< *k̑ e-k̑ lu- (?) perfect imperatives or, less likely, of root-aoristic *κλύθι,
*κλύτε (Table 6.2) with an added particle *ke- ‘hither’
(Schulze 1892: 391–7).
*kelh1- ‘call’ (cf. LIV 361– Pace LIV 348, 361, s.vv. *kel-, *kleh1-, this reduplicated aorist
2) pairs with pres. κέλομαι ‘exhort, command’ (< *kelh1-e/o-;
(ἐ)κέκλετο ‘exhorted, 4.44), the Homeric predecessor of classical κελεύω. Two
commanded, invoked’ further present formations to the same root are καλέω (<
< *ke-kl̥ (h1)-e/o- *kl̥ h1-ei̯e/o-; Table 5.5) and reduplicated κικλήσκω ‘call,
summon’ (< *ki-kl̥ h1-sk̑ e/o-; Table 8.4). Whether Hom.
ἔκελσα ‘put (a ship) to shore’ (cf. ὀ-κέλλω ‘land’) also belongs
here, is uncertain; an original root meaning ‘move forward’
(Seržant 2008) unduly problematises the connection with
καλέω etc. For the loss of *-h1- in the reduplicated formation,
cf. below on *temh1- and 3.8.
Although there is some overlap, Bendahman (1993: 110–12)
shows that the reduplicated aorist is mostly construed with
the dative (e.g., Τρώεσσι ‘exhort the Trojans’, with or
without inf. ‘to do sth.’), whereas the present κέλομαι
Table 3.1. (cont.)
Root
Reduplicated aorist
generally prefers an acc. + inf. construction. This difference

may indirectly reflect the high-transitive value of the
reduplicated formation (3.36). Comparing κέλομαι :
ἐκέκλετο to πείθομαι : ἐπέπιθε and πεύθομαι : ἐπεπύθετο
(cf. *bhei̯d h-, *bheu̯ d h-), we note that in the latter two cases
the reduplication encodes not only perfective aspect, but also
(in the middle: reflexive) factitivity. Thus, given the middle
morphology of κέλομαι (originally intr./absolute ‘call out’?),
a factitive reading might have been conceivable for its
reduplicated aorist too when an animate direct object was
available; the dative construction could then serve to
disambiguate.
*keu̯ d h- ‘hide’ (LIV 358– The reduplicated aorist is only attested once, in a metrical
9) position where it probably stands in for unreduplicated
3pl. subj. κεκύθωσι ‘they *κύθωσι (cf. Od. 3.16 κύθε ‘hid’, to pres. κεύθω; contrast Od.
shall hide’ (Od. 6.303) 15.263 with s-aor. subj. μηδ᾿ ἐπικεύσῃς). An artificial creation
[< *ke-kud h-e/o-] is therefore even more likely than in the case of πεπύθοιτο
(*bheu̯ d h-).
*leh2d h- ‘be hidden/ In view of Lat. lateō ‘am hidden’ and OCS lajǫ ‘ambush’,
forgotten, escape notice’ which presuppose a root *leh2-, *leh2d h- must be a Greek
(LIV 401–2) neo-root extracted from the intransitive d h-present λήθω
F (ἐ)λέλαθε ‘made forget’ ‘escape notice’ (< *leh2-d h-e/o-; 4.44, fn. 160). On the basis of
< *le-lh̥ 2d h-e/o- *leh2d h-, the nasal present λανθάνω and the thematic aorist
λαθε/ο- ‘escape notice’ (6.22) are built regularly, as is the
factitive reduplicated aorist.
The frequent middles λήθομαι, λανθάνομαι, ἐλαθόμην
standardly refer to ‘oblivion’ (where the subject ‘fails to
notice’ something), so that factitive (ἐ)λέλαθε ‘made forget’
more directly belongs with these than with λανθάνω etc.; its
own middle is more common than the active and typically
refers to ‘purposeful forgetting’ (“absichtsvolles Vergessen,
Verdrängen”) (Bendahman 1993: 64, after Latacz 1966:
59–61). If this is not just an accident (Beckwith 1999), it
should be noted that the reduplicated formation remains
agentive/controlling even in the middle. A younger factitive
s-aorist (ἐπ)έλησε ‘made forget’ competes with the
reduplicated aorist only exceptionally (Od. 20.85, Alc. fr.
377 L.-P.).
*lengh- ‘reach, obtain’ (?) The reduplicated aorist λέλαχε belongs with the nasal
F (ἐ)λέλαχε ‘assigned, present λαγχάνω + gen. ‘obtain (often: by lot)’ and with the
thematic aorist ἔλαχε ‘obtained’ (cf. perf. λέλογχε;
Table 3.1. (cont.)
Root
Reduplicated aorist
made obtain’ Table 5.2); it is the factitive counterpart to the latter.

< *le-ln̥ gh-e/o- Although further etymological connections are disputed, a
link with λόγχη ‘(long?) spear’ and/or Lat. longus ‘long’
would be formally acceptable (Solmsen 1901: 83 n. 1; contrast
Hackstein 2002: 183). Semantically one may then compare
OHG gi-langōn ‘reach’, Germ. gelangen, as well as Germ.
gelingen ‘succeed’. A remote root comparison with δολιχός,
Ved. dīrghá- ‘long’, etc. < *dl̥ h1ghó- (?) could be envisaged if
*lengh- ultimately went back to *dlengh-, with a simplification
of the anlaut already in PIE, and if this *dlengh- were a neo-
root based on a nasal formation to *dleh1gh- or the like
(*dleh1ngh- → *(d)lengh-?). For the immediate assessment of
λαγχάνω etc., such connections are however irrelevant.
*pelh1- ‘sway, toss, push’ Cf. Lat. perf. pepulī ‘pushed’ (?).
(LIV 469–70) Pace LIV 469–71, s.vv. *pelh1-, *pelh2-, and Meiser (2003:
ptcpl. ἀμπεπαλών 148–9, 185), it is semantically more straightforward to
‘swaying/tossing up (a connect Lat. pellō, pepulī ‘push (away)’ (and Umbr. fut. perf.
spear)’ apelust ‘will have sacrificed’?, Untermann 2000: 89–91, s.v.
< *pe-pl̥ h1-e/o- ampentu) with a root meaning ‘sway, toss, push’ than with
*pelh2- ‘come near’. The Greek nasal present πάλλω ‘sway,
shake, toss’ (←< *pl̥ -ne-h1-; not *ku̯ - with Richardson 1936,
Palmer 1939) would then have a Latin equivalent in pellō, and
this would render even more plausible a link between
ἀμπεπαλών and pepulī.
Except in the participle and perhaps two marginally
transmitted middle forms (Il. 7.171, Od. 9.331 πεπάλεσθε,
πεπαλέσθαι ‘throw lots’, conjectured for πεπάλαχθε,
πεπαλάχθαι; cf. Bendahman 1993: 52), a new s-aorist ἔπηλα
has taken the place of the reduplicated formation already in
Homer. Earlier on, the stem πεπαλε/ο- must have been
renewed from expected *πεπλε/ο- < *pe-pl(h1)-e/o- (cf. below
on *temh1-, 3.8) in order to bring out the connection with
pres. πάλλω and to match the trisyllabic structure of parallel
forms like λελαθε/ο-, πεπιθε/ο-, etc.
*perh3- ‘furnish, give’ The inf. πεπαρεῖν, with v.l. πεπορεῖν, is an isolated form in
(LIV 474–5) Pind. Pyth. 2.57 and, based on this, Hsch. π 1436 πεπαρεῖν·
inf. πεπαρεῖν ‘present’ ἐνδεῖξαι, σημῆναι; cf. also Hsch. π 1495 πεπορεῖν· δοῦναι. Its
< *pe-pr̥ h3-e/o- meaning is comparable to that of the thematic aorist ἔπορον
(inf. πορεῖν) ‘furnished, gave’ (6.16) and therefore not
contrastively factitive. Given the divergent vocalism of
Table 3.1. (cont.)
Root
Reduplicated aorist
πεπαρε/ο- vs. πορε/ο- (~ πεπορε/ο-), the form may not be

an artificial creation of the type mentioned in 3.6, fn. 9
(λελάκοντο), but a genuine archaism (6.21).
*sed- ‘sit (down)’ (LIV Cf. OCS aor. sědъ ‘I sat down’, Lith. pret. sė́dau ‘do.’ (?).
513–15) It is disputed whether (καθ)έζετο and related forms belong to
(καθ)έζετο ‘sat down’ a reduplicated aorist (thus e.g. Specht 1934: 48, Monteil 1978:
< *se-sd-e/o- (?) 142 n. 6, Klingenschmitt 1982: 130). Alternatively one may
think of a thematic aorist (*h1e-sd-e-to) with analogical
aspiration (Cardona 1960: 50, 85–6, Kölligan 2007a: 216),
and even the imperfect of a i̯-present would be conceivable if
there was not just a single and no doubt secondary
attestation of pres. ἕζομαι in Homer (Od. 10.378; cf. Risch
1965b: 3, Bendahman 1993: 243–4). Favouring the
reduplicated interpretation is the absence of a stem
*καταζε/ο- in non-augmented environments (modal forms,
participles), but even this is hardly conclusive since analogy
could be invoked.
The Balto-Slavic items cited are equally ambiguous. A
development *se-sd-e/o- > *sēd-e/o- is possible (Klingenschmitt
1982: 130), but neither can the thematisation of a root aorist be
excluded (*sed-e/o- > *sēd-e/o- by Winter’s Law; otherwise
Ackermann 2014: 30 n. 21). For Ved. ásadat ‘has sat down’ the
latter option seems more likely than a remodelling of *sād-a- <
*sēd-e/o- < *se-sd-e/o- (cf. LIV 514, s.v. *sed-, after Cardona
1963: 15). On the entire dossier, see further 4.9–4.10 (on Hitt.
šeš(d)-zi ‘prosper’), Table 4.1.
*seku̯ - ‘follow’ (LIV 525– Like (καθ)έζετο from *sed-, the aorist ἕσπετο next to the
6) thematic present ἕπομαι (4.44; cf. Ved. sácate ‘accompanies’,
ἕσπετο ‘followed’ Lat. sequor ‘follow’, etc.) is morphologically ambiguous. At
< *se-sku̯ -e/o- (?) first, the existence of non-finite and modal forms without ἑ-
may suggest the analysis as a simple thematic aorist, with
secondary aspiration (Debrunner 1956: 81–4); and at least
synchronically this view is supported by the lack of finite
indicative forms with †εἱ- (< augmented *(h1)e-se-sku̯ -).
However, the Homeric transmission also contains several
non-finite/modal readings with ἑ- (ptcpl. ἑσπόμενος, inf.
ἑσπέσθαι, subj. ἕσπωνται: cf. Chantraine 1958: 395). These
regularly occur after a vowel and may therefore be doubted,
but at the same time they constitute a lectio difficilior beside
the (distributionally younger) inf. σπέσθαι, ipv. σπεῖο,
ptcpl. ἐπισπόμενος: it is conceivable that the latter have
arisen from a remodelling of compounded ἐφεσπόμενος into
Table 3.1. (cont.)
Root
Reduplicated aorist
ἐπισπόμενος (Chantraine 1958: 388).

Also relevant is the existence in Vedic of a reduplicated
present with athematic 3pl. sáścati ‘accompany’, but thematic
3sg. inj. sáścat: this shows an irregular e-reduplication (next
to regular 3sg. sísakti; cf. Joachim 1978: 164 n. 550, Gotō 1987:
320 n. 771, 4.24).˙ Admitting a reduplicated aorist, one might
think of a deaoristic formation similar to Class VI (tudáti)
presents (cf. 3.15 on Av. -jaγnat, 6.29), but secondarily
contaminated with a reduplicated present of Class III
(sísakti).
˙
Finally, mention must be made of Myc. a-pi-e-qe, which
Ruijgh (2004a: 31–2, 42–3) and Waanders (2012: 567) have
analysed as a reduplicated 3sg. aor. /amphi-hesku̯ e/, either to
*seku̯ - ‘follow’ or to *seku̯ - ‘speak’; but this too remains
controversial (cf. García Ramón 2012a: 435–41).
*sleh2gu̯ - ‘take’ (LIV 566) The isolated middle infinitive may be understood as an
inf. λελαβέσθαι ‘seize, intensified variant of the thematic aorist ἔλ(λ)αβε ‘took’ of
catch’ (Od. 4.388) λαμβάνω (cf. Chantraine 1958: 396); it is clearly secondary
[< *le-lagu̯ -e/o-] and modelled after aorists like λέλαχε, λελαθέσθαι (cf.
expected *se-sl- > †ἐλλ-/†εἰλ-, not λελ-; Beckwith 1999: 84).
Since the subject of unreduplicated ἔλ(λ)αβε is already
agentive, λελαβέσθαι is not to be interpreted as (reflexive-)
factitive, nor does the context suggest such an interpretation.
The middle morphology simply encodes a self-benefactive
value.
*tag- ‘touch, seize’ (cf. Cf. Lat. perf. tetigī ‘touched’ (?).
LIV 616–17) After Benveniste (1935: 163) and Peters (1977: 68), LIV 616,
ptcpl. τεταγών ‘seizing’ s.v. *teh2g-, reconstructs the root with an internal laryngeal,
(Il. 1.591, 15.23) not as *tag- (cf. also Mottausch 1993: esp. 154, 156–8, on
< *te-tag-e/o- Goth. taítok ‘touched’). The matter is fully discussed by
Bendahman (1993: 45–6), but of limited significance for our
purpose. Even if *teh2 g- were correct, the OLat. aoristic subj.
tagam ‘touch’, ne attigās, etc. (not: †tāgam, with a root
aorist’s full grade) could not prove the earlier existence of a
(secondarily dereduplicated) reduplicated aorist, for
analogical explanations would remain available too (cf. e.g.
tetulī, tulam, attulās; Meiser 2003: 148). Latin shows a nasal
present tangō, but in Greek the Homeric aorist participle is
isolated. Post-Homeric (Hdt., etc.) τάσσω/τάττω ‘arrange
(e.g., people in battle order)’ (for *τάζω < *tag-i̯e/o-; De
Angelis 2014: 88) may be connected, considering the early
Table 3.1. (cont.)
Root
Reduplicated aorist
appearance of the compound διατάσσω ‘dispose’ < ‘take/

pull apart’ (?) (Hes. Theog. 74, Op. 276).
*temh1- ‘cut’ (LIV 625) LIV 624, s.v. *tem-, separates this reduplicated aorist from the
(ἔ)τετμε ‘met, reached’ set root of the nasal present τέμνω ‘cut’ and compare Toch. A
< *te-tm(h1)-e/o- ˙
tamät ‘was born’ (*tem-). Semantically, however, this provides
no better match and a development ‘cut off someone’s path’
→ ‘meet’ (“‘jemandem den Weg abschneiden, ihn schneiden’
→ ‘antreffen’”) is perfectly plausible: ‘τετμεῖν refers to a
consciously and purposefully arranged meeting’ (Bendahman
1993: 48, after Strunk 1990: 54 n. 14). The PIE loss of root-final
*-h1- in compounds and reduplicated forms is widely accepted
(3.8); but even if it were not, a development *te-tm̥ h1-e/o- >
*te-tm̥ -e/o- → resyllabified *tetme/o- after disyllabic models
like *g u̯ heg u̯ hne/o- would be conceivable.
A corresponding thematic present τέμω might account for the
unclear τέμει in Il. 13.703, if this means ‘reaches’ (cf.
Chantraine 1958: 309; but see Strunk 1990, Bendahman 1993:
49). In any case, the further connection with τέμνω and its
aorist ἔτεμον/ἔταμον (6.9, 6.16) will no longer have been felt
after τετμεῖν had become semantically specialised.
See also Table 4.2 (*ten-) for a possible very early remodelling
of reduplicated *te-tm(h1)-e/o- → *tend-e/o- in the present
system; if this is correct, aoristic *te-tm(h1)-e/o- was recreated
(and thematised: 3.39) in PIE times in analogy with other
reduplicated aorists.
*terp- ‘be(come) satiated’ As with e.g. κεχαρε/ο- (*g̑ her-), one may expect a reflexive-
(LIV 636) factitive meaning for medial τεταρπε/ο- vs. a purely
(F) (ἐ)τετάρπετο experiential meaning for the intransitive aor. ἐτάρπην (→
‘enjoyed’ secondarily also ἐτάρφθην, ἐτέρφθην). To some extent this is
< *te-tr̥ p-e/o- borne out by Homeric usage (Latacz 1966: 61), but
Bendahman (1993: 103–5) nevertheless regards the
reduplicated aorist as artificially created to suit the metrical
slot after the trochaic caesura. Similarly, the thematic aorist
attested in 1pl. subj. ταρπώμεθα ‘let us enjoy’ seems to have
an active parallel in later Vedic (átrpam ‘I have satiated
myself’), but may be no more than˙ a metrical substitute for
ταρπείομεν as it is restricted to a single formulaic line (Il.
24.636 = Od. 4.295, 23.255).
The Vedic nasal presents trpnóti and trmpáti ‘satiates/satisfies
him/herself ’ have no equivalent˙ ˙ in Greek,
˙ but this need not
imply the recency of τέρπομαι (whence s-aor. ἐτερψάμην and
Table 3.1. (cont.)
Root
Reduplicated aorist
oppositional active τέρπω ‘delight’, ἔτερψα; 4.44, Table 8.1).

Given the semantics of the root, an active but intransitive
nasal present is rather less expected than a medial thematic
root present as the continuant of an early 3sg.*térp-o (?)
(cf. 4.34–4.44).
*u̯ eku̯ - ‘speak, say’ (LIV Cf. Ved. ávocat, Av. -vaocat̰ ‘spoke, said’.
673–4) On athematic εἶπα etc., cf. above on ἐνεῖκαι (*h1nek̑ -) and
(ἔ)ειπε ‘spoke, said’ 3.9.
< *u̯ ei̯ku̯ e/o- Ved. vívakti ‘speaks’ (< *u̯ i-u̯ eku̯ -ti) is the only early present
← *u̯ e-u̯ ku̯ -e/o- stem to *u̯ eku̯ -, and probably an Indic innovation (Casaretto
(by dissimilation) 2006: 144–6). In Greek, εἰπε/ο- stands in a suppletive
relationship with pres. λέγω ‘speak, say’ (or earlier also
ἀγορεύω ‘speak’); in this function it survives in the classical
and later language (Kölligan 2007a: 218–46).
*u̯ erh1- ‘find’ (cf. LIV 698) Cf. OIr. pret. -fúair ‘found’; also Av. vāura- (3.15)?
εὗρε ‘found’ The Greek present εὑρίσκω is based on the stem of the
< *u̯ e-u̯ r(h1)-e/o- reduplicated aorist (cf. e.g. ἀραρίσκω ~ ἀραρε/ο- to *h2er-;
Table 8.4), as is the perf. εὕρηκα. On the loss of root-final
*-h1-, see above on *temh1- and 3.8. The traditional
comparison of the Old Irish preterite form with the Greek
reduplicated aorist (Beckwith 1994, with n. 17 on the
analogical aspiration) is rejected by Lindeman (1997/8) and
Schumacher (2004: 681), though without good reason; in
fact, the existence of such a reduplicated aorist provides a
model for otherwise less motivated perfect paradigms based
on plural forms alone (Schumacher 1994: 73–4, Zair 2012:
257–8; cf. 3.24). Also, alternative derivations from an
unreduplicated thematic aorist or root aorist presuppose
problematic phonological changes (Klingenschmitt 1978: 6,
Peters 1980: 27, Balles 2007: 16).
Despite connecting the thematic pres. Arm. gerem ‘capture’
(< *u̯ erh1-e/o-?; but see Praust 2005 for an attractive
alternative), LIV 698 posits the root as *u̯ reh1-. However,
OIr. fo‧fríth ‘was found’ (< *-u̯ rē-to-?) cannot substantiate
this as its exceptional full-grade vocalism will rather be
analogical after -gníth, from *gn-ii̯e/o- ‘make’ (root *genh1-).
As *u̯ erh1- (rather than *(s)u̯ er-, Taillardat 1960), the root of
εὑρε/ο- may further be related to the homonymous root of
fut. ἐρέω, aor. pass. ἐρρήθη, perf. εἴρηκα ‘say’ (as well as Hitt.
-u̯ a(r)- < *-u̯ or- signalling direct speech). A semantic change
‘find’ > ‘speak’ is matched by Engl. find and similar verbs in
Table 3.1. (cont.)
Root
Reduplicated aorist
other languages referring to thought → speech propositions

(cf. also Gr. λέγω ‘collect’ > ‘speak’; regarding Russ. vru ‘lie’
from *u̯ r(h1)-e/o-, LIV 690, s.v. *u̯ erh1-, notes that the
semantic evolution is unclear, but see Solmsen 1901: 263 and
compare Germ. er-finden ‘invent’).
(cf. *kelh1-, *temh1-, *u̯ erh1-). Most likely, the presence of a reduplication
syllable had this effect already in the proto-language; but resyllabification
in a sequence *C1e-C1R̥ h1-e/o- > *C1e-C1R̥ -e/o- > *C1e-C1R-e/o- cannot be
excluded either.12 In ptcpl. ἀμπεπαλών (*pelh1-), the stem πεπαλε/ο- for
*πεπλε/ο- may be explained through influence from reduplicated aorists
with root-internal *-a- or root-final *-h2/3- (cf. *perh3-) and, above all,
through analogical restitution of *-R̥ - (cf. pres. πάλλω); the same outcome
is even seen in κεχαρε/ο- next to pres. χαίρω, aor. ἐχάρην (< *g̑ hr̥ -i̯e/o-,
*g̑ hr̥ -eh1-), where there was no root-final *-h1-.
3.9 Thematic Stem Structure

Regarding the thematicity of the stem, there is also little variation. Leaving
aside the imperatives κέκλυθι/κέκλυτε, whose classification as aoristic is
doubtful, the two major exceptions are Ion. ἤνεικα etc. (whence secondarily,
and less regularly, also Att. ἤνεγκα etc.) (*h1nek̑ -) and εἶπα etc. (*u̯ eku̯ -). The
distribution of these forms suggests that the athematic variant is innovated.13
In Homer, thematic (ἔ)ειπον etc. is still normal, except in the 2sg. (ἔ)ειπας
and in the rare 2pl. ipv. εἴπατε. Similarly, Att. 2sg. ἤνεγκας is already the rule
when 1sg. ἤνεγκον and other thematic forms are still widespread (cf. Ar.
Thesm. 742 with ἤνεγκον and ἤνεγκας next to each other). Since 1sg. forms
are usually more stable than 2sg. ones (10.4, with fn. 1), we would expect the
12
For the first explanation, known as the ‘νεογνός-rule’, cf. Beekes (1969: 242–5), Mayrhofer (1986:
129), Beckwith (1994: 27–8), and Zair (2012: 255–62), for the second, Fritz (1996); general doubts are
voiced by Lindeman (1997/8). Note also the remarks by Kümmel (2000a: 24, 26, with nn. 15, 18), and
see further 6.27.
13
Pace Schwyzer (1939: 744); cf. Gil (1964: 178–9).
inverse distribution if the athematic variant with 1sg. *-m̥ > -α were old. In
the paradigm of Homeric ἤνεικα, meanwhile, the alphathematic forms have
already prevailed, but here too we still find ipv. ἔνεικε (Od. 21.178) and inf.
ἐνεικέμεν (Il. 19.194); again, the imperative and infinitive are not places where
a thematisation is likely to start.14 Instead, the alphathematisation process
will have begun from the ambiguous 3sg. ἤνεικε/ἤνεγκε, (ἔ)ειπε. This first
influenced the 2sg. by analogy with the s-aorist inflection (2sg. -σας, 3sg. -σε;
8.2), and only subsequently the 1sg. and other forms. Such an evolution is in
line with the fact that 3sg. forms, because of their frequency, generally act as
pivots in intraparadigmatic analogy (3.24, 6.5), and that 2sg. forms are
commonly under pressure to conform with other parts of the paradigm.
An additional argument against the antiquity of the athematic/alphathe-
matic forms comes from their restriction to paradigms that are no longer
recognisably reduplicated. Such a restriction can hardly be a coincidence,
as it would have to be if Proto-Greek had also known forms like 1sg. *(h1e-)
g u̯ he-g u̯ hn-m̥ (> †(ἔ)πεφνα) for *(h1e-)g u̯ he-g u̯ hn-om (> (ἔ)πεφνον) ‘I killed’.
By contrast, it was easy for verbs that had parted company with their
reduplicated class and acquired a superficial similarity to full-grade forma-
tions to switch over to the inflectional pattern found in the most wide-
spread aorist type with a full-grade root, the sigmatic aorist (e.g., ἔδειξα ‘I
showed’, ἔχεα ‘I poured’ ~ (ἔ)ειπα, ἤνεικα). Moreover, this explains why
Att. ἤνεγκον was slow to follow its Ionic counterpart ἤνεικα; for unlike
ἤνεικα, ἤνεγκον was transparently reduplicated.
Greek εἶπα cannot then join the irregular Vedic short-vowel sub-
junctive vocati (next to standard vocāti < *u̯ e-u̯ ku̯ -ē-ti, to ind. (á)vocat
< *(h1e-)u̯ e-u̯ ku̯ -e-t) to support the reconstruction of an athematic
reduplicated aorist with 3sg. *u̯ e-u̯ ku̯ -t.15 Much rather, subj. vocati is
also innovated, probably under the influence of similar root-aorist
subjunctives: for Ved. voc-, like Gr εἰπ-, no longer displayed the
reduplication clearly enough.
3.10 Reduplication Vocalism and ‘Attic’ Reduplication

Various questions concerning the shape of the reduplication syllable are
more intricate. In the majority of its reduplicated aorist stems, Greek
14
On these forms, see Wackernagel (1916: 111–12), who has to ascribe them to Attic interpolation
because for him (as for Gil 1964: 178) ἐνεικ- and ἐνεγκ- are etymologically unrelated.
15
Cf. Wackernagel (1916: 112–13 n. 2), against Schwyzer (1939: 745), Strunk (1988b: 570), or
Bendahman (1993: 40–1, 202); but Bendahman does consider the possibility that vocati is a metrically
conditioned artificial form.
reduplicates the first radical consonant before a reduplication vowel *-e-
(*C1e-C1-). This situation may have been regularised from one where stems
with *-i- and *-u- in the zero-graded root copied that vowel; but any such
argument for the proto-language must rely on non-Greek evidence (cf.
3.18, 4.25).
With laryngeal-initial roots, however, the picture is different. Here, so-
called Attic reduplication patterns appear. These are comparable with
those in corresponding perfect formations, except that with *HeC- roots
the root vowel is long in the perfect, but short in the aorist. For example,
next to the reduplicated aorist stem ἀρᾰρε/ο- (*h2er-) we find the Hom.
plupf. ἀρήρει ‘was fixed’ and perf. ptcpl. ἀρηρώς.16 Any explanation has to
take into account this divergence.
3.11 Full ‘Attic’ Reduplication Patterns (*HeC- Roots)

Starting from ἀραρε/ο-, and taking the radical zero grade as a given, it
is not obvious if this reflects *h̥ 2r-h̥ 2r-e/o-, *h2er-h̥ 2r-e/o-, or even PGr.
*ar-ar-e/o- with secondary reduplication. Against the last of these
options speaks the Armenian parallel arari. Whereas in Greek any
number of other reduplicated aorists could have acted as models for a
renewal of the reduplication when an original *h2e-h2r-e/o- was about to
turn, or had already turned, into *āre/o-, the same is not true in
Armenian, where arari is isolated. Hence, the precursor of ἀραρε/ο-
will be older than just Proto-Greek.
Now, since Indo-Iranian and other evidence suggests that Proto-Indo-
European knew an intensive formation with ‘full’ reduplication (4.17), and
since it is likely that the reduplication of root-initial consonants ultimately
replaces a type with fuller reduplication (4.6), Bendahman concludes that
arare- can only be traced back to fully reduplicated *h2er-h̥ 2r-e- or *h̥ 2r-h̥ 2r-é-.
In principle, the proto-form thus posited may derive from an athematic
acrostatic formation of the type *h2ér-h2or-t/*h2ér-h̥ 2r-n̥ t which was originally
identical with the Indo-Iranian intensive, even if in this shape such a
formation is no longer attested as an aorist. On the other hand, given the
demonstrably old zero-graded thematic inflection of the reduplicated aorist,
one might also think of a reduplicated form that already belonged to the
16
M. Leumann (1955) explains the latter form as a hyper-Ionic replacement for *ἀρᾰρϝώς > *ἀρᾱρώς,
making it parallel with fem. ἀρᾰρυῖα; but the short vowel in ἀρᾰρυῖα may just as well be secondary
(cf. Ruijgh 1972: 228, Kimball 1988: 251–2, Hackstein 2002: 149, 152–3), and the general point
concerning the long vowel in the perfect, but not aorist, remains true in any case. Thus, one cannot
treat aor. ἀραρε/ο- as a “derivative from the inherited perfect stem” (Kocharov 2012: 164) and
separate it from its Armenian cognate (3.11).
proto-language and differed from the reduplicated types with an o-grade
singular: for example, an amphidynamically accented paradigm of the shape
*h2ér-h2ər-m̥ , -s, -t, pl. *h2ər-h2ər-mé, -té, -ént, which should then be posited in
the same way also for the stems without full reduplication like *u̯ éu̯ ku̯ -m̥ , -s, -t,
pl. *u̯ ə-u̯ ku̯ -mé, -té, -ént.17
Leaving aside for the moment the wider issues of thematicity and
root ablaut (cf. 3.37–3.42), such a hypothesis would turn the redupli-
cation syllable ἀρ- of ἀραρε/ο- into something very old indeed, older
than the simplified reduplication of *g u̯ he-g u̯ hn-e/o-, *u̯ e-u̯ ku̯ -e/o-, etc.
But why should a root of the shape *HeC- have resisted the presumed
simplification process from early PIE *HeC-HC- to later *He-HC- any
more than a root like *g u̯ hen- or *u̯ eku̯ - did? In fact, i-reduplicated
presents such as Ved. 3sg. med. ī́ rte < *h3i-h3r-toi̯ (root *h3er-; Table
3.1) demonstrate that nothing precluded simplified *He-HC- (includ-
ing *He-HR-). It is therefore safer to assume that we are not dealing
with something extremely archaic, but that the reduplicated aorist of
*h2er- started off, in the regular manner, as *h2e-h2r-e/o-. At some
point – relatively late, but at a time when Greek and Armenian18 still
developed in common –, this *h2e-h2r-e/o- (> *h2a-h2r-e/o-) must have
come to be seen as insufficiently reduplicated, triggering a reduplica-
tive update. Why this happened will be considered elsewhere (6.24);
but given the outcome, the fact itself can hardly be doubted.
We are then still facing the question whether the remodelling led to (a)
*h2ar-h̥ 2r-e/o-, (b) *h̥ 2r-h̥ 2r-e/o-, or even (c) *h̥ 2ra-h2r-e/o-. All of these might
have been adequate substitutes for the regular e-vocalic reduplication seen in
other reduplicated aorists but precluded in the vicinity of a-colouring *-h2-.
On balance, though, (b) seems to be the best option. With (c), we would
have to assume that PGr. *h̥ 2ra-h2 r-e/o- > *arāre/o- was shortened into
*arare/o- (> ἀραρε/ο-) by analogy with cases like *h̥ 2la-h2lk-e/o- > *alālke/o-
> *alalke/o- (> ἀλαλκε/ο-), where Osthoff’s Law intervened, and/or to match
short-vocalic structures like πεπιθε/ο- and δεδαε/ο-; but in moraic terms,
*arāre/o- would have been equivalent to *alalke/o-, so that the pressure would
have been minimal at best. Variant (a), meanwhile, fails to account for
ἐνῑπαπε/ο- in the phonologically regular manner suggested in Table 3.1 (s.v.
17
Bendahman (1993: 13; cf. 83) (translated).
18 ̆ amat, and cf. Klingenschmitt (1982: 284; 1994b:
And probably Indo-Iranian too: see 3.18 on Ved. ām
245), who problematically implies a common Graeco-Armenian period after the loss of *h2. The
non-Greek material is disregarded by Ruijgh (1972: 228–9) in his explanation of the Greek aorist’s
Attic reduplication.
*h2eku̯ -); only *(h1)eni-h2ku̯ -h̥ 2ku̯ -e/o- yields ἐνῑπαπε/ο-, whereas *(h1)eni-
h2aku̯ -h̥ 2ku̯ -e/o- should produce †ἐνιαπαπε/ο-.19
3.12 Full ‘Attic’ Reduplication in the Perfect

All of this implies that the perfect to roots such as *h2er- has to be looked at
separately; but we have seen that the difference between the root-vowel
length in the reduplicated aorist and the perfect makes that advisable
anyway (3.10).20 Importantly, the basic structure of the perfect would
have been unlike that of the aorist from the start (5.8). An early 3sg. perf.
of *h2er- must be posited as *h2e-h2or-e (> *h2a-h2or-e with laryngeal
colouring), featuring both a distinctive ending and a distinctive root-
vowel grade. In the presence of these other markers, the reduplication
syllable was less essential than that of the reduplicated aorist, and therefore
also less prone to trigger a remodelling. Thus, *h2a-h2or-e may have been
left alone at first, developing into *a-or-e and hence contracted *ār-e.21 At
that point, however, the stem no longer showed any clear sign of belonging
to a perfect, so that the need to recharacterise again arose. And the best way
to restore a transparent perfect appearance was to re-introduce a reduplica-
tion syllable. How to do this was evident, since the reduplicated aorist
provided a model; but to take over reduplicating *ar- from there and add it
before *ār-e did not entail the shortening of *-ā- in the resulting *ar-ār-e >
Homeric (Ionic) (*)ἄρηρε.
3.13 Partial ‘Attic’ Reduplication Patterns (*HCeC- Roots)

Roots with an initial *HC- cluster also show Attic reduplication, but here
the root-final consonant does not appear in the reduplication syllable. For
these roots, a peculiar type of cluster reduplication, *HCe-HC-, has been
assumed, paralleling a similar phenomenon for root-initial *sT- clusters.
Defending a derivation of Gr. ἐνεγκε/ο- from PIE *h1ne-h1nk̑ -e/o-, Strunk
writes:
19
And again there is no reason why *HeT- roots such as *h2eku̯ - should behave differently from *HeR-
roots.
20
With variant (c) in 3.11, one could perhaps maintain that the vowel shortening did not take place in
the perfect, but the moraic structure of perfects like γέγονε would have favoured perf. *ἄρᾰρε as
much as aorists like πεπιθε/ο- favoured aor. ἀρᾰρε/ο-.
21
An intermediate stage may have been *ōre, which was analogically remade into *āre to match *ar- in
the present/aorist and (*h2e-h2r- >) *ār- in the plural. This is intimated by ἄν-ωγε ‘orders’ from
*h2eg̑ - (or *h1eg̑ -, with Lindeman 1974?), which apparently escaped the change *an-a-og-e > *an-ōg-e
→ †an-āg-e because its link with preterital (*h2eg̑ - >) *ag(t) > augmented ἦ ‘said’ was obscured. For a
similar approach, see Ruijgh (1972: 223–8), Schmeja (1976: 355), and Suzuki (1994: 406–13), but
Ruijgh and Suzuki think that *HeC-root perfects were remodelled after *HCeC-root perfects, and
Schmeja problematically starts from unreduplicated long-vowel perfects.
Against such a derivation the objection has been raised that Indo-European
reduplication morphemes did not normally replicate in their entirety pho-
neme groups consisting of consonant + resonant that appear at the begin-
ning of pertinent roots (as with the postulated reduplication *h1ne-).
However, this objection is not quite valid. After all, apart from presumptive
reduplications of the type HRV- (such as *h1ne-) in Greek . . ., the same will
probably have existed already in the proto-language, before their initial
groups were sporadically simplified by dissimilation in front of the similar
‘cluster’ of the following root morpheme. The reduplications seen in the
daughter languages among verbal roots beginning with s + stop (sT-) also
allow us to recognise shortened initial variants like sV-, TV- next to more
limited complete sTV-, so that the evidence as a whole points to original
reduplications with full onset sTV-: pres. Av. hi-štaiti, Gr. hí-stēmi, Lat. si-sto
vs. Ved. tí-sthati; perf. Ved. ta-stháu vs. Lat. ste-ti; Lat. sci-cidi (to *sk̑ ei-d-)
˙˙ progressive dissimilation vs. Goth. skaí-skaiþ (to *sk̑ ei-t-)
with inverted
without any dissimilation, etc. For a root with the comparable onset HT-,
such as *h1ger-, the Gr. perf. egrḗgore, if deriving from *h1ge-h1gor-e > *egḗgore
with secondarily added first -r- (by analogy with forms such as Hom.
égreto?), attests an undiminished reduplication of the type HTV-.
Meanwhile, in the case of the related Ved. jāgā́ ra ‘has been awake’ it is
impossible to decide if this form also continues a complete *h1ge-h1gor-e or
has abandonded *h1-, just as Ved. ta-stháu has abandoned *s-, by dissimila-
tion in the reduplication onset. As for the root *h1nek̑ - (onset type HR-),
which is of interest in the present context, the Greek perfect enḗnokhe <
*h1ne-h1nok̑ - again displays an unchanged reduplication, but the corre-
sponding Vedic form ānāśa RV. VI 16,26 (stem structure *h1e-h1nok̑ -, or
rather early Proto-Aryan *Ha-Hnāć-) a reduplication that has lost its second
onset consonant (as in Av. hi-štaiti etc.), cf. ānáṁśa VIII 68,8 < *Ha-
Hnanć-.22
With such a reconstruction, 3sg. ἤνεγκε turns into an exact counterpart
of Av. nąsat̰ as both descend from *h1ne-h1nk̑ -e-t. However, the comparison
with s-cluster reduplication is valid only up to a point. Most languages,
including Greek and Indo-Iranian, do not opt for *sT- reduplication, but
for a simpler variant. To what extent forms such as Lat. ste-tī or Goth. skaí-
skaiþ23 really reflect PIE *ste- or *ske- is difficult to say. The sibilant occurs
only once in Latin, so that stet- might replace older *te-st-, and it could also
22
Strunk (1988b: 572) (translated), in response to Cowgill (1965: 151). Cf. already Kuryłowicz (1927b:
209) and later Beekes (1969: 113–26; 1981a: 23), Ruijgh (1972: 216–17), Keydana (2006: 108–10) (only
for anlauting *HT-), Kocharov (2012: 161–3), Zukoff (2014: 266–71); contra, Suzuki (1994: 400–
2, 404).
23
And similarly Toch.*stV-st- (but *pV-sp- or *sV-sp-): cf. Malzahn (2010: 246). On the entire issue, see
further Loewe (1907: 279–83), Meillet (1909: 265–9), Brugmann (1912/13: 89–94), Kuryłowicz
(1966), Forssman (1994: 103), Keydana (2006).
be added secondarily in Germanic, in order to regularise *Te-sT-. Given
the first-consonant-only reduplication of e.g. Gr. ἵστημι < *si-st-, it is
therefore possible that the explanation of ἐνεγκε/ο- etc. should also start
from nothing but *h1e-h1nk̑ -e/o-. Such a structure could have undergone the
re-reduplication process outlined in 3.11 for *h2e-h2r-e/o- → *h̥ 2r-h̥ 2r-e/o-, i.e.,
*h1e-h1nk̑ -e/o- → *h̥ 1n-h̥ 1nk̑ -e/o-. By contrast, in Indo-Iranian the immediate
starting point would have been *ne-h1nk̑ -e/o- (> Av. nąsat̰ ; cf. also Table 3.1
on Lat. nancior). Of course, since in structural terms a reduplication
C1e-C1C2- (where C1 = *s or *H) is more regular than C2e-C1C2-, a recon-
structio difficilior principle might then still suggest that at least later Proto-
Indo-European used the C2e-C1C2- reduplication type, whether or not earlier
Proto-Indo-European had reduplicated all the consonants before the root
vowel.24 By implication, forms like Gr. ἵστημι and Av. hi-štaiti < *si-st-
would represent (unsurprising) remodellings, no less than a putative early
PGr. *h1e-h1nk̑ -e/o- instead of *(h1)ne-h1nk̑ -e/o-.25
However that may be, any such disagreements between the reduplica-
tion syllables in Greek, Indo-Iranian, or other branches of Indo-European
have little bearing on whether or not a reduplicated aorist is to be recon-
structed for any given root.
3.14 The Reduplicated Aorist as a Relic Category

If we consider the Greek reduplicated aorists in their entirety, they make
the impression of an archaic category. Firstly, they all but disappear in
classical Greek. Only a few high-frequency items (ἀγαγε/ο-, ἑζε/ο- (?),
εἰπε/ο-, ἐνεγκε/ο-/ἐνεικε/ο-, ἑσπε/ο- (?), εὑρε/ο-) survive outside the poe-
tic sphere, and it is probably no coincidence that most of these were no
longer analysable as reduplicated (ἑζε/ο- (?), εἰπε/ο-, ἐνεικε/ο-, ἑσπε/ο- (?),
εὑρε/ο-).
Secondly, the tendency to replace reduplicated aorists with s-aorists is
already observable in Homer (cf. Table 3.1 on *bhei̯d-, *bhei̯d h-, [*bherd-],
*dens-, *d heu̯ gh-, *g u̯ hen-, *h2lek-, *h3er-, *leh2d h-, *pelh1-). This trend
encompasses some of the semantically distinct factitive formations
24
As may also be suggested by certain reduplicated stems in Hittite: cf. 4.9 and Table 4.1 (*preh1-) on
Hitt. parip(p)ara-i and halihla-i with *pri-pr- and *h2li-h2l-.
25 ˘ ˘ mentioned by Strunk (and subsequently Krisch 1996: 23–4, 28–9)
Similarly, the Greek perfects
could have developed in parallel with (*)ἄρηρε (3.12), turning the similarity of Ved. jāgāŕ a and Gr.
*egēǵ ore >→ ἐγρήγορε into a mirage: PIE *ge-h1gor-e (> jāgāŕ a), *ne-h1nok̑ -e → PGr. (or later PIE?,
cf. Ved. ānāśa, not †nānāśa) *h1e-h1gor-e, *h1e-h1nok̑ -e > *ēgore, *ēnok̑ e → *egēgore, *enēnoke, whence,
by processes unrelated to the present issue, ἐγρήγορε (Thurneysen 1907: 176–7), ἐνήνοχε (‘aspirated
perfect’, 1.12).
(πεπιθε/ο- → πεισα-, πεφραδε/ο- → φρασα-). It lies in the nature of epic
language that artificial creations occasionally arise (κεκυθε/ο-, κεχαρε/ο-,
λελαβε/ο-, πεπυθε/ο-, τεταρπε/ο-); these do not therefore attest a real
productivity even in Homeric times.
Thirdly, we repeatedly observe a pattern by which the reduplicated
aorist has become specialised and thus separated from its source lexeme
(ἀπαφε/ο- ‘cheat’ (?), κεκαδε/ο- ‘separate from’ (?), πεφνε/ο- ‘kill’, τετμε/ο-
‘encounter’, τετυκε/ο- ‘prepare a meal’).
All this is not to deny that the reduplicated aorist must still have
enjoyed some productivity in Proto-Greek. This is suggested most clearly
by factitive λελαθε/ο- and πεφραδε/ο-, since *leh2d h- and *bherd- are
apparently neo-roots. If we take into account that factitivity is not parti-
cularly prominent among the reduplicated aorists with reliable cognates
outside Greek (ἀραρε/ο-, εἰπε/ο-, εὑρε/ο-, ἐνεγκε/ο-, πεφνε/ο-), we may
suspect that this productivity in the factitive domain is a secondary
restriction. As we shall see, the Indo-Iranian and Tocharian data concur
with this (3.15–3.22, 3.26–3.31), but they also suggest PIE beginnings for
the evolution. Why such a specialisation should have arisen will be
explored later (3.36); but we may already note that items like ἀραρε/ο-
and ἐνεγκε/ο- can have played a pivotal role because they were amenable to
a factitive interpretation (‘fitted’ ~ ‘made fit’, ‘brought’ ~ ‘made obtain’).
3.15–3.22 The Reduplicated Aorist in Indo-Iranian

3.15 Inherited Reduplicated Aorists
In the discussion of reduplicated aorists in languages other than Greek, we
will concentrate on matters that are relevant for comparative and recon-
structive purposes, without aiming at a full presentation of the lexical
material. We will begin with Indo-Iranian, where the Old Indic data are
particularly important, though also somewhat elusive.26
The erstwhile existence of a reduplicated aorist in Indo-Iranian is
beyond doubt. In Table 3.1, we have already encountered the following
three items:
• Ved. ávocat, Av. -vaocat̰ ‘spoke, said’ as cognates of Gr. εἶπε (*u̯ e-u̯ ku̯ -e/o-;
cf. also 3.9 on Ved. subj. vocati);
• Av. nąsat̰ ‘obtained’ as a cognate of Gr. ἤνεγκε (*(h1)ne-h1nk̑ -e/o-; cf.
3.13); and
26
For a more detailed discussion of the lexical data, see Bendahman (1993: 116–210).
• Av. (auua-)jaγnat̰ ‘killed’ as a cognate of Gr. (ἔ)πεφνε (*g u̯ he-g u̯ hn-e/o-).
The status of the last form as a reduplicated aorist might be doubted since
Avestan also attests a present 3pl. med. (ni-)jaγnənte ‘they strike down’.
However, to posit a Proto-Indo-Iranian present stem ˙ *g u̯ he-g u̯ hn-e/o- (with
u̯ h u̯ h
3sg. impf. inj. *g e-g n-e-t) not only jeopardises the neat correspondence
with the Greek verb but is also problematic because Indo-Iranian thematic
reduplicated presents regularly show i-vocalism in the reduplication sylla-
ble (cf. Ved. jíghnate ‘strikes, kills’ < *g u̯ hi-g u̯ hn-e/o-; 4.24).27 Much rather,
the isolated Avestan present form is secondary, created on the basis of the
aorist by analogy with deaoristic thematic presents to non-reduplicated
aorists (Skt. tudáti Class VI: 6.29).
To the above equations,28 one may perhaps add
• Av. vāura- (cf. OAv. 3sg. med. vāurāite, 1sg. opt. med. vāuraiiā, 1pl. opt.
med. vāurōimaidī) as a potential cognate of either Gr. αὐρε/ο- or εὑρε/ο-
(and OIr. -fúair) (Table 3.1).
The connection with εὑρε/ο- would presuppose that the lengthened redupli-
cation vowel arose secondarily when the root *u̯ erh1- ‘find’ merged with *Hu̯ er-
‘shut’ in Indo-Iranian, while the one with αὐρε/ο- (to *h2u̯ er-) would bring
with it the required root-initial laryngeal. Semantically, a positive meaning like
‘find > gain’ or ‘take up > benefit from’ fits at least the optatival attestations
(Y. 28.5, 31.3) better than something like ‘keep away (from the sacrifice)’.29
3.16 Causative Reduplicated Aorists in Sanskrit

With the above items, the Avestan material is practically exhausted.30 In
Sanskrit, by contrast, there is a productive reduplicated aorist, which
27
Cf. Hintze (1999: 109), against García Ramón (1998: 149–50, 154); but Hintze’s suggestion, after
Hoffmann and Forssman (1996: 184), that the reduplication vowel is borrowed from the perfect is
arbitrary and vitiated by the implication that the same should be true for Gr. πεφνε/ο-. Like Strunk
(1994a: 427), both Hintze and García Ramón reject the idea of Kellens (1984: 194–5) and Campanile
(1992: 169–71) that Av. jaγna- might be dissimilated from an intensive stem *jan-γn-a-: the Ved.
intensive jáṅ-ghan- is formed differently.
28
But leaving aside the special case Ved. átaksat ‘has created’ ~ OAv. tašat̰ ‘has formed’: on this,
see 3.33. ˙
29
Thus Kellens and Pirart (1990: 297); cf. Kellens (1984: 195). ‘Gain’ or ‘benefit’ also seem preferable to
‘wish, choose’ (from *u̯ elh1-), as per Hoffmann and Forssman (1996: 184).
30
The only certain addendum is Av. (a)nąsat̰ ‘has disappeared’ ~ Ved. inj. neśat ‘disappears’ (with
secondary -e-; cf. Hoffmann 1967a: 64, Strunk 1988b: 580–2), to *nek̑ - ‘disappear, perish’ (LIV 451–2,
s.v.). Since the intransitive meaning is atypical for a reduplicated aorist (cf. Bendahman 1993: 198),
PIIr. *na-nč-a- may have arisen analogically when a root aor. *(a-)nač-t < *(h1e-)nek̑ -t came to
parallel a root aor. *(ā-)nač-t ‘has reached, obtained’ < *(h1e-)h1nek̑ - (to *Hnek̑ -; Table 3.1): if the
latter matched a reduplicated aorist (Table 3.1), so could the former. Only conjectural is a
provides perfectives to the causative Class X presents in -áya- (*-éi̯e/o-; 5.34,
5.36). For instance, next to pres. bodháyati ‘awakens (tr.)’ < ‘makes awake/
aware’ (< *bhoud h-éi̯e/o-; cf. Av. baoδaiieti, OCS -buditi ‘do.’), we find aor.
abūbudhat ‘has awakened (tr.)’, and next to pres. darśáyati ‘shows’ < ‘makes
see’ (< *dork̑ -éi̯e/o-), aor. adīdrśat ‘has shown’.
As the two examples illustrate,˙ the reduplication vowel is here regularly
-ī̆ - or (with roots containing *-u-) -ū̆ -, not -a- (< *-e-). The distribution
of the long and short variants is rhythmically conditioned, the long one
being the default option and the short one restricted to roots with initial
consonant cluster or internal long vowel. In diachrony, however, the long
vowel must have originated among laryngeal-initial roots (e.g., pres.
vardháyati ‘strengthens’ < *Hu̯ ord h-éi̯e/o-, with aor. avīvrdhat < *(h1e-)
˙
u̯ i-Hu̯ r̥ d h-e/o-), before spreading for euphonic reasons to other forms that
would otherwise have had three or four short syllables in a row.31
3.17 Leumann’s Theory

Given the reduplication vowel *-e- in Greek (3.10) and in the inherited
reduplicated aorists of Indo-Iranian (3.15), this situation is unexpected.
Apart from the side issue of vowel length, it recalls the reduplication
vocalism of the thematic and some athematic reduplicated presents.
Among these, i-reduplication clearly reaches back to the proto-language
(4.24–4.25). Hence, one might query if the Old Indic causative (or
factitive) reduplicated aorists have anything to do with the reduplicated
aorists discussed so far. Such a sceptical approach was pioneered by Manu
Leumann, who formulated what has become the standard historical expla-
nation for the Sanskrit formation. Specifically, Leumann argued for an
Indo-Aryan innovation created on the model of one particular form:
ajījanat ‘generated’, to *g̑ enh1- ‘generate’.32
The concordance of Gr. γίγνομαι ‘become’, Lat. gignō ‘generate’, Av.
3pl. zīzanənti ‘they generate’, etc. shows that the root *g̑ enh1- formed a
˙ thematic present *g̑ i-g̑ n(h )-e/o- already in Proto-Indo-
reduplicated ̥ 1
33
European. According to Leumann, the imperfect of this present, with
3sg. *(h1e-)g̑ i-g̑ n̥ (h1)-e-t > *ajijanat (→ ajījanat), was reinterpreted as an
reduplicated aorist *u̯ e-u̯ t-e/o- in Av. 3sg. subj. vaotāt̰ ‘shall understand’ or ‘shall make understand’,
as postulated by Kellens (1984: 33–4, 374); cf. Bendahman (1993: 201).
31
On secondary lengthened reduplication syllables in Indo-Iranian and the problems surrounding
them, see Meillet (1920a: 197–8), Lazzeroni (1980: 36), Kellens (1984: 407–8), Bendahman (1993: 119–
20), Krisch (1996: esp. 48, 52–6), Kümmel (2000a: 21–3), Kulikov (2005: 439–40).
32
M. Leumann (1962); cf. Jamison (1983a: 216–19), Harđarson (1997: 97–101).
33
The athematic Avestan pctpl. zīzanat- is probably secondary: see Strunk (1986: 441–3). In view of 3.8,
the root-final *-h1- appears to have been analogically restored in Indo-Iranian (cf. Table 4.1).
aorist when the present fell out of use in Old Indo-Aryan and was replaced
by the Class X causative janáyati ‘generates’ (< *g̑ onh1-éi̯e-ti); for the latter
had its own regular imperfect ajanayat, but no aorist yet.34 And once the
pair aor. ajījanat ~ pres. janáyati had come into being, it caused the
analogical creation of similar causative aorists to other Class X presents.
Although superficially attractive, Leumann’s theory has substantial
shortcomings. Firstly, one may ask whether a single paradigm that came
into existence more or less by chance is a plausible starting point for an
entire formation class, particularly when the existence of a productive is-
aorist (8.26) would have offered an easy alternative. Secondly, it is not clear ˙
why the old imperfect *ajijanat should have been felt to be more aoristic
than the regular imperfect ajanayat. Leumann wants to justify this by
comparing the Greek reduplicated presents said to ‘transfer the aoristic
function into the present’: ‘alongside the durative present ékhō “I have,
hold, keep away” there is the punctual aorist éskhon “I took, seized, kept
back”; the present which belongs with this aorist meaning is reduplicated
ískhō “I take, seize, keep back”’.35 As we shall see, the observation that
reduplicated presents tend to be more telic/bounded than unreduplicated
ones is indeed correct (4.30, 4.32). However, a causative formation is also
intrinsically telic/bounded. Hence, if an impf. *ajijanat was semantically
close to an aorist in this respect, so was an impf. ajanayat.
Thirdly, and more seriously, one of Leumann’s premises is wrong. He
claims that ‘a causative function of reduplication, as it must be recognised
here by a descriptive account, is completely unknown in the Indo-
European languages’.36 After our discussion of the factitive reduplicated
aorist in Greek (3.14), this statement hardly needs refuting; and as we shall
see, it is also falsified by the Tocharian evidence (3.26). So, if Leumann’s
theory were right, we would have to admit that the remarkable functional
overlap of the reduplicated causative (factitive) aorist in Vedic on the one
hand and its correspondents in Greek and Tocharian on the other hand is
entirely accidental. In the absence of viable alternatives one might perhaps
accept this, but there is a better way forward.
3.18 Inheritance and Innovation in the Causative Aorist

Let us assume, for the sake of the argument, that Proto-Indo-Iranian
inherited from Proto-Indo-European the tendency to use reduplicated
aorists as factitives. A root like *(h1)rei̯s- ‘come to harm’ could thus have
given rise to an aor. *(h1)re-(h1)ris-e/o- ‘harm, damage’. Since it is clear from
34 35 36
M. Leumann (1962: 158). M. Leumann (1962: 154). M. Leumann (1962: 153).
the similar situation in the perfect that roots with internal *-i/u-
harmonised the reduplication vowel at least in Proto-Indo-Iranian, if
not already in Proto-Indo-European (cf. 3.10, 4.25), this would have
resulted in [*rā̆ -ris-a- (?) >] *rī̆-ris-a-.37 The latter stem is well-attested
in Vedic (rīr̆ isat ‘has harmed’).38 Similarly, the reduplicated aorist
Ved. ácukrudhat˙ ‘has enraged’ to the Indo-Iranian root *krudh- ‘be
angry’ is entirely regular, given the root-internal u-vowel. Now, the
variability which thus characterised the reduplication vocalism in such
aorist stems facilitated their comparison with reduplicated present
stems where e-reduplication (> a-reduplication) and i-reduplication
also intersected, but where i-reduplication was dominant. As a con-
sequence, the analogical generalisation of reduplicating *-i- to roots
without internal *-i- became feasible in the aorist as much as in the
present (4.24). But although this could in principle have affected all
the reduplicated aorists, only the factitive ones were updated – and
here we return to Leumann’s line of thought. Because, as factitives,
they were endowed with a particularly high degree of transitivity
(3.36), and because present-stem reduplication also correlated with
high transitivity (4.32), the formal assimilation only happened here,
leaving out the non-factitive items (which continued to have the less
standardised a/i/u-reduplication vowel also seen in the perfect). At this
juncture, the present stem *g̑ i-g̑ n̥ (h1)-e/o- may indeed have exerted
some influence, not least because of its frequency. Yet, we no longer
have to hold it solely responsible for the creation of an entire factitive-
causative aorist class.39 That the members of such a class were even-
tually associated with the Class X causatives was only a natural
consequence of their semantics.
An interesting piece of support for this scenario comes from the redu-
plicated aorist Ved. 3sg. inj. ā̆ mamat ‘shall hurt’ next to āmáyati ‘hurts’.
Both formations apparently belong to the root *h2emh3- of Ved. 2sg. pres.
amīsi ‘you grasp, seize, swear’ (< ‘iterative-intensive’ *h2omh3-éi̯e/o- ‘seize
˙
37
Cf. Bendahman (1993: 138): ‘It is impossible to decide whether the e-reduplication is original in the
reduplicated aorist, or whether the reduplication vowel was assimilated to the root vowel of triradical
CeiC- and CeuC- roots already in Proto-Indo-European. In the latter case, Greek would have
innovated in the reduplicated aorist’.
38
Cf. Bendahman (1993: 150). The corresponding Class X present resáyati is rare in Vedic, but because
˙ 144). By contrast, the Class X
of its cognate Av. raēšaiia-, it may still be old; see Jamison (1983a:
present krodháyati is certainly younger than the reduplicated aorist ácukrudhat (cf. Bendahman 1993:
141–2).
39
We thus avoid the circular reasoning of Strunk (1987a: 444–5), who endorses Leumann’s theory but
wants to explain the aoristification of jījana- by reference to the reduplicated aorists of Class X verbs.
(firmly)’, with analogical ām- for *am-).40 It is difficult to see how,
according to Leumann’s theory, the model ajījanat could have led to
ā̆ mama- with ‘Attic reduplication’. The reduplication syllable of i-redupli-
cated presents like íyarti ‘sets in motion’ to *h3er- (cf. Av. vii-āraiieite
‘makes rise’ < *h3or-éi̯e/o-; 4.28) should rather have suggested a reduplicated
aorist stem †īy̆ ama-. By contrast, ā̆ mam- fits perfectly into the old redupli-
cated-aorist pattern discussed in 3.11 for Gr. ἀραρ- and Arm. arar-.41
3.19 Non-causative Reduplicated Aorists in Sanskrit

Next to the reduplicated aorists which became productive in the causative
domain, Sanskrit also possesses some other aorists with the same C1e-C1C-
e/o- pattern. For instance, the root *pet- ‘fly’ (pres. Ved. pátati, Gr. πέτομαι
‘fly’, Lat. petō ‘hurry’; Table 4.1) forms an aorist (á)paptat ‘has flown’,
whose stem is analysable as *pe-pt-e/o- and semantically matches that of the
Greek thematic aorist ἐπτόμην ‘flew’ (also ἐπτάμην: Table 6.2).42
Diachronically, this structure *pe-pt-e/o- is regular, unlike that of the
corresponding causative aor. apīpatat (to pres. pātáyati ‘makes fly/fall’),
which analogically follows the usual rhythm of the causative type and
therefore features a radical full grade. A similar pair is constituted by aor.
vavrtat ‘turned (tr.)’ < *u̯ e-u̯ r̥ t-e/o- (root *u̯ ert-: cf. pres. vártate ‘turns
˙
(intr.)’, Lat. vertor ‘do.’) next to factitive-causative avīvrtat (to pres.
˙
vartáyati ‘turns (tr.)’ < *u̯ ort-éi̯e/o-). Here, avīvrtat is explainable both
˙
with Leumann and along the lines suggested in 3.18, but if vavrtat is indeed
an aorist, it lends further support to our approach: vavrtat would ˙ be a relic
˙
that failed to undergo the secondary introduction of i-vocalism (and
lengthening) in the reduplication syllable.
However, the matter is disputed, and vavrtat has also been explained
as a pluperfect, or preterite to the perfect ˙ Ved. 3sg. vāvárta, 3pl.
43
vāvrtuh. The problem with this is that perf. vāvart-/vāvrt- is intran-
˙ ˙(‘has turned (intr.)’), as we expect for an old perfect
sitive ˙ (5.1, etc.).
The only exception occurs in combination with the particle ā́ (3sg.
ā́ vavarta ‘has turned towards’), but vavrtat occurs without ā́ in RV
˙
40
See Narten (1980: 153) and Bendahman (1993: 140), against Hoffmann (1969: 196–7) and Jamison
(1983a: 107–8).
41
Via *h2m̥ -h2m̥ (h3)-e/o- > amama- → āmama- (with ām- as in the present); in Greek, one would
expect *h̥ 2m-h̥ 2m(h3)-e/o- > *ἀμαμε/ο- according to Rix’s Law.
42
On the reconstruction of the root as *pet- (rather than *peth1- and/or *peth2-), see Table 4.1. For
another possible example, see Hoffmann (1976b) on ‘intensive’ Ved. atatanat ‘thundered’.
43
Thus Kümmel (2000a: 466–9), against Hoffmann (1976c) and Bendahman (1993: 203–5); the
following explanation departs from Hoffmann’s in not presupposing an athematic reduplicated
aorist (cf. 3.21).
6.17.10. Moreover, in all the transitive instances of the perfect, the
reduplication syllable is short, not long as with intr. vāvart-/vāvrt-; and
since the transitive use of the perfect is undoubtedly younger than ˙ the
intransitive one, it seems paradoxical for the original short reduplica-
tion syllable to be preferentially preserved here, rather than in the
intransitive variant. So it is better to assume that there was indeed an old
(factitive) reduplicated aorist with 3sg. vavrtat next to an old (intransitive)
perfect vāvart-/vāvrt-. At some point the ˙ aorist stem vavrta- became
˙ ˙
marginalised, perhaps because it was replaced by the synchronically
more regular vīvrta-, and it was associated with the weak perfect/
pluperfect stem. ˙A contamination ensued, in which the aorist’s short-
vowel reduplication was adopted in all transitive contexts (i.e. notably
with perfects + ā́ ), while the thematic stem vavrta- was given up for
vavart-/vavrt- even in forms that were in principle ˙ aoristic (e.g., 3pl.
˙
med.-pass. ávavrtran ‘have [not: plupf. had] turned (intr.)’ for
*ávavrtanta; cf. ˙ also 3sg. aor. pass. ávavarti ‘has turned (intr.)’, a
clear ˙aorist form).
3.20 Reduplicated Aorists and Pluperfects

The complex case just discussed illustrates a general problem when dealing
with presumptive reduplicated aorists in Vedic. Given the existence of a
Vedic pluperfect, which combines the ablauting perfect stem with ‘sec-
ondary’ (non-perfect) endings (5.12), it can be difficult to decide what to
classify as an old aorist stem, especially if a stem’s thematicity is insufficient
to exclude a pluperfectal origin (cf. 3.21). In synchrony, functional con-
siderations will of course often decide the matter because, for example, only
an aorist stem can refer to the recent past or form prohibitive injunctives
after mā́ ‘not’. Especially in subordinate clauses, however, both aorists and
pluperfects express anteriority: the aorist in continuation of its aspectually
complexive function (7.29), the pluperfect as the past of a ‘nactostatic’
perfect (5.13).44
Accordingly, some have argued that the stem papta- (3.19), though
synchronically aoristic, really goes back to a pluperfect, and that, say, 3sg.
(á)paptat was formed by analogy with 3pl. plupf. (á)paptuh.45 Depending
on how frequently one assumes such developments, one will ˙ end up with
fewer or more ‘true’ (i.e., old) reduplicated aorist stems. In contrast to the
44
See the discussion in Bendahman (1993: 128–34), building upon Delbrück (1897: 228–9).
45
Thus, after Delbrück (1897: 229) and against Thieme (1929: 34), especially M. Leumann (1952: 26);
cf. Hoffmann (1967a: 64), Bendahman (1993: 200–1). Kümmel (2000a: 295) hesitates, but rightly
questions Leumann’s argument because there is no model paradigm with 3sg. -at : 3pl. -uh.
˙
more cautious approach of Bendahman, for example, Thieme’s study of
the Vedic pluperfect was maximally pro-aoristic, as he premised ‘that all
the reduplicated preterites with aoristic meaning are old aorists’.46
3.21 Athematic Reduplicated Aorists?

Thieme’s stance has an important corollary. It led him to recognise old
athematic reduplicated aorists next to thematic ones such as papta-. This
may seem unproblematic because even the causative group, which
has nothing to do with the pluperfect, contains such items (e.g., ájīgar
‘has woken up (tr.)’, as if < *(h1e-)gi-h1ger-t; sisvap ‘made fall asleep’, as if <
*si-su̯ ep-t).47 However, these must be seen in˙ the context of the causative
type’s interaction with the i-reduplicated present (3.18), where similar
athematic forms are common (4.21). When canonical reduplicated aorist
forms such as *(h1)ge-h1gr-e/o- acquired the new i-reduplication, the change
from *jīgrat to *jīgart (with retention of the non-palatal velar) was natural
because the former displayed neither the typical dactylic stem structure of
the new causative aorist (e.g., jījana-) nor the typical structure of an
imperfect to a reduplicated present (notional *jigart). In a subsequent
step, *(a)jīgart > (a)jīgar might of course have been regularised further
into *(a)jīgarat, as the parallel cases of adīdhar(at) ‘has fastened’ and
apīparat ‘has brought over’ demonstrate (to *d her- and *per-; cf. pres.
píparti ‘brings over’ and 2pl. ipv. didhrtām ‘hold fast!’).48
Meanwhile, no such explanation is ˙available for athematic non-factitive/
causative past-tense forms. If, with Thieme, all those of them that are used
aoristically were old aorists, it would indeed be simplest to posit an
athematic as well as a thematic reduplicated-aorist type. For example, the
prohibitive usage of 3sg. inj. susrot in mā́ susrot ‘shall not flow’ (RV 10.101.8,
to *sreu̯ - ‘flow’) syntactically points to an aorist, and as long as there is no
reason why a thematic *susruvat should have been athematised into susrot,
one might therefore postulate a reduplicated aorist *se-sreu̯ -t (>→ susrot).49
46
See Bendahman (1993: esp. 171–84) vs. Thieme (1929).
47
Cf. Bendahman (1993: 123–4). Vendryes’s (1918: 122) statement that ‘neither in Sanskrit nor in the
other languages is there an athematic reduplicated aorist’ is thus wrong, whether or not such forms
imply anything for Proto-Indo-European (cf. below).
48
Analogical influence from the reduplicated present stems is even clearer with sisvap since *sūsupat
˙ vapti would˙ have
would have matched the rhythmical pattern of the other causative aorists, but *sis
been a regular present. All the athematic causative aorists listed by Bendahman ˙ (1993: 116) are
explainable in this way; cf. Bendahman (1993: 139).
49
Cf. e.g. Thieme (1929: 27), Narten (1964: 284), Hoffmann (1967a: 66), Jamison (1983a: 38); a perfect
derivation is preferred by Delbrück (1897: 223), Bendahman (1993: 179–80), and Kümmel (2000a:
589–91).
Similarly, because ájagan ‘has come’ is sometimes used in an aoristic manner
(e.g., RV 1.161.1), one might postulate a reduplicated aorist *gu̯ e-gu̯ em-t.50
However, even Thieme does not of course deny the existence of Vedic
pluperfects, which are regularly athematic. In formal terms, ásusrot or
ájagan are unobjectionable pluperfects. So, as long as we accept some
syncretism of pluperfects and reduplicated aorists, nothing compels us to
operate with an inherited athematic reduplicated aorist. If one adds to this
that neither the inherited reduplicated aorists of Indo-Iranian (3.15) nor
those of Greek (3.9) provide evidence for an old athematic variant, it seems
safest to assume that (later) Proto-Indo-European passed on to Proto-
Greek and Proto-Indo-Iranian only thematic reduplicated aorists.
3.22 Synopsis
The preceding discussion has shown that Indo-Iranian shares with Greek
not only the reduplicated aorist as such (3.15), but also the tendency to
specialise it in the factitive domain (3.18). Because only the factitive
members of the group were aligned with the i-reduplicated present
stems, the category split into a ‘causative’ type, which became productive
in forming aorists to Class X presents, and a non-factitive/causative type.
Since the latter was no longer productive, its formal similarity and, in
certain contexts, functional affinity with the pluperfect led to a confusion
of reduplicated aorist and (plu)perfect stems (3.20–3.21). On the one hand,
the model of the reduplicated aorists facilitated the occasional thematisa-
tion and functional aoristification of original pluperfects, but on the other
hand a limited athematisation of some reduplicated aorists also took place.
Given the usual transitivity of the unambiguous reduplicated aorists, a
pluperfectal origin is more likely with intransitive items such as papta- and
jagan- than elsewhere, but where there is no alternative aorist stem (as with
*pet-; contrast *gu̯ em- with root aor. Ved. 3sg. ágan) even that point cannot
be pressed. Vice versa, some reduplicated aorists, reinterpreted as pluper-
fects, may have contributed to the transitivisation of cognate old perfect
stems: with vavrt(a)- we seem to be witnessing such a transformation in
progress (3.19), ˙whereas in other cases it may have happened prehistorically
(e.g., perf. śiśrā́ ya ‘has leaned (sth.) against’ < *k̑ e-k̑ loi̯ -e, plupf. áśiśret, vs.
pres. śrayate ‘leans against (intr.)’51).
50
Cf. again Thieme (1929: 30–1); contra Kümmel (2000a: 158–9). That *gu̯ e-gu̯ em-t should in theory
yield *jajan does not speak against Thieme since g- is generalised also in the root aorist (3sg. ágan ←<
*(h1e-)gu̯ em-t).
51
But the creation of a new (oppositional) transitive pres. śráyati ~ intr. śráyate (Gotō 1987: 313–14) no
doubt also played a role: see Kümmel (2000a: 527).
3.23–3.25 Reduplicated Aorists in the West (Italic and Celtic)?
3.23 Problems of Identification
In our survey of the Greek reduplicated aorists (Table 3.1), we have
encountered a small number of potential cognates in Latin (*k̑ ad-?,
*pelh1-, *tag-: cecidī ‘fell’, pepulī ‘pushed’, tetigī ‘touched’; cf. *h1nek̑ -
with Lat. nanciō ‘obtain’?) and Old Irish (*u̯ erh1-: -fúair ‘found’).
Unfortunately, all of these are elusive. The basic difficulty is the
Italic and Celtic merger of ancient aorists and perfects into a single
preterital category: the Latin/Italic ‘perfect’ and the Celtic ‘preterite’.
So wherever a reduplicated preterital form occurs in these languages, a
derivation from a PIE perfect – or a new creation by analogy with old
perfect forms – is possible. In fact, with Lat. cecidī such an explana-
tion is more promising than the comparison with Gr. κεκαδών ‘mak-
ing fall’ because the intransitivity of cecidī does not square well with
an aoristic origin when we generally observe a factitive value of the
reduplicated aorist to prototypically intransitive roots.
However, if the existence of reduplicated aorists in Proto-Italic or
Proto-Celtic cannot be demonstrated, neither can their inexistence.
Given the different development of all aorists in, say, Greek and
Italic, the scarcity of surface equations has little bearing on the
question. Moreover, we must remember that the number of admis-
sible equations depends on various assumptions concerning individual
items. For example, if one holds the common view that Lat. ēgī ‘led’
analogically replaces *āgī (< *h2e-h2g̑ [-e/o]-?, cf. ON ók ‘drove’?), and
if one takes into account that Gr. ἤγαγον ‘led’ ultimately points
back to *h2e-h2g̑ -e/o- too (Table 3.1, 3.11), one can set up another
equation here; and similarly, the stem of Ved. aor. vavrtat ‘turned
(tr.)’ < *u̯ e-u̯ r̥ t-e/o- (3.19) may be matched by that of Lat.˙ perf. vertī,
OLat. vortī ‘turned (tr.)’ < *u̯ o-u̯ ort- < *u̯ e-u̯ r̥ t[-e/o]-.
It is therefore better to concentrate on structures, not individual
items. It is true that some Celtic reduplicated preterites point to an o-
grade root and hence to the generalisation of the PIE perfect singular
ablaut (5.8).52 But it is also true that the overwhelming majority admit
reconstructions with zero-grade roots, as in either the PIE perfect
plural or throughout the PIE reduplicated aorist, and that a few are
52
See McCone (1991a: 29) and Schumacher (2004: 72), against Watkins (1962a: 142, 189), esp. on OIr.
cechaing ‘proceeded’ < *ke-kong-e (not: †ceiching < *ke-kang-e) and on the Old Irish reduplication
vowel -o- with roots containing -u-: this must be lowered from -u- before an o-vowel in the next
syllable (Thurneysen 1946: 433–4).
3.23–3.25 Reduplicated Aorists in the West (Italic and Celtic)? 95
unexplainable otherwise. Thus, Gaul. 3sg. dede ‘put’/‘gave’ presup-
poses a stem *d(h)e-d(h)[H]- (whereas Lepontic 3sg. tetu may continue
*d(h)e-d(h)oH-e).53
In Latin, where for example dedit ‘gave’ matches the Gaulish form just
cited, the picture is similar. It certainly makes sense to derive perfects such as
meminī ‘remember’ or tetulī ‘carried’ from Proto-Italic *me-mon-ai̯ and *te-
tol(h2)-ai̯ respectively, and the presentic value of meminī virtually excludes an
aoristic origin; but formally, *me-mn̥ -ai̯ and *te-tl̥ (h2)-ai̯ are also possible,
and it is difficult to come up with a single Latin perfect that must contain an
o-grade in the root, whereas many cannot (cf. e.g., tutudī ‘struck’, Faliscan
peparai ‘produced’ = Lat. peperī).54 Meanwhile, the endings do not
unequivocally point to the perfect either. In Latin, as in Celtic, most of
them do continue old perfect endings (1.6), but they are also attached to
unquestionably aorist-derived stems (e.g., dīxī ‘I said’ < *dē̆i̯k̑ -s-ai̯; 8.1).
Furthermore, in Sabellic the inverse generalisation, of the Proto-Indo-
European ‘secondary’ (i.e., aorist) endings, has taken place, and in Old/
dialectal Latin some fluctuation and interaction between aorist and perfect
endings remains. In fact, forms such as Faliscan 3sg. fifiked ‘fashioned’, 3pl.
fifiqod < *d hi-dhigh-e/o-t/nt resemble ideal reduplicated aorists more than
ideal perfects, no matter how one explains them.55
3.24 Theoretical Backing for a Formal Merger

All these ambiguities gain in relevance when taken together with a
general principle of language change. As is intuitive, intraparadig-
matic “analogy tends to be based on frequent forms, shorter forms,
morphosyntactically less marked forms, and so on”.56 This means that
third-person forms are typically pivotal, and that singular → plural
53
Schumacher (2004: 73, 720–1).
54
For a survey, see Bader (1968) and Meiser (1998: 209–11; 2003: 181–94). Apart from the marginal
evidence adduced by Dupraz (2009), two good candidates for an o-graded perfect are spopondī
‘pledged’ and totondī ‘cut (hair)’ because e.g. *spe-pn̥ d-ai̯ should have yielded *spependī (cf. tetendī
‘stretched’ < *te-tn̥ d-ai̯; M. Leumann 1977: 588); but it may not be a coincidence that the
corresponding presents spondeō and tondeō also have an o-grade root, which could impact on the
perfect (Bader 1968: 169–70). Hirt (1904/5b: 279–80; 1928: 231, 244) and Sommer (1914: 546–7) had
regarded these two items, together with momordī ‘bit’ ~ pres. mordeō, as likely survivals of
reduplicated aorists because their presents show the *CoC-éi̯e/o- structure of Sanskrit Class X
causatives; but the association of reduplicated aorists and Class X presents is secondary (3.18), and
spondeō, tondeō, mordeō are not factitive/causative anyway (cf. Bendahman 1993: 235–9, Harđarson
1997: 96–7, Meiser 1998: 209–10; 2003: 149–50).
55
For Herbig (1913: 71–8), fifiked and fifiqod (cf. Osc. 2sg. fut. perf. fifikus) were therefore reduplicated
aorists. On the endings in general, see Bendahman (1993: 239–40), Meiser (2003: 101–2).
56
Albright (2008: 145), with reference to Kuryłowicz (1949), Mańczak (1958), Bybee (1985), and Hock
(1991).
influences are more likely than plural → singular ones.57 In other
words, where the ablauting paradigm of the PIE perfect was levelled,
as in Italic and Celtic, we should a priori expect that the singular *Ce-
CoC- stem prevailed over the plural *Ce-CC- stem. However, the
balance could have been tilted in favour of *Ce-CC- if, next to *Ce-
CoC-, there was also a reduplicated aorist stem *Ce-CC-e/o- that had
become functionally equivalent due to the merger of the aorist and
perfect. So the assumption that Proto-Italic and Proto-Celtic inher-
ited at least a number of reduplicated aorists may provide a rationale
for the otherwise remarkable generalisation of the ‘weak’ perfect stem
in the historical perfects/preterites.
Having said that, the matter remains sub iudice, not least because we do
not even know for sure if the ablaut situation within the Proto-Italic and
Proto-Celtic perfect itself was really as fixed as the above argument pre-
supposes (cf. 5.42). But at the very least, we must acknowledge (a) that
there simply cannot be unequivocal evidence for reduplicated aorists in
Italic and Celtic, so that even a dismissal of every potential equation would
be inconclusive, and (b) that in some ways our notion of the Proto-Italic
and Proto-Celtic verbal systems and their evolution is simplified, not
complicated, if we factor in a reduplicated aorist.
3.25 Latin Long-Vowel Perfects

Regrettably, no further clarification comes from the Latin long-vowel per-
fects (type vēnī ‘came’, lēgī ‘gathered, read’), but because formally similar
items in Tocharian will feature prominently in the next section (3.26–3.31),
this perfect class should also briefly be mentioned. It has long been thought,
quite plausibly, that it analogically grew out of perfects like *h1e-h1m- > ēmī
‘took, bought’ and *se-sd- > sēdī ‘sat down’, whose long vowel was due to
regular sound change;58 nor does this necessarily exclude other contributing
sources.59 But although such an explanation increases the number of Latin
perfects which have something to do with reduplicated structures, it reveals
no more about the existence of reduplicated aorists in Proto-Italic or earlier
than do all those forms that are still reduplicated in historical times.
57
On the 3sg. as a pivotal form in paradigmatic analogy, see e.g. Watkins (1962a: 90–6), Lahiri (2000b:
11), and Bybee (2007: esp. 46–50, 58–60). As Benveniste (1946: 4 = 1966: 230) and Greenberg (1966:
44–5) have noted, the third person is the “most unmarked”. See also 6.5.
58
See especially Benveniste (1949: 16–19), and cf. Bartholomae (1894: 45), Watkins (1962a: 35), Di
Giovine (1995: 123–4), Drinka (1995a: 61–6), Kim (2001: 134–6); against, Bammesberger (1984:
72–4).
59
Such as analogy with the pair pres. faciō : perf. fēcī ‘I made’, whose long-vowel perfect has a different
origin (6.12).
And yet, the type is not without interest to us precisely because it is not
exclusive to Latin. To be sure, Germanic long-vowel preterites (< perfects)
such as Goth. 3pl. gēbun ‘they gave’ (next to 3sg. gaf ‘gave’ ←< *[ghe-]ghobh-)
may have an analogical prehistory which is identical to the one just sketched
for Latin.60 But it remains suggestive if we find, for example, in Albanian an
aorist mb-lodhi ‘gathered’, which can be traced to the same *lēg̑ - as in Lat.
lēgī,61 and if the Tocharian B preterite lyāka ‘saw’ offers an additional match
to this (3.28). Since Albanian aorists on the whole continue PIE aorists and
since in Tocharian too, many preterites unequivocally hark back to inherited
aorists, it is legitimate to question the status of lēg- as an old perfect stem also
in Latin. More specifically, some have proposed that such forms either
represent aspectually shifted imperfects to ‘acrostatic’ presents of the structure
3sg. *CēC-ti, or that we should reconstruct for Proto-Indo-European a fully-
fledged ‘acrostatic’ root aorist.62 However, both of these solutions do not really
explain anything: they just project back into Proto-Indo-European the data of
the daughter languages, without clarifying the functional role of the presumed
categories in the proto-language. By contrast, if we could tie the beginnings of
a preterital/aoristic long-vowel category to a better defined, and functionally
similar, category of Proto-Indo-European, our reconstruction would not
violate Occam’s Razor in the same way. In other words, we should keep an
open mind to the possibility that certain long-vowel preterite stems such as
*lēg̑ - arose from reduplicated ones (notional *le-lg̑ -) already in PIE times, either
by regular phonological processes (cluster simplification and compensatory
lengthening) or also, subsequently, by analogy. What a pertinent scenario
might look like will be explored later (3.40); but it can already be said that the
reduplicated aorist63 will play a crucial role there too.
3.26–3.31 The Tocharian Reduplicated Preterite

3.26 Reduplicated and Long-Vocalic Causative Preterites
Like many other morphological categories of Tocharian, the potential
descendants of a PIE reduplicated aorist have caused much debate
and so far no consensus has been reached. Before proposing a new
60
Cf. Bammesberger (1980), Di Giovine (1995: 121–3), Ringe (2006: 185–7); see also Vaillant (1962: 53–
6) on Slavic.
61
Cf. LIV 397, s.v. *leg̑ - (without mention of the Tocharian form).
62
For the former opinion, see Jasanoff (1998: 306–7; 2003: 193, 224; 2012a), followed by Pike (2009),
and cf. already Pisani (1926: 334); for the latter, Tremblay (2005) after Insler (1972b: 557–9).
63
Rather than the perfect, as proposed by Schumacher (2005) whose line of thinking is similar but who
has to disregard that a PIE aorist would be better suited for the reasons just given. Cf. also already
Bartholomae (1894: 46–7).
take on the matter, the following survey will outline the major issues
at stake. For a more comprehensive review of earlier scholarship, the
relevant sections in the monographs by Bendahman on the redupli-
cated aorist and by Malzahn on the Tocharian verb should be
consulted.64
The case for some continuation of the PIE reduplicated aorist in
Tocharian rests as much on the semantic as on the formal side of things.
One central characteristic of the Tocharian verbal system is the pairing,
for most verbs, of a basic and a corresponding causative paradigm. Both
of these comprise three main stems: a present, a subjunctive, and a
preterite stem. In the causative preterite (Class II preterite), the most
common stem formation in Tocharian A (East Tocharian) is marked by
reduplication, in Tocharian B (West Tocharian) by a radical long vowel.
Since factitivity/causativity (i.e., high transitivity: cf. 3.36) is prominently
associated with reduplicated aorists in both Indo-Iranian and Greek as
well, and since the other conceivable source for a reduplicated preterite,
the PIE perfect, displays a distinctly low degree of transitivity (cf. 5.14–5.23),
the conclusion that at least the reduplicated causative preterite of Tocharian
A must somehow be related to the PIE reduplicated aorist seems inescapable
and has been widely accepted ever since Couvreur first drew it.65
The Tocharian A type features
(i) a reduplication syllable containing the vowel -a-;
(ii) sometimes, though not always, palatalisation of the root-initial con-
sonant; and
(iii) a suffix -ā- (< Proto-Toch. *-a-), found in all preterite stems.
Since (iii) is a general tense-stem marker, which may have spread from
radical preterites going back to PIE root aorists to set roots (i.e., *-H- >
˙
Proto-Toch. *-a-), it is less relevant for the diachronic analysis of the
reduplicated preterite than (i) and (ii).
64
Bendahman (1993: 211–31), Malzahn (2010: esp. 184–9).
65
Couvreur (1938: 96–8); cf. Specht (1939: 206), Pedersen (1941: 187), Krause and Thomas (1960: 244),
van Windekens (1982: 143), Adams (1988: 87), Pinault (1989: 149), Saito (1997). Bendahman (1993:
230–3), Harđarson (1997: 101–2), Malzahn (2010: 187–9), and Peyrot (2013: 490–2) dissent, but
Bendahman’s creation ex nihilo of a new reduplicated preterite to fill a gap caused by the ‘reanalysis
of the ē-preterite as an imperfect in Tocharian A’ is unlikely since it would have been easy to extend
the range of the causative s-preterites and sk-preterites, and Harđarson’s and Peyrot’s recourse to the
imperfect of factitive reduplicated presents is not only uneconomical in keeping apart the redupli-
cated aorist, but formally and semantically convinces even less in Tocharian than in Indo-Iranian
(3.17). On Malzahn’s solution, see below, 3.29.
3.27 The Reduplication Vowel
In principle, the reduplication vowel Toch. A -a- can point to a variety of
predecessor sounds. Importantly, however, both Tocharian A and B also
have a reduplicated preterite participle which is not restricted to the causative
system. While in Tocharian A this is again reduplicated with -a- (or -ā- in
situations of ‘a-umlaut’66), in Tocharian B we find -e- (-a-). This distribution
points to a reduplication vowel Proto-Toch. *-æ-, the regular descendant of
PIE *-o- and *-ē-.67 A real PIE o-reduplication would be unheard of. More
plausibly, such an o-reduplication or its phonological descendant could have
arisen in Proto-Tocharian by assimilation to an identical vowel in the
following syllable (as with, e.g., Lat. perf. memordī ‘bit’ → momordī).68 If
so, only a reduplicated formation with o-vocalism in the root could be
responsible. This description fits the PIE perfect (in the active singular:
5.8), but not the reduplicated aorist as represented in Greek or Indo-Iranian.
Two things should be borne in mind, though. Firstly, if ‘o-reduplication’
had become established in the Proto-Tocharian descendant of the PIE
perfect, it could have been generalised from there to any other reduplicated
formation, such as the reduplicated aorist. The reduplication vowel cannot
therefore disprove the descent of the causative preterite from the reduplicated
aorist. Secondly, the reduplication vowel of the causative preterite in
Tocharian A need not even be identical in origin to that of the preterite
participles in Tocharian A and B. To be sure, Toch. A -a- does not continue
PIE *-e-, which is the reduplication vowel we expect in a reduplicated aorist.
But it could have arisen for example in a *(h1)Ce-h1C- > *CēC- reduplication
pattern (3.13); and Proto-Toch. *-æ- < PIE *-ē- could then have replaced
Proto-Toch. *-ä- (< PIE *-e-) elsewhere because of the phonetically similar,
if not identical, Proto-Toch. *-æ- < *-o- in the participial (i.e., former
perfect) reduplication. Such a scenario might even help to explain the
widespread palatalisation of the root-initial consonant in both the participles
and the causative preterites. In the reduplication syllable this would have
66
Cf. Cowgill (1967: 176–7): “PT *æ followed in the next syllable by *a developed in the daughter
languages like PT *a. This change of *æ to *a was later than the hypothetical undifferentiated parent
language of A and B, since the rules for the two languages are slightly different. . . . While in B every
*æ before *a was affected, in A it appears that *æ was umlauted only when, to judge by the B
evidence, it was unaccented.”
67
Ringe (1990: 223–6) uses *-ë- for the Proto-Tocharian descendant of PIE *-o-, but *-e- for that of PIE
*-ē-. Others, who do not accept Ringe’s argument that *-ë- and *-e- behave differently in labial
environments, note both as Proto-Toch. *-æ-. For our purposes, the simpler notation will do.
68
Thus e.g. Harđarson (1997: 95, 101) and Saito (2006: 576); contrast Lindeman (1969: 20–3) with an
ē-reduplication theory (cf. below). Peters’s (2004: 440–3) sound change *-ä- > *-æ- in maximal
distance from the accent is ad hoc and in any case unsuitable for reduplication-accented reduplicated
aorists; Malzahn (2010: 247) merely accepts it faute de mieux.
been regular before the descendant of PIE *-ē-, and the root-initial con-
sonant might then have been affected by assimilation. In any case, whatever
theory is adopted, it is difficult to see where the palatalisation tendency of
the reduplicated formations can come from, if not from the reduplication
syllable:69 neither the zero-graded root in a regular reduplicated aorist nor
the o-graded/zero-graded root in a regular perfect should have caused it.
3.28 Non-causative Cognate Formations?

Having said that, we must not look at the reduplication-vowel issue in
isolation, nor treat the causative Class II preterite of Tocharian A without
considering the corresponding type in Tocharian B. The exact equivalence
of the two formations strongly speaks against separating them from each
other. Although some scholars have done so in recent years, by referring the
Tocharian B evidence to an elusive PIE ‘ē-preterite’ already encountered in
3.25, an old theory of Schulze’s therefore retains some of its attraction.70
According to Schulze, the long-vocalic Class II preterite of Tocharian B
arose through vowel contraction (viz., Toch. B -ā- < Proto-Toch. *-a- <
*-ä-ä- < *-e-V-) after the dissimilatory loss of a root-initial consonant (e.g.,
Toch. B 3sg. cāla < *t’ä-[t]äl-a- < *te-tl̥ -(H)- to täl- ‘lift’).
However, one cannot simply assume that Tocharian B dissimilated in
this way, at a post-Proto-Tocharian stage, whereas Tocharian A preserved
the old state of affairs with plain reduplication. This is because Tocharian A
possesses an imperfect formation which formally matches both the long-
vocalic (and initial-accented) Class II preterite of Tocharian B and a
virtually identical, though differently accented, long-vocalic Class I (non-
causative) preterite in the same dialect:
Tocharian A Tocharian B
reduplicated Class II (causative) preterite long-vowel Class II (causative) preterite
(e.g., cacäl ‘lifted’) (e.g., cāla ‘lifted’)
long-vowel (non-causative) imperfect long-vowel Class I (subclass 7) (non-caus.) pret.
(e.g., lyāk ‘was seeing’) (e.g., lyāka ‘saw’)
3.29 Malzahn’s Theory

If one tries to explain all this material at once, two possibilities offer
themselves. The first is the one adopted by Malzahn.71 She accepts the
69
Except that, of course, the alternative theories rejected in 3.26, fn. 65, are able to blame the
palatalisation on a radical e-grade (Bendahman 1993: 219–21, Harđarson 1997: 101–2).
70
Schulze (1924: 169–73), followed by e.g. Pedersen (1941: 176, 187) and Krause and Thomas (1960:
244–5); contrast van Windekens (1982: 146–52), Adams (1988: 87–8), and Pinault (1989: 149).
71
Malzahn (2010: 158–62, 187–9).
existence of a PIE ē-preterite, so as to avoid Schulze’s dissimilatory deredu-
plication, and she sees in this preterite the direct ancestor of
(a) the Toch. B long-vocalic Class I (subclass 7) preterite, in which the
PIE root-internal *-ē- > Proto-Toch. (palatalising) *-æ- was ‘a-um-
lauted’ to Proto-Toch. *-a- > Toch. B -ā- (~ unaccented -a-);
(b) the Toch. B long-vocalic Class II (causative) preterite with a distinc-
tive accent shift onto the first syllable;
(c) the Toch. A long-vocalic imperfect, which would have shifted there
from the preterite; and finally
(d) the Toch. A Class II (causative) preterite, which would have acquired
an analogical reduplication syllable from elsewhere.
Whether or not one is prepared to operate with a PIE ē-preterite, there are
loose ends in this. Firstly, the introduction of reduplication in (d) lacks a
motivation. Secondly, so does the assumed accent shift in the Tocharian B
Class II (causative) preterite (b). And thirdly, by proceeding like this we
again end up with the curious coincidence that there is a reduplicated
factitive/causative preterite formation in Tocharian just as in Greek and
Indo-Iranian, without there being any genetic affiliation between them;
nor is there any reason why the presumed PIE ē-preterite should have been
deployed preferentially in the Tocharian causative domain.
3.30 An Alternative Proposal

Despite these objections, Malzahn’s theory has the merit of recognising for
the first time that one may seek a common origin for the causative Class II
preterites of Tocharian A and B without assuming that the Tocharian A
variant with its overt reduplication is formally more archaic. Building upon
this recognition, we may advance the following hypothesis.
Proto-Tocharian inherited from Proto-Indo-European a reduplicated
aorist that was not restricted to, but particularly common in, the factitive-
causative domain (cf. Indo-Iranian and Greek). As envisaged by Schulze,
though against Schulze72 not only in (Pre-)Tocharian B but already in
Proto-Tocharian, certain representatives of this formation were deredupli-
cated. Because Schulze’s dissimilatory loss of any root-initial consonant is
not the most compelling development, the exact mechanism for the
dereduplication may have somewhat differed from what Schulze assumed,
with consonant-cluster simplifications and/or analogy playing a greater
72
Or Kim (2003: esp. 200–13), against whose variant of Schulze’s dereduplication see Malzahn (2010:
185–6).
role. Thus, in order to obtain, say, the Proto-Tocharian pre-form of Toch.
B pret. cāla ‘lifted’, there is no real need to posit *te-tl̥ [h2](-e/o)- > *t’ä-täl-
(+ preterital *-a-) → (dissimilated) *t’ä-äl-a- > contracted *t’al-a-, as
Schulze would have it.73 Instead, we should acknowledge that (i), as in
Proto-Italic (3.25), reduplicated sequences such as *h1e-h1m- would have
yielded long-vocalic *ēm- > *(i̯)æm- also in Proto-Tocharian, (ii) certain
other *C1e-C1C- sequences may also have produced *C1ēC- > *C1’æC- by
natural phonological developments, whether already in Proto-Indo-
European (cf. 3.25 on *lēg̑ -) or only later (e.g., *te-tl̥ [h2]-V- > *te-tl-V- >
*tēl-V- > Proto-Toch. *t’æl-a- (with preterital *-a-) > (by ‘a-umlaut’) *t’al-
a-?), and (iii) when some Proto-Tocharian long-vowel preterites had come
into being along these lines, others could analogically follow suit.
All in all, the early processes thus postulated are substantially similar to
the ones informing the Latin parallelism of reduplicated and long-vowel
perfect paradigms (3.25). But whereas the resulting stem allomorphy was
tolerated throughout the history of Latin, the speakers of (Proto-)
Tocharian dealt with it differently.
In Tocharian B, the reduplicated stem allomorph was given up for the long-
vocalic one. To the extent that the reduplicated ancestor category, the PIE
reduplicated aorist, had a particular affinity with high-transitive factitive-
causative usages (cf. 3.36), it was naturally suited for the causative paradigm
of Tocharian (→ Tocharian B unreduplicated Class II preterites: e.g., Proto-
Toch. *t’æl-a- > *t’al-a- > cāla ‘lifted’). But since factitivity/causativity was not a
universal characteristic of the reduplicated aorist, not all of its descendants
ended up in the Tocharian causative domain. Those which did not display the
high transitivity required for this to happen therefore constituted the
Tocharian B non-causative Class I (subclass 7) preterite (e.g., Proto-Toch.
*l’æk-a- > *l’ak-a- > lyāka ‘saw’).74 Unlike their Class II congeners, these Class I
preterites abandoned the original initial accent of the reduplicated aorist,
thereby falling in line with the default accentuation pattern (accented penulti-
mate syllable) of the other non-causative preterites.
In Tocharian A, on the other hand, a more fundamental differentiation
of the two groups took place. Here the initial stem allomorphy was put to
use in order to distinguish clearly the high-transitive (causative) items from
the rest. Since the functional specialisation of the reduplicated aorist in the
73
But even with Schulze’s development, the following account could stand, on condition that *-ä-ä-
contracts not into *-a-, but into *-æ- (cf. now Pinault 2012: 263, on *-äyä- > *-ää- > *-æ-), and that
not every root-initial consonant was lost in the same way (since otherwise no long-vowel ~
reduplication allomorphy would persist).
74
Additional input from some inherited perfect forms cannot be excluded; but neither is it necessary.
factitive-causative domain set it apart from other (non-reduplicated) aorist
types, notably the root aorist, it was natural to see in the reduplication of
aorist stems a signal of high transitivity (factitivity/causativity). However,
while this signal survived in the reduplicated stem allomorph of Proto-
Tocharian, it had just disappeared in its long-vocalic counterpart. But this
disappearance could be remedied in a simple way:75 by analogically rein-
troducing reduplication also in the long-vowel allomorph – though of
course only in those items which were indeed high-transitive (causative).
So, for example, Proto-Toch. *t’æl-a-, which yielded the Class II preterite
cāla in Tocharian B, would have been re-reduplicated into *t’æ-t’æl-a- in
(Pre-)Tocharian A, with the reduplication vowel replicating the ‘radical’
vowel; by a-umlaut, this would then have given first *t’æ-t’al-a-, and thence
the historical Tocharian A Class II preterite cacäl (by regular weakening of
*-a- into *-ä- > -ä- in trisyllabic forms, and analogical levelling from
there76). Moreover, this new type with æ-reduplication eventually even
ousted the remains of the older reduplicating allomorph, in which ä-
reduplication (< PIE e-reduplication) and root-internal zero-grade vocal-
ism must have been standard. By contrast, the non-causative long-vowel
preterites were left alone, more or less as in Tocharian B, except that in
Tocharian A they surfaced not as a preterital subclass, but as an imperfect
formation (cf. again Toch. A impf. lyāk ~ Toch. B pret. lyāka): in this
dialect, they may have been pushed into the imperfective past-tense
domain when new perfective past tenses (= preterites) took over (i.e.,
after late Proto-Tocharian had reconstituted an imperfective/perfective
differentiation in the past tense77).
3.31 Implications
With the theory just outlined we can account for all the Tocharian cognate
formations listed in 3.28, address the controversial reduplication-vowel
issue without invoking a problematic ‘o-reduplication’ (3.27), and explain
75
Typologically, one may compare the creation of forms with restituted (‘Attic’) reduplication in
Greek, Armenian, and Indo-Iranian (3.10–3.13, 3.18). With the above scenario, we can also explain
the occasional non-palatalisation in the reduplicated preterite (cf. Krause and Thomas 1960: 245–6,
Kim 2003 [2009]: 36–41, Malzahn 2010: 178–83). Where the reduplicated allomorph persisted, the
root-initial consonant should not have been palatalised, and this lack of palatalisation could then be
copied onto the reduplication-initial consonant (e.g., Toch. A kakäl ‘endured’, from *ke-kl̥ [H]- >
*k’ä-käl(-a)- → *kä-käl(-a)-; subsequently *kä- → *kæ- by adjustment of the reduplication vocalism
to the new majority type). In Tocharian B, though, palatalisation was so much treated as a typical
feature of the category that certain types of palatalisation are found only here (with initial m-, p-, ts-;
Krause and Thomas 1960: 245).
76
As posited by Kim (2003: 202) and Malzahn (2010: 188).
77
Cf. Malzahn (2010: 252): “the creation of the category imperfect was a rather recent innovation”.
the bias of the forms for the causative system. Moreover, we can (re)assert
the traditional view according to which the PIE reduplicated aorist played
an important role in Tocharian too, as is intimated by the causative
specialisation of the prehistorically (Tocharian B) and historically
(Tocharian A) reduplicated preterites. To what extent inherited perfect
stems also influenced the above developments is more difficult to say, but
while the Tocharian past participles undoubtedly continue old perfect
participles, at least the causative Class II preterites are functionally so
remote from prototypically intransitive PIE perfects that the contribution
of the perfect to their genesis must have been marginal at best.78
Whatever one makes of the Western evidence (3.23–3.25), with
Tocharian thus added to the dossier, the existence of typically high-
transitive, often factitive, reduplicated aorists in a layer of the parent
language that is not merely ancestral to Greek, Indo-Iranian, and
Armenian is secured.79 Against this background, we can now assess the
systemic position of the reduplicated aorist in the proto-language itself.
3.32–3.36 The Reduplicated Aorist in Proto-Indo-European

3.32 Distributional Arguments for an Archaism
Since most scholars would probably agree that Tocharian branched off from
the rest of Indo-European at an early point, the Tocharian data support the
view that the reduplicated aorist is an archaic category. But even if no relevant
material existed in Tocharian (and/or Western Indo-European), the Graeco-
Aryan evidence alone would lead to this conclusion. If the reduplicated aorist
had been a late PIE innovation, limited to a central subgroup, its coming into
being would be difficult to account for. As we shall see elsewhere (8.3–8.11,
8.20–8.27, 8.30), the s-aorist was certainly developing its cross-linguistic
productivity at the time and even extended its functional remit into the
factitive domain where the reduplicated aorist seems particularly strong (cf.
Table 3.1 and 3.14 on reduplicated aorist → s-aorist replacements within
Greek). Consequently, the reduplicated aorist would have arisen without
any need, as there already was a productive aorist doing everything that was
required. Nor would it be possible to argue that the s-aorist was at first
restricted to the non-factitive domain, and the reduplicated aorist adopted
78
Substantial continuants of the PIE perfect are rather to be sought in the Tocharian subjunctive
system (Classes I and V): see Winter (1982: 9; 1994a: 305–7) and Kim (2007: 188–9).
79
Pace Bendahman (1993: 245) (‘The category of the reduplicated aorist may be postulated, in a
rudimentary form, . . . for the Graeco-Aryan-Armenian linguistic unity’), and similarly already
Birwé (1956: 29–30).
only to form factitives: for non-factitive items like PIE *u̯ e-u̯ ku̯ -e/o- (Gr. εἶπε,
Ved. ávocat) rather suggest that the reduplicated aorist was secondarily specia-
lised in the factitive field, precisely because it was ousted from less marginal
domains by newcomers (cf. 3.36).
The high-frequency stem *u̯ e-u̯ ku̯ -e/o- ‘say, speak’ is also significant in
another respect. As is well-known, high-frequency forms are most resistant
to morphological change because speakers hear and use them often (and early)
enough to preserve them even when formal alternatives become available.80
Unsurprisingly, therefore, *u̯ e-u̯ ku̯ -e/o- also gives rise to one of the most
reliable equations for the reduplicated aorist. To treat the scarcity of such
equations as an argument for the category’s recency would be methodologi-
cally wrong. Once the category as such is secured for the proto-language, such
scarcity can only prove the contrary. The more time each area or subgroup of
Indo-European had to get rid of relevant items, by lexical substitution or
formal replacement, the fewer equations are to be expected.
All our jigsaw pieces thus fall into place if we accept that Proto-Indo-
European possessed a reduplicated aorist already at an early stage, before
Tocharian split off at least, but possibly much earlier still. Thanks to its
token-frequency, *u̯ e-u̯ ku̯ -e/o- managed to survive from that period until
today (Mod. Gr. είπε ‘said’). Other less frequent stems were less successful,
as new aorist types claimed their place. One type that obviously did so was
the s-aorist, but from time to time root aorists (qua aspectually shifted
imperfectives to prototypically telic roots) and thematic aorists may also be
regarded as successor formations (cf. e.g. Table 3.1 on *h1nek̑ - with the
reduplicated aorist Gr. ἐνεγκε/ο-, Av. nąsat̰ vs. the Vedic root aor. ā́ nat ‘has
reached’). Thus, inspired by Kuryłowicz’s model of a sequence of ˙aorist
formations replacing each other (2.18, 3.1), but departing from it in the
substance, we can plausibly hypothesise that the reduplicated aorist was
indeed the oldest Indo-European aorist type that is still accessible to us;
and that root aorists, thematic aorists, and s-aorists all superseded it, be it
sequentially as per Kuryłowicz or – as will be maintained in later chapters
(6.25, 8.55) – in a less linear but philologically more realistic manner.
3.33 Lexical Illustrations

Before turning to further theoretical considerations underpinning our
scenario, its explanatory potential may be illustrated with some particularly
noteworthy lexical data.
80
See e.g. Dressler (1985: 333), Bybee (1985: esp. 119–21; 2007: 10 and passim); cf. also 3.24.
The first is the reduplicated aorist stem *g u̯ he-g u̯ hn-e/o- ‘kill’, which
pairs with the root present *g u̯ hen-ti (Ved. hánti, Hitt. kuenzi ‘strikes,
kills’; Table 3.1). The meaning of the root *g u̯ hen- seems prototypically
telic (‘strike’). In the light of the theories discussed in the previous
chapter, it is therefore curious, and has caused some concern,81 that the
combined Vedic and Hittite evidence points to a root present rather
than a root aorist. Within our framework, however, the matter loses its
mystery. We may still be unable to specify why the telic root formation
did not shift into the perfective domain in this case, but at least it now
makes sense for a reduplicated aorist to survive precisely when that shift
did not take place, i.e., when no new root aorist took over from the
reduplicated aorist.
Second, mention should be made of the Vedic aorist átaksat ‘has
˙
created’ (~ Av. tašat̰ ‘formed’). Synchronically, this is a simple thematic
aorist based on the root taks- and pairing with the acrostatic root present
˙
Ved. tāst i ‘creates, builds (from wood)’ (3pl. taksati; cf. OAv. 3sg. impf.
˙˙
tāšt ‘formed’). ˙
Diachronically, however, the ancestral form *(h1e-)tetk̑ -e-t
looks like a regular reduplicated aorist to the root *tek̑ - ‘beget’ of Gr.
τίκτω, aor. ἔτεκον (Table 4.1).82 Because the cluster *-tk̑ - underwent a
peculiar metathesis into something like *-k̑ þ- already in Proto-Indo-
European,83 so that *tetk̑ - > *tek̑ þ- was no longer analysable as redupli-
cated, and/or because the aspectual shift of a previously imperfective root
formation (3sg.) *(h1e-)tek̑ -t marginalised the stem *tetk̑ -e/o- > *tek̑ þ-e/o-
in the perfective domain, leaving to it only the specialised meaning ‘create
by craftsmanship’, a neo-root *tetk̑ - > *tek̑ þ- was extracted from here and
used to form a new root present *tek̑ þ-ti > Ved. tāst i.84 No equally
˙˙
81
As well as an attempt to make the data fit the theory: García Ramón (1998; 2000: 127–30; 2002: 110)
postulates for *g u̯ hen- a basic meaning ‘repeatedly hit’ (“wiederholt schlagen”) next to ‘kill’, and hence
two different Aktionsarten.
82
Cf. Brandenstein (1936: 29), LIV 638, s.v. *tetk̑ -, Lipp (2009: 219). The use of the stem taksa- as an
imperfect is secondary (Narten 1964: 124–7), but its thematic character can be old (pace ˙Kümmel
1998: 202–3; see further 3.37–3.39 on the thematicity of reduplicated aorists).
83
With Schindler (1977), Mayrhofer (1986: 150–8), and Ringe (2010); contrast Lipp (2009), but when
several branches of Indo-European attest some form of metathesis, it seems unwise to assume that
e.g. *tetk̑ - survived into Indo-Iranian *tatč- (Lipp 2009: 226).
84
Cf. Anciferova (1988: 274–8); with the above account, her claim that forms like Ved. (á)taksat are not
aoristic in origin becomes unnecessary. Balto-Slavic similarly created a new i̯-present *tek ˙ ̑ þ-i̯e/o- >
*teš-i̯e/o- > OCS tešǫ , Latvian tešu ‘hew, fell’. Nominal formations such as Ved. taksan- ~ Gr. τέκτων
< *tek̑ þ-on- (?) ‘carpenter’ also presuppose a neo-root (cf. Harđarson 1993a: 29 n. 12,˙ Ringe 2010: 333,
336). Against Rix apud Harđarson (1993a: 29 n. 12), the (at least apparent) acrostatic character of the
Indo-Iranian present is hardly due to ‘Aufstufung’ (*tek̑ þ- → *tēk̑ þ-), an unlikely process (8.49), but
rather the result of compensatory lengthening when *tek̑ þ-ti was simplified into *tāš-ti > Ved. tās-ti.
On acrostatic presents, see further 3.40, 4.17, fn. 77, and 8.48–8.50. ˙˙
straightforward account could be formulated if the reduplicated aorist
were a morphological newcomer.
Third, if Gr. (ἔ)τετμε ‘met, reached’ is indeed based on the root *temh1-
‘cut’ (Table 3.1), the survival of this reduplicated aorist neatly fits into our
picture as well. Here too, the stem *te-tm(h1)-e/o- might have disappeared
when a newer aorist appeared on the scene (cf. 6.16 on Gr. ἔτεμε/ἔταμε);
but apparently *te-tm(h1)-e/o- was replaced only in its semantic core
domain (‘cut’), not in the less central metaphorical usage (‘meet’). If, on
the other hand, *te-tm(h1)-e/o- had been a late innovation, the reasons for
its restriction to the fringes of the semantic field of *temh1- would be
obscure.
3.34 Kuryłowicz’s ‘Fourth Law of Analogy’

The survival of *te-tm(h1 )-e/o- and *te-tk̑ -e/o- at the margins of the semantic
fields originally covered by them constitutes a typical instance of Kuryłowicz’s
‘Fourth Law of Analogy’. According to this law, whenever an old form is
replaced by a newer one, the latter takes on the core functions (and/or mean-
ings), while the former may survive next to it in a less central role:
When, following a morphological transformation, a form undergoes differ-
entiation, the new form corresponds to its primary (‘foundational’) func-
tion, and the old form is reserved for the secondary (‘founded’) function.85
For the history of the reduplicated aorist this principle is important because
it also explains how the formation became specialised in, though not
entirely restricted to, the factitive(-causative) sphere, as witnessed by
Greek, Indo-Iranian, and Tocharian. In order to see this more clearly, we
have to bring in the notion of scalar (semantic) transitivity.
3.35 Scalar (Semantic) Transitivity

The reduplicated aorist has repeatedly been referred to as a ‘high-transitive’
category in this chapter. Such a label implies that transitivity is not a binary
feature, whereby a given construction or form is or is not transitive, but a scalar
concept. This view has been established in a landmark article by Hopper and
Thompson.86 Identifying the following ten parameters of transitivity, the two
scholars have suggested that clauses be classified as more or less transitive (or
high-transitive vs. low-transitive) depending on how many ‘high’ or ‘low’
components they contain:
85
Kuryłowicz (1949: 30) (translated).
86
Hopper and Thompson (1980), with the following parameter list on p. 252 (A = Agent, O = Object).
high low
participants 2 or more participants, A and O 1 participant
kinesis action non-action
aspect telic atelic
punctuality punctual non-punctual
volitionality volitional non-volitional
affirmation affirmative negative
mode realis irrealis
agency A high in potency A low in potency
affectedness of o O totally affected O not affected
individuation of o O highly individuated O non-individuated
It follows that some clauses that are syntactically transitive in traditional terms
(because they have a subject in the nominative and a direct object in the
accusative) are semantically less transitive than some other, syntactically intran-
sitive, clauses with only one participant. For example, of the two clauses (1)
Susan left, and (2) Jerry likes beer, the syntactically intransitive item (1) is
semantically more transitive than the syntactically transitive item (2); for (1)
features four high-transitivity components ([+action], [+telic], [+punctual],
[+volitional]), as against only one in (2) ([+2 or more participants]).
An important corollary of this way of conceptualising transitivity is the
‘Transitivity Hypothesis’, whose validity Hopper and Thompson demon-
strate with a wealth of cross-linguistic data:
If two clauses (a) and (b) in a language differ in that (a) is higher in Transitivity
according to any of the features [sc., in the list above], then, if a concomitant
grammatical or semantic difference appears elsewhere in the clause, that differ-
ence will also show (a) to be higher in Transitivity.87
However,
the Transitivity Hypothesis refers only to obligatory morphosyntactic
markings or semantic interpretations; i.e., it states that the co-variation
takes place whenever two values of the Transitivity components are neces-
sarily present. The hypothesis in its present form does not predict when
these values will surface in structure or meaning – but only that, if they do
surface, they will agree in being either both high or both low in value. By
way of example, let us suppose that a language has an opposition, marked in
its morphology, between telic and atelic verbs. Let us assume also that the O
in the presence of a telic verb is obligatorily signaled in morphology as
possessing one of the Transitivity features relevant for O’s, e.g.
Individuation. The Transitivity Hypothesis now predicts that if the verb
is telic (i.e. is on the high side of the Transitivity scale for Aspect), then the
87
Hopper and Thompson (1980: 255).
O will also be signaled as being on the high side of the other scale relevant for
O’s in this language, viz. Individuation.88
3.36 Factitivity, High Transitivity, and the Reduplicated Aorist

In our context, it is important to realise that factitivity belongs at the top
end of the transitivity scale. For illustration, let us consider a typical
reduplicated aorist in Homer. In Il. 9.182–4, a group of ambassadors
have been sent out to persuade Achilleus (πεπιθεῖν = ‘make πείθεσθαι’)
to rejoin the fight against the Trojans:
τὼ δὲ βάτην παρὰ θῖνα πολυφλοίσβοιο θαλάσσης

πολλὰ μάλ᾿ εὐχομένω γαιηόχῳ ἐννοσιγαίῳ
ῥηϊδίως πεπιθεῖν μεγάλας φρένας Αἰακίδαο.
They went along the shore of the loud-roaring sea, praying much to the
earth-moving Earth-Shaker that they might persuade (~ make agree) easily
the great mind of the grandson of Aeacus.
Analysing the transitivity components of the πεπιθεῖν-clause, we obtain at least

the following features: [+2 or more participants], [+action], [+telic],
[+volitional], [+affirmative], [+realis], [+highly potent a] (the ambas-
sadors as human agents), and [+highly individuated o] (‘the great mind of
the grandson of Aeacus’ as a periphrasis for Achilleus); only the punctual nature
of the eventuality may be questioned (since the ambassadors may have some
talking to do), and the affectedness of the O (Achilleus) is difficult to measure.
So, while perfectivity in general (~ Hopper and Thompson’s ‘telic’ aspect;
cf. 4.6 on the nexus between telicity and perfectivity) already correlates with
high transitivity, even higher transitivity should pertain to factitive perfec-
tives like the ones we find in the marginally productive Greek and Indo-
Iranian reduplicated aorists. These always involve more than one participant,
typically possess high-potent A’s, and centre around a telic action. It is thus
in line with Kuryłowicz’s ‘Fourth Law of Analogy’ (3.34) if a reduplicated
aorist whose remit was generally perfective to start with survived – and
continued to be productive – only at the margins of the perfective domain,
in the factitive perfective area, when a new perfective type (such as an
aspectually shifted root formation) took on the non-factitive core functions.
Figure 3.1 models this development, which accounts with equal ease
for both the non-factitive/causative value of some archaic reduplicated
aorists (e.g., *u̯ e-u̯ ku̯ -e/o-, *g u̯ he-g u̯ hn-e/o-) and the factitive/causative
88
Hopper and Thompson (1980: 255).
TRANSITIVITY
HIGH LOW
factitive general imperfectives

perfectives perfectives
REDUPLICATED FORMATION (pfv. = ‘aorist’) ROOT FORMATION (ipfv.)
functional
marginalisation aspectual shift
REDUPLICATED AORIST ROOT AORIST
Fig. 3.1. The reduplicated aorist as a marginalised perfective
value of the category as far as it remained productive in the daughter

languages.89 That the figure should ideally also include aorist types
other than the reduplicated and the athematic radical ones goes without
saying (cf. Figs. 6.3, 8.1); but for the time being, we may content
ourselves with recognising the basic mechanism, and postpone further
elaboration to later chapters.
3.37–3.42 Excursus on PIE Thematicity and Ablaut

3.37 The Reduplicated Aorist as a Thematic Category
To the above reconstruction, a sceptic might raise a formal objection. In
3.9 and 3.21, it has been argued that the only reduplicated aorist type we
can safely posit for Proto-Indo-European is thematic, so that the basic stem
structure is *C1e-C1C-e/o- (reduplication syllable + zero-grade root + the-
matic vowel). Since thematic formations are commonly held to be
younger, less archaic, than athematic ones,90 does the thematicity of the
reduplicated aorist then not contradict the antiquity of the category?
The answer to this question is negative. We must reckon with the fact
that the thematic vowel, like other linguistic elements, has its own
history where origins and later uses must not be mixed up. This
89
Contrast Marguliés (1931: 102), who had to postulate an ill-defined factitivity transfer from (some)
reduplicated presents (cf. 4.32) to the reduplicated aorist.
90
See the classic, though indiscriminate, discussion of Meillet (1931), whose focus is on the thematic
present.
controversial topic will occupy us in more detail in the next chapter, but
an essential positioning will be useful already at this point.
3.38 Origins of the Thematic Vowel: Phonetics and Phonology

Two things are especially noteworthy about the thematic vowel: it appears
in both verbal and nominal paradigms and it alternates between *-e- and
*-o-. The first feature may suggest that there is a remote connection
between thematic categories in the noun and the verb, but of course any
such postulate will only be acceptable if it is backed by more than just the
formal resemblance (4.34–4.44).
The second feature, meanwhile, may find a principled explanation if *-e-
and *-o- are different outcomes of one and the same underlying mid-vowel
*[ə] or *[ɵ], whose surface realisation was originally determined by
the phonetic environment. If we consider the basic inflectional
paradigms with a thematic vowel in the verb and noun respectively,
we may suspect that *-o- was conditioned by following sonorous
elements (resonants, vocalic segments, voiced stops) and *-e- by
following non-sonorous (voiceless) ones. If the situation seems a
little ambiguous before *-s- and laryngeals, this may be because
analogy has intervened or because the outcome initially depended
on the sonority of the fricative phonemes involved, and this sonority
in its turn on that of the following segment (in sandhi).91
Verbal inflection Nominal inflection
1sg. *-o-m nom. sg. *-o-s pl. *-ōs < *-o-es (also *-oi̯), ntr. *-e-h2
2sg. *-e-s voc. *-e-Ø = nom.
3sg. *-e-t acc. *-o-m *-o-ns (< *-o-ms)
1pl. *-o-me gen. *-o-si̯ o *-ōm < *-o-om
2pl. *-e-te dat. *-ōi̯ < *-o-ei̯ ? *-o(i̯)-bh-
3pl. *-o-nt abl. *-ōd < *-o-ad? *-o(i̯)-bh-
ipv. 2sg. *-e-Ø instr. *-o-h1 (also *-e-h1?) *-o(i̯)-bh-
loc. *-o-i (also *-ei̯?) *-oi̯su
For all the uncertainty such hypotheses involve, we may even venture one step
further, in order not to posit an unduly complex early-PIE vowel inventory
91
Similarly Rasmussen (1989: 136–44; 1992: 341–2), who regards *-e- as the only regular outcome before
*-s, *-h1, *-h2 but daringly posits “a voiced //-z// as the sibilant of the nominative” (cf. Rasmussen
2009: 256). Kuryłowicz (1956: 72) had merely spoken of a ‘transition from e to o before resonant’, and
Güntert (1916/17: 63–76) and Mańczak (1960: 279–80) had also focused on the nasals (responding to
Hirt 1913: 214–30 and explaining, like Hirt, *-os as analogical after *-om etc.). Against Mottausch
(2003: 2, 6), it seems unlikely that the *-e/o- alternation superseded a more regular state of affairs with
consistent *-o- (or *-ó-, Tichy 2000: 53); nor is the introduction of *-e- from the imperative into the
indicative plausible. For (inconclusive) discussion of the entire matter, see also Sukač (2013: 111–14).
including a fully-fledged phoneme *ə or *ɵ. Instead, *[ə/ɵ] > thematic *-e/o-
may represent the weakened version of an unstressed full vowel *e. This
would entail that paradigms with an accented thematic vowel must be
remodelled, either receiving the accent secondarily or adjusting an
invariant vocalism *-é- to the variant pattern *-é/ó- at a time when the
*-e/o- alternation had become dominant. Though both are impossible
to prove, neither of the two possibilities is intrinsically unlikely.92
3.39 Secondary Thematisation and the Reduplicated Aorist

However, these are all assumptions about the origin of the thematic vowel.
If they are correct, they still do not exclude that the thematic vowel
subsequently spread from positions where it was indeed a reduced full
vowel to other positions. In our discussion of the thematic present stems
(4.45), we will see by what process the thematic vowel as a previously
meaningful derivational element could be demoted to a mere connecting
device between roots and endings. As soon as that had happened, it was
able to spread to other environments where its insertion was just phono-
tactically desirable. Formations whose thematicity is due to such secondary
spread can then indeed be regarded as ‘younger’ than corresponding
athematic ones; but what is really ‘young’ about them, is only their
thematicity, not the formation itself.
Returning to the reduplicated aorist, a thematic stem structure *C1e-
C1C-e/o- offered clear advantages over an athematic *C1e-C1C- one. When
consonantal endings like 3sg. *-t were added to *C1e-C1C-, and when the
root structure did not contain semivowels or resonants that could become
vocalic (*C1e-C1R̥ C-), the thematisation of the paradigm was a convenient
means of breaking up undesirable consonant clusters (*C1e-C1C-t, etc.). In
other words, the stem structure of the reduplicated aorist makes it a likely
candidate for secondary thematisation to have occurred, whether or not
traces of an athematic state of affairs are actually preserved. And if this
thematisation eventually encompassed also forms where athematicity
might have been viable (e.g., 3sg. *T1e-T1R̥ T-t vs. 3sg. †T1e-T1T-t), this
may reflect no more than intra-categorial standardisation.93
92
See further 8.41 on *-sk̑ é/ó- and 10.39 on *-i̯é/ó- (with fn. 77 on the preference for e-vocalism of this
suffix in Old Hittite); cf. also 5.40–5.41 on nominal *CoC-é/ó- next to *CéC-e/o- (and *CóC-e/o-).
The same questions arise with any theory that connects the *-e/o- variation with sound develop-
ments specific to unaccented (e.g., post-tonic) syllables, whether or not a weakening such as *e >
*[ə/ɵ] is posited.
93
In the case of structures like *T1e-T1R̥ D-t, the thematisation also ensured root invariance when
without it voice assimilation would have led to root allomorphy (e.g., 1sg. *T1e-T1R̥ D-m̥ vs. 3sg. *T1e-
T1R̥ T-t with devoiced root-final consonant). That the thematisation was therefore least ‘urgent’ with
To be sure, the resulting *C1e-C1(R̥ )C-e/o- could still have shortcom-
ings. With simple *CeC- roots, the radical part regularly lacked a vocalic
nucleus. This explains why later on structures such as πεπαλε/ο-
replaced *πεπλε/ο- by analogy with the *C1e-C1R̥ C-e/o- type (Table
3.1, 3.8, 3.17). Also, the fact94 that there are no reduplicated aorists to
roots of the shapes (i) *TeD-/*DeT- and (ii) *CeH- may be related to the
potential lack of transparency of (i) stems such as post-assimilatory
[*Te-TD-e/o- >] *Te-DD-e/o- and [*De-DT-e/o- >] *De-TT-e/o-, and
(ii) *Ce-C(H)-e/o- stems after the articulatory weakening of postconso-
nantal laryngeals (cf. 4.20). Such factors may even have provided an
additional, phonological, incentive for the replacement of reduplicated
aorists by other aorist types.
3.40 Reconsidering Long-Vowel Preterites and ‘Acrostatic’ Presents

Certain wider implications of the preceding considerations will be
touched upon only briefly. If the thematicity of the reduplicated aorist
originated only when the thematic vowel had become a functionally
empty element, but if the reduplicated aorist as such is older, structures
like 3sg. *C1e-C1C-t must have called for remedial action of a different
kind before their thematisation became an option. This brings us back
to the long-vowel preterites encountered in 3.25. There we saw that a
stem such as *lēg̑ - may well reach back to the proto-language itself.
Following up on the idea that *lēg̑ - arose from *le-lg̑ -, we are now in a
position to specify this further. Whereas a PIE 1sg. *le-lg̑ -m̥ should have
posed no problem, a 3sg. *le-lg̑ -t contained a three-consonant cluster
whose articulation was more complex. If this was simplified, with
concomitant compensatory lengthening, into *lēg̑ -t, the result was a
paradigm with stem allomorphy (1sg. *lelg̑ - vs. 3sg. *lēg̑ -). To level such
allomorphy by generalising *lēg̑ - was natural. Of course, once thematic
reduplicated aorists had come into being, the levelled *lēg̑ - paradigm
could have been replaced again by a morphologically more transparent
*le-lg̑ -e/o- one; but by that time, a sufficient number of long-vowel
aorists may have been established for the type to form with its redupli-
cated relative the categorial pair described in 3.30 for Proto-Tocharian
and Proto-Italic.
*CeR- roots (3sg. *C1e-C1R̥ -t) may impact on the classification of ipv. κέκλυθι/κέκλυτε (Table 3.1, s.v.
*k̑ leu̯ -).
94
Highlighted by Bendahman (1993: 20–3, 120–1).
In the more central Graeco-Aryan area of Indo-European, the long-
vowel preterite (aorist) did not survive. Perhaps this was because at first
the restitution of reduplicated (but now thematic) paradigms was pre-
ferred, although the latter eventually underwent their own remodellings
(6.25). In any case, the erstwhile existence of long-vowel aorists may help
to explain the occasional occurrence of so-called acrostatic (or ‘Narten’)
presents, such as Ved. dāst i ‘venerates’ < *dēk̑ -ti.95 To account for these,
a reduplicated origin has ˙˙ been proposed by various scholars (e.g.,
̑ 96
*de-dk-ti). However, with the above scenario more evolutionary coher-
ence can be achieved; for within Indo-Iranian, the transformation of
former aorist stems into present stems has a structural parallel in the Class
VI (tudáti) presents of Sanskrit, to be discussed in 6.29.97 Accordingly, it
is not the outlier languages that have (inexplicably) got rid of acrostatic
presents, but not preterites, but rather the Indo-Iranian centre that has
newly constituted such presents in a process which is independently
secured.
3.41 Notes on PIE Ablaut

Finally, the pre-thematic stem *C1e-C1C- itself deserves some comment.
Its ablaut structure with a full vowel in the reduplication syllable and a
zero grade in the root conforms with the notion of an early origin of the
reduplicated aorist. Although the principles behind Proto-Indo-
European ablaut alternations are so controversial that a detailed treat-
ment would fill a separate book, there is widespread agreement that the
first emergence of zero grades must be due to very early vowel loss
(syncope) in unstressed syllables. What is more disputed is the relation
of the PIE o-grades to the zero grades. Here, traditional attempts98
95
See especially Narten (1968b), Strunk (1985: 490–5; 1987b), Anciferova (1988), Kümmel (1998),
Campanile (1999: 339–43), and Melchert (2014); on their inflection, cf. 8.48–8.50.
96
See Lubotsky (1994: 204), Lubotsky apud Kortlandt (2004: 9), de Vaan (2004: 597–8), Schumacher
(2005: 600), and Garnier (2014: 143–4), against e.g. Watkins (1969: 27–31) (denominal type) and
Schindler (1994: 398) (special root type).
97
Kümmel (1998: 205) claims that the acrostatic presents are ‘durative presents to root aorists . . .,
which refer either to a durative event that follows the action of the aorist or to the continuation of
the action of the aorist by continuous repetition’ (similarly Isebaert 1992: 194, Viti 2015c: 125).
Effectively, this means little more than that they behave as one should expect for deaoristic present
stems (since iterative and durative readings inherently attach to imperfectives; cf. 8.42). If intensi-
fication were also sometimes at stake (cf. Tichy 1976: 83 and Harđarson 1993a: 62–5, on *dek̑ -;
Melchert 2014: 255–6, on *u̯ ek̑ -), this could follow from the intensity ~ perfectivity correlation
according to the Transitivity Hypothesis (3.35, with high-transitive A-potency and O-affectedness
next to ‘telic’ aspect).
98
E.g., Hirt (1899: 55–9; 1900: 155–61, 205; 1913), Güntert (1916/17) followed by Hirt (1921: 173–9),
Borgstrøm (1949), Kuryłowicz (1956: esp. 38, 135; 1968a: 257–8), Schmitt-Brandt (1967: 114–30), Beekes
chronologically to distinguish a zero-grading and an o-grading period
may be unnecessarily complicated, also in view of categories where zero
grades and o-grades occur alongside each other in functional equivalence
(e.g., action nouns of the structure *CR̥ C-éh2 ~ *CoC-éh2: cf. φυγή
‘flight’, γραφή ‘writing’ vs. ἀμοιβή ‘exchange’, βολή ‘throw’, κοπή ‘cut-
ting’).99 Much rather, o-grades originated at the same time as zero grades,
but in contexts that did not allow complete vowel loss, either because of
phonological constraints100 or because a complete loss would have
obscured a morphologically relevant relationship. If so, we may compare
the interrelated phenomena of vowel weakening and syncope in early
Latin where, say, cōnficit with weakening resulted, via something like
*kon-f əkit,101 from *kon-faki̯et(i) because syncopated †konfkit was inad-
missible. In subsequent stages, PIE o-grades (as well as zero grades) could
then become morphologised as markers of specific categories;102 but the
equivalences just mentioned suggest that this was not even a necessary
next step.
Within such a framework, one is reminded of the presumptive origin of
the thematic vowel as weakened *e > *[ə/ɵ] (3.38): after all, the o-
outcome of the thematic vowel matches the o-outcome in regular
(1985: 156–8), Mottausch (2000: 82–4), Kortlandt (2001: 5), all with fundamentally different frame-
works (partially surveyed in Mailhammer 2007: 15–22, Sukač 2013: 102–11). Contrast Kretschmer
(1892: 366–73), Hilmarsson (1977), Silvestri (2006), Carruba (2009), and Kümmel (2012b: 307–20),
who doubt a direct connection between accentuation and o-grading (again in different ways, but
essentially asserting the independence of *-o- from *-e- and, sometimes, regarding it as a ‘derivational
marker’), and Pooth (2004b; 2009b), who extends this doubt also to the zero grade. Rasmussen (1989:
144–222; 1992) unconvincingly operates with a consonantal root infix surfacing as vocalic /o/, but later
(Rasmussen 2003b) also holds that unaccented /e/ went to /o/ as “an intermediary stage in the
complete loss of unaccented short /e/” (cf. Rasmussen 2009: 256–8).
99
Cf. Cuny (1938: 13 n. 2), for whom ‘the o-grade is, by and large, the equivalent of the zero grade’,
Schmitt-Brandt (1967: 125); by contrast, Baudouin de Courtenay (1894: 53–6) had seen in the o-
grade a depalatalised alternant of the e-grade, not of the zero grade (cf. later Mańczak 1960). On the
φυγή ~ ἀμοιβή type, see Chantraine (1933: 18–25), Rasmussen (1992: 347–8).
100
Although analogical generalisations have made it difficult to pin down the specifics, we may
surmise that complete vowel loss was usually avoided when at least two non-vocalic segments
separated the weakened vowel from a preceding vocalic segment and the loss would have added a
third. This explains why o-vocalism occurs in intensive verbs with ‘full’ reduplication (structurally
*CéC-CeC- → *CéC-C(o)C-: 4.17 with fn. 76) and why we observe, for example, *CoC-éh2 in the
action nouns: only if the preceding word ended in *-V, *CC-éh2 would have been acceptable
instead. For a different approach, see e.g. Kuryłowicz (1956: 110) (‘the weak vowel (e, o) is always
expelled in middle syllables. In initial syllables, it is removed before a vocalic morpheme, but
becomes full again (e, o) before a consonantal morpheme’).
101
On the intermediate schwa stage, see now Nishimura (2010: esp. 217–19), after Rix (1966: 161–2).
102
Cf. Mottausch (2001: 7–9), after Rasmussen (1989), and 5.42–5.43; otherwise we should find
lexemes like *gu̯ l̥ h1-eh2 > †βαλή next to *bhug-eh2 > φυγή.
ablaut. It is true that the consistent o-vocalism of o-grades does not
point to the kind of conditioning by phonetic context that is
inferrable from the *-e/o- variance of the thematic vowel. However,
this too may have more to do with analogical levelling towards *-o-
within categories that acquired *-o- in some environments (i.e., with
a secondary morphologisation of o-grades) than with any substantial
difference between their *-o- and the *-o- of the thematic alternation.
3.42 Operational Ablaut in the Reduplicated Aorist

While the o-grade question will become more relevant for our investiga-
tion only later (5.40), the radical zero grade in the reduplicated aorist can
be seen as a direct result of vowel loss after the accented reduplication
syllable; this initial accentuation is preserved in Indo-Iranian and
reflected in Tocharian (3.30). In Greek, the finite forms are of course
accented recessively, as is normal (1.2), while non-finite forms have been
adjusted to the pattern of the formally similar, but more frequent,
unreduplicated thematic aorist (e.g., inf. πεπιθεῖν ‘persuade’ like λιπεῖν
‘leave’).
So, if we regard a structure such as 3sg. *C1é-C1C-t (→ thematised *C1é-
C1C-e-t) as a reduplicated – and hence perfective – variant of simple
*C1eC-t, this works best if *C1é-C1C-t came into being at a time when
vowel loss in (at least post-tonic) unaccented syllables was still opera-
tional, long before even Anatolian branched off. In other reduplicated
categories, both present and perfect, this distribution of accent and vowel
grade is less neatly distributed and will therefore require more attention
(4.18–4.25, 5.28). But there is no reason to dismiss as a late innovation
precisely the one category which shows textbook behaviour with regard
to ablaut and accentuation.
3.43 Conclusion
3.43 Conclusion
The preceding paragraphs on thematicity and ablaut have led us more
deeply into the murky waters of early Proto-Indo-European than may be
comfortable for some readers (3.37–3.42). However, at the very least they
should have demonstrated why the thematic nature of the (late-)PIE
reduplicated aorist cannot be used as an argument against its antiquity.
Prior to that, we have seen that the relative scarcity of relevant equations or the
disappearance of the reduplicated aorist as a distinct category outside Greek
and Indo-Iranian is no better indicator of its alleged lateness (3.32–3.33).
3.43 Conclusion 117
On the contrary, in combination with some theoretical principles of
historical linguistics and linguistic typology (3.34–3.35), the Greek,
Indo-Iranian, Western Indo-European, and Tocharian data reviewed in
3.5–3.31 can be integrated in a coherent evolutionary model (3.36).
Importantly, this model also conforms with the first of the two working
hypotheses formulated at the outset (3.4), according to which the redu-
plicated aorist may represent an even more archaic perfective formation
than the root aorist.
But what about the second hypothesis of 3.4, that the reduplicated
aorist’s characteristic reduplication syllable be regarded as an early perfec-
tivity marker? Save for the general observation that if this is the marker of
the category and if the category itself is markedly perfective, it should
follow that the reduplication marks perfectivity, we have not so far
adduced any evidence independently enhancing (or jeopardising) this
view. Or to put it differently: just as our theory would be shaken if it
were shown that verbal reduplication in Indo-European normally encodes
features opposed to perfectivity, so it would gain further credibility if, on the
contrary, other reduplicated categories prompted analyses that again associ-
ate reduplication with perfectivity. To consider this issue must be our next
task. We shall start with the reduplicated present in Chapter 4, before
turning to the perfect in Chapter 5.
chapter 4
The Reduplicated Present
4.1–4.7 Theoretical Considerations

4.1 Introduction
At first sight it may seem difficult to maintain the idea mooted in the
previous chapter that verbal reduplication once encoded aspectual perfec-
tivity in Proto-Indo-European. The principal obstacle is constituted by the
rich array of reduplicated present stems next to the relatively meagre
remains of the reduplicated aorist. In principle one could perhaps separate
the present-stem reduplication from that of the aorists. However, since the
formal divergences are minor (4.24–4.25), this is no attractive option.1
From 2.6, it will be recalled that the reduplicated presents play a central
role in the Hoffmann–Strunk model of how aspect emerged in the proto-
language. As was shown there, Hoffmann and Strunk took it for granted that
the reduplicated presents were iteratival in origin, and therefore quintessen-
tially imperfective.2 In fact, this semantic axiom is essential to the
Hoffmann–Strunk theory because most other characterised present stems,
which Strunk himself classified as inchoative, terminative, etc., appear to be
more telic than atelic. Within the proposed framework, they cannot there-
fore easily be cast into the role of markedly imperfective stems in statu
nascendi. So when Hoffmann and Strunk pick an example to illustrate
their model, they opt for a root with an attested reduplicated present,
*g u̯ eh2-, assign it a meaning ‘take a step’ (not: ‘go’), and claim that redupli-
cated forms like 3sg. *g u̯ i-gu̯ eh2-ti initially meant ‘is (repeatedly) taking steps’.
Any doubt that it is the semantics of the reduplication syllable which made
the reduplicated present stems aspectually imperfective would thus be a
1
Cf. Di Giovine (1999: 38); but if he finds at the same time that in (late-)PIE synchrony verbal
reduplication must have been polyvalent, his refusal to look for ‘a single archetypical value’ seems
unduly defeatist.
2
Cf. 2.17 for a similar view expressed by Kuryłowicz (1964a: 104–5); Risch (1985: 408), Back
(1991: 292).
118
serious blow to the edifice. In the present chapter we will explore how far one
can, or should, go in this direction.
4.2 Reduplication and Iteration

First of all, we must consider whether the axiom is as watertight as it looks.
If it were, it would of course be hard to justify both the very existence of
reduplicated aorists and the claim that their reduplication was the earliest
perfectivity marker of Proto-Indo-European.
The common belief that the reduplication seen in the Indo-European
reduplicated presents must be traced back to a distinct imperfectivity
marker is based on a syllogism of the following kind:
(i)
verbal reduplication = iconic expression of eventuality iteration (verbal
plurality)
(ii) (marked) iteration/verbal plurality = (marked) imperfectivity
⇒ (iii) verbal reduplication = expression of (marked) imperfectivity
Support for (i), which is intuitively convincing and has long been asserted
by Indo-Europeanists,3 comes for example from material in a variety of
American Indian languages surveyed by Dressler in his study of ‘verbal
plurality’;4 and on the assumption that partial reduplication ultimately
arose from full reduplication (epanadiplosis), Dressler’s hint at Sumerian is
relevant too:
reduplication is the favourite means of American Indian languages to
express nuances of verbal plurality, e.g. in Aztec . . .; but reduplication can
also pluralise nominal notions there, cf. xu-xuchi-tla ‘garden’ (lit. ‘a lot of
flowers’). . . . In Quileute, reduplication is used to form distributive plurals
in the noun and iterative-distributive nuances in the verb, as does more
rarely, but in a similar way, the prefix tci. . . . By contrast, a lexical means is
usually constituted by doubling (epanadiplosis), which basically represents
an abbreviated addition according to H. Jensen, cf. verbal instances like ‘he
runs and runs’. Adverbial epanadiplosis has distributive as well as intensive
3
See e.g. Herbig (1896: 218), Delbrück (1897: 16), Brugmann and Thumb (1913: 542), Schwyzer and
Debrunner (1950: 221, 260), Škoda (1982: 243–4), all of whom speak of both ‘iterative’ and ‘intensive’
meanings; on the question of ‘intensity’, see below.
4
Dressler (1968); cf. Moravcsik (1978: 317), Bybee, Perkins, and Pagliuca (1994: 167), Lazzeroni (2011b:
129–32). After presenting her own survey of reduplication functions across many non-Indo-European
languages, Niepokuj (1997: 87) concedes that “cross-linguistically the reduplicative process often
seems to be motivated by some semantic link”, but “in many other cases . . . the process seems to be
unmotivated”, so that even (i) is not self-evident. According to Rubino (2005: 19), “[w]ith verbs (and
adjectives), reduplication may be used to denote a number of things such as number (plurality,
distribution, collectivity), distribution of an argument; tense; aspect (continued or repeated occur-
rence; completion; inchoativity), attenuation, intensity, transitivity (valence, object defocusing),
conditionality, reciprocity, pretense, etc.”
120 The Reduplicated Present
and diminutive functions. In Sumerian, epanadiplosis signals distributivity
of the noun or, with verbs, subject and object distributivity, iterativity,
durativity and intensity (emphasis).5
Premise (i) is thus typologically sound, but it neglects one facet that may be
relevant. If reduplication can iconically mark either iteration or intensity,
the latter is a value whose aspectual affinities should be placed on the
perfective rather than the imperfective side. According to the transitivity
scale (3.35), high object affectedness and high agent potency correlate with
‘telic aspect’ (and hence with perfectivity rather than imperfectivity:
cf. 4.6).
4.3 Sources of Imperfectives

However, even if we concentrate on iteration alone, and thus accept
premise (i) as it stands, premise (ii) is a weak element in the syllogism. It
is true that the imperfective aspect in aspectual languages often serves to
express eventuality iteration, be it as iterativity or habituality (cf. the
French imperfect disait in Caton disait qu’il fallait détruire Carthage
‘Cato used to say/would say that Carthage had to be destroyed’). But it
does not follow that marked iteratives are a particularly common source for
general-purpose imperfectives. A more frequent grammaticalisation path,
sometimes referred to as ‘prog imperfective drift’,6 starts from a locatival
(and/or stative7) source construction (‘X was at/in reading’), moves via a
durative-progressive stage (‘X was reading’) to a ‘focalised’ construction (‘X
was reading when Y sneezed’), and ends up as a general-purpose imperfec-
tive expressing also iterativity/habituality (‘X would read’). What the
syllogism implies instead is the inverse, with durative-progressive *g u̯ i-
g u̯ eh2-ti ‘is (at) stepping’ proceeding from iterative/habitual ‘steps repeat-
edly/habitually’.
Admittedly, in some languages of the world reduplication does become a
marker of progressivity, and hence general imperfectivity. However, the
developmental path then tends to be [iterative] > [continuative] >
[progressive], with the first ‘continuative’ step being done by verbs in
which “[a] less well defined activity, such as thinking, if continued, is not so
much repeated, as increased in duration” (i.e., atelic verbs), not by verbs
5
Dressler (1968: 84–5) (translated).
6
See Bertinetto, Ebert, and de Groot (2000: esp. 540); for the phenomenon cf. Kuryłowicz (1956: 26–
8), Bybee and Dahl (1989: 77–83), Bybee, Perkins, and Pagliuca (1994: 141–2), Bertinetto (1995;
2000).
7
For this modification of the drift, see Bentein (2013), with reference also to Killie (2008) on Old
English.
“describing a situation which typically involves a single cycle, such as
shooting” (i.e., telic verbs).8 In other words, in order to obtain a redupli-
cated imperfective stem we should ideally start from an atelic base, not a
telic one like the presumed *g u̯ eh2-t ‘takes a step’.
4.4 Plurality Types, Nominal and Verbal Aspect

At the same time we must not forget that there is more than one way of
conceptualising plurality. As Dressler’s study shows, it is often illuminating
to compare verbal and nominal plurality. Among nouns many languages
distinguish true plurals from collectives. In German, for example, a plur-
ality of mountains (Berg) can be referred to either as Berge (plural) or as
Gebirge (‘mountain range’: collective). By using the collective, the ‘objec-
tive’ plurality (more-than-one-ness) of the mountains is conflated into a
‘subjective’ singularity, a single ‘bounded’ conceptual unit, which contrasts
with the ‘unbounded’ conceptual multiplicity of the mountains referred to
in the plural.
Mutatis mutandis, the nominal collective is thus reminiscent of the
perfective aspect in the verbal system.9 There too the creation of a ‘bounded’
conceptual unit is at stake. As Comrie classically put it,
[a]nother way of explaining the difference between perfective and imperfec-
tive meaning is to say that the perfective looks at the situation from outside,
without necessarily distinguishing any of the internal structure of the
situation.10
Vice versa the nominal plural pairs with the imperfective aspect in the verb,
which
looks at the situation from inside, and as such is crucially concerned with the
internal structure of the situation, since it can both look towards the start of
the situation, and look forwards to the end of the situation, and indeed is
equally appropriate if the situation is one that lasts through all time, without
any beginning and without any end.11
8
Bybee, Perkins, and Pagliuca (1994: 169–70); they do consider a second path [iterative] >
[frequentative] > [habitual], but remark that “[w]hat we do not know is whether it is just as
likely for a habitual to generalize to an imperfective as it is for a progressive to generalise to an
imperfective. We have evidence for the latter occurrence in non-reduplicated forms but no evidence
for the former”.
9
Some even speak of ‘nominal aspect’: “besides verbal aspect, which concerns the way a property or
relation is represented in the temporal dimension, there is also nominal aspect, which relates to the
way a property is represented in the spatial dimension” (Rijkhoff 1991: 291).
10
Comrie (1976a: 4). 11 Comrie (1976a: 4).
If we thus set up the correspondences
nominal plural nominal collective
subjectively ‘unbounded’ subjectively ‘bounded’
~ imperfective aspect ~ perfective aspect
we may conclude that a verbal formation which originated as a ‘verbal

collective’ is at least as likely to show perfective as imperfective
features. This prediction is borne out, for example, by a group of
distributive verbs in Russian (e.g., pozapirat’ in Ivan pozapiral dveri
‘John closed (all) the doors’). These are restricted to the perfective
aspect as a number of ‘closing’ (sub-)eventualities is summarised into
one ‘bounded’ (macro-)eventuality.12 By contrast, no such summaris-
ing effect is seen with another group of Russian verbs, formed with
the imperfective suffix -yva-/-iva-, which refer to contextually
unbounded series of eventualities (e.g., Ivan pisyval stixotvorenija
‘John used to write/would write poems’).13
4.5 PIE Reduplication from Verbal Collectives?

Accordingly, not only can we contemplate an [intensive] > [perfective]
reduplication hypothesis as adumbrated at the end of 4.2, but it is also
conceivable that the reduplicated formations of Proto-Indo-European
originated from perfective-like verbal collectives. In that case too, the
occurrence of reduplication also outside the present-stem system would
find a straightforward explanation.14 In this context it is of interest that
some languages, such as Japanese, restrict the formal mechanism of redu-
plication to the creation of nominal collectives, as opposed to true plurals
(e.g., hitobito ‘people’, not ‘persons’), and that in the verbal domain itself
12
Cf. also Dressler (1968: 62) on Georgian, ‘where the prefix da- can express subject- and object-
distributive, iterative, local-distributive, usitative, intensive nuances, but apparently also
perfectivise’.
13
On both types, see e.g. Isačenko (1968: 365–74, 409–14), Panzer (1995: 191–2).
14
Cf. Abraham (2005: 547) on the reduplicated perfect: “What exactly is it that the Latin perfect tense,
as opposed to the present tense, covers in terms of an ‘increased quantity’ arguing, along with
Dressler (1968) and Moravcsik (1978), in terms of the traditional iconically motivated formula?”
Abraham himself then submits that “[f]or divisible (individuable) object reference (i.e., for count
nouns and verbs . . .), the Iconicity Principle decides on the basis of extensional value increase
(increase of reference: plurality, continuance, etc.)”; here, “etc.” appears where Abraham (2004) had
listed “Perfektivierung” as well (cf. Abraham 2005: 566 n. 9 on “completion”). That reduplicated
presents may refer to a ‘collective’ eventuality was already recognised by Ul’janov (1903): see Kulikov
(2005: 442–3), and cf. the use of monosyllabic reduplication to express “event-internal plurality”
(where “the units of action are conceived of as confined to a single occasion”) in Tupi-Guarani
languages, as described by F. Rose (2005: 352–7).
Mandarin Chinese uses reduplication to create a ‘delimitative aspect’ (e.g.,
zŏu-zŏu ‘go for a walk, walk for a while’ vs. zŏu ‘walk’).15
Since the universal validity of both premise (i) and premise (ii) is thus
questionable, the syllogism itself loses its foundation. Of course, to demon-
strate that nothing speaks against ‘iconic’ reduplication having turned into
an all-purpose perfectivity marker in Proto-Indo-European is not the same
as proving that it actually did so. In practical terms, the positive evidence of
the reduplicated aorist might still be outweighed by the negative evidence
of the reduplicated present. However archaic the reduplicated aorist may
seem, our position will be no stronger than that of Hoffmann and Strunk
unless we can also account for the appearance of reduplication among PIE
present stems.
4.6 Perfective vs. Imperfective Reduplication: Stemmatic Models

In principle, there are two possibilities how a morpheme that marks
perfectivity in some formations may also appear among imperfectives.
The first is to assume a functional split. Thus, the perfectivising function
of the morpheme could be secondary (F2) and an earlier, somewhat
different, function (F1) could be continued (or separately modified)
where the morpheme is associated with imperfective stems (F3). This
would presuppose that there is a natural evolutionary path both from F1
to F2 and from F1 to F3. Because there is a much bigger gap between
subjectively unbounded [verbal plurality] and subjectively bounded
[perfectivity] than between subjectively bounded [verbal collectiv-
ity] and [perfectivity] (cf. 4.4), it would not for instance be plausible to
operate with Stemma I in Fig. 4.1.
By contrast, something like Stemma II might work reasonably well. If
we identify telicity with ‘objective boundedness’ (since a telic eventuality
has an inherent start and/or end point) and perfectivity with ‘subjective
boundedness’, the intimate connection between F1 and F2 is undeniable
here. As has often been stressed, telicity/objective boundedness as an
Aktionsart category and perfectivity/subjective boundedness as an aspectual
15
Cf. Li and Thompson (1981: 28–31, 232–6). Compare the ‘delimitative’ function of Russian po- in verbs
like (pfv.) počitat’ ‘read (for a while)’ (Isačenko 1968: 386, Panzer 1995: 190) when po- is also a default
perfectiviser (e.g. ipfv. zvat’ vs. pfv. po-zvat’ ‘call’), as well as Germanic *ga- (< *ko(m)- ‘together (with)’,
pace Haug 2007: 86–8) which is used both in nominal collectives (cf. again Germ. Ge-birge) and as a
perfectiviser of durative verbs in Gothic (Krause 1968: 213–15, Josephson 1976). Just as a nominal
collective may be especially useful in pluralising unbounded mass nouns (e.g., Germ. Ge-wässer as
‘plural’ of Wasser), so the creation of reduplicated perfectives might have started among intrinsically
unbounded (durative) activity verbs.
Stemma I: F1 = [(UNBOUNDED) VERBAL PLURALITY]
F2 = [PERFECTIVITY] F3 = [(UNBOUNDED) VERBAL PLURALITY]

(reduplicated aorist) (reduplicated present)
Stemma II: F1 = [TELICITY]
F2 = [PERFECTIVITY] F3 = [TELICITY]
(reduplicated aorist) (reduplicated present)
Stemma III: F1 = [(SUBJ. BOUNDED) VERBAL COLLECTIVITY]
full > partial reduplication full reduplication retained
F2 = [PERFECTIVITY] F3 = [TELICITY] F4 = [INTENSITY]

(reduplicated aorist) (reduplicated present) (PIE, esp. IIr., ‘ intensives’)
Fig. 4.1. Theoretical models for the evolution of PIE reduplication as a perfectivity
marker
one must not be mixed up:16 to do so leads to fallacies like the idea that telic
verbs could not occur in the present in Proto-Indo-European, merely
because perfectives have such an aversion (cf. 7.15).17 But it is also true
that there is a cognitive similarity between (a) focusing on a particularly
relevant point within a structured eventuality, such as the objectively
bounding end point of a telic verb like eat up, and (b) conceptually
collapsing an internally structured eventuality (e.g., an eating process)
into a subjectively bounded whole.18 This is why there is an internal logic
16
See now e.g. Bertinetto and Delfitto (2000); cf. already Meltzer (1901: 319–27), Hermann (1927) (with the
distinction of ‘objective’ vs. ‘subjective’ Aktionsart, the latter being our ‘aspect’), W. Schlachter (1959).
17
Because, strictly speaking, an eventuality can only be conceptualised as a whole when both its beginning
and end find room within the speaker’s [now], as implied by the use of an (actual) present tense; see
Comrie (1976a: 66), and cf. 5.29, 5.31, and 7.15 on some special functions of perfective presents.
18
As acknowledged by Jacobsohn (1933: 318) in response to Hermann (1927); cf. W. Schlachter (1959:
42), the prototype definition of perfectives by Ö. Dahl (1985: 78) (“more often than not, the event
will be punctual, or at least, it will be seen as a single transition from one state to its opposite, the
duration of which can be disregarded”), and Timberlake (2007: 293) (“[s]tates and processes, left to
their own devices, would rather not occur in the perfective”).
to Kuryłowicz’s idea that Indo-European aorist stems arose time and again
from aspectually shifted imperfects of telic verbs (2.17); and why we can
directly observe how preverbs qua original telicity markers become the
principal markers of perfectivity in Slavic and other languages.19 If Russ.
čitat’ipfv., for example, simply means ‘read’, so does its perfective counter-
part pro-čitat’pfv., although the latter originally meant – and, depending on
context, still means – ‘read through’.
Yet, Stemma II is still no ideal solution to our problem. As we shall see, a
good case can be made for the reduplicated presents being characterised by
a high degree of semantic transitivity, including a feature [+telic] (so that
the Hoffmann–Strunk model weakens further: cf. 4.1). However, Stemma
II does not reflect the likely iconic origins of reduplication (4.2). Replacing
its F1 = [telicity] by F1 = [(unbounded) verbal plurality], in line with
the traditional iconic reading of reduplication as an atelic iteration marker,
would only create an even less appealing variant of Stemma I. On the other
hand, following one of the alternative iconic readings proposed in 4.5, we
could insert a new F1 = [(subjectively bounded) verbal collectivity].
Such a move might even allow us to integrate into the picture a minor class
of long-acknowledged PIE ‘intensives’ with full(er) root reduplication
(4.17), by postulating that the more widespread partial (root-initial) redu-
plication type arose from this, by a typologically common process,20 as the
grammaticalisation progressed (Stemma III).21
But here too a question mark remains. It is doubtful that the subjective
boundedness of F1, which naturally descends into perfectivity (F2), could
simply be ‘forgotten’ on the evolutionary path towards telicity (F3). This
would imply the inverse of the change from objective to subjective bound-
edness exemplified by the Slavic preverbal perfectives, and it would
amount to the substitution of a more grammatical by a less grammatical
19
See e.g. Schelesniker (1950–2), Ö. Dahl (1985: 84–9), Bybee and Dahl (1989: 85–7). The latter draw
attention to the similar systems of Hungarian and Georgian. On South Slavic languages like
Bulgarian, where the new ‘preverbal’ aspect system interacts with the inherited aorist vs. present/
imperfect system of Indo-European, see 5.29, 7.15, 7.17 (and 7.6, fn. 22), on the link between
preverbation and transitivity (telicity)/perfectivity also e.g. Herbig (1896: 222–34), Meltzer (1901:
369), L. Schlachter (1909: 203–15), Thumb (1910), Wackernagel (1928: 180–1), Brunel (1939: esp. 53–
114), Duhoux (1995: 280–6, 295–6), Romagno (2004; 2008), all with a focus on Greek.
20
Cf. Bybee, Perkins, and Pagliuca (1994: 167), Niepokuj (1997: 12–64), and already Wundt (1904:
618–19), whose idea Tischler (1976: 7) regards as ‘unprovable’, though plausible for Indo-European.
Oettinger’s (2012: 245) inverse assumption is unlikely; but the partially reduplicated nouns he
discusses can be based as easily on verbal ‘collectives’ as on true ‘iteratives’.
21
To the extent that the mainly Indo-Iranian ‘intensives’ really are intensives (or ‘affectives’, Jamison
1983a: 43), rather than ‘repetitive-iteratives’ (Schaefer 1994: 72–99), these verbs too square better with
a para-perfective F1 than with the conventional atelic iterative reading of reduplication: cf. 4.2.
(more lexical) function of the reduplicating prefix. Since this runs counter
to the preferred direction of linguistic change,22 even Stemma III is open to
objections.
4.7 Reduplicated Presents as Secondary Imperfectives?

On closer inspection, the comparison with Slavic points to the second
possibility how a perfectivising morpheme may appear within an imper-
fective stem. In our Russian example, the unpreverbated čitat’ipfv. ‘read’ is
not the only aspectual partner of pročitat’pfv.. With the help of the imper-
fectivising suffix -yva-/-iva- (4.4) a secondary imperfective pročityvat’ipfv.
can be built, and this then means ‘read through’: the completion of the
reading process, which has become a mere implicature in pročitat’pfv. as
the preverb has turned into an aspectual marker, is thereby expressed also
in the imperfective aspect, which would not trigger the same implicature
by itself. And because the added suffix is superimposed on the pre-
verbated (perfectivised) form, the preverb, though synchronically a per-
fectiviser in most environments, nevertheless shows up in an imperfective
form.
To explain the parallel existence of PIE reduplicated aorists and redu-
plicated presents along the same lines would have considerable advantages.
It would allow us to retain our analysis of the reduplicated aorist as a
marginalised relic category without denying a genetic connection between
the different reduplicated types. However, such a theory will only be
superior to any stemmatic theory (4.6) if we are able to identify a formal
mechanism, like the suffixation of -yva-/-iva- in Russian, by which redu-
plicated perfective stems were converted into reduplicated imperfective
ones. In 4.50 it will be argued that this is indeed possible and that the PIE
reduplicated presents as a type therefore do go back to ‘secondary imper-
fectives’. But before we can substantiate this, we must first undertake a
careful investigation of the primary evidence. We shall start by surveying
the reduplicated verbal stems of our earliest witness, Hittite (4.8–4.14),
and then turn to the Greek material (4.15–4.17). Data from other branches
will be drawn upon as and where needed in the subsequent discussion
(4.18–4.33).23
22
Cf. especially Traugott (1989: 34–5; 1990), according to whom “[m]eanings based in the external
described situation” (such as the ‘objective’ presence of a start/end point) regularly change into
“meanings based in the internal (evaluative/perceptive/cognitive) described situation”, and
“[m]eanings tend to become increasingly based in the speaker’s subjective belief state/attitude
towards the proposition”.
23
For an overview, see Giannakis (1992).
4.8–4.14 Hittite Reduplicated Stems
4.8 Preliminary Remark
Since Hittite does not synchronically show aspect distinctions of the kind
we may reconstruct at least for later Proto-Indo-European, it is impossible
to distinguish reduplicated aorist stems and reduplicated present stems
here. In Hittite, a verb is or is not reduplicated in its present and preterite
paradigms. If continued at all, any inherited reduplicated aorist stem
would therefore have to show up as a present stem as well. Similarly,
although Hittite possesses a number of unmistakably thematic verbal
paradigms, the classification of its reduplicated stems as thematic or not
is not entirely straightforward. As we shall see, in the Hittite mi-
conjugation the available evidence is athematic, so that there is no exact
correspondent to the thematic structure *C1i-C1C-e/o- we encounter in
languages like Greek (Table 4.1). However, several Indo-European equa-
tions suggest that something like thematic *C1i-C1C-e/o- nevertheless lurks
behind some hi-conjugated reduplicated verbs (4.12). It is this material in
˘ will pave the way towards a fuller understanding of the
particular which
reduplicated dossier as a whole.
4.9 Classification of Hittite Reduplicated Verbs

An in-depth formal and semantic study of the Hittite reduplicated verbs
has been carried out by van Brock.24 Despite a few comparative remarks
here or there, van Brock’s aim was not to elucidate the formal relationship
between different reduplicated types in Hittite and potential counterparts
in the rest of Indo-European. Even so, her collection of material allows us
to make out three main groups:25
(i) Athematic mi-conjugation verbs consisting of a reduplication syllable,
a zero-graded root, and endings (structurally, 3sg. C1V-C1C-t(i)):
ki-kkiš-tta(ri) (med.-pass.) ‘turn out, happen’ (< *gV-gis-to(ri): root
*gei̯s- ‘turn’ (?),26 LIV 184–5, s.v.)
24
Van Brock (1964). A smaller collection of Luwian material is presented by Giannakis (1992:
173–4).
25
Leaving aside verbs that are derived from reduplicated nominal forms: e.g. lelae-zi ‘conciliate’
(cf. lela- ‘conciliation, pacification’), paprah h -i ‘defile, make impure’ (cf. paprant- ‘impure’),
˘ ˘ ‘agitated’). According to Forssman (1994) and
tatrah h -i ‘stir up < make agitated’ (cf. tatrant-
˘˘
Kloekhorst (2008: 282–5, s.v. h anna-i/h ann-), respectively, šipant-i ‘libate’ and h anna-i ‘sue, judge’
˘ ˘
also belong to group (ii) (*s(p)e-(s)pond-e(i̯ ˘ are most uncer-
), *h3e-h3nóh3-e(i̯ ), but both instances
tain (on h anna-i, cf. 4.44, fn. 159).
26
For this ˘etymology, see now Kloekhorst (2008: 479–81, s.v. kīš-a(ri)/kiš-), after Eichner (1973: 78);
cf. Germ. kehren ‘turn’.
ku-kkurš-zi ‘cut up, mutilate’ (< *k u̯ V-k u̯ r̥ s-t(i): root *k u̯ er(s)- ‘cut’,
LIV 391–2, s.v. *k u̯ er-); forms with fuller reduplication and imper-
fective suffix -ške/a- may be secondary (e.g. kuu̯ akuu̯ arške/a-zi, with
-kuu̯ ar- after unreduplicated kuu̯ arške/a-zi)
ku-kuš-zi ‘taste (tr.)’27 (< *g̑ V-g̑ us-ti: root *g̑ eu̯ s- ‘taste’, LIV 166–7, s.v.)
la-lukkišš-zi ‘light up, become light’ (< *lV-luks-ti: root *leu̯ k(s)-
‘be(come) light’, LIV 418–19, s.v. *leu̯ k-)
?šeš(d)-zi ‘prosper’ (uncertain: conceivably < *se-sd-ti to *sed- ‘sit’, LIV
513–15, s.v., if “from an earlier meaning ‘to sit safely (?)’”28 or ‘settle
(for good)’?)
(ii) Unsuffixed hi-conjugation verbs consisting of a reduplication syllable,
an o-graded˘ root, and endings (structurally, 3sg. *C1V-C1oC-e(i̯)):
aš-āš-i ‘seat, settle, install’ (←< *h1e-h1os-e(i̯), with re-reduplication of
*e-as- > *ās- into *as-ās-:29 root *h1es- ‘sit/be’; cf. LIV 232, s.v. *h1eh1s-)
li-lakk-i ‘fell’ (←< *le-logh-e(i̯):30 root *legh- ‘lie down’, LIV 398–9, s.v.)
?mē-ma-i ‘speak, tell’ (< *me-moi̯(H)-e(i̯) (?): etymology uncertain31)
?na-nna-i ‘drive, ride in a vehicle’ (< *nV-noi̯H-e(i̯) (?):32 root *nei̯H-
‘lead, guide’, LIV 450–1, s.v.)
pa-pparš-i ‘sprinkle’ (< *pV-pors-e(i̯):33 root *pers-/pres- ‘sprinkle’, LIV
492–3, s.v. *pres-)
u̯ e-u̯ akk-i ‘demand, ask’ (< *u̯ e-u̯ ok̑ -e(i̯): root *u̯ ek̑ - ‘wish’, LIV 672–3, s.v.)
27
Watkins (2003). 28 Hoffner and Melchert (2008: 174).
29
And concomitant replacement of the weak stem *h1e-h1s- > *ēs- by reduplicated aše/iš- (where “the
spelling . . . with both e and i indicates that this vowel is the phoneme /ɨ/”, Kloekhorst 2008: 219, s.v.
ašāš-i/aše/iš-); for similar processes in other languages, cf. 3.11, 3.13, 3.30. Contrast Rasmussen (2010:
223–4).
30
Given the unreduplicated 3sg. lāki (i.e., /lāgi/) < *logh-e(i̯ ), the voiceless stop in li-lakk-i is
unexpected; the root may have been reanalysed as *lek-/*lok-, for which 3sg. lāki would also be
regular (cf. Willi 2011a: 187–90, with literature).
31
LIV 435–6, s.v. 1. *men-, hesitantly lists the verb under *men- ‘formulate a thought’ (“einen Gedanken
fassen”), and the same radical etymology is advocated by Rasmussen (2010: 225–6); but Kloekhorst
(2008: 575, s.v. mēma-i/mēmi-) stresses that “*me-mn- should have yielded Hitt. -mm-” and finds that
“mēma-i/mēmi-, which must go back to an older *mēmai-i/mēmi-, can only reflect *mé-h1m-oi-ei/*mé-
h1m-i-enti from a root *h1em-, or *mé-moi-ei/*mé-mi-enti from a root *mei-”, although “neither of the
possibilities [sc., *mei̯- ‘establish’ (Skt. minóti ‘establishes’) and *h1em- ‘take’] are (sic) self-evident”.
With *h1em-, however, the semantics are less straightforward and formal difficulties result: the verb
would then belong to group (iii) and thus be reduplicated as *h1e-h1m- > *ēm- (→ possibly *emēm-; cf.
aš-āš-i above), but not *(h1)me-h1m-.
32
But this item may in reality be unreduplicated: see Puhvel (2007) (durative “nay-anna- > nānna-”).
33
Cf. Kloekhorst (2008: 628, s.v. papparš-i): “We find mi- as well as hi-inflected forms . . . Although
papparšzi is attested 10× vs. papparši 2×, I think that the verb originally ˘ was hi-inflected because the
mi-inflection is the productive one and because the oldest attested form, 1sg. ˘ pret. act. paparašhun
(OH/MS), shows hi-inflection”. Otherwise the verb would belong to group (i) (cf. Oettinger 2002: ˘
212–13, who derives ˘ it from a causative aorist *pe-pr̥ s-).
(iii) Suffixed (‘para-thematic’) hi-conjugation verbs consisting of a redu-
˘
plication syllable, a zero-graded root, a stem suffix, and endings
(structurally, 3sg. *C1V-C1C-o-e(i̯)):34
?hali-hla-i ‘flatter (?)’ (< *h2li-h2 l(h1)-o(-e(i̯)) (?): Hoffner and Melchert
˘ compare
˘ hala-i ‘cradle (a child), roll (a wheel)’;35 the root is unclear,
˘
but Gr. ἰάλλω should remain apart (Table 4.2, s.v. *sel-)36 and one
may rather think of *h2leh1- ‘grind’ (LIV 277, s.v.) by positing a first
meaning ‘rub’, whence ‘fondle > flatter’ or ‘grind, crush’)
le-lipa-i ‘lick’ (< *li-lib(h)-o(-e(i̯)): unclear root, but cf. *lei̯g̑ h- ‘lick’,
LIV 404, s.v.)
li-lhuu̯ a-i ‘pour’ (< *li-lh2u̯ -o(-e(i̯ )): root *leh2(u̯ )- ‘pour’, LIV 401, s.v.
˘*leh -37)
2
mi-mma-i ‘reject, refuse’ (< *mi-mn-o(-e(i̯)): root *men- ‘stay’, LIV
437, s.v. 2. *men-; cf. Table 4.1 on Gr. μίμνω)
pari-p(p)ara-i ‘blow (an instrument)’ (< *pri-pr(h1)-o(-e(i̯)): root
*preh1- ‘blow (on/up)’, LIV 489, s.v.; cf. Table 4.1 on Gr. πίμπρημι)
pi-ppa-i ‘pull/tear (down)’ (< *pi-ph2-o(-e(i̯)): root *(s)peh2- ‘pull/
tear/draw (violently)’, cf. LIV 459 and 575, s.vv. *peH- ‘move’
and *(s)peh2- ‘pull (out)’; a reduplicated cognate is recognisable
in Ved. 3sg. med. (ud-)pipīte ‘rises’ < *pi-ph2-toi̯38)
?ši-šša-i ‘impress’ (< *si-sh1-o(-e(i̯ )): root *seh1- ‘sow < press into the
ground (?)’, LIV 517–18, s.v.; if this is correct, the verb has a
reduplicated cognate in Lat. serō ‘sow’ < *si-sh1-e/o-39)
ši-šha-i ‘determine < *make binding, fasten’40 (< *si-sh2-o(-e(i̯)): root
˘*seh - ‘bind’, listed in LIV 544 as *sh ei̯-)
2 2
34
Against Melchert (1984: 99), who compares Luw. hišhii̯a- ‘bind’, Oettinger (1986: 48) and García
Ramón (2010a: 41–2) doubt that išhai-i ‘bind’ and išh ˘ uu̯
˘ ai-i ‘scatter’ belong here: see also Kloekhorst
˘ ai-i/ išhi-).
(2008: 396–9 and 391–3, s.vv. išhuu̯˘ ai-i/ išhui- and išh
35
Hoffner and Melchert (2008: 174), ˘ with an ˘ unnecessary
˘ ˘
qualification of the -i- as “connective”.
36
Pace Kloekhorst (2008: 271, s.v. halai-i), following Puhvel (1984–: 3.12); see also Tichy (1983: 230),
and for the connection with *h2˘leh1- (Gr. ἀλέω ‘grind’) Oettinger (2002: 480).
37
Or, probably better, root *leh3(u̯ )-: see Melchert (2011a).
38
For the identification of *peH- and *(s)peh2-, see García Ramón (2009; 2010a: 45–7). Ved. ud-pipīte
‘rises’ and vi-pipīte ‘separates (for himself)’ (cf. Burrow 1973: 85–7) may originally have meant ‘pulls
him/herself up’ and ‘pulls apart’; the connection with the Hittite verb is due to K. Hoffmann (apud
Oettinger 2002 [= 1979]: 498).
39
But for Kloekhorst (2008: 757, s.v. šišša-i/šišš-) “[t]his verb is the imperfective in -šš(a)- of šai-i/ši- ‘to
press’”, and as such connected with *seh1- ‘sow’ (Kloekhorst 2008: 694–5, s.v. šai-i/ši-; šii̯e/a-zi, after
Kimball 1998: 342 n. 17; 1999: 433). Kimball’s (1987: 180) derivation of ši-šša-i from *si-sh1-se- (cf.
Jasanoff 2003: 137–8) is unnecessarily complicated when *h1 also geminates after stops and resonants.
If the vocalism of Lat. serō (not: *sirō) is irregular (despite Parker 1988), it may be due to compounds
like īn-serō: cf. LIV 518, s.v. *seh1-.
40
See Kloekhorst (2008: 758–9, s.v. šišha-i/šišh-), García Ramón (2010a: 42–3).
˘ ˘
ti-tha-i/ø ‘thunder’ (< *ti-th2-o(-e(i̯)): etymology uncertain,41 but a
˘root *(s)teh - ‘thunder’ may be posited if PIE *(s)tenh - ‘thunder’
2 2
(LIV 597, s.v.) is abstracted from a nasal-infixed present42)
ti-tta-i ‘install’ (< *d hi-d hh1-o(-e(i̯)), presumably merged with *ti-
(s)th2-o-(e(i̯)):43 roots *d heh1- ‘put’ and *(s)teh2- ‘stand’, LIV 136–
8 and 590–2, s.vv.; cf. Table 4.1 on Gr. τίθημι and ἵστημι)
u̯ i-u̯ a-i ‘cry’ (< *u̯ i-u̯ H-o(-e(i̯)): onomatopoetic, cf. unreduplicated
u̯ āi ‘cries (out)’)
In addition there is a fourth group, with fuller reduplication than just
CV- (or its substitute in the case of vowel-initial roots), and with or without
the suffix *-i̯e/o- (> Hitt. -ii̯e/a-).44 Although less central to the following
discussion, such verbs are directly comparable with structurally similar
items in Greek and other Indo-European languages which often display an
‘intensive’ meaning or are onomatopoetic (4.17). In Hittite, see for
example
hul-hul-ii̯ e/a-zi ‘wrestle’ (< *h2ul-h2ul(h1)-i̯e/o-: cf. unreduplicated hullezi
˘ ‘fights,
˘ defeats’ < *h ul-n-eh -ti to a root *h u̯ elh -45), and ˘
2 1 2 1
taš-taš-ii̯e/a-zi ‘whisper’ (onomatopoetic).
Both this last group and the secondary (re-)reduplication in aš-āš-i (group
(ii)) suggest that reduplicative processes remained productive for some
time in Anatolian. However, only group (iii) could possibly be regarded
as a complete innovation. And yet, it is precisely group (iii) where we find a
handful of equations with reduplicated presents outside Anatolian, includ-
ing Greek. This group therefore deserves particular attention. For groups
(i) and (ii), a few contextualising notes will suffice.
4.10 Analysis of Group (i)

In 3.39, the PIE reduplicated aorist has been traced to a structure (3sg.)
*C1é-C1(R̥ )C-e-t, but it has also been argued that this thematic type may be
due to secondary anaptyxis in *C1é-C1C-(ǝ)t (esp. *T1é-T1T-ǝt).
41
Cf. Kloekhorst (2008: 883, s.v. tith-a), rejecting Oettinger’s (2002: 514 n. 1) hesitant ‘3sg. act. aor. inj.
*te-tn̥ h2-o-t (with unusual o-grade)˘ > *tetah(h)at > *tethat (with unusual syncope)’. The retention of -h-
must be analogical, perhaps pointing to unreduplicated *téh2-o > *tāhha ‘thunders’. ˘
42
Differently Melchert (1984: 100) (*teh2- as a root variant of *(s)ten-); ˘ ˘ cf. García Ramón (2010a: 43),
and for *stenh2- also Narten (1993) (without consideration of the Hittite material).
43
See García Ramón (2010a: 48–52) and Jasanoff (2010: 148–9), and note that *steh2- ‘stand’ appears as
*teh2- in Hitt. tii̯e/a- ‘take a stand, stand’ < *(s)th2-i̯e/o- (Kloekhorst 2008: 879–80, s.v. tii̯e/a-zi).
44
Cf. Hoffner and Melchert (2008: 173–4), with further examples.
45
Thus Kloekhorst (2008: 358–60, s.v. hulle-zi/hull-).
˘ ˘
Our Hittite group (i) by and large matches the athematic formula
*C1é-C1(R̥ )C-t, except that (a) the active present endings include
‘primary’ *-i and (b) the reduplication vowel is not consistently
*-e-, but tends to be assimilated to the root vocalism. As noted in
3.18 (with fn. 37; cf. 4.25), at least with *Cei̯C-/*Ceu̯ C- roots the
same tendency may have affected the reduplication vowel already in
the proto-language. In any case, such an assimilation is too natural
to be surprising.46
With regard to the (a)thematicity of group (i), only the uncertain
šeš(d)-zi is of a shape that should have triggered an early thematisation
according to 3.39; elsewhere we observe root-internal semivowels/reso-
nants. If the etymology with *sed- is correct, this may indicate that the
thematisation of the reduplicated aorists in non-Anatolian Indo-European
was completed after the Anatolian branch split off.
However that may be, group (i) poses no problem for our reconstruction
of early reduplicated aorists. That such aorists, where retained, had to be
integrated into the Anatolian present-stem system is a consequence of the
branch’s loss of aspectual distinctions. In semantic terms, ku-kkurš-zi fits
this analysis well, given its resultative nuance (4.13): ‘Kukkurš- means “cut
completely so as to separate”, as opposed to kuer(š)- “make a cut”. Here it is
the end point or result of the action which seems to be envisaged.’47 For the
other verbs of group (i), a similar contrastive analysis is more difficult,
either because no unreduplicated counterpart is attested (ku-kuš-zi, la-
lukkišš-zi, ?šeš(d)-zi) or because the unreduplicated counterpart itself is
similarly result-focused (kīš-a(ri) ‘happen, become’). But neither does any
of them show any feature that would exclude an aoristic origin (such as
intransitive behaviour in the case of a prototypically transitive root).
Moreover, if we assume that not every reduplicated ‘verbal collective’
turned into a perfective, but that some survived as (non-perfective) ‘inten-
sives’ or the like (cf. 4.6), it is not even necessary that all the group (i) verbs
have an aoristic prehistory. All our model really requires is that their
46
The case of la-lukkiš-zi is less straightforward, but hardly requires an o-graded reconstruction.
Next to original e-reduplication (cf. u̯ e-u̯ akk-i), a-reduplication must be expected (and is
attested in pa-pparš-i; cf. also Melchert 1988: 220 on Luwian) as a secondary development in
group (ii). From there it may have spread, perhaps via a group (ii) formation *le-lou̯ k-e(i̯) >
*lalukk-i. Note also that the reduplication vowel, though no doubt originally accented, is not
normally lengthened (against the usual lengthening rules, on which see Kimball 1999: 125–7);
contrast only mē-ma-i in group (ii) where mē- < *mé- may preserve something old (though in
this case probably not PIE: cf. 5.28) because this is a high-frequency verb without an
unreduplicated counterpart.
47
Van Brock (1964: 144).
functioning as present stems is not conditioned by the reduplication
syllable.
4.11 Analysis of Group (ii)

Save for the addition of ‘primary’ *-i and the occasional reduplication-
vowel harmony as in group (i) (4.10), group (ii) structurally matches
the PIE perfect (5.8).48 However, the characteristic ablaut pattern of
the PIE perfect is not consistently retained. Thus, a 3pl. u̯ eu̯ akkanzi
‘they demand’ (< *u̯ e-u̯ ok-(e)nti) shows the same o-graded root as the 3sg.
u̯ e-u̯ akk-i, whereas 3pl. memii̯anzi ‘they speak’ more expectedly represents
*me-mi(H)-(e)nti with a zero-graded root as in the perfect plural (though
with a different ending: cf. 5.50, fn. 193); 3pl. papparšanzi ‘they sprinkle’ is
ambiguous between *pV-pors-(e)nti and *pV-pr̥ s-(e)nti. Only at a later stage
does 3pl. memanzi begin to compete with memii̯anzi. Such a form finds an
analogical explanation if -anzi, not -i̯anzi, was the original ending among
the reduplicated verbs of group (iii) (4.12).
The only obstacle to equating group (ii) with the PIE perfect is thus
a semantic one. Whereas the perfect is inclined towards intransitivity
(5.14–5.23), all of the verbs registered here are transitive. Two of them,
being factitive, even display particularly high transitivity (cf. 3.36: aš-
āš-i ‘seat, settle, install’ < *‘make sit’, li-lakk-i ‘fell’ < *‘make lie down’).
This is an issue to which we shall return in our discussion of the per-
fect (5.31).
4.12 Formal Analysis of Group (iii)

Group (iii) is remarkable for the number of lexical equations with redu-
plicated present stems in other Indo-European languages. Leaving aside
the onomatopoetic u̯ i-u̯ a-i, five out of ten verbs have such cognates.49 Also,
the consistent use of -i- as a reduplication vowel matches the behaviour of
reduplicated present stems throughout Indo-European (cf. 4.25).50 If there
are exceptions such as šešhāi ‘decides’ (though cf. 3pl. pret. šišher) or
˘ uu̯ ai), these are generally due to a lowering
lelhuu̯ ai ‘pours’ (next to lilh ˘
of˘Old Hittite /i/ to /e/ in specific
˘ environments. 51
48
Cf. Bader (1980: 31), Jasanoff (1994b: 156–7; 2003: 36–8) on u̯ e-u̯ akk-i; but Jasanoff’s argument about
an inherited pluperfect form is problematic because active pluperfects may not have existed early
enough (5.12).
49
For a further possible item, see 4.12, fn. 56, on Hitt. ii̯a-tta(ri) ~ Ved. īý ate.
50
In later Hittite, parip(p)ara-i (= /pripra-/) also appears as papra-i, under the influence of group (ii).
51
Cf. Melchert (1984: 153–5; 1994: 133), Kimball (1999: 169), and Kloekhorst (2008: 92–3). In
le-lipa-i ‘lick’ some dissimilatory effect (or mere writing convention?) may also be at stake.
The 3pl. forms confirm what has been suspected in our discussion of
group (ii) (4.11): that -anzi, not -i̯ anzi, was regular here (e.g., mimmanzi,
pippanzi, šiššanzi, šešhanzi). The only exception is ti-tta-i ‘install’ with 3pl.
˘
tittii̯anzi. It is no doubt significant that the common non-reduplicated
counterpart to this, dai-i/ti- ‘put, place’, also behaves as if dai- rather than
*da- were the (strong) stem. From a comparative point of view this is
noteworthy because the root *d heh1- ‘put, place’ must be involved.
However one chooses to explain this situation,52 the frequency of 3sg. dāi
‘puts’ : 3pl. ti(i̯)anzi ‘they put’ could easily make the related reduplicated
3sg. tittai : 3pl. *tittanzi adopt a new 3pl. tittii̯anzi.
In view of all this, neither of the two main theories that have been
promoted in recent years to explain the genesis of the group (iii) verbs is
satisfactory. Kloekhorst operates with an ablauting suffix *-oi̯-/-i-.53
Whether a suffix alternating like this (rather than as *-ei̯-/-i-) is plausible
or not need not be discussed here. Even if it were, the theory would suffer
from the fact that the five reduplicated verbs with cognates outside Anatolian
show no i-suffix elsewhere. The addition of such a suffix would thus have to be
an inner-Anatolian innovation, whose rationale is not identifiable.
At first sight more promising is the position of Jasanoff, who does seek a
link with the reduplicated presents in non-Anatolian Indo-European.54 He
posits an “i-reduplicated h2e-conjugation type”, that is, a PIE conjugation
pattern exemplified by the ancestor of Hitt. mi-mma-i (~ Gr. μίμνω) as 3sg.
*mí-mn-e, 3pl. *mí-mn-n̥ ti. In non-Anatolian Indo-European, this would
have been thematised (> 3sg. *mí-mn-e-ti, 3pl. *mí-mn-o-nti), whereas “in
Hittite the paradigm of *mí-mn- was analogically reconstituted on the basis
of the 3pl. mimmanzi, leading to a stem mimma-, with ‘thematic’ -a-”. The
stumbling block in this case is not just the need to invoke large-scale
intraparadigmatic levelling on the basis of the 3pl., which is no typologically
52
Neither an explanation via a root variant *d heh1i̯- (Melchert 1984: 73 and 1994: 65; cf. Puhvel 1960: 55–6,
Lindeman 1979) nor one invoking a suffix (Risch 1955, Kimball 1998, Jasanoff 2003: 91–117, though the
latter excepts *d heh1-; differently Kloekhorst 2006b: 113–16, see below) is really satisfactory. Along the
lines of Oettinger (2002: 459–61) and Rasmussen (2010: 228), but with crucial modifications, one may
perhaps think of analogical influence from roots with root-final *-i̯- (or *-i̯H-). Starting from *d hoh1-ei̯ >
*dāē (> dāi), the latter form could be taken to represent underlying *dā(i̯)ē as soon as intervocalic *-i̯- was
lost in cases like *noi̯(H)-ei̯ > *nā(i̯)ē (> nāi ‘turns’; cf. Kimball 1999: 364–7). At that point, 1sg. *d hoh1-h2ei̯
> *d/tāhhi) or 3pl. *d hh1-enti > *d/tanzi could profitably be replaced by 1sg. tēhhi (as if *d hoi̯(H)-h2ei̯) and
˘˘
3pl. ti(i̯˘ )˘anzi (as if *d hi̯-enti; there is no basis for the “PIE *d he’-onti” of Georgiev 1982: 75). With this
particular verb such a procedure helped the differentiation from dāi ‘takes’ (1sg. dāhhi, 3pl. danzi), to
*deh3- ‘give’. Once a common lexeme like *d hoh1-ei̯ had paved the way, others could˘ ˘follow.
53
Kloekhorst (2006b; 2008: 143–7); cf. already Oettinger (2002: XXVIII; 2004a: 400) (Anatolian
innovation), followed by Kümmel (2012c).
54
Jasanoff (2003: 128–32) and already (1994: 161–2).
likely hypothesis (cf. 6.5), but also the fact that a paradigm with 3sg. *mi-mn-
e(i̯ ), 3pl. *mi-mn-n̥ ti > Hitt. 3sg. †mimmi, 3pl. mimmanzi would have fitted
perfectly into an existing hi-conjugation class without ‘thematic -a-’, namely
the consonantal stems (e.g., ˘ išpānti, išpantanzi ‘libate’, factitive verbs in
-ahhi, -ahhanzi, etc.). With such parallels at hand, to override what the
˘˘ ˘˘
paradigmatically central 3sg. form suggested would have been odd.
This is why another approach has been implied in 4.9, by reconstruc-
tions such as mi-mma-i ‘reject, refuse’ < *mi-mn-o(-e(i̯)). The argument will
be made more fully once we have considered the non-Anatolian material
(4.40), but essentially it is proposed that we start from 3sg. forms such as
*mi-mn-o. These should have yielded Hittite forms in -a, paralleling the
forms underlying mediopassives in -a such as kīša ‘becomes’ (*gei̯s-o(-r) (?))
or nēa ‘turns (intr.)’ (*nei̯H-o(-r)) (4.34). While these were secondarily
recharacterised by the addition of *-r(i),55 no such innovation must be
expected for most of the verbs in group (iii) since they were distinctly
transitive; and even those which were not (ti-tha-i/ø ‘thunder’, u̯ i-u̯ a-i ‘cry’)
were at least interpretable as ‘intensive’, implying ˘ a high degree of agent
potency or control (cf. 4.6, with fn. 21). At the point where previous forms
in *-o were liable to recharacterisation, the addition of mediopassive *-r(i)
was therefore no option. By contrast, the addition of the hi-conjugation
3sg. ending *-e(i̯) was not unreasonable, all the more since˘ – save for the
accent – the resulting *-o-e(i̯) > *-ōi̯ > -ai (cf. 4.38) made this group of verbs
resemble hi-conjugation verbs of the *dóh3-e(i̯) > *dā́ e > dāi type. And on
the basis of ˘ the 3sg. in *-o-e(i̯ ), further forms such as 1sg. -ahhi or 3pl. -anzi
could be built, by analogy with the usual hi-conjugation pattern, ˘˘ replacing
˘
whatever forms had previously occupied those slots (cf. 10.26).
Confirmation for this scenario comes from the better-attested of the two
intransitive-intensive verbs mentioned. Their need to be recharacterised as
hi-conjugation verbs in (typically transitive) *-o-e(i̯) would have been least
˘pressing. We can thus explain why ti-tha-i/ø ‘thunder’ historically still
shows up as 3sg. titha or tētha ‘thunders’˘ in Old Hittite, whereas by the
time of Neo-Hittite˘ the verb˘ has become tethai. What we see here is one
member of the group lagging behind the rest˘ on one and the same path.56
55
Cf. e.g. kīšari, nē(i̯)ari; with Neu (1982b) and Yoshida (1990: esp. 95–102, 120–1), forms like kīša do
not then directly reflect *-o. On a possible Celtic parallel with *-or, see 4.35.
56
One might then also connect Hitt. ii̯a-tta(ri) ‘go, march’ with group (iii). During the recharacterisa-
tion process, an original 3sg. *h1i-h1i-o (to *h1ei̯- ‘go’) > *ii̯a would have been left alone because of its
intransitive meaning; but unlike titha, the relic would subsequently have been mediopassivised as
*ii̯a(ri) → ii̯atta(ri), perhaps under ˘ the influence of verbs with the suffix *-i̯e/o- (and hence
mediopassive 3sg. -ii̯atta(ri) (← *-ii̯a(ri)?)). However, since a derivation from *h1i-i̯e/o- cannot be
excluded, and since other possibilities also exist (cf. Eichner 1975: 77, Kloekhorst 2008: 380, s.v.
If this is accepted, the pre-form *C1i-C1C-o posited as the starting point
for group (iii) may be regarded in synchrony as a reduplicated version of the
pre-form *CeC-o presupposed by the Hittite mediopassives in *-a(ri).
Whether this comparison is also appropriate in diachrony – in the sense
that the *C1i-C1C-o type would really be derived from *CeC-o by the
addition of a reduplication syllable – is another matter, to be discussed in
due course (4.49–4.52).
4.13 Semantic Analysis of Group (iii)

So far, we have only noticed that a majority of the group (iii) verbs are
transitive, while one or two point to intensive readings. More in-depth
semantic analyses are provided by van Brock and García Ramón. The latter
finds that
the semantics of the hi-verbs of the mimma-type do not lead to the recogni-
˘
tion of a unitary function, but do allow us to state a rationale. Verbs without
corresponding forms outside Anatolian may express Aktionsarten that are
easily conceivable for a reduplicated stem: iterative-distributive (lilh(u)u̯ (a)-
˘
beside lāhuu̯ (a)- ‘to pour out’) and intensive (titha- ‘to thunder’; probably also
˘ ˘
ši/ešha- ‘to order, determine’ as against išhi̯(a)- ‘to bind’).
˘
Verbs which constitute word equations ˘ with verbs attested in other IE
languages may reflect intensive Aktionsart or the lexicalization of an aspec-
tual present stem according to the lexeme. If the lexeme is stative, the -i-
reduplicated verb expresses an intensive Aktionsart: thus mimma- ‘to refuse’
(: Hom. μίμνω ‘tarry’) reflects an intensive formation *mí-mn-e ‘resist’ of the
stative lexeme *men- ‘stay’. If the lexeme is momentative, the -i-reduplicated
verb goes back to an inherited present stem: thus pippa- ‘to overthrow’
(: Ved. °pipīte) reflects the present stem of PIE *(s)peh2- ‘move violently’.
Hitt. titti̯a-mi, titt(a)nu- ‘to install, set up, appoint’, being certainly
Anatolian creations, rely on the existence (and are continuants) of the
inherited present stems *d hi-d heh1- (‘to put’: *d heh1-) and *(s)ti-(s)th2- ‘to
take one’s place’ (*steh2-), which have merged in Hittite.57
García Ramón does not mention van Brock’s study, but her conclusions
are broadly similar: she too cannot make out a ‘unitary function’ in
synchronic terms. Without setting apart group (iii) from the other groups,
she also regards as
i̯e/a-tta(ri)), the analysis of ii̯a-tta(ri) as reduplicated must be treated with caution, despite the alluring
parallel of Ved. īý ate ‘goes’ (< *h1i-h1i̯-e-toi̯). In any case, Rasmussen’s (2001b: 359–64) claim that
Ved. īý ate and Hitt. ii̯atta(ri) must be separated, because of their middle voice, from *h1ei̯- and
connected with *Hi̯eh1- (cf. Table 4.1, on Gr. ἵημι) is counterintuitive. As we shall see (4.28), the
middle voice of īý ate merely neutralises the transitivising effect of the reduplication.
57
García Ramón (2010a: 52).
undoubtedly iterative those verbs which refer to a series of distinct actions and
those which express what we call a multiple or complex activity. This is the
case with lelhuwai- ‘pour repeatedly’, wewakk- ‘ask repeatedly’ or ‘ask for one
thing after ˘another’, nanna- ‘drive several animals’, tittiya- ‘place several
people’ . . ., kikkiš- ‘happen several times’, lilip- ‘lick repeatedly’.58
She then briefly mentions one or two uncertain cases where a durative
interpretation seems possible,59 but more emphatically continues:
But there remains a series of verbs which do not fall easily into either of
these two categories [sc., ‘iterative’ and ‘durative’]. Kukkurš- and kurkurai-
‘mutilate’ might represent ‘slash, make several cuts’, but the examples of
the Law Code speak against this interpretation: cut off, as a punishment,
the nose and the ears of a slave is expressed by kukkuršk-, and one may
assume that this operation was done properly. Thus, kukkurš- means ‘cut
completely so as to separate’, as opposed to kuer(š)- ‘make a cut’. Here it is
the end point or result of the action which seems to be envisaged.
Similarly, lalukkai- ‘emit light onto an object’ and hulhuliya- if it does
˘ ˘ tittiya- (and cf.
mean ‘kill in battle’. . . . Next to dāi- ‘place, set down’,
tittanu-) means ‘place permanently, establish’; but this does not entail that
it is durative since it is not the process itself which extends in time, but its
result. The same relation is seen between eš- and ašeš-, lak- and lilak- ‘bend
definitively’, kiš- and kikkiš- ‘become permanently, for good’ . . . So how
do we have to define the function of reduplication? At least three terms are
necessary: it constitutes iterative, perfective and, albeit rarely, durative
stems.60
Diachronically, however, she assigns primacy to the iterative function:
It is only on the basis of the notion of repetition, and because of the notion
of extension in time that is implied by repetition, that these forms were
occasionally able to assume a durative aspect. One may also see the way in
which reduplication could serve to constitute perfective verbal stems. We
have . . . translated Luw. papparkuwai- as ‘clean in every detail’, whence
‘clean thoroughly, completely’; we have . . . classified this form among the
iteratives, but one sees here the blank for a verb of perfective aspect expres-
sing the notion of performing an activity in order to obtain a result: not
merely ‘clean’, but ‘clean and clean again, until cleanness comes about’.61
58
Van Brock (1964: 144) (translated); cf. also Dressler (1968: 208–16; 1971: 15).
59
Her evidence for this consists of a single example of ki-kkiš-tta(ri) (group (i)), for which she accepts a
different interpretation as syntactically more likely (van Brock 1964: 132), and some attestations of
intransitive nanna-i (group (ii)) meaning ‘be under way, march’ (~ Gr. ἐλαύνω): neither of these is
thus relevant to our discussion of group (iii). Even if nanna-i were reduplicated (despite 4.9, fn. 32),
its durativity need not be due to the reduplication.
60
Van Brock (1964: 144–5) (translated).
61
Van Brock (1964: 147) (translated); cf. Carruba (1976: 141).
4.14 Atelic Iteration and Bounding
In general terms, van Brock’s development from ‘iterativity’ to (something
like) ‘perfectivity’ is not dissimilar from our own collective hypothesis (4.5).
However, she fails to acknowledge the essential role played by (subjective)
bounding.62 What is crucial is that unbounded eventualities automatically
acquire certain boundedness characteristics when a speaker marks them as
iterated; and vice versa, in a language where such a morphological mechan-
ism is available, explicit iteration marking may therefore be used to bound
unbounded eventualities. An English sentence such as Peter was waiting/
waited for Mary, Jane, and Susan (cf. PIE *men- ‘wait’, prototypically atelic)
would normally be taken to refer to a single unbounded eventuality; but if
there was a productive iteration-marking feature, for instance in the form of
reduplication (cf. PIE *mi-mn-), an otherwise identical sentence would
convey that what was happening was a series of waiting eventualities, each
of which would have to be bounded (by the arrival of one girl after the
other). To be sure, Peter’s waiting would not thereby become more ‘inten-
sive’, but it would become more conclusive or ‘resultative’.63
Against this background, we may now refine the collective hypothesis.
Because of its intrinsic bounding effect with atelic bases, an iteration
marker that historically shows up as a marker of perfectivity is likely to
have begun specialising like this precisely among such bases (or roots). But
once it had become a perfective marker there, it could extend this function
to telic bases (roots) as well. The synchronically oriented analysis of the
semantics of reduplication in Hittite thus allows us to be more specific,
without abandoning any element of our preliminary reconstruction.
As for Hittite itself, it would be wrong to conclude from van Brock’s and
García Ramón’s treatments that, say, lilhuu̯ a-i ‘pour’ is restricted to
contexts requiring an iterative interpretation ˘ or that non-reduplicated
lāhu(u̯ ai)- ‘pour’ is banned from contexts allowing one.64 In that sense
i
˘ alleged ‘iterative’ functionality of reduplication within Hittite is less
the
reliable than the lexically established ‘resultative’ or ‘intensive’ ones. Nor is
62
As does Bendahman (1993: 33), on the reduplicated aorist: ‘With the reduplicated aorists of the
characteristically transitive activity verbs πεφνεῖν and ἀλαλκεῖν, the meaning, which is more definite
and apparently more intensive than that of the root, might result from the idea of an activity being
repeated on the object: “strike repeatedly” → “strike dead”, “strike repeatedly in defense” → “fend
off”.’ But killing someone is rarely the same as repeated striking; what it takes is a single, decisive
stroke.
63
In the case of an already bounded eventuality (e.g., Peter placed Mary, Jane, and Susan around the
table; cf. prototypically telic *d heh1- ‘put, place’), no such effect would directly ensue; but neither
would a reduplicated variant entail unbounding.
64
This is conceded by van Brock (1964: 126–7, 154–6).
it helpful to separate in group (iii) “verbs without corresponding forms
outside Anatolian” from others, or to formulate rules like “[i]f the lexeme is
stative, the -i-reduplicated verb expresses an intensive Aktionsart” and “[i]f
the lexeme is momentative, the -i-reduplicated verb goes back to an
inherited present stem”.65 Instead, the essential point (or ‘unitary func-
tion’) is this: for every verb of group (iii) in which reduplication has a
detectable effect at all, the available evidence from within Hittite (if non-
reduplicated parallels exist) or from outside (if reduplicated cognates exist
and a prototypical root meaning can be established) suggests that redupli-
cation correlates with an increase in boundedness or, where the non-
reduplicated reference point is already bounded, in semantic transitivity
more generally (3.35). As the next section will demonstrate, this finding
neatly agrees with what we observe in Greek.
4.15–4.17 Greek Reduplicated Presents

4.15 Reduplicated Presents without Suffix
Table 4.1 contains the principal data for unsuffixed reduplicated presents in
Greek, both thematic and athematic. It reviews, discusses, and supple-
ments the material assembled by Giannakis and adds post-Homeric lex-
emes listed in Schwyzer’s grammar.66 A few items, whose secondary nature
is clear, have been left out because they cannot be used for reconstructive
purposes.67 Cases of greater doubt have been included.
The entries are arranged alphabetically according to the respective roots.
They cite the Greek reduplicated present in the 3sg., and a Proto-Greek
reconstruction whose stem not always coincides with the PIE stem
65
García Ramón (2010a: 52); he cites mi-mma-i as an instance of only the former rule, although Gr.
μίμνω points to an “inherited present stem” too, and although ‘refuse’ (mi-mma-i) is not really an
intensified ‘stay’ (*men-).
66
Giannakis (1997), Schwyzer (1939: 686–90); but ὀνίνημι ‘benefit’, though listed by Giannakis (1997:
120–1) and others (cf. Schwyzer 1939: 688–9), is omitted as it is rather a nasal-suffixed present to
*h3neh2- (cf. LIV 302, s.v. *h3neh2-, comparing ON unnum ‘we like’). As implied by Cowgill (1965:
153), one should expect (ὀ)νῑ- < *(h3)ni-h3n-, if this were reduplicated from *h3neh2-. By contrast,
*h3n̥ -néh2- > *ὀν-νᾱ- → ὀνινᾱ- may work if parallels like σκίδνημι ‘disperse’ with epenthetic -ι- are
compared (Schwyzer 1939: 351, Lejeune 1972: 208; cf. 8.44, fn. 192). Synchronically, ὀνίνημι can still
have been associated with the reduplicated presents.
67
Cf. Schwyzer (1939: 688–9) on κί(γ)κρᾱμι ‘mix’ (after κρᾱτός ‘mixed’, etc.; root *k̑ erh2-), κί(γ)χρημι
‘lend, give an oracle’ (after aor. ἔχρησα ‘lent, gave an oracle’ to χρήομαι, itself denominal from χρή ‘it
is necessary’; Chantraine 2009: 1228, s.v. χρή), (*)πίφρημι (inf. εἰσπιφράναι ‘let in’) (after fut. -φρήσω,
whether or not this is from -προ-ήσω ‘will let forward’, as Schwyzer thinks; better perhaps to regard
-φρήσω ‘will admit’ as analogically created to φέρω ‘bear, admit’ after the antonymic pair ἔχω : σχήσω
‘will check, stop’: cf. ipv. ἔκφρες ‘let out!’ ~ ipv. σχές ‘stop!’), τίτρημι ‘pierce’ (after ἔτρησα to
τετραίνω (4.16, fn. 71); attested very late, cf. LSJ 1780, s.v. τετραίνω).
Table 4.1. Greek reduplicated presents without suffix
Root
Reduplicated present (3sg. act./med.)
Reconstruction Commentary
*deh1- ‘bind’ Since a reduplicated present is found only in Greek, it could be analogically based on the s-aorist
δίδησι ‘binds’ ἔδησα (Solmsen 1906: 211–17, Schwyzer 1939: 688, Kujore 1973: 41–3); the latter may replace a
< *di-deh1-ti previous root aorist (LIV 102, s.v. 1. *deh1-, after Barton 1990/1: 35). Indo-Iranian (Ved. dyáti ‘binds’)
PIE *de-deh1-/*de-doh1- (?) and Anatolian (Hitt. ipv. tii̯a ‘bind!’; cf. Kloekhorst 2008: 880–1, s.v. tii̯e/a-zi) share a i̯-present
(*dh1-i̯é/ó-), which is perhaps also reflected in Gr. δέω (though see Table 5.5 for an alternative).
LIV 103, s.v. ?2. *deh1-, hesitantly separates Ved. abhi-dā́ -s- ‘consider/treat as an enemy’ (3sg.
abhi-dā́ sati: an original s-aor. subj. according to Narten 1963: 59–61). However, OAv. 3pl. pres. aibī
daintī ‘they ensnare’ coupled with the late Ved. 3sg. subj. or root-present ind. abhi-dā́ ti ‘pursues as
an ˙enemy’ suggest a connection through a meaning ‘ensnare’ and/or ‘bind magically’ (cf. Insler 1975:
209, Janda 2000: 121). If this is correct, the PIE root formation would have been presentic rather
than aoristic (and the s-aorist could also be ancient). Whether Hom. δήω ‘will find’ belongs here
too, as a future without restituted *-s- (cf. Narten 1963: 63, 8.18, fn. 76), remains uncertain; it would
presuppose a metaphorisation ‘ensnare’ > ‘catch’ > ‘find’.
*deh3- ‘give’ Cf. Ved. dádāti, YAv. daδāiti ‘gives’, Lat. (re)ddit ‘gives back’ (< *-didet(i)), Vestinian didet ‘gives’,
δίδωσι ‘gives’ Umbr. 3sg. subj. pres. dirsa (< *didat(i)), Osc. 3sg. fut. didest.
< *di-deh3-ti Nothing suggests an iterative meaning (*‘give repeatedly’) for the reduplicated present of *deh3-; the
PIE *de-deh3-/*de-doh3-, *di-dh3-e/o- stem simply means ‘give’, exactly like the corresponding root aorist (Ved. ádāt ‘has given’, Gr. ἔδωκε
‘gave’: 6.11–6.12; cf. also Hitt. 3pl. pres. danzi ‘they take’ < *dh3-énti, next to 3sg. dāi < *doh3-ei̯: 4.12,
fn. 52).
Τhe athematic shape seen in Indo-Iranian and Greek contrasts with the thematic one in Italic (and
probably Celtic: cf. Celtiberian 3pl. pres. điđonti ‘they give’ (?), LIV 105–6, s.v. *deh3-, Schumacher
Table 4.1. (cont.)
Root
2004: 718–20). The geminate -dd- of Lat. reddō could reflect the reduplication syllable, which is no
longer visible elsewhere in Latin. Lat. dō, dat is usually explained as dereduplicated after the
compounds, with zero-grade da- from the plural of an athematic paradigm (e.g. 1pl. *de-dh3-mos >
*de-da-mos, etc.; cf. Leumann 1977: 527–8, Weiss 2009: 433–4). This is not unproblematic: a priori the
singular full grade *deh3- > dō- would be more likely to influence the rest of the paradigm, the other
Italic forms unequivocally point to thematic *di-d(h3)-e/o-, and -a- could only be preserved if the
reduplication syllable was lost very early, before syncopation (in compounds) or vowel weakening.
The postulate of a (secondary) i̯-present [*dh3-i̯e/o- >] *da-i̯e/o-, eventually contaminated with *di-
d(h3)-e/o- (e.g. inf. *di-d(h3)-e-se > *didere (cf. reddere) × *da-i̯e-se > *dāre → inf. dare), and/or
influence from an old root-aorist paradigm (Meiser 1998: 188; 2003: 105–6) may therefore be
unavoidable.
Difficult, too, is the Balto-Slavic evidence. OLith. dúosti and OCS dastъ ‘gives’ apparently point to
*dōd-ti, with an unusual reduplication vowel and a reduced root. Starting from *de-deh3-ti (*de-doh3-
ti) > *de-dō-ti, with plural *de-dh3-, this has been taken to represent *de-dh3- > *ded-, whose vowel
would have been substituted by *-o- (with lengthening due to Winter’s Law) or *-ō- in analogy with
the root aorist, perhaps to avoid homophony with *ded- < *d hed hh1- from *d heh1- ‘put’ (cf. Stang 1942:
21–2, Vaillant 1966: 452, Bammesberger 1982b, LIV 105–6, s.v. *deh3-; contrast W. P. Schmid 2004
who starts from a perfect). But why should the plural stem *ded- have been preferred to *dedō- (or
simplified *dō-) if this created problems? Others therefore posit an unreduplicated root formation
*dō-ti, whether inherited or not, and assume that the internal *-d- of *dōd-ti is of analogical origin
(Szemerényi 1948: 7–12, Fraenkel 1950: 92–5, Ivanov 1965: 82, Arumaa 1985: 210–11). In any case, too
much is unclear to base any conclusions on the Balto-Slavic material.
*d heh1- ‘put’ Cf. Ved. dádhāti (3pl. dádhati), OAv. dadāiti ‘puts’ (3sg. med. dazdē ‘assumes’ < *d he-d hh1-toi̯), Lat. -dit,
τίθησι ‘puts’ inf. -dere in compounds (e.g., abdere ‘hide’), OE dōn, OHG tuon ‘do’ (pret. teta); Hitt. titta-i (4.9).
< *d hi-d heh1-ti Semantically everything points to non-iterative ‘put, place’: the reduplicated present is the exact
PIE *d he-d heh1-/*d he-d hoh1-, counterpart to the root aor. *(h1e-)d heh1-t ‘put’ (> Ved. ádhāt, Gr. ἔθηκε with Boeot. (ἀν)έθε̄ (Table 6.1),
*d hi-d hh1-e/o- Arm. ed ‘put’, etc.). A root present of similar meaning is seen in Hitt. tēzzi ‘says’ and Lyc. tadi ‘puts’ (cf.
2.17). Hitt. dāi ‘puts’ (1sg. tēhhi, 3pl. tii̯anzi) must continue *d hoh1(i̯ )-ei̯ (4.12, with fn. 52; 5.31).
The exact PIE reconstruction ˘ ˘is challenging. Leaving aside Hitt. titta-i (4.9, 4.12), the Latin evidence
again allows a thematic interpretation, but the reduplicated presents of *deh3- and *d heh1- have fallen
together there. The historical Latin present of *d heh1- is faciō, no doubt a secondary creation after the
root-aorist-based perf. fēcī (cf. e.g. apiō ‘fasten’ : -ēpī, Table 3.1, s.v. *h1nek̑ -; on fēcī also 6.12). Next to
fēcī, the expected †fidō (< *d hi-d hh1-e/o-) would have been too aberrant.
Other data point to an athematic stem. Gr. τίθησι and Ved. dádhāti, OAv. dadāiti can be traced back to
*d he/i-d heh1-ti (on the reduplication vowel, cf. 4.24). However, the Indo-Iranian forms are also
compatible with a radical o-grade, and Germanic may support this. Against Euler (2005: 84), OE dōn,
OHG tuon are commonly believed to represent dereduplicated *d he-d hō- >→ *dō-, and the OHG
preterite 1sg. teta is also most easily derived from *d he-d hoh1-m > PGmc. *dedǭ (though 3sg. *d he-d heh1-t
> PGmc. *dedē > OHG teta also works, and a development 1sg. *d he-d heh1-m > PGmc. *dedę̄ > *dedą̄ >
*dedǭ remains conceivable: cf. Ringe 2006: 148, 158; note also Ringe 2012: 123–4 with a different take on
OE dōn etc.).
Cognate Balto-Slavic forms do not clarify much since they pose similar problems as with *deh3- (OLith.
dest(i) ‘puts’ as if *d hed h(H)-ti, OCS deždetъ ‘puts’ as if *d hed h-i̯e-ti). Finally, the Tocharian B
subjunctive stem tätta- (~ Toch. A tā-) may be re-reduplicated from Proto-Toch. *ttá-, whose geminate
would have arisen by (irregular) syncope of *t’ä- < *d he- in *t’ätá- (Hackstein 1995: 63–4); but *t’ätá-
itself can continue either *d he-d hh1- (Hackstein) or *d he-d hoh1- (Malzahn 2010: 650). Unless the plural
stem *d he-d hh1- > Proto-Toch. *t’äta- here unusually prevailed over a singular stem *d he-d heh1- (> Proto-
Toch. *t’ät’æ-), this too speaks for *d he-d hoh1-.
*g̑ enh1- ‘generate, come into being (vel Cf. Ved. (aor. < impf.) ájījanat ‘has generated’, YAv. 3pl. zīzanənti ‘they generate’ (3.17), Lat. gignō
sim.)’ ‘generate’. ˙
Table 4.1. (cont.)
Root
γίγνεται ‘comes into being, becomes’ Greek, Latin, and Indo-Iranian point to a reduplicated present, but *g̑ enh1- also provides multilateral
(> Ion. γῑ ́νεται, cf. Lejeune 1972: 78) evidence for both a thematic root present (*g̑ enh1-e/o-: Ved. jánati ‘generates, gives birth’, Lat. genō
< *g̑ i-g̑ n(h1)-e-toi̯ ‘generate’; also Toch. 3sg. med. subj. B knetär ~ A knatär ‘will come about’ < *g̑ enh1-o- (?), cf. LIV 163,
PIE *g̑ i-g̑ n(h1)-e/o- s.v. *g̑ enh1-, with *g̑ enh1-ē-) and a i̯-present (*g̑ n̥ h1-i̯e/o-: Ved. jā́ yate, YAv. zaiieiti, OIr. 3sg. gainithir,
all ‘is born’). The semantics of the Vedic and Latin thematic root presents, together with the agent
noun Gr. γενέτωρ ~ Lat. genitor ~ Ved. jánitar- ‘he who generates’, have been thought to demand an
active root meaning (LIV 163–4, s.v.: “erzeugen”, ‘but the middle root aorist and the i̯e-present no
doubt had the fientive meaning “to be born” already in the proto-language; under the assumption
that the meaning was originally agentive, only the Greek perfect is problematic’). More simply,
perhaps, *g̑ enh1- was labile, like Engl. develop (e.g., active pres. *g̑ enh1-e-ti ‘develops = generates sth.’;
agent noun *g̑ enh1-tōr ‘developer’; but middle aor. *g̑ enh1-to ‘(sth.) developed = came about’). The
selection of active vs. middle morphology would then be epiphenomenal to the transitivity status of a
given form in context. However that may be, if the active thematic root present is already telic and
transitive, the same telicity – and, for active *g̑ i-g̑ n(h1)-e/o- (~ Gr. τίκτω: cf. below on *tek̑ -), also
syntactic transitivity – values cannot be distinctive in the reduplicated present. Even so, their
prominence there is worth noting.
Corresponding to pres. γίγνομαι is the root aor. ἐγενόμην (3sg. ἐγένετο, probably < *(h1e-)g̑ n̥ h1-to
rather than *(h1e-)g̑ enh1-to: cf. Harđarson 1993a: 167–8 against Peters 1980a: 27–8 n. 19,
Klingenschmitt 1982: 268, 277; 6.16). This has cognates in the Ved. pass. aor. ajani ‘I have been born’,
Arm. med. cnaw ‘gave birth’ or ‘was born’, and Toch. B subj. kantär ‘will come about’ (cf. LIV 163, s.v.
*g̑ enh1-, after Hackstein 1995: 232–4, 238–42). Meanwhile, an act. root aor. 3sg. *(h1e-)g̑ enh1-t might
underlie Lat. perf. genuit ‘generated, gave birth’ (Meiser 2003: 228–9). Gr. ἐγείνατο ‘gave birth’, on
the other hand, is probably created on the basis of med. ἐγένετο (Cardona 1967: 771; PIE *g̑ enh1-s-
would have produced Hom. †γενεσ(σ)α-).

In line with 3.8, the loss of the laryngeal in γίγνομαι (and Lat. gignō: cf. Rix 1995: 407) can be ancient
(i.e., γίγνε/ο- < *gi-gn-e/o- < *g̑ i-g̑ n̥ h1-e/o-; on the Indo-Iranian forms, see 3.17, fn. 33).
*g̑ heh1- ‘leave (behind), overtake’ Cf. Ved. jáhāti ‘leaves behind’ and med. jíhīte ‘moves (away)’, YAv. zazāiti ‘leaves behind, wins’ and
*κίχησι ‘reaches, overtakes’ (cf. 3sg. 3du. med. hən zazāite ‘they arise’ (see LIV 172–3, s.vv. ?*g̑ heH-, *g̑ heh1-; cf. LIV 196, s.v. *gheh1-).
subj. κίχῃσι, 1pl. impf. (ἐ)κίχημεν, inf. A variety of early Greek forms point to a reduplicated present *κίχησι, which is matched in Indo-
κιχῆναι, etc.) Iranian. The semantic link with Ved. jáhāti, YAv. zazāiti is provided by the meaning ‘overtake’, as in
< *g̑ hi-g̑ heh1-ti Il. 6.228 κτείνειν ὅν κε . . . ποσσὶ κιχείω ‘to kill whom I overtake with my feet’ (cf. Hoffmann 1968b:
PIE *g̑ he-g̑ heh1-/*g̑ he-g̑ hoh1-, 284–5, J. Haudry in Chantraine 2009: 1314–15, s.v. κιχᾱ ́ νω, and note Ved. hās- ‘compete in running’ <
*g̑ hi-g̑ hh1-e/o- (?) *g̑ heh1-s-, as discussed by Narten 1964: 285–6; contrast Oettinger 2007: 125–6). Whether the
Germanic verbs for ‘go’ (OE gān) belong to the same root is less certain since they are equally
compatible with *gheh1- as needed for Arm. gam ‘I come’ (Klingenschmitt 1982: 86). Even if they do
derive from a reduplicated present and not a i̯-present (such as *g̑ hh̥ 1-i̯é/ó-; cf. parallel *sth̥ 2-i̯é/ó-
‘stand’, Ringe 2006: 264–5), their interpretation is too controversial to tell us much about the proto-
language (cf. esp. Mottausch 1997, followed by LIV 196, s.v. *gheh1-).
In Vedic, an s-aorist (ahās ‘has left behind’) occurs earlier than a root aorist (ahāt ‘do.’), but it need not
therefore be older (pace Narten 1964: 285, Harđarson 1993a: 123–4). In Avestan too, both aorist
formations exist (OAv. root aor. 1pl. opt. zaēmā vs. YAv. s-aor. 3sg. opt. fra-zahīt̰ ). In Greek,
meanwhile, the reduplicated present stem was reinterpreted as an aorist stem (i.e., 3sg. impf. → aor.
(ἐ)κίχη, whence an analogical pres. κιχᾱ ́ νω, fut. κιχήσομαι, after semantically similar (ἔ)φθη, φθᾱ ́ νω,
φθήσομαι; Chantraine 2009: 515, s.v. κιχᾱ ́ νω); or at least it was no longer felt to be reduplicated, as
evidenced by the new thematic aorist (ἔ)κιχε. The exact path of the latter innovation is not
recoverable. One possibility is that a 3sg. ind. *κίχει < *κίχητι (cf. τίθει (Il. 13.732 with Σ) ~ τιθεῖ from
τίθημι, Willi 2012) led to a 3sg. impf. → aor. (ἔ)κιχε (differently Leumann 1957: 78 n. 11, Cardona
1960: 72–4). In any case, without a distinctly telic (non-iterative) value of the reduplicated present, an
aoristic interpretation of imperfective forms would not have been possible.
*g u̯ eh2- ‘go, stride’ Cf. Ved. jígāti ‘strides’.
*βίβησι ‘strides’ (cf. Hom. ptcpl. The reduplicated present of Greek and Indo-Iranian matches a root aorist (Ved. ágāt ‘has gone’, OAv.
Table 4.1. (cont.)
Root
βιβάντ-, thematised 3sg. βιβᾷ in inj. gāt̰ ‘goes’, Gr. ἔβη ‘went’ (Dor. ἔβᾱ) < (*h1e-)g u̯ eh2-t; cf. LIV 205, s.v. *g̣ u̯ eh2-, also on Arm. 1sg. eki
h.Merc. 225) ‘I went’, Table 6.1). A corresponding i̯-present *g u̯ h̥ 2-i̯e/o- probably appears in OIr. baïd ‘dies’ (< ‘goes
< *g u̯ i-g u̯ eh2-ti (away)’) and Arm. kam ‘stand’ (< ‘go (somewhere), take a stand’): for both of these, the loss of a
PIE *g u̯ e-g u̯ eh2-/*g u̯ e-g u̯ oh2-, reduplication syllable in *g u̯ e-g u̯ (e)h2-ti (1sg. *-mi) seems less likely (pace Klingenschmitt 1982: 87–9,
*g u̯ i-g u̯ h2-e/o- (?) McCone 1999: 361; cf. McCone 1991a: 109, Schumacher 2004: 215).
In view of Ved. dádāti, dádhāti, jáhāti, the reduplication vowel of jígāti is unexpected; but Thieme
(1929: 54) and Narten (1972) have shown that an older state of affairs is preserved in the fossilised
participle jágat- ‘world’ (< ‘that which strides’) (cf. 4.24). As for thematised βιβᾷ in h.Merc. 223, this
parallels Homeric forms like τιθεῖ ‘puts’ or διδοῖ ‘gives’, on whose origin see Willi (2012); cf.
Hackstein (2002: 111–12).
That *g u̯ eh2- originally meant ‘take a step’, rather than ‘go, stride’, cannot be substantiated (LIV 205,
s.v. *g u̯ eh2-, following Delbrück 1897: 17, 77, Hoffmann 1967a: 274–5; 2.6). In the absence of
pertinent support from the root aorist, the reduplicated present must not then be seen as iteratival
(*‘take step after step’, rather than just ‘go’).
*Hi̯ eh1- ‘throw, send’ Only Greek presents clear evidence for a reduplicated present, again without any iterative nuance; the
ἵησι ‘throws, sends’ PIE reconstructions offered are therefore most tentative. On the reduplication consonant(s), see 3.13.
< *(H)i̯i-Hi̯eh1-ti Note that the initial aspiration of ἵημι points to *(H)i̯i-Hi̯eh1- (in line with 3.13), not remade (Proto-
PIE *(H)i̯e-Hi̯eh1-/*(H)i̯e-Hi̯oh1- (?), Greek) *Hi-Hi̯ eh1-. A root-initial laryngeal is implied by the long ἱ- of ἵημι (Peters 1976: 159–60).
*(H)i̯i-Hih1-e/o- (?) As with *d heh1-, the reduplicated present accompanies a root aorist. This is continued by Gr. ἕηκε/ἧκε
(for 3sg. *(h1e-)(H)i̯eh1-t next to e.g. 1pl. εἷμεν < *(h1e-)(H)i̯h̥ 1-me; cf. 6.12 and below on *Hi̯eh1k-). Also
to be compared is the Anatolian root present *Hi̯eh1-ti at least in the compounds Hitt. pe-i̯ezzi ‘sends
away’ and u-i̯ ezzi ‘sends here’ (cf. LIV 225, s.v. *Hi̯eh1-; Kloekhorst 2008: 663–4, s.v. pei̯e-zi).
The structural comparison of Greek/Latin (ἑ)ηκ- ~ iēc- (perf. iēcī ‘threw’) with θηκ- ~ fēc- further
extends to the present: like faciō, Lat. iaciō may replace an expected, but unviable thematic
*Hi-Hih1-e/o- (or *(H)i̯i-Hih1-e/o-) > *(i̯)ī(i̯ )-e/o- > Lat. †īĕ /o-.
Finally, the same root is sometimes sought in Hitt. iezzi ‘does, makes’. If interpreted as /i̯ ētsi/, this
too might go back to *Hi̯eh1-ti (cf. Melchert 1994: 75, 129; contrast Georgiev 1971, iezzi ~ Gr. ἵησι).
However, the matter is complicated not only by the semantic gap between ‘do, make’ and ‘throw’,
but also by the Hittite verb inflecting according to the thematic -i̯ e/a- class (1sg. ii̯ami) and by the
parallel existence of Luw. ā(i̯a)- ‘make, do’ (cf. Rieken 2007: 297, Kloekhorst 2008: 381–2, s.v. i̯ e/
a-zi). What, if anything, relates these Anatolian verbs to Toch. A ya(p)- ‘make’ is a further question;
given the suppletive relationship of ya- ~ y(ä)p-, a contamination of two verbs may be assumed (cf.
Malzahn 2010: 783), but at least 3sg. yas ‘makes’ could indeed derive from *Hi̯eh1-ti.
˙
*Hi̯ eh1k- ‘throw, hit’ (?) Poetic/Doric ἵκω ‘come’ (with long ἱ-) is commonly derived from *si-sik-e/o- to the root *sei̯k- of
ἵκει ‘comes, reaches’ ἱκάνω, ἱκνέομαι ‘reach’ and aor. ἱκόμην (Table 6.2; cf. e.g. Klingenschmitt 1975a: 75, LIV 522, s.v.
< *(H)i̯i-Hih1k-e-ti (?) *sei̯k-). However, this precludes a connection with the formally and semantically similar ἥκω ‘(have)
PIE *(H)i̯i-Hih1k-e/o- (?) come, am present’ of Attic-Ionic (cf. LIV 519, s.v. ?*seh1k-). Moreover, in the archaic verse-end
formula οὐρανὸν ἵκει/ἷκε(ν) ‘comes/came to the sky’ the verb’s initial syllable cannot be resolved as
one might expect if it were contracted after the loss of *-s- > *-h- (cf. Willi 2002: 84–9, also on
differences between ἵκω/ἥκω and ἱκάνω etc. with regard to preverbation).
At the same time the κ-extended root aorist of ἵημι (~ Lat. iēcī) independently points to a root variant
*Hi̯ eh1k- next to *Hi̯eh1- (cf. above and 6.12). In formal terms such a root *Hi̯eh1k- allows Gr. ἵκω to
be interpreted as a thematic reduplicated present next to unreduplicated ἥκω (< *Hi̯eh1k-e/o-),
according to a pattern also observed with μένω/μίμνω, νέομαι/νίσομαι, and ἔχω/ἴσχω (cf. below on
*seg̑ h-, *men-, and *nes-; 4.30). After the original semantic difference had weakened (as with μένω/
μίμνω), different dialects will have generalised either one or the other variant. Presupposing a
trajectory from ‘throw’ to ‘hit’ (cf. βάλλω ‘throw, hit’), the durative character of ἥκω is in line with the
old functionality of such thematic root presents (4.45) (i.e., *Hi̯eh1ke-ti ‘is hitting/reaching’ ~ ‘has
come to, is present’; contrast the unduly complex suggestion in Willi 2002: 90–5, justly criticised by
Kölligan 2013: 105–6). Similarly, the more telic meaning of reduplicated ἵκω ‘come, reach’ fits in with
the general observations of 4.32 (notably on πίπτω ‘fall’ vs. πέτομαι ‘fly’; cf. below on *pet-).
Table 4.1. (cont.)
Root
*h1ei̯sh2- ‘strengthen’ (?) The etymology of ἰάομαι ‘heal’ is controversial. Traditionally a connection with ἰαίνω ‘warm up’ and
ἰᾶται ‘treats, cures, heals’ Ved. ísyati, isnā́ ti ‘causes to move’ has been sought: ‘a verb meaning “to warm” would be susceptible of
< *h1i-h1ish2-(e-)toi̯ (?) ˙ itself
orienting ˙˙ towards a meaning “to treat” if one thinks of treatments such as fomentation’
PIE *h1i-h1ish2-e/o- (?) (Chantraine 2009: 436, s.v. ῑ᾿άομαι, in response to van Brock 1961: 255–8). Along the same lines, García
Ramón (1986), followed by LIV 234, s.v. *h1ei̯sh2-, posits a root *h1ei̯s(h2)- ‘strengthen, impel’, with an
athematic reduplicated present 3sg. med. *h1i-h1sh̥ 2-toi̯ > *ī(h)atoi̯ (→ *ἴαται). This would explain the
long initial vowel of ἰάομαι, and e.g. 3sg. ἰᾶται < ἰάεται would represent a secondary thematisation of
*ἴαται (paralleling the thematisation of presents in athematic *-neh2-ti, med. *-nh̥ 2-toi̯: cf. Schwyzer
1939: 693–4, Willi 2012: 269).
All this is unobjectionable, even if the root-final laryngeal suggested by isnā́ ti need not be original and
the semantics of the Vedic verbs might also be explained through a causative ˙˙ s-enlarged variant of
2
*h1ei̯- ‘go’ (cf. Mayrhofer 1986–2001: 1.272, s.v. ES ; note reduplicated *Hi-His-e/o- > ī́ sate ‘hurries
(away)’). It should however be noted that the entire ˙ evolution works equally well if the˙starting point
was already thematic. In any case, the s-aorist stem ἰᾱσα- (Ion. ἰησα-) will represent the replacement
of an earlier root aorist (with 3sg. *h1ish̥ 2-to > *ἴατο).
*h2u̯ es- ‘spend time, stay (overnight)’ For phonological reasons, ἰαύω is sometimes traced back to a form with suffix *-i̯e/o- (cf. Peters 1980a:
ἰαύει ‘sleeps, spends the night’ 37–8, Clackson 1994: 104, Hackstein 1995: 220, Barber 2013: 286–7): outside Aeolic *i-au̯ s-e/o- should
< *i-au̯ s-e-ti ← *h2i-h2us-e-ti have yielded *ἰᾱ(ϝ)ε/ο- (cf. παρειά ‘cheek’ < *παρᾱϝᾱ ́ < *par-au̯ s-ā), whereas *i-au̯ s-i̯e/o- seems to
PIE *(h2)u̯ i-h2us-e/o- (?) produce ἰαύω more regularly (cf. ἀκούω with *-ou̯ s-i̯e/o-). Unlike ἰαύω, hοwever, other reduplicated
i̯-presents tend to have factitive meanings and occur next to unreduplicated (non-factitive) i̯-presents
(cf. Table 4.2, s.vv. *h2ep-, *sel-, on ἰάλλω, ἰάπτω). Moreover, for a poetic verb rooted in the epic
tradition nothing speaks against an Aeolic development *i-au̯ s-e/o- > *i-au̯ u̯ -e/o- > ἰαυε/ο-. Thus,
hypothetical Proto-Greek *i-us-e/o- < *h2i-h2us-e/o- (itself regularised from PIE *(h2)u̯ i-h2us-e/o-: cf.
3.13) would have been clarified into *i-au̯ s-e/o- on the basis of *au̯ s- in related words such as αὐ-λή
‘court’ (cf. Klingenschmitt 1982: 203 n. 50; athematic *h2i-h2eu̯ -mi is no convincing alternative).
The root *h2u̯ esis well-attested throughout Indo-European (cf. LIV 293–4, s.v. *h2u̯ es-): there is an
athematic root present in Hitt. huiš-zi ‘lives, survives’, a thematic present in Ved. vásati ‘passes the
night, stays’, YAv. vaŋhaiti ‘stays’, ˘ Goth. wisan ‘be, stay’ (cf. Engl. was), and perhaps a i̯-present in
Toch. B subj. wsi- ‘stay, live’ (Hackstein 1995: 220; cf. Malzahn 2010: 898). The Homeric s-aorist ἄεσα
‘spent the night’˙ (< *h2u̯ es-s-) has a cognate in Ved. avātsīt ‘has spent the night’ (← *avāssīt; cf. Narten
1964: 239–40). Later on, a new aorist ἰαυσ- is built after the present.
Semantically, whatever the original state of affairs (Strunk 1999a), the Greek reduplicated present is
no more iterative than the s-aorist. Of course, as with any present a habitual reading may sometimes
be determined by context (e.g., Il. 14.213 Ζηνὸς γὰρ τοῦ ἀρίστου ἐν ἀγκονίῃσιν ἰαύεις ‘you
(habitually) sleep in the arms of Zeus the Best’; note Od. 19.340–2 where both impf. ἴαυον and aor.
ἄεσα refer to an iterated eventuality).
*i̯eh2- ‘seek, request’ Cf. Ved. 1pl. med. ī́ mahe ‘we request’ (?).
δίζηται (med.) ‘seeks, desires’ The formal problems surrounding this family are discussed by García Ramón (1993b; 1999a: 88–9).
< *i̯ i-i̯h̥ 2-toi̯ (med.) (?) His connection of δίζημαι with the Vedic root present yā́ mi ‘I request’ (< *i̯ eh2-mi, s-aor. 3sg. subj.
PIE *i̯e-i̯eh2-/*i̯e-i̯oh2-, *i̯i-ih2-e/o- (?) yāsat; cf. W. P. Schmid 1956) and the sk̑ -present underlying YAv. 3sg. yāsaiti ‘asks, requests’ and Toch.
B 3sg. subj. yāstär ‘will beg’ (LIV 310, s.v. 2. *i̯eh2-) is convincing. The Greek family (including
denominal ζητέω ˙ ‘seek’) is therefore no longer isolated (pace Giannakis 1997: 118–19).
The reduplicated middle present δίζημαι may have a counterpart in Ved. 1pl. ī́ mahe ‘we request’ (with
*i̯i-i̯(h2)-m- for *i̯i-i̯h̥ 2-m- and regular loss of *i̯- in *i̯i-, cf. Wackernagel 1896: 262); though only the
accentuation of ī́ mahe speaks against deriving this from the root present (*ih2-m-; contrast ptcpl.
iyāná- with the correct accent for a root-present participle). Unfortunately, the equation tells us little
about the reduplication vowel: i-reduplication was demanded in Indo-Iranian by the root shape
(containing -i-) and generalised in Greek anyway.
Since *i̯i-i̯h̥ 2-toi̯ should probably produce *ζίαται, one may infer (something like) the following
development behind δίζημαι. To yield ζ-, word-initial *i̯- must have been strengthened into (*i̯i̯- >)
*di̯-, at least under certain conditions. This would have been copied into the reduplicated formation,
Table 4.1. (cont.)
Root
with subsequent regularisation of the reduplicating consonant (*di̯i-di̯h̥ 2-toi̯ → *di-di̯h̥ 2-toi̯). After the
strengthening process, which must have happened very early if the laryngeal was still present, *-h̥ 2-
was realised as *-əh2- rather than *-h2ə- due to the preceding biphonemic cluster; and *di-di̯əh2-toi̯ >
*δίζᾱτοι >→ δίζηται then ensued.
Because δίζημαι was no longer seen as reduplicated, it acquired a new s-aorist/future stem διζη-σ-
(already Od. 16.239 διζησόμεθα). Semantically it differs from other reduplicated presents as well as
Ved. ī́ mahe by not having a clearly telic meaning.
*men- ‘stay, wait’ Cf. Hitt. mimmai ‘refuses, rejects’ (4.9, 4.12).
μίμνει ‘awaits, resists’ Sturtevant’s (1933: 133) connection of Hitt. mimma-i and Gr. μίμνω is widely accepted (e.g., Melchert
< *mi-mn-e-ti 1984: 100, Jasanoff 2003: 128, García Ramón 2010a: 43–5). Semantic objections (Kloekhorst 2008: 581,
PIE *mi-mn-e/o- s.v. mimma-i, after Oettinger 2002: 497) overlook that μίμνω often means ‘resist’ rather than just
‘(a)wait’: ‘refusing’ is a communicative form of resistance (cf. Pedersen 1938a: 121). Other languages
feature related presents in *-sk̑ e/o- (Toch. B mäsketär ‘becomes, is’ < *mn̥ -sk̑ e/o-) or *-eh1- (Lat. maneō
‘remain’ < *mn̥ -eh1-i̯e/o-) (LIV 437, s.v. 2. *men-).
Within Greek, μίμνω and the thematic root present μένω semantically overlap (cf. Kujore 1973: 142–4,
G. Markwald in LfgrE 3.147, s.v. μένω, μίμνω, μιμνάζω); but “[t]he simple verb expresses the notion of
staying or remaining as a general, unspecified, and unrestricted activity, whereas the reduplicated verb
. . . refers to . . . a restricted and well-defined action” (Giannakis 1997: 127; cf. Giannakis 1991: 48–56).
Thus, ‘μένω essentially means “I am in a state of rest or waiting”, μίμνω “I begin to rest, I stop”’; and,
‘when applied to a fight, the two verbs respectively mean “resist, withstand” and “confront the enemy,
get ready for a counter-attack or riposte”’ (Vendryes 1918: 120). In other words, through its action
kinesis and greater volitionality/telicity, μίμνω is more (semantically) transitive than μένω (3.35). In
agreement with this, in Il. 17.721 μίμνομεν ὀξὺν Ἄρηα παρ᾿ ἀλλήλοισι μένοντες ‘let us resist fierce Ares,
remaining next to each other’, μίμνω is syntactically transitive while μένω is not, and in Eur. Med. 355
νῦν δ᾿ εἰ μένειν δεῖ, μίμν᾿ ἐφ᾿ ἡμέραν μίαν ‘but now, if you have to stay, stay on for one more day’ μίμν(ε)
is given an explicit time frame.
The aorist corresponding to μίμνω (and μένω) is sigmatic ἔμεινα (< *(h1e-)mēn-s-), ̆ matching Lat.
mānsī (cf. Table 8.1).
*nes- ‘(re)unite, return (home) safely’ Cf. Ved. 3pl. med. ním sate ‘they join’, 3sg. inj. med. nim sata ‘returns’.
νίσεται ‘goes (to), comes (back)’ (also The reduplicated present ˙ νίσεται (with -ῑ-) is semantically˙ close to the thematic root present νέομαι
spelled νίσσεται) ‘return (home), come’ < *nes-e/o- (cf. Ved. násate ‘joins’, Goth. ga-nisan ‘escape, recover; LIV 454–5,
< *ni-ns-e-toi̯ s.v. *nes-, García Ramón 2004a, also on the secondary i̯-present ναίω ‘inhabit’ < *nas-i̯e/o- ← *as-i̯e/o-
PIE *ni-ns-e/o- < *n̥ s-i̯e/o-). Both commonly occur in telic phrases, for example with πόλεμόνδε ‘into war’ or οἴκαδε
‘home’ (LSJ 1168, 1177, s.vv. νέομαι, νίσσομαι). Also, like other verbs of movement, both can refer to
the future (cf. Wackernagel 1926a: 160, with reference to νίσομαι in Il. 23.76).
A corresponding root aorist is marginally reflected by Ved. 1pl. opt. (sám) nasīmahi (for *asīmahi,
Hoffmann 1967c: 25 n. 3), and in Greek by the adjectivised participle ἄσμενος ‘glad’ (see Table 6.2).
If *ni-ns-e/o- regularly yielded Gr. *νῑνε/ο- (despite Wackernagel 1888: 136), the radical *-s- may have
been restituted before *-ns- underwent the later simplification of ‘secondary’ *-ns- with compensatory
lengthening (cf. Ruijgh 1985: 177, Heubeck 1987: 228). Alternative theories (cf. Giannakis 1997: 207–
8, Chantraine 2009: 717, s.v. νέομαι, Barber 2013: 259–60) are unnecessarily complicated, and against
LIV 454–5, s.v. *nes-, the maintenance of *-ns- does not imply a late thematisation either: the *-s-
always remained visible in lexemes like νόστος ‘return’ or the name Νέστωρ. (The athematic Vedic
3pl. is irrelevant, given the general preference of Indo-Iranian for athematic reduplicated
presents: 4.21.)
*pet- ‘fly, fall’ Some scholars posit two separate set roots for ‘fly’ (with *-h2-) and ‘fall’ (with *-h1-); these would have
πίπτει ‘falls’ merged in Indo-Iranian since Ved.˙pátati ‘flies’ ~ YAv. pataiti ‘flies, hurries’ (not: *pathati) presuppose
< *pi-pt-e-ti *pet-e/o- or *peth1-e/o- instead of *peth2-e/o- (Harđarson 1993a: 184–5, Rix 1999: 517, 529 n. 10, LIV
PIE *pi-pt-e/o- (?) 477–9, s.vv. *peth1- and *peth2-; cf. already Meillet 1905/6: 44–5). Given the semantic closeness of ‘fly’
and ‘fall’ (~ telic ‘fly to the ground’; cf. colloquial German runterfliegen for runterfallen, Od. 12.203
ἔπτατο ‘fell’, not ‘flew (up)’), this seems artificial (cf. Mayrhofer 1986–2001: 2.71–2, s.v. pat1). The
Table 4.1. (cont.)
Root
stem of Ved. pátati exactly corresponds to that of Lat. petō ‘hurry’, MW ehed- ‘fly’ (Schumacher 2004:
515), and Gr. πέτομαι ‘fly’, whereas the Greek reduplicated present has no clear parallel.
The aorists matching pres. πέτομαι and πίπτω are thematic: ἐπτόμην ‘flew’ and Ion.-Att. ἔπεσον
(Aeol./Dor. ἔπετον) ‘fell’. Both of these may ultimately continue the same root aorist (Table 6.2, also
on ἔπτατο, which does not imply *peth2-). Accordingly, there would have been an earlier pair of
(middle) thematic root present ~ (middle) root aorist for the prototypically atelic concept ‘fly’, and a
pair of (active) thematic reduplicated present ~ (active) root aorist for the prototypically telic concept
‘fall’ (cf. Giannakis 1991: 66–71).
The unexpected long -ῑ- of πίπτω has been explained as analogical to the vocalism of ῥίπτω (< *u̯ rīp-
i̯e/o-) (cf. Chantraine 2009: 873, s.v. πίπτω); alternatively, it may be due to compensatory
lengthening after an early shift of the syllable boundary (*pip'te/o- → *pī'pte/o- with syllable-initial -pt-
after -pt- < *-pi̯- in the same position).
*pleh1- ‘fill’ Cf. Ved. 3sg. impf. med. ápiprata ‘has filled (himself)’ (Narten 1969b, LIV 482–3, s.v. *pleh1-).
πίμπλησι ‘fills’ Whereas a variety of languages show nasal presents based on *pleh1- (e.g., Ved. prnā́ ti ‘fills’), a
< *pi(m)-pleh1-ti reduplicated stem is only found in Greek and, more marginally, Indo-Iranian. The ˙ ˙ Vedic relic form
PIE *pe-pleh1-/*pe-ploh1- (?), ápiprata points to a thematic type, matching the situation with the reduplicated present of *steh2-.
*pi-pl(h1)-e/o- (?) (YAv. 3sg. subj. med. hąm.pāfrāite probably belongs to the perfect system, not to a present subjunctive
*-pe-pl(h1)-ē-toi̯ with reduplicating *-e- instead of *-i-; cf. Kellens 1984: 61, Kümmel 2001: 649.)
The odd nasal in the Greek reduplication syllable also occurs in other reduplicated presents (e.g.,
πίμπρημι ‘burn’). It may be influenced by the root-internal nasal of presents such as λιμπάνω ‘leave’,
but a convincing model is difficult to find (cf. Schwyzer 1939: 689). Inflectionally, πίμπλημι follows
the pattern of ἵστημι in classical Greek (e.g., 1pl. πίμπλαμεν, 3pl. πιμπλᾶσι, 3sg. med. πίμπλαται,
etc.), but an original *πιμπλη-/πιμπλη- (< *pi(m)-pleh1-/-pl̥ h1-, possibly remade into *πιμπλη-/
πιμπλε-) is still visible in Aeol. 3pl. πίμπλεισι and ptcpl. nom. pl. fem. πιμπλεῖσαι (with *-ēn̆ ti,
*-ēn̆ ti̯ai̯).
The root aor. Ved. 3sg. aprāt appears to be a remodelling of the s-aor. aprās ‘has filled’ (Narten 1964:
173), which corresponds to Gr. ἔπλησε (*(h1e-)pleh1-s-). However, an ancient root aorist *(h1e-)pleh1-t
is also suggested by Homeric 3sg. med. πλῆτο ‘was filled’ (< *pl̥ h1-to) and Lat. perf. -plēvit ‘filled’ (←
*-plēt; cf. Willi 2009a). Outside the middle voice, there is no reason to postulate an intransitive
meaning for this (pace Meiser 1993b: 286–7; 2003: 226 n. 28; cf. Table 6.1).
*preh1- ‘blow on/up, burn (sth.)’ Cf. Hitt. parip(p)arāi (= /pri-prāi/) ‘blows (an instrument)’ (4.9).
πίμπρησι ‘burns’ The relationship between Hitt. parip(p)ara-i (~ PGr. *pi(m)-preh1-ti with *-m- as in πίμπλημι) and
< *pi(m)-preh1-ti unreduplicated parāi ‘blow on (a fire), blow up’ < *proh1(i̯ )ei̯ (1sg. parehhi, 3pl. parii̯anzi, with par- =
PIE *pe-preh1-/*pe-proh1- (?), /pr-/; cf. Kloekhorst 2008: 631–2, s.v. parai-i/pari-) is the same as between ˘ ˘ Hitt. titta-i ‘install’ (~ PGr.
*pi-pr(h1)-e/o- (?) *d i-d eh1-ti > τίθησι; cf. *d eh1-) and Hitt. dāi ‘puts’ < *d oh1(i̯ )ei̯ (1sg. tēhhi, 3pl. tii̯anzi). On Hitt.
h h h h
p(a)ri- rather than pi-, cf. 3.13 with fn. 24. ˘˘

Elsewhere the same root appears in the i̯-present Russ. preju ‘sweat’ (LIV 489, s.v. *preh1-:
original*pr̥ h1-i̯é/ó-).
The Greek s-aorist (3sg. ἔπρησε) may be based on an older root aorist (*(h1e-)preh1-t), but there is no
independent evidence to corroborate this. Like πίμπλημι (cf. *pleh1-), πίμπρημι secondarily follows
ἵστημι in its inflection (e.g., ptcpl. nom. pl. masc. πιμπράντες).
*sed- ‘sit (down)’ Cf. Ved. sī́ dati, YAv. -šhiδaiti ‘sits down’ (both with PIIr. *sīd- < *si-sd-), Arm. n-stim ‘sit
ἵζει ‘sits (down), sets (down), seats’ (down)’ (< *ni-si-sd-e/o-), Lat. sīdō ‘sit down’, Umbr. 3sg. ipv. sistu (< *si-sd-e-tōd, cf.
< *si-sd-e-ti Untermann 2000: 680–1, s.v. sistu), OCS sędǫ ‘sit down’ (< *sind-e/o- ← sīd-e/o- < *si-sd-e/o-;
PIE *si-sd-e/o- cf. LIV 513–15, s.v. *sed-).
In Greek, the usually dynamic verb ἵζω (often καθίζω, whence also καθιζάνω: cf. *seg̑ h- with ἴσχω/
ἰσχάνω) is distinct from stative (κάθ)ημαι ‘sit’ to *h1es-/*h1eh1s- (4.52, fn. 179). However, by
semantic extension (καθ)ίζω too is occasionally found in non-dynamic contexts (e.g., Od. 19.389 ἷζεν
‘was sitting’). Other languages more regularly use derivatives from *sed- also for the stative meaning
(e.g., Lat. sedeō ‘sit’ < *sed-eh1-i̯ e/o-, OCS sěditъ ‘sits’ < *sed-éi̯e/o- (with *-ei̯e- > *-ī-; differently LIV
514–15, s.v. *sed-), ON sitja, OHG sizzen ‘sit’ < *sed-i̯e/o-; Ved. perf. sasā́ da ‘sits’, etc.). An
Table 4.1. (cont.)
Root
unreduplicated root present *sed(-e/o)- may be reflected in Lith. sė́ du ‘sit down’ (OLith. sė́ dmi) and
OIr. -said (3pl. sedait) ‘sits (down)’ (with analogical -said for *-seid < *sed-e-ti, McCone 1991b: 8 n.
28).
For the aorist, Ved. ásadat ‘has sat down’ points to *(h1e-)sed-e/o-, presumably a thematised root
aorist; Lith. pret. sė́ dau ‘I sat down’, OCS sědъ ‘sat down’, and Gr. (καθ)έζετο ‘sat down’
alternatively allow an interpretation as reduplicated aorists (Table 3.1). Arm. hecaw ‘sat on (a riding
animal), rode’ (< *sed-s-; Barton 1989: 147) may be remodelled from a root aorist, despite being
superficially similar to the Greek s-aorist εἷσα, inf. ἕσσαι, which acts as the aorist to factitive ἵζω (cf.
below; Cardona 1963: 14, Kölligan 2007a: 217).
Reinterpreted as an imperfect (as if from *sed-i̯e/o-), (καθ)έζετο gave rise to a new, largely post-
Homeric, present καθέζομαι ‘sit down’ (Risch 1965b: 3). Vice versa, when καθίζω was no longer
analysed as a reduplicated present the creation of an aorist καθίσ(σ)αι, καθίσ(σ)ασθαι became
possible.
The factitive meaning ἵζω can have (cf. Giannakis 1991: 60) is not paralleled among the cognate
forms. It is however in line with the high-transitivity value of other reduplicated presents (cf. e.g.
*steh2- below, with Lat. sistō ‘take a stand’ or ‘set up’; 4.32). When used intransitively, ἵζω and its
cognates are also distinctly telic, without any iterative nuance (Giannakis 1991: 60–6).
*seg̑ h- ‘hold, master’ The Greek reduplicated present is not matched in other languages, but the simple thematic present
ἴσχει ‘holds (back), restrains’ (med. ἔχω ‘have, hold’ corresponds to Ved. (med.) sáhate ‘overpowers’ (< *seg̑ h-e-toi̯; cf. Ved. sáhas- ntr.,
‘restrain oneself, refrain from’) Goth. sigis, etc. ‘victory’, LIV 515–16, s.v. *seg̑ h-). The Vedic s-aorist stem of 1sg. med. asāksi ‘have
< *si-sg̑ h-e-ti overpowered’ (Narten 1964: 264–5) formally mirrors the Greek future ἑξε/ο- (< *seg̑ h-s-e/o-) ˙ to ἔχω,
PIE *si-sg̑ h-e/o- (?) whereas the future stem that semantically belongs with ἴσχω is σχησε/ο-, based on the thematic aorist
σχε/ο-.
In contrast with ἔχω, ἴσχω ‘particularly insists on the starting point of the action, so that whereas
ἔχειν means “hold”, ἴσχειν may be translated as “hold back”’. For example, ‘it is ἴσχω which Homer
uses when he speaks of Calypso “holding back” Odysseus by force and preventing him from returning
home (δ 558, ε 15, ρ 144), and also when he speaks of the gods who “hold back” Achilles to prevent him
from fighting (Ε 139)’; and in Il. 4.302 ἔχειν ἵππους ‘means to hold by the reins horses who are at rest’,
whereas in Il. 15.456–7 ἴσχειν ἵππους means ‘to restrain bolting horses’ (Vendryes 1918: 119; cf. G. C.
Wakker in LfgrE 2.1255–6, s.v. ἴσχω, Giannakis 1991: 57–60 and 1997: 147–60). As with μίμνω vs.
μένω, the reduplicated verb thus shows greater transitivity (3.35): its subject tends to be more active or
potent (e.g., σέβας μ᾿ ἔχει ‘respect holds me’ vs. δέος μ᾿ ἴσχει ‘fear grips me’), there is action kinesis,
and/or the eventuality is presented as more volitional and telic. However, because the semantics of the
two verbs become increasingly similar over time, ἴσχω is eventually recharacterised as ἰσχάνω/
ἰσχανάω, again “to emphasize the conclusion of the verbal action” (Giannakis 1997: 148).
*sleh2- ‘gratify, appease’ (?) LIV 530 presents the root as *selh2-, but the only certain comparandum outside Greek is Arm. ałač‘em ‘ask,
*ἵλησι ‘is gracious/propitious’ (ipv. request’ (< *sl̥ h2-sk̑ e/o-; Klingenschmitt 1970: 79–82, Clackson 1994: 173–4) and this cannot determine the
ἵληθι ‘be gracious/propitious!’) choice between *selh2- and *sleh2-. The Greek sk̑ -present ἱλάσκομαι ‘make propitious’ (with long ἱ-)
< *si-sleh2-ti belongs to the reduplicated γιγνώσκω type (8.44), but since *si-sl̥ h2-sk̑ e/o- should have yielded †ἱλᾱσκε/ο-
PIE *se-sleh2-/*se-sloh2- (?), *si-slh2-e/o- (Att.-Ion. †ἱλησκε/ο-) the formation may have come into being only when the unsuffixed reduplicated
(?) (or reduplicating *(s)le/i-?) present had acquired – in analogy with e.g. *ἱστᾱ-/ἱστᾰ- – an ablauting pattern *ἱλᾱ-/ἱλᾰ- instead of *ἱλᾱ-/
ἱλᾱ- (< *sisleh2-/sisl̥ h2-). Τhat ἱλᾱ- itself was eventually no longer seen as reduplicated is shown by the adj.
ἵλεως < ἵλη-(ϝ)ος (ἵλᾱ-(ϝ)ος) ‘propitious’, which is based on the reduplicated verbal stem. Meanwhile, a
stem with short ἱ- also occurs, both in the adj. ἱλαρός ‘cheerful’ and in the pseudo-root present ἵλαμαι
(h.Hom. 19.48, 21.5; cf. Il. 2.550 ἀρνειοῖς ἱλάονται ‘they appease with rams’, for *ἀρνειοῖσι(ν) ἵλανται?, aor.
ἱλα-σσα- in Il. 1.100, 1.147). This may have been extracted from ἱλάσκομαι when the latter was still
understood to be reduplicated, but taken to contain *hīla- < *hi-hila-, not *hīla- < *hi-hla-.
Turning to the Homeric ipv. ἵληθι, this is commonly explained as an iotacised perfect ipv. *εἵληθι ~ ‘Aeolic’
ἔλλᾱθι (Bacch. 11.8; cf. pl. ἔλλᾰτε in Call. fr. 7.13) (Schulze 1892: 466–7, Wackernagel 1916: 81). However,
since no such explanation is available for *ἱλᾱ- in ἵλεως, and since ἵληθι in Od. 3.380 is directly coordinated
with the similar present ipv. δίδωθι ‘give!’, we may rather assume a regular reduplicated present with 3sg.
Table 4.1. (cont.)
Root
*si-sleh2-ti > *ἵλᾱτι/*ἵλησι, and ipv. *si-sl̥ h2-d hi > ἵλᾱθι/ἵληθι (remade into ἵλᾰθι in Call. Hymn. 6.138, with
the new ablaut grade discussed above). If the Aeolic forms mentioned are genuine, they may still reflect old
perfect imperatives.
Semantically, not everything is clear either. LIV 530, s.v. *selh2-, posits a basic root meaning ‘become
gracious’. The reduplicated present would then have turned this into factitive ‘make propitious’ (cf. both
ἱλάσκομαι and Arm. ałač‘em). Alternatively, we may imagine a do-ut-des relationship between an inferior
(human being) and a superior (god). Just as the human being ‘appeases’ the god (in his/her own interest:
hence middle ἱλάσκομαι) to ‘request’ something (Arm. ałač‘em), so the god ‘appeases/gratifies’ the
suppliant. In either case the end point is crucial, so that even ipv. ἵληθι ‘be gracious!’ may be regarded as
telic.
*steh2- ‘stand’ Cf. Ved. tísthati ‘steps, takes a stand, stands’, YAv. 3pl. hištənti ‘they take a stand, stand’, Lat. sistō ‘set
ἵστησι, med. ἵσταται up, take a ˙stand,’,
˙ Umbr. 1sg. sestu ‘I set up’, OIr. (deponent) ˙ ar‧sissedar ‘stands fast’; also Hitt. *titta-i
< *si-steh2-ti, *si-sth̥ 2-toi̯ ‘install’ (4.9)?
PIE *(s)te-steh2-/*(s)te-stoh2- (?), In Greek as elsewhere, the reduplicated present of *steh2- is distinctly telic, with no iterative shade
*(s)ti-sth2-e/o- (on *(s)ti/e-, cf. 3.13) (such as *‘take a stand repeatedly’). Stative ‘stand’ is expressed by the use of perfect forms (5.7) or by
means of formations with suffixal *-i̯é/ó- based on either the root itself (OHG inf. stēn/stān ‘stand’ to
*sta-i̯e/o- < *sth̥ 2-i̯é/ó-, Mottausch 1998, Ringe 2006: 134; remade with stative *-eh1- > *-ē- in OCS
stojati ‘stand’ < *sta-ē-) or a stative derivative in *-eh1- (Lat. stō, stāre ‘stand’, OIr. -tá ‘is’, if < *sth2-eh1-
i̯e/o-, not *st(e)h2-i̯e/o-; possibly remade with stative *-eh1- > *-ē- in Osc. staít ‘stands’ < *stā̆ ēt ← *stāt <
*sta(i̯)eti, etc.; cf. Cowgill 1973).
The factitive value of the active reduplicated present in Greek is matched by Lat. sistō and Umbrian
sestu as well as Hitt. titta-i (if pertinent); and the intransitive value of the Greek middle matches that of
the Old Irish deponent. However, Latin and Indo-Iranian also use the active variant intransitively.
Like Lat. sistō, PIE *(s)ti-sth2-e/o- may therefore have been used either transitively (= factitive ‘make
stand, set up’) or intransitively (‘station oneself’; cf. root aor. 3sg. *(h1e)-steh2-t > Gr. ἔστη, Ved. ásthāt
‘has stood, stationed him/herself’), depending on the presence or absence of a direct object. In Greek
this situation was disambiguated by the use of middle morphology in intransitive contexts. Note that,
just as factitive ‘make stand’ is semantically transitive, so is syntactically intransitive ‘take a stand’
([+action], [+telic], [+punctual], [+volitional]) (3.35).
The athematic shape of the Greek forms is exceptional. The interpretation of Celtiberian sistat,
adduced as a parallel by LIV 591, s.v. *steh2-, is too obscure to prove an archaism (cf. Wodtko 2000:
334–5, s.v.).
*(s)u̯ eh2gh- (*(s)u̯ ā̆ gh-?) Since the root of ἰάχω may be onomatopoetic, a reconstruction with internal *-ā̆ - seems admissible:
ἰάχει ‘cries, shouts, resounds’ compare Lat. vāgiō ‘cry, wail’ (< *u̯ āg-i̯ e/o-, with divergent consonantism) and nominal ἠχή ‘sound,
< *si-su̯ h̥ 2gh-e-ti (*si-su̯ agh-e-ti) or noise’ (< *u̯ āgh-ā́ ). Unless Hitt. u̯ i-u̯ a-i ‘cry’ (4.9) remotely belongs to the family, a reduplicated
*u̯ i-u̯ h̥ 2gh-e-ti (*u̯ i-u̯ agh-e-ti) present is found only in Greek.
PIE *u̯ i-(s)u̯ h̥ 2gh-e/o- (*u̯ i-(s)u̯ agh-e/o-) (?) According to LSJ 816, s.v. ἰάχω, after Schulze (1888: 230–51), “when ϝ is observed ι is short and the
sense pres. or impf.; when a preceding vowel is elided ι is long and the sense aor., as in μεγάλ᾿ ἴαχε Il.
1.482, al.: hence in the latter places μεγάλα ϝϝάχε etc.” (cf. Chantraine 1958: 139–40; contra Giannakis
1997: 224). Moreover, a short vowel preceding ἰαχ- is often lengthened (e.g., μέγᾱ (ϝ)ι(ϝ)άχουσα,
etc.), as is typical with *su̯ - rather than *u̯ - (though exceptions exist, Chantraine 1958: 146).
One way to accommodate these data is to operate with a root *(s)u̯ ā̆ gh- (*(s)u̯ eh2gh-), whose ‘mobile’
*s- is necessitated by Lat. vāgiō next to Lith. svagė́ ti ‘sound’, Goth. ga-swogjan ‘sigh’, OE swōgan
‘resound’. Reduplicated *si-su̯ agh-e/o- (or earlier *(s)u̯ i-su̯ agh-e/o-; cf. 3.13) may have been remodelled
into *su̯ i-sagh-e/o- (*su̯ i-u̯ agh-e/o-) next to the thematic aorist *(h1e-)su̯ agh-e/o- > Hom. *(ἔ)ϝϝαχε/ο- (cf.
*μεγάλα ϝϝάχε). While the latter was subsequently (artificially) turned into *ἰαχε/ο- after the present,
a new s-aorist ἰαχησα- was created as well, again on the basis of the present; and ἰαχησα- in its turn
finally led to the post-Homeric by-form ἰαχέω.
Although an ‘intensive’ reading fits equally well, an iterative interpretation is possible with this verb;
but that is true for any verb of comparable semantics and applies to present and aorist alike. Moreover,
Table 4.1. (cont.)
Root
the introduction of the reduplication syllable into aoristic forms presupposes that no incongruity
between present-stem reduplication and aorist usage was felt.
*tek̑ - ‘beget, bring forth’ Verbally the root *tek̑ - is only preserved in Greek, but its antiquity is demostrated by the PIE neo-root
τίκτει ‘begets (of the father), gives *tetk̑ - (3.33). In Germanic, a derived noun *tek̑ no- (~ Gr. τέκνον ‘child’) is continued in ON þegn,
birth, brings forth (of the mother)’ OHG degan ‘young man, warrior’ (cf. Chantraine 2009: 1079, s.v. τίκτω).
< *ti-k̑ t-e-ti (← *ti-tk̑ -e-ti) Whether reduplicated *ti-k̑ t-e/o- ← *ti-tk̑ -e/o- itself is older than Proto-Greek is uncertain. The
PIE *ti-tk̑ -e/o- (?) consonantal metathesis in the root would be compatible with an early date (3.33), but the absence of
cognate formations still suggests a post-PIE creation to match the thematic aorist ἔτεκον (with self-
benefactive middle ἐτεκόμην). The latter may, but need not, continue an earlier root aorist (cf. 6.9, fn.
34).
Semantically, τίκτω appears to replace active *g̑ i-g̑ n(h1)-e/o- (cf. above on *g̑ enh1-, with Lat. gignō,
Ved. jījana-); it too is distinctly telic.
*u̯ ei̯h1- ‘be keen, pursue’ Due to the loss of *ϝ-, which is still inferrable from the Homeric text (Chantraine 1958: 142), the
ἵεται ‘rushes after, pursues’ medial reduplicated present to *u̯ ei̯h1- was mixed up formally and semantically with the middle of
< *u̯ i-u̯ i(h1)-e-toi̯ (?) ἵημι; but the same root also underlies Hom. fut. εἴσεται ‘will rush, hasten’ and aor. (ἐ)είσατο (~ Ved.
PIE *u̯ i-u̯ i(h1)-e/o- (?) 3sg. aor. subj. vésat ‘shall pursue’, next to root pres. véti, YAv. vaēiti ‘pursues’, and perhaps Lat. 2sg. vīs
‘you wish’ (?); cf. ˙ LIV 668–9, s.v. *u̯ eih -, Chantraine 2009: 312 and 439, s.vv. 3. εἴσομαι and εμαι).
1
Harđarson (1993b) suggests that the stem *u̯ īi̯e- was abstracted from an athematic 3pl. *u̯ i-u̯ ih1-entoi̯ >
*u̯ i-u̯ i̯ -entoi̯ > *u̯ i-i̯i̯-entoi̯ > *u̯ īi̯entoi̯; but why should the 3pl. have prevailed over the 3sg.? If we
instead posit a thematic 3sg., we may assume that *u̯ i-u̯ i(h1)-e-toi̯ > *u̯ i-u̯ i̯-e-toi̯ > *u̯ i-i̯i̯-e-toi̯ >→
(*)ϝῑ ́εται merged with the same form of ἵημι after the loss of *ϝ-. Other thematic forms such as 1sg. *u̯ i-
u̯ i̯-o-mai̯ > *(ϝ)ῑ ́ομαι were then given up for ἵεμαι etc. in analogy with the ἵημι paradigm. Note,
however, that this account does not necessarily require a reduplicated stem: a i̯-present *u̯ ih1-i̯e/o-
would constitute a viable alternative (Solmsen 1901: 151, Peters 1976: 158).
*u̯ el- ‘turn, roll’ There is no direct parallel to Gr. ἴλλω, and a Proto-Greek creation is therefore plausible. The same
ἴλλει ‘winds, turns round, rolls up’ root occurs in εἰλέω, Aeol. ἐλλέω, forms commonly thought to continue a thematised nasal present
< *u̯ i-u̯ l-e-ti *u̯ (e)l-neu̯ - (cf. LIV 675, s.v. 2. *u̯ el-). However, since in other such cases we find a stem in *-νϝε/ο-
PIE *u̯ i-u̯ l-e/o- (?) (e.g., τίνω ‘pay’ < *k u̯ i-neu̯ -; cf. Schwyzer 1939: 698, Willi 2012a: 271), nasal verbs in -νέω may have a
slightly more complex prehistory, involving a secondary s-aorist built to match the present in *-νϝε/ο-
(i.e., *-ν(ϝ)-η-σα-: thus e.g. pres. κῑνέω ← aor. κῑνησα- ← pres. *κῑ νϝε/ο- ← athematic *kī-nū-).
Having said that, εἰλέω need not replace a nasal present *u̯ (e)l-neu̯ - at all. The latter, realised as *ϝελνυ-
(ϝ)ε/ο-, is more likely the source of εἰλύω ‘enwrap, enfold’. Instead, εἰλέω may replace (*)εἴλω <
*ϝελϝ-ε/ο- (cf. Il. 5.782 εἰλόμενοι ‘huddling (around sb.)’?), to which a secondary aorist stem εἴλησα-
was built in lieu of synchronically irregular *ϝελυ-σα- (but cf. still Hom. aor. pass. ἐλύσθη ‘rolled
(intr.)’). Thus, via PIE *u̯ elu̯ e/o-, εἰλέω becomes comparable with Lat. volvō ‘roll’ and Goth. wilwan
‘rob’ (< ‘roll away’?). (Pace Klingenschmitt 1982: 234, Arm. gelowm ‘roll, turn’ is hardly sufficient to
prove a prior athematic *u̯ elu-mi.)
If one questions a truly independent PIE verb class with suffix *-u̯ e/o- paralleling *-i̯e/o- (cf. Epilogue,
fn. 2), one has to regard *u̯ elu̯ - in *u̯ elu̯ e/o- as a root, and as apparently synonymous with ‘unenlarged’
*u̯ el- (cf. Arm. aor. egel ‘turned’, continuing a root aor. *(h1e-)u̯ el-t; Klingenschmitt 1982: 269). But
this oddity can be explained if *u̯ elu̯ - is in reality metathesised from *u̯ eu̯ l- as a reduplicated version of
*u̯ el-. Of course, once PIE *u̯ eu̯ l-e/o- had become *u̯ elu̯ -e/o-, its reduplicated nature was no longer
recognisable and *u̯ elu̯ -e/o- therefore did not undergo the changes affecting other reduplicated
presents (notably with regard to the reduplication vowel, 4.25; for a similarly stranded neo-root, see
Table 4.2 on *ten-). In late Proto-Indo-European or Proto-Greek, however, a new reduplicated
present of *u̯ el- was created according to the type’s usual formula (*u̯ i-u̯ l-e/o-).
In semantic terms, formations involving simple *u̯ el- and others involving *u̯ i-u̯ l- or *u̯ elu̯ - are no
longer distinguishable: in the active voice, all are transitive. It is impossible to demonstrate that the
reduplicated type regularly refers to telic ‘rolling up’ as opposed to atelic ‘rolling’; but neither is
reduplicated ἴλλω necessarily iteratival.
reconstruction also added. More background for the often just tentative
PIE forms will be given in 4.18–4.25. The commentary cites reduplicated
cognates in other languages, refers to alternative present stems and corre-
sponding aorists, and offers preliminary semantic observations.
4.16 Reduplicated Presents with Suffix *-i̯e/o-

A smaller group of regularly reduplicated presents feature a suffix *-i̯e/o-
(Table 4.2). Since none of them has a secure stem correspondent outside
Greek, each may have come into being only within Greek. The formational
parallel with a similar, though e-reduplicated, type in Avestan68 may, but
need not, be significant.
Structurally, these verbs are reminiscent of the larger class of redupli-
cated verbs in *-sk̑ e/o- (type γιγνώσκω < *g̑ i-g̑ n̥ h3-sk̑ e/o-). In 8.44, it will be
argued for the latter that their suffix originally imperfectivised an under-
lying reduplicated stem, so that the basic structure is *[Ci-CC]-sk̑ e/o- rather
than *Ci-[CC-sk̑ e/o-]. With some of the following i̯-presents,69 however,
the synchronic coexistence of an unreduplicated i̯ -present rather suggests
the opposite (*Ci-[CC-i̯e/o-]): the added reduplication syllable appears to
augment the semantic transitivity of the underlying i̯-stem.70
The dividing line between this group and the more frequent i̯-presents with
fuller reduplication (4.17) is thin.71 Where the latter are onomatopoetic, the i̯-
suffix is a mere verbaliser, but there are also non-onomatopoetic ‘intensives’ of
a similar kind (e.g., παμφαίνω ‘shine (brightly)’).72 A similar intensive value
68
Kellens (1984: 194).
69
The table includes one or two uncertain items, but excludes ἐνίσσω/ἐνίπτω ‘reproach’. This is
explained as *-si-sk u̯ -i̯e/o- (to *sek u̯ - ‘say’) by Hackstein (1997), but the aor. ἐνῑπαπε/ο- speaks against
this analysis (Table 3.1, s.v. *h2ek u̯ -; cf. 4.30, fn. 122).
70
Support for this may also come from ἀτιτάλλω ‘cherish, fondle, rear’ next to ἀτάλλω, ἀτάλλομαι
‘gambol’ (but also trans. ‘rear’, cf. Debrunner 1907: 90, Moussy 1972: 165–8). Since ἀτάλλω itself is
denominal (cf. ἀταλός ‘gay’), with *-i̯e/o- acting as a secondary suffix, reduplicated ἀτιτάλλω is not
exactly comparable with the verbs discussed above. Semantically, however, ἀτιτάλλω (for *ἀτατάλλω,
with analogical -ι- after the usual reduplication vocalism?; cf. Kujore 1973: 147–8) is probably to be seen
as factitive (*‘make gambol’), like ἰάλλω and ἰάπτω (cf. M. Leumann 1950: 140, Tichy 1983: 230). On
the various problems surrounding ἀτιτάλλω etc., see Chantraine (2009: 125–6, s.v ἀταλός) and
Giannakis (1997: 275–8), who formally compares ὀπιπεύω ‘ogle, stare at’; but despite Winter (1950:
532), ὀπιπεύω is probably not reduplicated but contains *(h1)opi-h3k u̯ - ‘look upon’ (Beekes 1969: 129).
71
Not included in either group is τετραίνω ‘bore through, pierce’, to *terh1- ‘bore through, rub’ (cf.
τείρω ‘wear off, distress’, Lat. terō ‘rub’, etc.; LIV 632–3, s.v. *terh1-). Since neither the nasal suffixation
(-τραινε/ο- < *-tr-n̥ -i̯e/o-) nor the reduplication vowel fit into an established pattern (cf. Schwyzer 1939:
648, 717, Frisk 1960–72: 2.885, and Chantraine 2009: 1071, s.v. τετραίνω), one might consider complex
rearrangements starting from *ter-tr̥ (h1)-i̯e/o- (vel sim.) (e.g., → dissimilated *ten-tr̥ -i̯e/o- → metathe-
sised *te-trn̥ -i̯e/o-); but a denominal origin is at least as likely (Kujore 1973: 56, Viljamaa 1981).
72
Cf. Tichy (1983: 319–85); as Hoffmann (1952b: 262–4) stresses, the onomatopoetic formations need
not be prior.
Table 4.2. Greek reduplicated presents with suffix *-i̯ e/o-
Root
Reduplicated present
*du̯ ei̯- ‘fear’ Whether Hom. δειδίσσομαι and Att. δεδίττομαι at least indirectly belong to the group under
Hom. δειδίσσεται, Att. δεδίττεται discussion is uncertain. Even if they did, the suffix *-i̯ e/o- would not follow the root itself because
‘frightens’ the reconstruction must be *de-du̯ i-k-i̯e/o-, not *de/i-du̯ i-i̯e/o-. Since a derivative with an
< *di-du̯ i-k-i̯ e/o- (?) autonomous suffix -ισσε/ο- (Schwyzer 1939: 716–17) does not account for the factitive meaning of
δε(ι)δίσσομαι, the *-k- element would necessitate an ad hoc justification, e.g. as borrowed from the
perfect δε(ί)δοικα < *de-du̯ oi̯-k-a ~ δείδω < *de-du̯ oi̯-a ‘fear’ (Table 5.1; cf. also δε(ί)δια < *de-du̯ i-a).
The reduplication vowel *-e-, which differs from the norm, might also be ascribed to influence
from the perfect, which is the main representative of the family in Greek (Tichy 1983: 232–3).
Alternatively, δε(ι)δίσσομαι may be backformed from fut. δε(ι)δίξομαι (cf. e.g. Il. 20.201; hence
also aor. δε(ι)διξα-). The latter can be based on a present *δε(ι)δίσκομαι < *de-du̯ i-sk̑ e/o- of the
γιγνώσκω type (Osthoff 1884: 388–90, Schwyzer 1939: 710; cf. e.g. διδάξω : διδάσκω ‘teach’,
Table 8.4), which would have been abandoned because of the homonymy with δε(ι)δίσκομαι
‘welcome, greet’ (4.17, fn. 77); though note ἐδεδίσκετο ‘frightened’ in Ar. Lys. 564.
Within Greek, *du̯ ei̯ - is further attested in the factitive s-aorist (Hom.) ἔδδεισεν (for *ἔ-δϝει-σεν),
the future δείσομαι ‘will become afraid’, and the thematic aorist (Hom.) (περὶ) δίε ‘became afraid’
(cf. LIV 130, s.v. *du̯ ei̯-, also on Arm. erknč‘im ‘be afraid’ < *du̯ in-sk̑ e/o- ← *du̯ i-sk̑ e/o-, after
Klingenschmitt 1982: 78–9).
[*h2ep- ‘join, attach’?] The Greek verb is etymologically obscure. Frisk (1960–72: 1.705–6, s.v. ἰάπτω) and Chantraine
ἰάπτει ‘hurts, harms, spoils’ and ‘sends (2009: 436, s.v. ἰάπτω) agree against some earlier literature that only a single lexeme should be
forth, shoots’ (cf. LSJ 815, s.vv. ἰάπτω (A) posited. If this is accepted, a semantic development ‘send forth, shoot’ > ‘hit, hurt’ (cf. βάλλω) >
‘harm’ is likely, rendering obsolete the etymology of Kuiper (1933: 282–4) and Beekes (1969: 129)
Table 4.2. (cont.)
Root
and (B)) (root *h2ek u̯ - ‘hurt, harm’; cf. Ved. áka- ntr. ‘pain’), though not necessarily the recent suggestion of
< *i-ap-i̯e/o- (← *h2i-h2p-i̯e/o-) (?) Nikolaev (2015: 241–5) (root *seh2p- ‘strike’).
Another route is tried by Peters (1980a: 101 n. 46), followed by Barton (1988) and LIV 531–2, s.v.
*seng u̯ -. Here a comparison is made with the root of Goth. sigqan ‘sink’, and within Greek with
Hom. ἑάφθη or ἐάφθη in Il. 13.543 and 14.419, interpreted as ‘fell down’ and thought to replace a
med. root aor. *ἕαπτο < *(h1e-)sn̥ g u̯ -to (although augmented *ἧπτο would be expected). From
forms where *-g u̯ - was assimilated to a voiceless stop, the root would have taken on the shape
*senk u̯ -, producing reduplicated *si-sn̥ k u̯ -i̯e/o- > (psilotic) ἰάπτω. As a consequence, ἴπτομαι
‘oppress, press hard’, which Kuiper had sought to link via *h2i-h2k u̯ -i̯e/o-, would belong elsewhere.
Also to be considered is a connection with ἅπτομαι, if this is from *h2ep- (cf. Table 3.1). A phrase
βέλος ἰάπτω ‘shoot a missile’ could have originated as factitive ‘make touch a missile’. The
meaning of ἴπτομαι (taken as *h2i-h2p-i̯e/o-) would fit fairly well, whether or not the reduplicated
present had an intensive nuance (‘touch (hard/intensely)’ > ‘oppress’). As a factitive counterpart to
ἅπτομαι, ἰάπτω might even date from a time before a new oppositional active ἅπτω came into
being. Its creation would correspond to that of ἰάλλω (~ ἅλλομαι) (i.e., unreduplicated *h2p-i̯e/o- ~
reduplicated *h2i-h2p-i̯ e/o- [> *ἰπτε/ο-] >→ unredupl. *ap-i̯e/o- ~ redupl. remade *i-ap-i̯e/o-).
Hom. ἑάφθη/ἐάφθη, on the other hand, would have to remain apart: for this Peters’s analysis could
still be correct, though an alternative is proposed by Meier-Brügger (1989).
When the already Homeric aorist stem ἰαψα- was formed, ἰαπτε/ο- can no longer have been
perceived as reduplicated.
*las- ‘be greedy, lust’ (?) Outside Greek, *las- is most securely attested in nominal formations (Lat. lascīvus ‘frisky, lustful’,
λιλαίεται ‘longs for, desires’ OIr. lainn ‘keen’), but the thematic presents Skt. lasati ‘desires’ and lasati ‘frolics, dances’ (with
< *li-las-i̯e/o- (?) intensive lālasa-) seem to be related too (Mayrhofer˙ 1986–2001: 3.439–40, s.vv. LAS, LAS).
˙
Semantically they better match λιλαίομαι than does ἀπολαύω ‘enjoy’, via a root *leh2u̯ - (Dieu 2012:
*li-lh̥ 2u̯ -i̯e/o-). Also, pace Tichy (1983: 230–1 n. 7), the Homeric perf. ptcpl. λελιημένος ‘eager’ can
hardly be separated, and an analogical explanation must be sought for it (cf. Pedersen 1928: 155 n. 1,
after τετιημένος ‘honoured’; less convincingly Meillet 1926b: 230).
Given the isolation of λιλαίομαι within Greek and given its non-factitive value, which contrasts
with that of other reduplicated i̯-presents, one may wonder whether the verb really forms part of
the group. Instead, it might ultimately belong with the intensives with fuller reduplication (4.17),
perhaps following a dissimilatory change λιλαίομαι ← *λαιλαίομαι (for *λασλαίομαι, with
analogical αι-reduplication as for roots in a liquid).
*sel- ‘jump (forward)’ Cf. Ved. pra-sísarti ‘stretches out (hands)’.
ἰάλλει ‘sends forth (e.g., an arrow), Ved. pra-sísarti ‘stretches out (hands)’ (< *‘makes jump forward’ vel sim.) suggests a PIE
stretches out (hands)’ reduplicated present to the root of Gr. ἅλλομαι ‘jump’, Lat. saliō ‘jump’ (< *sl̥ -i̯ e/o-; cf. LIV 527–8,
< *hi-hal-i̯e/o- < *si-sl̥ -i̯e/o- (?) s.v. *sel-). The factitive semantics of the Vedic verb neatly match those in Greek (Thieme 1961:
109–17, Narten 1969a, Tichy 1983: 229–30; but sísarti is not always factitive, cf. Kujore 1973: 144).
There is thus no reason to invoke a root *h2el(H)- (cf. 4.9 on Hitt. hala-i).
However, next to the athematic version of Vedic one might expect thematic ˘ *si-sl-e/o- [> Gr. †λε/ο-]
(cf. 4.21). So either this was adjusted to *si-sl̥ -i̯e/o- > *hi-hal-i̯e/o- > ἰαλλε/ο- (with psilosis) after the
corresponding i̯ -present ἅλλομαι < *hal-i̯e/o- < *sl̥ -i̯e/o- (with root aorist ἆλτο, Table 6.2; hence by
analogy the Homeric name Ἰάλμενος), or *hi-hal-i̯e/o- was independently created on the basis of
unreduplicated *hal-i̯e/o- (cf. above on ἰαπτε/ο-). The stem-formational parallel claimed by
Hilmarsson (1990: 110–11) for Toch. B inf. sällatsi ‘throw’ has been questioned (cf. Malzahn 2010: 942);
but even if it were correct, an independent ˙ innovation would be likely.
As with ἰαπτε/ο- ~ ἰαψα-, the s-aorist (Hom.) ἴηλα (< *ἰαλσ-) implies that eventually ἰαλλε/ο- was no
longer felt to be reduplicated.
*ten- ‘stretch’ Whereas a reduplicated present to *ten- is directly attested only in Greek (though cf. below), the
τιταίνει ‘stretches, strains, bends (a bow)’ nasal present underlying τανύω ‘stretch’ (athematic med. τάνυται ‘is stretched’) has a parallel in
< *ti-tan-i̯e/o- < *ti-tn̥ -i̯e/o- Ved. tanóti ‘stretches’. Similarly, the Vedic root aorist átan ‘has stretched’ may be compared with
Gr. ἔτεινε if the latter is a remade root aorist (*(h1e-)ten-t → *(e-)ten-s-e; but cf. 8.3, also on Vedic
Table 4.2. (cont.)
Root
átān).
The i̯ -present τείνω ‘stretch’ is certainly less old and fits so well into an innovative Greek pattern
(8.4) that the parallelism with Alb. n-den ‘stretches’ < *en-ten-i̯e/o- may not be significant. In any
case, the i̯ -paradigm of *ten-i̯e/o- can be held responsible for a remake of *ti-tn-e/o- (*ti-tn̥ -e/o-) into
*ti-tn̥ -i̯e/o-, even if there never was an unreduplicated *tn̥ -i̯e/o-.
For all the uncertainty involved here, at least a very early date is unlikely for the stem *ti-tn-e/o- (*ti-
tn̥ -e/o-). If the oldest reduplication vowel was *-e- (4.25), *ten- should initially have been
reduplicated as *te-tn-. This structure may have given rise, by voicing assimilation and metathesis,
to the neo-root *tend-, which is attested as a synonym of *ten- in Lat. tendō ‘stretch’ (cf. LIV 627–8,
s.v. 1. *tend-, also with Lith. tandùs ‘slack, lazy’ (< ‘strained’?), Ved. tandate ‘becomes tired’,
á-tandra- ‘indefatigable’; but on the Indic material see Kümmel 2005). For a possible parallel,
compare Table 4.1 on *u̯ el- or the coexistence of another *tend-, meaning ‘cut, shear’, with *temh1-
‘cut’ (cf. LIV 628, s.v. 2. tend-; i.e., *te-tm(h1)- > *tedm- → *temd- > *tend- (?), next to rebuilt
aoristic *te-tm(h1)-e/o- as discussed in Table 3.1). Even so, of course, *te-tn-e/o- (*te-tn̥ -e/o-) →
*ti-tn-e/o- (*ti-tn̥ -e/o-) might have been (re)created already in the proto-language after *tend-e/o-
had come into being.
Another difficult piece of the jigsaw is the adjective τετανός ‘stretched, rigid’. On the one hand this
lexeme raises the further possibility that τιταίνω (as *τεταίνω) is ultimately denominal, but on the
other hand τετανός (for *τετανύς?) may also be backformed from the verb (at its *te-tn̥ -e/o- stage:
e.g., verbal *ten- : adj. *tn̥ -ú- > τανυ- = verbal *te-tn̥ - : adj. *te-tn̥ -ú-).
Semantically, τιταίνω overlaps with τείνω. An intensive meaning is often assumed (Chantraine
1958: 375, Giannakis 1997: 261), but τείνω too can refer to strenuous efforts: for example, both
τιταίνω and τείνω occur with the direct object τόξα/τόξον (‘bend a bow’).
4.15–4.17 Greek Reduplicated Presents 163
may sometimes be ascribed to a partially reduplicated i̯-present too (e.g.,
τιταίνω ‘stretch (with effort)’; cf. also the commentary on λιλαίομαι ‘desire’).
4.17 Presents with ‘Full’ Reduplication and Suffix *-i̯e/o-

The fuller reduplication of the second group of i̯-suffixed reduplicated
presents shows a CVC- pattern. It would thus allow for a complete root-
consonant repetition in the case of basic CeC- (and CaC-) roots. Through
dissimilation, however, diphthongal structures (Cαι-, Cοι-) often arise.
Starting already in Proto-Indo-European,73 this process may have origi-
nated among roots with a final liquid (e.g., δαιδάλλω ‘embellish’, for
*δαλδάλλω), but it then spread further (e.g., παιφάσσω ‘flash’ (?), for
*πακφάσσω > †παπφάσσω). Moreover, the full reduplication syllable was
occasionally reduced in a further step (e.g., δαιδύσσομαι ‘am torn’ →
δαδύσσοομαι, παπταίνω for *παμπταίνω?).
Although exact correspondents for the Greek verbs listed below are
difficult to find,74 the type probably reaches back to Proto-Indo-
European. This is suggested not only by structural comparanda in Hittite
(4.9) and elsewhere (e.g., OCS glagoljǫ ‘speak’ < onomatopoetic *gal-gal-i̯e/o-),
but also by the fact that a medial variant of the Sanskrit intensive class,
featuring a similar full reduplication, also displays the suffix *-i̯é/ó-.75 Since
the Greek i̯-suffixed intensives do not show any preference for the middle
voice, this voice distribution may be innovated – all the more because the
one Greek verb whose structure matches most closely76 that of the
unsuffixed active intensives of Old Indic, which inflect like other athe-
matic reduplicated presents (Class III), is a deponent (Hom. 3pl.
δειδέχαται ‘they greet’, 3sg. impf. δείδεκτο, analysable as *dei̯-dek-to ←
73
Cf. Meillet (1926a).
74
Note at least μορμῡ ́ ρω ‘roar (of water)’ ←< *murmur-i̯e/o- ~ Arm. mr̄ mr̄ -im (-am) ← *murmur-, Lat.
murmur-ō ‘rumble, murmur’ with different suffixation; Škoda (1983: 94–5), Chantraine (2009: 685,
s.v. μορμῡ ́ ρω).
75
Cf. Thumb and Hauschild (1959: 234, 344–7), Jamison (1983b: 53–69), Schaefer (1994: 19–22). The
same athematic intensive paradigm is found in Avestan (Kellens 1984: 194–6), next to normally
reduplicated presents in *-i̯e/o- (cf. 4.16). A PIE ancestor is doubted by Tichy (1983: 379–85); contrast
Di Giovine (2010: 191–5).
76
Except for the radical ablaut grade, where the non-palatalised -gh- of Ved. jáṅghanti (to han- ‘strike’)
suggests *-o- (Narten 1981: 11, Schaefer 1994: 49). The Sanskrit verbs thus parallel the unreduplicated
Class III (e.g., 1sg. vévedmi, 3sg. vévetti, 3pl. vé-vid-ati, to vid- ‘find’), but this situation need not be
old (cf. Hirt 1904/5b: 284 and 1928: 9, 195, although his inferences are problematic; Kortlandt 2004:
10). According to the ablaut theory sketched in 3.41, the root vowel of the PIE reduplicated
‘intensives’ should have been reduced to variant *-ə/Ø- > *-o/Ø- depending on phonological context;
from here, a morphologisation of *-o- in the singular and *-Ø- in the plural could institute a
quantitative ablaut pattern matching that of the simple root presents. See also 4.23.
*dek-dek-to for *dek̑ -d ǝk̑ -to77). Even so, the middle voice selection of the
i̯-suffixed type in Sanskrit is not altogether unexpected since formations in
*-i̯ e/o- more generally tend towards low(er) transitivity there (10.34).
The following list, which is based on Schwyzer,78 only includes items with
primary *-i̯e/o- suffix; it excludes lexemes such as γαργαλίζω ‘tickle’,
ὀλολύζω ‘cry’, παφλάζω ‘boil, bluster (of the sea)’ with the productive
compound suffixes -ίζω, -ύζω, -άζω (< *-id-i̯e/o-, *-ug-i̯e/o-, *-ag/d-i̯e/o-).
Even among the verbs cited, it is not always possible to separate deverbal
from denominal items, and it is conceivable that the nucleus of the type is
denominal only79 (cf. e.g. γαργαίρω ~ nominal γάργαρα ‘lots, plenty’,
δαιδάλλω ~ δαίδαλος ‘cunningly wrought’, μαρμαίρω ~ μάρμαρος ‘crystal-
line rock, marble’, παιπάλλω ‘shake’ ~ παίπαλος ‘rugged (of ground,
paths)’). Superscript on designates items with a likely onomatopoetic origin.
on
βαμβαίνω ‘chatter with the teeth’ < *bam-bam-i̯e/o-80
on
γαργαίρω ‘swarm with’ < *gar-gar-i̯e/o-
δαιδάλλω ‘work cunningly, embellish’ ←< *dal-dal-i̯ e/o- < *dl̥ -dl̥ -i̯e/o-
(root *del(H)-, cf. Lat. dolō, dolāre ‘hew, chop into shape’?)
δα(ι)δύσσομαι ‘am dragged, torn’ (Hsch. δ 57 δαιδύσσεσθαι· ἕλκεσθαι)
< *d[ai]-duk-i̯e/o- (root *deu̯ k̑ -, cf. Lat. dūcō ‘lead’?)
δαρδάπτω ‘devour’ < *dar-darp-i̯e/o- < *dr̥ -dr̥ p-i̯e/o- (root *drep-,
cf. δρέπω ‘pluck (flowers), gain enjoyment’; semantically influenced
by δάπτω ‘devour’?)
δενδίλλω ‘turn the eyes, glance quickly’ (unclear; possibly denominal
from *δένδῑλος ‘turning quickly’ ← *del-dī-lo- ← *dei̯-dī-lo- < *dei̯-
dih1-lo-, to *dei̯h1- of δίεμαι ‘speed’, δινέω ‘whirl, spin round’?)
77
Cf. Škoda (1982: 174–5) and Tichy (1983: 296). The change of the manuscript reading δει- into δη- is
unwarranted (pace Chantraine 1958: 303, 433–4 and 2009: 259, s.v. δηδέχαται, after Wackernagel
1878: 268–9), just as it is in Hom. ptcpl. δεικνύμενος ‘welcoming’ (for *δεκνύμενος, perhaps after
δείκνυμι ‘show’ rather than δειδέχαται etc., despite Tichy 1976: 77 and LIV 110–11, s.v. *dek̑ -; cf.
Forssman 1978, who goes too far when he etymologically links these forms to *dei̯k̑ - ‘show’, but
whose arguments against Tichy’s derivation of δειδεκ- from a reduplicated aorist are valid). Vedic
dāśnóti ‘waits upon’ has its long vowel from the synonymous ‘acrostatic’ present dāsti (on which see
Narten 1968b: 14–15, Anciferova 1988: 278–85, Strunk 1987b: 389–90, Harđarson ˙1993a: ˙ 62–5, LIV
110–11, s.v. *dek̑ -); it is therefore of little relevance here, even if ‘acrostatic’ presents ultimately have
reduplicated forebears (3.40). Τhe stem δειδεκ- also underlies the Homeric *-sk̑ e/o- present
δειδίσκομαι ‘greet, welcome’, changed from *δειδέκσκε/ο- > *δειδεσκε/ο- into δειδισκε/ο- after
other reduplicated presents in -ισκε/ο- (e.g., ἀραρίσκω ‘fit’; Table 8.4). A last step in the normal-
isation process was the replacement of δει- by δε- (Od. 15.150).
78
Schwyzer (1939: 647); for a detailed discussion of most of these verbs, with sometimes divergent
views on their etymology, see Škoda (1982: passim), Tichy (1983: 229–385).
79
See Niepokuj (1997: 198–214).
80
But Lochner-Hüttenbach (1962: 166–7), among others, doubts the onomatopoetic origin and
connects βαίνω ‘go’.
δενδρύω ‘dive, hide’ ←< *der-dru-i̯e/o- (unclear81)
on
καρκαίρω ‘quake (of the earth)’ < *kar-kar-i̯e/o-
κοικύλλω ‘look gaping about’ < *k[oi̯]-kul-i̯ e/o- (unclear82)
on
κωκύω ‘shriek, wail’ < *kō-kū-i̯e/o- (dissimilated from *kū-kū-i̯e/o-;
cf. Skt. intens. kokūyate ‘cries, moans’?)
μαιμάω ‘am eager’ < *m[ai̯ ]-ma-i̯e/o- (root *meh2-, cf. μῶμαι ‘seek,
covet’?)
μαρμαίρω ‘flash, sparkle’ < *mar-mar-i̯e/o- < *mr̥ -mr̥ -i̯e/o- (root *mer- or
*mar-, cf. Skt. marīci- fem. ‘ray of light’?)
on
μορμῡ ́ ρω ‘roar (of water)’ < *mor-mur-i̯ e/o- (dissimilated from *mur-
mur-i̯e/o-; cf. fn. 74)
παιπάλλω ‘shake’ (Hsch. π 92 παιπάλλειν· σείειν) ←< *pal-pal-i̯e/o- <
*pl̥ -pl̥ -i̯e/o- (root *pelh1-, cf. πάλλω ‘sway, brandish’)
παιφάσσω ‘dart, rush about’ < *ph[ai̯]-phak-i̯e/o- (unclear83)
παμφαίνω ‘shine, beam brightly’ < *phan-phan-i̯ e/o- (root *bheh2-,
cf. φαίνω ‘give light, shine’ from *bhh̥ 2-n-i̯e/o-)
παπταίνω ‘look about with a sharp/searching glance’ (unclear84)
ποιπνύω ‘bustle about’ < *p[oi̯]-pnuh1-i̯ e/o- (root *pneu̯ h1-, cf. πνέω
‘blow, breathe’; semantically < *‘breathe heavily’?)
on
ποιφύσσω ‘blow, snort’ < *ph[oi̯]-phus(s)-i̯e/o- (cf. φῦσα ‘pair of
bellows’)
πορφῡ ́ ρω ‘heave, surge (of the sea)’ < *phor-phur-i̯e/o- (dissimilated from
*phur-phur-i̯e/o-: cf. μορμύρω, and for an unreduplicated counterpart
φύρω ‘mix, jumble together’85)
4.18–4.25 Formal Reconstruction

4.18 Overview
The reduplicated presents of Greek and Indo-European raise issues of
reconstruction in three areas: the relationship between the thematic and
athematic types (3sg. *C1e/i-C1C-e-t(i) vs. *C1e/i-C1e/oC-t(i)) (4.19–4.21),
81
Frisk (1942: 81) compared Lith. nérti ‘dive’, which is semantically but not formally attractive; by
contrast, a formally neat connection with *dreu̯ - of Ved. drávati ‘runs’ requires a complex semantic
development *‘run (away)’ > ‘hide’ > ‘hide (under water)’.
82
Debrunner (1907: 96) suggested a connection with ntr. pl. κύλα ‘parts under the eyes’.
83
Fick (1884: 331) compared Lat. fax ‘torch’.
84
Possibly to be analysed in parallel with παμφαίνω to *bheh2-, *bhh̥ 2-n-: simplified *pan-p(t)an-i̯e/o- to
*π(τ)αίνω ‘look after’ < *ph̥ 2-n-i̯e/o- ~ root *peh2- of Ved. pā́ ti ‘protects’, Myc. a3-ki-pa-ta = /ai̯ gi-
pa-tās/ ‘goat-herd’, with πτ- ~ π- as in π(τ)όλεμος, π(τ)όλις?
85
Further details are unclear, but a connection with the root *bheru̯ - of Lat. ferv(e)ō ‘seethe, boil’ is
attractive: cf. Chantraine (2009: 1190–1), s.v. φῡ ́ ρω.
the radical ablaut grade in the singular of the athematic type (4.22–4.23),
and the nature of the reduplication vowel (4.24–4.25).
4.19 Problems of (A)thematicity

In an early study of the Indo-European reduplicated presents, Vendryes
drew a clear line between the thematic and athematic types, as if they had
nothing to do with each other.86 However, to reconstruct an independent
ancestor formation for each of them is questionable because there are
considerable formal and semantic similarities.
In formal terms, even the most cursory glance at the material shows that
thematic and athematic reduplicated presents are intimately connected. If
Gr. ἵστημι corresponds to Ved. tísthati and Lat. sistō, does their ancestor
˙˙
belong to the thematic or the athematic type? And can it be a coincidence
that the athematic reduplicated presents of Greek all show a root structure
*CeH-, whereas the thematic ones never do?
Traditionally the thematic and athematic reduplicated presents are
therefore not separated, but traced back to a common athematic prototype,
which would have undergone a gradual thematisation.87 The axiomatic
premise here is that athematic formations must be older than thematic
ones. But while this is certainly sometimes the case, it is wrong to take it for
granted. If it were always true, Gr. ἵστημι would have to be more archaic
than Ved. tísthati and Lat. sistō, even though the concordance between
Indo-Iranian˙˙and Italic suggests that *(s)ti-sth2-e/o- was already thematised
in Proto-Indo-European when the Western and the Central/Eastern Indo-
European languages went their own ways.88 Nor is this a one-off, for which
independent parallel developments could be invoked. More revealing is an
equation not appearing in Table 4.1 because the root is not represented by a
reduplicated present in Greek: Ved. píbati ‘drinks’ ~ Lat. bibō ‘drink’, OIr.
ibid ‘drinks’ < *pi-ph3-e/o-, to *peh3- ‘drink’. In this case independent
thematisations are virtually excluded because the languages involved all
display the outcome *-b- < *-ph3-, which must be a PIE change.89 And the
same verb incidentally demonstrates that *CeH- roots cannot generally be
regarded as latecomers in terms of thematisation.
86
Vendryes (1918), with the suggestion that ‘the special value of the reduplicated thematic
present is perhaps due both to the presence of reduplication and to the thematic form’
(p. 122).
87
Cf. e.g. Thieme (1929: 51–9), Mottausch (2003: 27).
88
As highlighted by Meillet (1909: 264–5); cf. also Cuny (1947), but the latter goes too far when he
denies the existence of reduplicated presents to *deh3- or *d heh1- in Proto-Indo-European.
89
See Mayrhofer (1986: 143–4); for the root, LIV 462–3, s.v. *peh3(i̯)-.
What is more, if the equations of our Hittite group (iii) verbs (4.9) with
reduplicated presents outside Anatolian are anything to go by, and if group
(iii) is therefore not taken to be suffixed, but to contain (something like) a
thematic vowel (4.12), the dossier of thematic reduplicated *CeH- formations
with an archaic pedigree becomes even larger. It then also includes the
roots *d heh1- ‘put’ (Hitt. titta-i), *preh1- ‘blow (on/up)’ (Hitt. parip(p)ara-i),
*seh1- ‘sow’ (Hitt. šišša-i), and *(s)peh2- ‘pull’ (Hitt. pippa-i), with several of
the Hittite verbs matching an athematic item elsewhere (p(a)ripra-i ~
Gr. πίμπρημι, pippa-i ~ Ved. pipīte, titta-i ~ Gr. τίθημι, Ved. dádhāti (but
not Lat. -dere)).
4.20 Thematic Primacy

Facing this situation, we must ask if there is an alternative model. Could it
be that athematic reduplicated structures were secondarily athematised, in
Central Proto-Indo-European at least, from *C1e/i-C1H-e/o-?90 Such a
scenario would suit the Hittite material as well as equations like those
involving Ved. tísthati and píbati. It is not implausible that the athematisa-
tion process was˙˙driven by the fact that postconsonantal laryngeals were
weak already in later Proto-Indo-European. After all, we have previously
come across evidence to suggest a complete loss of root-final laryngeals in
reduplicated formations (4.8). In other words, any reduplicated *C1e/i-
C1 H-e/o- structure was in danger of being realised as *C1e/i-C1-e/o-, thereby
obliterating the root almost completely (cf. 4.39).
An obvious remedy was the restitution of a radical full grade, through a
‘metathesis’ of the laryngeal and the thematic vowel, by analogy with other
forms of the respective paradigms. One likely model for this change was the
root aorist, with which the reduplicated present typically formed an
aspectual pair (4.49–4.52). Thus, for example, thematic *d he-d h(h1)-e/o-
‘put’ was remade into athematic *d he-d he/oh1- next to an equally athematic
root aorist stem *d heh1-.
Meanwhile, it is no coincidence that it is precisely the ancestors of Ved.
tísthati (~ Lat. sistō) and Ved. píbati (~ Lat. bibō) that were left out when
˙˙ of, say, Ved. dádāti ~ Gr. δίδωμι and Ved. dádhāti ~ Gr. τίθημι were
those
90
Cf. already Bader (1980: 28–30), Niepokuj (1997: 192–3). Niepokuj observes that athematic redu-
plicated presents are especially common with laryngeal-final roots; “[t]hough the formation may
have originated for iconic reasons, it spread because speakers had reanalyzed the process as a variety
of stem-formation associated with roots of a particular phonological shape” (Niepokuj 1997: 9–10).
By contrast, Mawet’s (1993) conclusion that ‘the athematic presents . . . with reduplication present
themselves . . . as a morphological innovation of Greek and Indo-Iranian’ is extended too readily to
the thematic reduplicated presents.
athematised in Central Proto-Indo-European (but not in the West). In the
case of *peh3-, the earlier change *-ph3- > *-b- meant that the reduplicated
present (3sg.) *pi-ph3-e-ti > *pi-b-e-ti had formally parted company with
the root aorist *peh3-t, so that only a truly disruptive analogical remake
could have reintroduced regularity (*pi-b-e-ti → †pi-peh3-ti); the pressure
for that was simply not strong enough. By contrast, in the case of *steh2-
even a laryngeal-free *(s)ti-st[h2]-e-ti did not make the root unrecognisable,
thanks to the initial consonant cluster: so there was no urgency to replace
*(s)ti-st[h2]-e-ti by *(s)ti-steh2-ti. Given its own ἵστημι, Greek did of course
carry out the replacement here too, just as it did with πίμπρημι and
πίμπλημι (to *preh1- and *pleh1-: contrast Hitt. parip(p)ara-i and Ved.
ápiprata); but as always, such consistency tells us less about prehistory
than the inconsistency observed among the Indo-Iranian reduplicated
presents to *CeH- roots.
4.21 Indo-Iranian Athematisation

Generally speaking, however, Indo-Iranian went further than Greek, by
constituting a comprehensive athematic reduplicated class (Skt. Class III).
This is unsurprising for two reasons. Firstly, the root aorists, which
supported the remodelling, were much more resilient in Indo-Iranian
than in Greek (cf. 6.11–6.22). Secondly, unlike Greek, Indo-Iranian
maintained an entire parallel class of equally athematic reduplicated inten-
sives (cf. 4.17), with which the newcomers were easily aligned.
But even if we had only Indo-Iranian, we would have reason to doubt the
antiquity of the situation there. Leaving aside Ved. píbati and tísthati, why is
it, for example, that Ved. jíghnate ‘strikes’ (to *gu̯ hen-) and ī́ yate˙˙‘hastens’ (to
*h1ei̯-)91 always inflect thematically, when pre-forms such as *gu̯ hi-g u̯ he/on-toi̯
and *h1i-h1i-toi̯ would have been feasible? Is it a coincidence that these roots
happen to form root presents rather than root aorists that could have
influenced the reduplicated presents, as assumed above? And why is there
no trace of *sí-sat-ti ‘sits down’ < *sí-se/od-ti, but only Ved. sī́ dati (~ Gr. ἵζει,
Lat. sīdō, etc.; Table 4.1) if the athematic type must be older than the
thematic one as a matter of principle? Could it not be because *si-sd- had
become *sīd- already in Proto-Indo-Iranian, thereby preventing the athema-
tisation of what was no longer an unmistakably reduplicated present? Or
how is it possible that the thematic stem *g̑ i-g̑ n̥ (h1)-e/o- completely ousted an
91
LIV 232–3, s.v. *h1ei̯- (following Insler 1972c: 96–103) lists īý ate as a i̯-present with a zero-grade root,
but a reduplicated thematic present *h1i-h1i̯-e/o- better accounts for the long vowel. Joachim (1978:
138–9) thinks of Ved. yā- ‘go’, but that too is unnecessary.
earlier presumptive *g̑ i-g̑ e/onh1-, in a verb whose frequency should have
supported the retention of archaisms, and in a branch of Indo-European
that was not generally prone to early thematisation?92 Moreover, the open-
ness of the athematic reduplicated class is proven in any case by lexemes like
post-Rigvedic bibheti ‘is afraid’ or jāgarti ‘is awake’. As pointed out by
Wackernagel, these gradually evolve out of reduplicated perfect stems and
have no claim to antiquity at all.93
4.22 Problems of Root Vocalism

The paradigm of Greek verbs like τίθημι or Sanskrit Class III presents
shows that the athematic reduplicated presents of later Proto-Indo-
European featured a full-grade root in the active singular and a zero-
grade root in the active plural, exactly like the root aorist (e.g., 1sg. τίθημι
< *d hi-d heh1-mi vs. 1pl. τίθεμεν ←< *d hi-d hh1-mes).
What Indo-Iranian cannot tell us much about is the vowel quality,
notably in cases like dádhāti ‘puts’ (< *dhe-dheh1-ti or *dhe-dhoh1-ti). Limited
support for an o-vowel might come from Av. 3sg. subj. cikaiiat̰ ‘shall expiate’
< *ku̯ i-ku̯ oi̯-e-t, since *ku̯ i-ku̯ ei̯-e-t should have produced †cicaiiat̰ .94 Similarly,
we have seen in Table 4.1 (s.v. *dheh1-) that indirect hints from Germanic and
perhaps Tocharian marginally95 favour an o-grade. On the other hand, the
so-called *ku̯ etu̯ óres rule, according to which the PIE accent in a trisyllabic
sequence *-é-o-V- moves to the penultimate position (*-e-ó-V-),96 does not
easily agree with e.g. dádhāti < *dhé-dhoh1-ti. And more seriously, of course, the
Greek material strongly advocates an e-vowel, since Proto-Greek forms such as
*dhi-dhoh1-mi would have ended up as †τίθωμι. Undoubtedly, one may try to
explain away the Greek evidence as analogical, by claiming that *dhi-dheh1-mi
superseded an earlier *dhi-dhoh1-mi under the influence of the root aorist.
92
This is not to deny a later spread of thematic forms in Class III paradigms. It would be unwise to
assert that e.g. Ved. 3sg. pres. med. dádate (to *deh3-) or 3pl. act. dádhanti (to *d heh1-) (cf. Macdonell
1910: 341; 1916: 144–5) must be archaic relics.
93
Wackernagel (1907b: 305–9); cf. Cardona (1992: 1–7) (with the suggestion that pluperfect forms
furthered the development), Mawet (1993: 89–92).
94
Cf. LIV 379–80, s.v. 3. *k u̯ ei̯-, and Meillet (1916b: 189–90); see further Hill and Frotscher
(2012: 112).
95
Cf. Jasanoff (2003: 67 n. 8): “None of this . . . excludes the possibility that e-reduplicated presents of
the dád(h)āti-, τίθημι-type had *-o- as their strong vocalism. But in view of the apparent canoniza-
tion of this assumption in LIV (16 and passim), it must be emphasized that the only direct evidence
for o-grade in any such present is a single, potentially analogical Germanic form.” Jasanoff here keeps
apart the i-reduplicated Class III presents of Indo-Iranian (so that Av. cikaiiat̰ does not invalidate his
statement), although he too later wonders whether they were really a separate type to begin with
(Jasanoff 2003: 132; cf. 4.24).
96
Rix (1985: 348 n. 12), Stüber (2000: 153); for doubts about the validity of this rule, see Rasmussen
(2001a).
However, such a replacement would have been remarkably thorough. It had
to affect a whole series of verbs, none of which shows any trace of an earlier
o-grade (*βίβημι/*βίβᾱμι, δίδημι, ἵημι, *ἵλημι/*ἵλᾱμι, ἵστημι/ἵστᾱμι, *κίχημι,
πίμπλημι, πίμπρημι); and in the case of *κίχημι in particular, an obvious
model for the replacement of *-g̑ hoh1- by *-g̑ heh1- is missing.
4.23 Conflicting Analogies

Even so, we might have to accept that Greek has innovated if our con-
siderations on the origins of the athematic type did not also allow for a
slightly different possibility. In 4.20, it has been argued that the root aorist
acted as a model in the athematisation process. Complete alignment with
this would have implied the adoption of e-vocalism, as in Greek. However,
in 4.21 reference has also been made to the originally athematic intensive
type with ‘full’ reduplication and, to judge by the Indo-Iranian data,
radical o-vocalism. The pattern of such intensives could oppose the pull
of the root aorist, so that the newly arising athematic reduplicated presents
only adopted the ablauting structure of the corresponding root aorists, but
in terms of vocalism conformed with the equally reduplicated intensives.
Thus, whatever divergence there may be between Greek and the other
languages can also be due to two conflicting models already being available
in the proto-language, rather than to a clear-cut replacement process
within Proto-Greek alone.
However that may be, there is no reason to multiply PIE conjugation
patterns, to distinguish an athematic *C1é-C1oC- type from an alternative
*C1i-C1éC- one, and then to postulate a host of mutual influences.97 As long
as no functional differences are discernible, a single starting point should be
our default assumption.
4.24 Problems of Reduplication Vocalism

The same principle must inform our discussion of the vocalism in the
reduplication syllable. In setting up two basic types of reduplicated present
stems, Jasanoff also highlights the diverging evidence in this respect:
97
Following LIV, esp. p. 16. Thus, for example, Gr. τίθημι is classified under the *C1é-C1oC- type
because of Ved. dádhāti, although it features the vocalism of the *C1i-C1éC- type (LIV 136–8, s.v.
*d heh1-), and Av. cikaiiat̰ (< *k u̯ i-k u̯ oi̯-e-t) is supposed to belong to the *C1i-C1éC- type despite its
radical o-vocalism (LIV 379–80, s.v. 3. *k u̯ ei̯-). That the root accentuation in the singular of the
alleged *C1i-C1éC- type is hardly original, pace Tischler (1976: 15–16), is shown by the fact that the
3pl. retains the accent on the reduplication (e.g., 3sg. juhóti ‘sacrifices’ vs. 3pl. júhvati, not †juhvánti;
cf. also Hill and Frotscher 2012: 109).
PIE had at least two kinds of non-intensive reduplicated presents: (1) the
e-reduplicated type of Vedic dádhāti (< *dhé-dheh1-ti) and dádāti
(< *dé-deh3-ti), which some scholars reconstruct with o-grade in the active
singular; and (2) the i-reduplicated h2e-conjugation type of Gk. μίμνω and
Hitt. mimma-. It is not at all clear whether a third type must be assumed as
well. In Greek, the i-reduplication of the μίμνω-type spread to all redupli-
cated presents; there is no need to posit a ‘sti-steh2-ti-type’ simply to account
for the i-reduplication of e.g. δίδημι ‘bind’, πί[μ]πρημι ‘burn’, or – still
less – ἵστημι itself. It is only in Sanskrit and Avestan that we find i-
reduplicated ‘mi-conjugation’ presents distinct from the other two types.
But even here at least some instances of i-reduplication are known to have
replaced older reduplication with -e- . . ., and it is by no means self-evident
that the rest cannot be explained in the same way.98
Jasanoff is here referring to the Indo-Iranian transition from e-reduplication
to i-reduplication as evidenced by Ved. act. jáhāti ‘leaves behind’ (~ Gr.
*κίχησι) next to med. jíhīte ‘moves (away)’ (*g̑ heh1-; Table 4.1), by Ved.
jágat- ‘world’ next to jígāti ‘strides’ (*gu̯ eh2-; Table 4.1),99 or also by Ved.
sísakti ‘accompanies’ (< *si-se/oku̯ -ti) next to forms with a-reduplication before
˙
endings with an initial vowel (3pl. sáścati ←< *se-sku̯ -n̥ ti, with analogical -c- for
*-k-; cf. LIV 525–6, s.v. 1. *seku̯ -, but also Table 3.1, s.v. *seku̯ -).100
However, if i-reduplication undeniably spread among the athematic items,
we may go a step further and ask how deep-rooted it is in the ‘thematic’
group itself. Is there any intrinsic reason why the latter is reduplicated with
*-i- rather than *-e-? To answer this, we must first note that the reduplication
vowel is consistently accented in Indo-Iranian (píbati, tísthati, sī́ dati); Greek,
with its recessive accent by default (1.2), does not of course ˙˙ reveal anything.
With a following zero-graded root this accentuation is unremarkable as such,
but it does raise the more general issue whether Proto-Indo-European had
original accent-bearing i-vowels. There would be no problem if the i-vocalism
had arisen secondarily, by a change from earlier *-é-.
Moreover, there is nothing to suggest a functional difference between
i-reduplication and e-reduplication. In view of Ved. dádhāti, dádāti, etc.,
we cannot for example argue that reduplicated presents, but not aorists,
always featured i-reduplication. Nor is there an obvious reason why
Jasanoff’s reduplicated h2e-conjugation type should differ from his
98 99
Jasanoff (2003: 132). Thieme (1929: 54); cf. Narten (1972).
100
Thieme (1929: 54) also postulates old a-reduplication next to more recent i-reduplication for Ved.
vaváksi ‘you wish’ (RV 8.45.6) ~ vivasti (RV 7.16.11), but Joachim (1978: 150–2) sees in both forms
˙
Augenblicksbildungen for váksi/vásti ˙(<
˙ *u̯ ek̑ -si/ti). Against all this, M. Leumann (1952: 27) took
˙ i-reduplication
certain Middle Indic forms with ˙˙ to reflect an older state of affairs, but see Emeneau
(1958: 409–10) and Insler (1968: 64 n. 8).
mi-conjugation type: any potential difference in function (e.g., between
‘proto-middles’ and ‘proto-actives’: 2.14) would have been encoded by the
endings.
4.25 From e-Reduplication to i-Reduplication

Ultimately, it is thus best to treat the matter as one of formal rather than
functional reconstruction. This does not mean that a functional differ-
entiation could not be introduced secondarily.101 In Greek this has
obviously happened as e-reduplication is a characteristic of the redupli-
cated aorist and the perfect, but i-reduplication of the present.
However, it has already been noted (3.18) that even in the aorist things
may have been less clear-cut earlier on and that reduplicated aorists to
*Cei̯ C-/*Ceu̯ C- roots may have featured reduplicating *-i-/*-u- in the
proto-language.102 They certainly do so in Indo-Iranian, thereby sug-
gesting a possible reason for the genesis of inconsistent present-stem
reduplication as well.
The thematic *mí-mn-e/o- type and the athematic *d hé-d he/oh1- type
most substantially differ from each other in terms of their stem structure
(4.19–4.21). In the paradigmatically central active singular, the athematic
type featured *-e/o- in the root. In the thematic type, on the other hand,
roots with a structure *Cei̯(C)- either had no radical nucleus (*C1V-C1i̯-e/o-
to *C1ei̯-) or a nuclear i-vowel (*C1V-C1iC-e/o- to *C1ei̯ C-; possibly also
*C1V-C1i(i̯)-e/o- to *C1ei̯ -). If we now date back to Proto-Indo-European
the beginnings of the vowel assimilation that is attested not only in the
Indo-Iranian reduplicated presents, aorists, and perfects, but also in some
Italic perfects and Celtic preterites,103 it follows that PIE e-reduplication
had to change into i-reduplication at least in the *Cei̯C- root instances
101
But Thieme’s (1929: 53–4) idea that ‘forms showing i-reduplication are causative’, whereas ‘forms
with a-reduplication are intransitive (intensive)’ is invalid even for his Vedic material (cf. Specht
1934: 52). Rather, the reduplication vowel helped to differentiate reduplicated perfective and
imperfective stems when both had developed thematic paradigms (cf. 3.39, 4.51, fn. 177).
102
Cf. Meillet (1937: 181), Niepokuj (1992; 1997: esp. 106–28), Drinka (2003: 95–6). Niepokuj plausibly
assumes vowel-copying of the root nucleus as the oldest reduplication pattern, but some of the
detail is questionable (e.g., the idea that perfect reduplication was initially associated with zero-
graded stems of *TeT- roots only, Niepokuj 1997: 129–64). In reality, basic e-vocalism is expected if
reduplication originated at a time before zero grades (and o-grades: 3.41) arose by vowel reduction:
*Cé-CeC- (after ‘full’ reduplication was reduced: 4.6) > *Cé-CC- vs. e.g. *Cé-Cei̯C- > *Cé-CiC- →
*Cí-CiC-, with subsequent generalisation of -i- in the presents but -e- in the aorists. The redupli-
cated perfect merely copied the fundamental e-reduplication, being a relative latecomer within the
reduplicated family (5.28).
103
See e.g. Lat. perf. scicidī ‘split’ to *sk̑ ei̯d- (Meiser 1998: 210); for Celtic (Old Irish), where the
evidence is less direct, see Thurneysen (1946: 424–5).
just referred to, if not also in the *Cei̯- root ones (e.g., *né-ni(H)-e/o- →
*ní-ni(H)-e/o- to *nei̯H- ‘lead’).104
Thus, even if e-reduplication was universal at a very early stage, as is
typologically likely (cf. fn. 102), once some i-reduplicated formations had
come into being by phonotactic conditioning, the doors were open to sub-
sequent functionalisation processes. Of the available allomorphs, one could
fruitfully be generalised as a present-stem marker. Such a spread would first
have affected other items within the same conjugational class (i.e., the the-
matic type: *mé-mn-e/o- → *mí-mn-e/o-), before being transferred also to the
innovated *dhé-dhe/oh1- type. The restricted appearance of i-reduplication in
Indo-Iranian lexemes belonging to the latter group reflects this chronology
most directly; but remnants of a once more widespread e-reduplication may
be suspected elsewhere too (cf. Table 4.1 on *u̯ el-, Table 4.2 on *ten-105).
One might perhaps object that there is no actual example of a *Cei̯(C)-
root among the securely reconstructed i-reduplicated presents, that
the hypothesis does not explain why i-reduplication was more successful
than u-reduplication (to *Ceu̯ (C)- roots), or that the specialisation of i-
reduplication among the present stems is not sufficiently motivated. Such
reservations are legitimate, and although tentative answers may be given to
some of them,106 alternative theories about the origin of i-reduplication can
no doubt be formulated as well.107 But for our purposes it is less important to
clarify exactly how i-reduplication arose than to acknowledge that its co-
existence with e-reduplication by no means proves a separate source. If the
functional essence of the two types is the same, it would be unwise to overrate
the formal difference. So we must now consider the semantic dimension.
104
Cf. Pisani (1926: 322–3), Hirt (1928: 9, 195), Tischler (1976: 16). In Indo-Iranian, the principle
eventually applies to all roots containing *-i-, whatever their nucleus (e.g., Ved. perf. nináy- to
*nei̯H- ‘lead’), but it is phonetically plausible to assume vowel assimilation as a first step (similarly
Hill and Frotscher 2012: 112).
105
With the dereduplicational neo-roots posited there, compare perhaps Gr. πέπμω ‘escort, send’, of
unclear etymology (Frisk 1960–72: 2.502–3, Chantraine 2009: 848, Beekes 2010: 2.1170, all s.v.
πέμπω): as ‘provide for’, *pemp-e/o- might represent *penp-e/o- ← *pe-pn-e/o- to the root *pen- (LIV
471, s.v.) of Lat. penus ‘food, provisions’ and Lith. penė́ti ‘feed’ (as well as Gr. πένομαι ‘toil, work’
next to Ved. intensive ptcpl. pánipnat- ‘toiling’ (Oberlies 1992) < *‘work for one’s living, provide for
oneself’?; contrast LIV 578–9, s.v. *(s)penh1- ‘pull, stretch’). For further possible relics of e-
reduplication, see 4.52, fn. 179, on ἧσται ‘sits’, εὖκτο ‘prayed’.
106
For instance, that *Cei̯(C)- roots were more common than *Ceu̯ (C)- roots, or that the token-
frequency of reduplicated presents was higher than that of reduplicated aorists, so that Ci-
reduplications would be encountered more often in present forms.
107
For Bendahman (1993: 39), for example, -i- continues a weakened unstressed *-e- (similarly Hirt
1928: 194, Kortlandt 1987b: 222, Rasmussen 1987: 112; 1997b: 252; 2004: 272, Ruijgh 1995: 350–1,
Kulikov 2005: 437–8, Sandell 2011: 250); but here the morphological premises are doubtful, the
process (with reaccentuation of *-i-) is contorted, and the sound change itself is not independently
substantiated.
4.26–4.33 Semantic Analysis: Vedic and Greek
4.26 Vendryes on the Thematic Reduplicated Presents
Well before any of the Hittite evidence discussed in 4.8–4.14 could usefully
be compared, Vendryes had already tried to pin down the functional-
semantic value of at least the thematic group among the Indo-European
reduplicated presents. If his brief but incisive treatment has not recently
received the attention it deserves, this may be because its conclusions
square badly with premise (ii) of the syllogism set out in 4.3:
Thus, one may assume that the reduplicated thematic type had a perfective
value already in Indo-European. It is this value which explains why the
aorist of this type (with e-reduplication) serves in Sanskrit as the aorist of the
causative. In Greek, in Italic, and in Celtic, the same type (with i-
reduplication) has produced some presents to roots which were particularly
suitable for the expression of a perfective nuance. But this development
remained rather restricted, perhaps because the languages in question let the
perfective aspect fade and stopped assigning it a regular grammatical
expression.108
As the wider context makes clear, what Vendryes here calls ‘perfective’
corresponds not to the category ‘perfective’ in an aspectual perfective/
imperfective dichotomy, but to our category ‘telic’ or ‘bounded’.109
Thus, while Vendryes’s findings are at odds with any attempt to read
specific iterative-imperfective nuances into the lexemes concerned, they
neatly foreshadow the outcome of our review of the Hittite evidence
(4.14). In order to show that they are indeed well-founded, the following
sections will briefly survey again the principal non-Anatolian material.
Unlike Vendryes, however, we will not limit ourselves to the thematic
reduplicated presents since we have argued that the thematic/athematic
divide among these verbs is secondary (4.19–4.21). We shall begin with
the less informative Vedic dossier (4.27–4.29) and then turn to Greek
where a monographic treatment by Giannakis has lent support to
Vendryes’s views (4.30–4.33).110
108
Vendryes (1918: 123) (translated). In some of the older literature, Vendryes’s views were endorsed
more readily: cf. Marguliés (1931: 98–102), Schwyzer (1939: 690), Chantraine (1958: 313),
M. Leumann (1977: 532).
109
Cf. Vendryes (1918: 118): ‘But all of them characteristically insist on the starting point, or
more rarely on the result, of the action they denote; they have a “punctual” character and are
what we shall call “perfectives”, without wanting to establish a direct comparison with Slavic
grammar’.
110
Giannakis (1997); cf. also Giannakis (1991).
4.27 Reduplicated Presents in Vedic Polymorphic Systems
The best way to establish the added value of reduplication is to consider
cases where an otherwise unsuffixed reduplicated present stem coexists
with an equally unsuffixed unreduplicated one. In Vedic, such instances
of stem polymorphy have been studied repeatedly, notably by Vekerdi,
Joachim, and, where a thematic Class I present is involved, Gotō.111
For the most part, these scholars have not been able to detect meaningful
differences between reduplicated and unreduplicated presents, no matter if
the reduplicated formation is a mere Augenblicksbildung or not.112 For
example, it is not clear what nuance distinguishes participial títrat- ‘passing
through’ (< *ti-tr(h2)-n̥ t-, presupposing *ti-ter(h2)-; cf. Av. 3sg. inj. titarat̰
‘overcame’ < *ti-tr̥ (h2)-e-t) from simple thematic tárati ‘passes through’.
However, it may at least be noted that tárati is more commonly intransi-
tive, whereas the single attestation of títrat- in RV 2.31.2 is transitive
(governing rájas ‘region’).113
4.28 Polymorphic Reduplicated Presents and Verbal Voice

Of similar interest is the fact that more than one reduplicated present shows
middle inflection, while semantically matching an unreduplicated active
form. Thus, the root presents hánti ‘strikes, kills’, éti ‘goes’, and yā́ ti ‘requests’
(< *g u̯ hen-ti, *h1ei̯-ti, *i̯eh2-ti) parallel reduplicated jíghnate ‘strikes, kills’, ī́ yate
‘hastens’, and (1pl.) ī́mahe ‘we request’ (< *g u̯ hi-gu̯ hn-e-toi̯, *h1i-h1i̯-e-toi̯
(4.21), *i̯i-i̯h2-m- (Table 4.1)); and the Class I present ájati ‘drives’
(< *h2eg̑ -e-ti) corresponds to reduplicated ī́ jate ‘drives’ (< *h2i-h2g̑ -e-toi̯ 114).
Despite their voice, all of these reduplicated formations manifest at least the
same degree of semantic and syntactic transitivity as their unreduplicated
counterparts. One might infer from this that the transitivity-lowering force
of the middle voice is balanced by the reduplication. If so, the difference in
111
Vekerdi (1961), Joachim (1978), Gotō (1987).
112
Cf. e.g. Vekerdi (1961: 268, 271) and Joachim (1978: 150–2, 178) on vivasti/vaváksi ‘wishes/you wish’
next to Class II vásti ‘wishes’ (cf. LIV 672–3, s.v. *u̯ ek̑ -; 4.24, fn. 100), ˙and
˙ on juhūmasi
˙ ‘we invoke’
˙˙ ‘invokes’ (cf. Gotō 1987: 347–50 with n. 861; LIV 180–1, s.v. *g̑ hu̯ eH-); also
next to Class I hávate
Wackernagel (1907b: 305–7), Joachim (1978: 116), Gotō (1987: 224), and Kümmel (2000a: 336–8) on
ptcpl. bíbhyat- ‘being afraid’ (and later pres. bibheti ‘is afraid’), based on the perfect bibhā́ ya ‘is
afraid’, next to Class I bháyate ‘gets afraid’ (LIV 72–3, s.v. *bhei̯h2-; cf. 4.28). Because jíghnate
‘strikes, kills’, unlike hánti ‘do.’, mostly occurs with plural objects, Lazzeroni (2011b: 133–4) argues
along the conventional line that its reduplication must signal ‘frequentative-iterative iteration’; but
see 4.51, fn. 178, for a different explanation.
113
Cf. Joachim (1978: 87), Gotō (1987: 160–5) (who claims for títrat- an ‘obviously iterative meaning’);
on Av. titarat̰ also Kellens (1984: 193).
114
For this reconstruction, see Strunk (1977b: 971–7; 1988b: 565–9), despite Bammesberger (1984:
66–8).
voice indirectly confirms the connection between reduplication and heigh-
tened transitivity.115
Nor is this conclusion invalidated by a few, generally more marginal,
pairs that seem to show the opposite distribution:116
(i) root *nei̯g u̯ - ‘wash’ (Ved. nij-): med. ptcpl. (nir)nijānáh ‘washing
˙
(intr.)’ (RV 9.69.5, Class II; cf. intensive nenikté ‘washes ˙(intr.)’) vs.
2pl. ipv. act. ninikta ‘wash! (tr.)’ (RV 10.132.6, Class III);
(ii) root *bhei̯h2- ‘be afraid’ (Ved. bhī-): regular med. bháyate ‘becomes
afraid’ (Class I) vs. act. ptcpl. bíbhyat- ‘(being) afraid’ (RV 6.23.2,
Class III; cf. 4.27, fn. 112);
(iii) root *(h2)mei̯- ‘exchange’ (Ved. mī-): 3pl. med. (ví) mayante ‘they
take turns (?)’ (RV 10.40.10, Class I: uncertain) vs. 3du. act. mimītah
‘they exchange’ (RV 5.76.2?), 3sg. opt. act. mimīyāt ‘might deceive’ ˙
(RV 10.10.9, Class III);
(iv) root *sek u̯ - ‘follow’ (Ved. sac-): regular med. sácate ‘accompanies’
(Class I) vs. act. sísakti ‘accompanies’ (Class III; cf. 4.24);
(v) root *g̑ hu̯ eH- ‘call’˙ (Ved. hū-): med. hávate ‘invokes’ (Class I) vs. 1pl.
act. juhūmási ‘we invoke’ (RV 1.4.1 and 8.52.4, Class III; cf. 4.27,
fn. 112).
Of these, irrelevant for our purposes are (ii), where the active parti-
ciple bíbhyat- secondarily arises from the perfect (4.27, fn. 112), as well
as (i) and (iii), where the unreduplicated middle is intransitive and
thus contrasts in meaning as well as form with the reduplicated active
variant.
As for (iv) and (v), if there is anything remarkable about these, it is the
middle inflection of the two Class I presents, despite their syntactic
transitivity: the active inflection of the equally transitive reduplicated
Class III presents is more expected. Here, then, we cannot safely ascribe a
transitivising value to the reduplication, but neither are they proof
against it. Where an unreduplicated parallel form was already syntacti-
cally transitive, the reduplicated variant could not be syntactically more
transitive. The situation is therefore different from the one observed
with, say, the factitive Class III present íyarti ‘sets in motion, moves,
raises (tr.)’ next to the prototypically intransitive root formation (root
aorist) ārta ‘has moved/risen (intr.)’ (~ Gr. ὦρτο ‘arose’) to the same root
115
What the reasons are for the middle inflection of items like jíghnate or īý ate is another matter. Since
there is some connection between thematicity and medial inflection (4.44), this may be responsible
(cf. Renou 1932: 21 n. 1).
116
Cf. Joachim (1978: 101–2, 116, 125–7, 163–4, 177–8).
*h3er-.117 Whereas the latter example again intimates a transitivising value
of the reduplication,118 (iv) and (v) at best reveal that reduplicated for-
mations tended to inflect actively when either an active or a middle
inflection would have been feasible (to judge by the middle Class I
synonyms).
4.29 The Case of bíbharti

There is, however, one piece of evidence that does not fit so easily into the
general picture. This is the pair of reduplicated (Class III) bíbharti ‘carries’
vs. unreduplicated (Class I) bhárati ‘carries, brings’ (root *bher-; cf. Gr.
φέρω, Lat. ferō ‘carry’, Av. baraitī ‘carries, brings’, etc.). To the extent that
the two formations can be synonymous, the case is unproblematic; but
unlike bíbharti, bhárati tends towards the more bounded/telic (and there-
fore more semantically transitive) meaning ‘brings’ rather than the
unbounded ‘carries’.119
It must be borne in mind, though, that bíbharti can hardly be very old:
even within Indo-Iranian it is unparalleled. Moreover, the matter is
complicated by the existence of a few athematic forms next to the regular
thematic ones of bhárati (2du. ipv. bhartám (YV); thereafter (?) also 3sg.
ví bhárti in RV 1.173.6, 6.13.3). The antiquity of these is suggested by their
use in ritual contexts and the overlap with Av. 3sg. ipv. barətū ‘shall
bring’, Gr. ipv. 2pl. φέρτε ‘bring!’ (Il. 9.172).120 We may therefore wonder
if the telic meaning ‘bring’ was not originally restricted to the athematic
root present. From there it could have been adopted by the thematic one,
whose meaning was initially atelic ‘carry’, when the athematic and the-
matic variants fell together (4.45).121 Under this premise, the lower
transitivity of bíbharti would be something of a mirage. At the outset,
bíbharti would only have been less transitive than (*)bhárti, but not less
transitive than bhárati, to which it was built as a secondary by-form. As
we shall see later (4.45), this is not just a cosmetic adjustment. Here as
elsewhere, we must beware of lumping together too readily thematic and
athematic root formations.
117
Cf. Kümmel (2000b), LIV 299–301, s.v. *h3er-. Pooth (2012: 267–70, 282) stresses that there are also
intransitive (‘anticausative’) uses of act. íyarti, but still finds that the active is ‘specifically agentive’,
whereas the middle (3sg. īŕ te) is ‘underspecified as ±agentive’.
118
Without proving it since the difference in transitivity could also be ascribed to the difference in voice.
119
Cf. Delbrück (1897: 18–19), Vekerdi (1961: 265), Joachim (1978: 116), Gotō (1987: 225–7).
120
Cf. Wackernagel (1927: 320–1), Schmitt (1967a: 262–4).
121
One avenue for the semantic transfer would have been the combination of the thematic root
formation with telicising preverbs. While bhárati often occurs with such preverbs, bíbharti rarely
does (Joachim 1978: 116).
4.30 Greek ἔχω/ἴσχω, μένω/μίμνω, νέομαι/νίσομαι
The preceding sections have shown that the Vedic evidence is not as
‘indifferent’ for the semantic analysis of the reduplicated presents as
Vendryes thought. It is however true that the Greek material assembled
in Table 4.1 contains several more significant polymorphic pairs: ἔχω/
ἴσχω, μένω/μίμνω, and νέομαι/νίσομαι.122
Least informative among these is the last pair. But even here Vendryes
observes that
in a verse like κ 42 οἰκάδε νισσόμεθα κενεὰς σὺν χεῖρας ἔχοντες ‘we shall come
home with empty hands’, the verb νίσσομαι has, remarkably, the resultative
value which in Gothic characterises, for example, the perfective ganisan; and on
the other hand, νέομαι normally rather means ‘I return, I go away’.123
With ἔχω/ἴσχω and μένω/μίμνω things are less ambiguous, and a number
of telling examples have already been quoted in Table 4.1. In addition to
these, Vendryes detects a difference between less active, volitional, or
telic/bounded μένω ‘I am in a state of rest or waiting’ (“je suis en état
d’arrêt ou d’attente”) and more active, volitional, or telic/bounded μίμνω
‘I begin to rest, I stop’ (“je me mets à rester, je m’arrête”) by comparing
Homeric verses like the following:
β 369 ἀλλὰ μέν᾿ αὖθ᾿ ἐπὶ σοῖσι καθήμενος
(Penelope commits Telemachus to staying permanently in Ithaca)
κ 271 Εὐρύλοχ᾿ ἤτοι μὲν σὺ μέν᾿ αὐτοῦ τῷδ᾿ ἐνὶ χώρῳ | ἔσθων καὶ πίνων
(here too the point is to remain for a long time in the same place, eating and
drinking)
Ζ 431 ἀλλ᾿ ἄγε νῦν ἐλέαιρε καὶ αὐτοῦ μίμν᾿ ἐπὶ πύργῳ
(Andromache is telling Hector: “Stop here on the tower, do not go further”)
Χ 38 Ἕκτορ μή μοι μίμνε, φίλον τέκος, ἄνερα τοῦτον
(Do not confront that man).124
Similarly, Giannakis discusses a range of Homeric passages where ἴσχω
is more active, volitional, or telic/bounded than ἔχω (‘hold back’ vs.
122
According to Hackstein (1997), a further pair, though with a suffixed reduplicated member, is
constituted by Hom. ἐν(ν)έπω ‘tell’ (< *-sek u̯ -e/o-) vs. ἐνίσσω ‘reproach’ (< *-si-sk u̯ -i̯e/o-), with the
latter referring to a ‘temporally limited, terminative act of addressing or pronouncing’, the former
to a ‘durative act of telling’. However, the formal and etymological analysis is most uncertain here
(cf. Table 3.1, s.v. *h2ek u̯ -, and 4.16, fn. 69; Waack-Erdmann 1982: 202–3).
123
Vendryes (1918: 119) (translated). 124 Vendryes (1918: 120) (translated).
‘hold’).125 For instance, in Il. 20.139 reference is made to a forceful act of
‘stopping’ Achilleus against his will, and in Od. 20.330 Penelope and
Telemachus are said to both simply wait (μενέμεν) and actively ‘restrain’ the
suitors (ἰσχέμεναι):
εἰ δέ κ᾿ Ἄρης ἄρχωσι μάχης ἢ Φοῖβος Ἀπόλλων,
ἢ Ἀχιλῆ᾿ ἴσχωσι καὶ οὐκ εἰῶσι μάχεσθαι,
αὐτίκ᾿ ἔπειτα καὶ ἄμμι παρ᾿ αὐτόθι νεῖκος ὀρεῖται
φυλόπιδος (Il. 20.138–41)
“But if Ares or Phoibos Apollon start fighting, or hold back Achilleus
and do not let him fight, then our own war quarrel will begin
immediately.”
ὄφρα μὲν ὕμιν θυμὸς ἐνὶ στήθεσσιν ἐώλπει
νοστῆσαι Ὀδυσῆα πολύφρονα ὅνδε δόμονδε,
τόφρ᾿ οὔ τις νέμεσις μενέμεν τ᾿ ἦν ἰσχέμεναί τε
μνηστῆρας κατὰ δώματα (Od. 20.328–31)
“As long as your mind inside was hopeful that cunning Odysseus would
return to his home, there was no objection to your waiting and restraining
the suitors in the palace.”
Whereas the increased semantic transitivity of the reduplicated variants is
thus unmistakable, an iteratival reading is no more called for here than it
was in Hittite (4.14).
4.31 Greek Reduplicated Presents without Polymorphic Partners

When we look at the many reduplicated presents without an unredupli-
cated partner, the situation is similar. As repeatedly noted in Table 4.1,
there is again nothing to speak for intrinsically iteratival readings. To be
sure, there are passages where an iteratival (distributive) interpretation of a
reduplicated verb form (τίθεσαν, ἵζε) is appropriate:126
πρῶτα μὲν οὖν νέκυας φόρεον κατατεθνηῶτας,
κὰδ δ᾿ ἄρ᾿ ὑπ᾿ αἰθούσῃ τίθεσαν εὐερκέος αὐλῆς,
ἀλλήλοισιν ἐρείδουσαι· σήμαινε δ᾿ Ὀδύσσευς (Od. 22.448–50)
So first they carried off the dead corpses and put them under the portico of
the well-walled courtyard, propping them up against one another; and
Odysseus was giving directions.
125
Giannakis (1991: 57–60; 1997: 147–60); cf. Vendryes (1918: 119).
126
Cf. Giannakis (1997: 103, 172–3).
ἀγχοῦ δ᾿ ἱσταμένη προσέφη πόδας ὠκέα Ἶρις·
εἴσατο δὲ φθογγὴν υἷϊ Πριάμοιο Πολίτῃ,
ὃς Τρώων σκοπὸς ἷζε, ποδωκείῃσι πεποιθώς,
τύμβῳ ἐπ᾿ ἀκροτάτῳ Αἰσυήταο γέροντος,
δέγμενος ὁππότε ναῦφιν ἀφορμηθεῖεν Ἀχαιοί· (Il. 2.790–4)
Stepping close, swift-footed Iris addressed him – making her voice resemble
that of Polites, son of Priam, who, trusting in his swift-footedness, would
sit as a watcher for the Trojans on top of the tomb of old Aisyetes, waiting
for the moment when the Achaeans would sally forth from their ships.
However, the iterative value must here be ascribed to the imperfective
aspect alone.127 In the first passage, after all, τίθεσαν is no more ‘iterative’
than φόρεον and σήμαινε. Moreover, it is easy to find parallel instances
where no iterativity can be involved:
ἐκ δὲ Χυρσηῒς νηὸς βῆ ποντοπόροιο.
τὴν μὲν ἔπειτ᾿ ἐπὶ βωμὸν ἄγων πολύμητις Ὀδυσσεὺς
πατρὶ φίλῳ ἐν χερσὶ τίθει, καί μιν προσέειπεν (Il. 1.439–41)
[A]nd Chryseis went out of the sea-traversing ship. Her, cunning
Odysseus then led to the altar and put into the hands of her dear father,
and he said to him
Πάτροκλος μὲν σῖτον ἑλὼν ἐπένειμε τραπέζῃ
καλοῖς ἐν κανέοισιν, ἀτὰρ κρέα νεῖμεν Ἀχιλλεύς.
αὐτὸς δ᾿ ἀντίον ἷζεν Ὀδυσσῆος θείοιο
τοίχου τοῦ ἑτέροιο, θεοῖσι δὲ θῦσαι ἀνώγει
Πάτροκλον, ὃν ἑταῖρον· . . . (Il. 9.216–20)
Patroclus took the bread and distributed it on the table in beautiful
baskets, whereas Achilleus distributed the meat. He himself sat down
opposite divine Odysseus, on the other side, and told Patroclus, his
companion, to sacrifice to the gods.
If anything, τίθει and ἷζεν here resemble aorists. However, that effect must
not be overinterpreted either. Greek imperfects can generally refer to
objectively completed eventualities when a scene is to be kept open: the
reader/listener is made to expect another connected eventuality (here
προσέειπεν and ἀνώγει, respectively).128
127
As also in the case of habitual/iterative-distributive presents: e.g., Il. 2.262 ξυνὸν δὲ κακὸν πολέεσσι
τιθεῖσι ‘they create a common inconvenience for many’; Od. 17.269 πολλοὶ ἐν αὐτῷ δαῖτα τίθενται
‘many people are preparing their meal in it’. In these two instances, the singular objects illustrate
that the individual acts are conceived of as a single macro-eventuality.
128
Cf. Rijksbaron (2002: 11): “The imperfect creates a certain expectation on the part of the reader/
hearer: what else happened?” For another clear example, discussed by Giannakis (1997: 101), see Od.
Disregarding this, Giannakis sometimes too quickly reads a ‘perfective’
nuance into Homeric reduplicated present-stem forms. Thus, in Od. 8.62–6
(quoted below), “[t]he fact that in the string of verbs the imperfect δίδου is
used alongside the aorists ἦλθεν, ἐφίλησε, ἄμερσε, θῆκε in a paratactic
construction” need not be “a strong indication for homotropy” (i.e., for
the functional equivalence of said aorists and imperfects).129 The use of
imperfective δίδου may also be ‘denotational’, allowing the speaker to
refer to the past giving event without paying attention to its (objectively
undeniable) completion. Where an aorist δῶκε could have triggered the
unwanted implicature that Demodocus no longer possesses his sweet voice,
no such thing could happen as long as the imperfect was used:130
κῆρυξ δ᾿ ἐγγύθεν ἦλθεν ἄγων ἐρίηρον ἀοιδόν,
τὸν περὶ Μοῦσ᾿ ἐφίλησε, δίδου δ᾿ ἀγαθόν τε κακόν τε·
ὀφθαλμῶν μὲν ἄμερσε, δίδου δ᾿ ἡδεῖαν ἀοιδήν.
τῷ δ᾿ ἄρα Ποντόνοος θῆκε θρόνον ἀργυρόηλον
μέσσῳ δαιτυμόνων (Od. 8.62–6)
The herald came close, leading the loyal singer, whom the Muse had got to
love, and to whom she gave both good and bad: she had deprived him of
his eyes, but she gave him a sweet voice. For him, Pontonoos set up a silver-
studded chair in the midst of the guests.
Having said that, there are one or two further passages that are indeed
remarkable:131
οἱ δ᾿ ὅτε δή ῥ᾿ ἵκανον ὅθι σκοπὸν Ἕκτορος ἔκταν,
ἔνθ᾿ Ὀδυσεὺς μὲν ἔρυξε Διῒ φίλος ὠκέας ἵππους,
Τυδεΐδης δὲ χαμᾶζε θορὼν ἔναρα βροτόεντα
ἐν χείρεσσ᾿ Ὀδυσῆϊ τίθει, ἐπεβήσετο δ᾿ ἵππων·
μάστιξεν δ᾿ ἵππους, τὼ δ᾿ οὐκ ἀέκοντε πετέσθην
10.354–9 (with ἐτίταινε ‘stretched out’, τίθει ‘placed’, ἐκίρνα ‘mixed’, νέμε ‘distributed’, etc.).
Against Giannakis (1997: 195–6), one can similarly explain Od. 4.458 γίγνετο ‘he turned’ if this
opens the scene for the following ἡμεῖς δ᾿ ἔχομεν ‘but we were holding him’.
129
Giannakis (1997: 67).
130
Cf. Bertinetto and Delfitto (2000: 216) on the occasional use of imperfective verbs in Slavic “as a
sort of neuter or unmarked form, referring . . . to a potentially telic event taken in a generic sense,
rather than as denoting a truly atelic event. In fact, these are instances of what has sometimes been
called ‘general-factive meaning’ or ‘simple denotation function’.” The same feature may explain
why, “when [impf. τίκτε and aor. τέκε(το)] are used side by side, there is a clear preference for the
reduplicated form when referring to people who are still alive at the time of speaking, but for one’s
more remote ancestral lineage the aorist is used instead” (Giannakis 1997: 202; e.g. Il. 13.448–54). In
a genealogical context (‘A τέκε B, B τέκε C, C τέκε D’, etc.), the use of the aorist in ‘C τέκε D’ might
again misleadingly imply that C, by ‘begetting’ D, completed his role as far as is contextually
relevant, hence must be dead.
131
Cf. Giannakis (1997: 98–9, 181–3).
νῆας ἔπι γλαφυράς (Il. 10.526–31)
But when they were reaching the place where they had killed Hector’s
scout, Odysseus, Zeus’ friend, reined in the swift horses and the son of
Tydeus jumped to the ground, placed the blood-stained spoils in
Odysseus’ hands, and got back on the chariot; he whipped the horses, and
they ran off, not unwillingly, to the hollow ships.
τάφρον δ᾿ ἐκδιαβάντες ὀρυκτὴν ἑδριόωντο
ἐν καθαρῷ, ὅθι δὴ νεκύων διεφαίνετο χῶρος
πιπτόντων (Il. 10.198–200)
After they had crossed the dug-out trench, they sat down on a clear spot,
where the ground was visible between the corpses that had fallen.
In the first passage, τίθει does not open a scene, and πιπτόντων in the
second must be the equivalent of a resultative participle. However, because
such cases are exceptional and could perhaps be ascribed to metrical/
formulaic constraints, they may not suffice to prove Giannakis’s claim
that reduplicated present stems more generally display a ‘perfective’ beha-
viour.132 All we can really say is that any attempt to describe these stems as
less telic/bounded than their unreduplicated aoristic counterparts is
doomed to failure: δίδωμι means ‘I give, I am giving’ just as ἔδωκα
means ‘I gave’, no more and no less.
4.32 Factitivity and High Transitivity among Reduplicated Presents

Together with other languages, Greek does however provide still more
support for the idea that reduplication and high transitivity go hand in
hand also among the present stems. In 4.28, the factitive nature of Ved.
íyarti ‘sets in motion’ next to the root aorist ārta ‘has moved (intr.)’ has been
mentioned. Within Greek, the case of reduplicated ἵστημι ‘set up’ to *steh2-
‘stand’ is even clearer since the corresponding root aorist ἔστην ‘I stood’ is
active too. It is difficult to dismiss the factitivity of ἵστημι as an erratic
innovation when it is mirrored in Italic (Lat. sistō ‘set up’ or ‘take a stand’,
Umbr. sestu ‘set up’), compatible with Celtic (if the deponential inflection of
OIr. ar‧sissedar ‘stands fast’ neutralises the factitivising power of the redu-
plication), and possibly echoed in Anatolian (if Hitt. titta-i ‘install’ belongs
with *steh2- as well as *dheh1-: 4.9).133
132
See especially Giannakis (1997: 288): “They all exhibit a punctual-perfective meaning, that is, the
verbal action is presented as a complete fact, not as an ongoing activity or process.” Here as
elsewhere, the mixture of terms appropriate to (grammatical) aspect (‘perfective’, ‘presented as a
complete fact’) with terms better reserved for Aktionsart features (‘punctual’) is unhelpful.
133
Cf. Delbrück (1897: 21).
More difficult to assess is the case of Lat. gignō ‘generate’ vs. medial Gr.
γίγνομαι ‘come into being’. Here the active reduplicated present allows a
factitive analysis when compared to the old perfect *g̑ e-g̑ onh1-e (> Gr.
γέγονε) ‘exists, has come into being’, which suggests a prototypically
intransitive value for *g̑ enh1-; but in view of the semantically similar
unreduplicated thematic present Ved. jánati ‘generates’ etc. this may be
too restrictive a view on *g̑ enh1- (cf. Table 4.1). Less ambiguous are the
factitive connotations of Gr. ἵζω ‘set (down)’ (next to ‘sit down’, like Lat.
sīdō, Ved. sī́dati, etc.134), ἰάλλω ‘stretch out’ (~ Ved. -sísarti ‘stretches out’),
and perhaps ἰάπτω ‘send forth’ (cf. Table 4.2, also on δειδίσσομαι ‘frighten’
~ perf. δε(ί)δοικα ‘am afraid’). And finally, one may refer to the reduplicated
presents in -σκε/ο-, which will be discussed in a later chapter (8.44–8.45) but
whose commonly factitive value has also long been observed.135
Of course, reduplicated presents are not always factitive. The factitivity
of some of them is merely one possible manifestation of a general high
degree of transitivity. Through their action kinesis, telicity, and often
volitionality, even non-factitive, syntactically intransitive, Gr. ἵζω ~ Ved.
sī́ dati ‘sit down’ or Lat. sistō ~ Ved. tísthati ‘take a stand’ are semantically
more transitive than cognate formations ˙˙ meaning just ‘sit’ or ‘stand’ (3.35).
An analysis along similar lines has been suggested in Table 4.1 for πίπτω
‘fall’ vs. πέτομαι ‘fly’ (Ved. pátati ‘flies’) and for ἵκω ‘come, reach’ vs. ἥκω
‘have come, am present’. Mutatis mutandis, these pairs replicate the situa-
tion observed in 4.30 for ἴσχω vs. ἔχω and μίμνω vs. μένω.
If πίπτω has not become an optionally factitive verb (*‘make fly/fall’
and ‘fall’) in the way Gr. ἵζω ‘make sit’ and ‘sit down’ or Lat. sistō ‘make
stand’ and ‘take a stand’ have, this is not because it fundamentally differed
from them; it is probably just a consequence of the concept ‘make fall’ not
being basic enough to trigger its lexicalisation.136
4.33 Intermediate Summary

The joint evidence of Greek and other Indo-European languages suggests
that reduplicated presents based on roots with a prototypically intransitive
meaning (e.g., ‘sit’, ‘stand’) could, but did not have to, be used as factitives.
134
Specht (1934: 52) is too apodictic when he states that ‘only the intransitive sense can be old’.
135
Cf. Debrunner (1937: 263), citing διδάσκω ‘teach’, ἱλάσκομαι ‘make propitious’, μιμνήσκω
‘remind’, πιπίσκω ‘give to drink’, πιφαύσκω ‘make manifest’, τιτύσκομαι ‘make ready’.
136
A further instance of the ἵζω/sistō type may be inferred from the pair βιβάζω ‘make go’ (often
preverbated: e.g., ἀναβιβάζω ‘make go up’) next to βιβάω ‘stride’ ← (*)βίβᾱμι (Table 4.1). Since
βιβάζω is not denominal, the suffix -(ά)ζω appears to be used to disambiguate between factitive and
non-factitive uses of *g u̯ i-g u̯ eh2-mi.
In some cases, this potential may have been neutralised by middle inflec-
tion.137 By contrast, reduplicated presents to prototypically transitive roots
(e.g., ‘give’, ‘put’) did not allow causative usages. However, the latter items
too are semantically no less transitive than any unreduplicated root forma-
tions with which they form aspectual or functional pairs. Wherever an
unreduplicated and a reduplicated present stem co-occur, it is the redupli-
cated one that tends to be more bounded/telic. From this it must be
inferred that reduplication correlates with an increase in telicity and/or
semantic transitivity. The conclusions reached in our analysis of the Hittite
material (4.14) are thus confirmed.
At the same time, we are reminded of Stemma III in 4.6. We had
hypothesised there that Indo-European present-stem reduplication might
encode [telicity]. However, the same paragraph expressed reservations
about the stemma, and in 4.7 a theoretically neater way of explaining the
appearance of reduplication in both perfective and imperfective stems was
sketched. So instead of contenting ourselves with Stemma III now, because
it tallies well with our present results, we must explore if these are not
equally compatible with the more elegant alternative of seeing in the
reduplicated presents secondary imperfectives.
As noted in 4.7, this would presuppose that some imperfectivising affix
be identified. Thanks to the formal discussion in 4.18–4.25, we are able to
state that the earliest reduplicated present-stem structure was *C1e-C1C-e/o-
because both i-reduplication and athematicity are secondary develop-
ments. The reduplication syllable itself cannot of course be perfectivising
and imperfectivising at the same time. Hence, the only affix that could
possibly have acted as an imperfectiviser is the thematic vowel. In what
follows, it will be argued that this idea has more to it than one may think.
But in order to realise this, we must leave the reduplicated presents for a
while and look at the prehistory of the unreduplicated thematic type.
4.34–4.44 PIE Thematic Presents: Genesis and Distribution

4.34 PIE *CeC-o ‘Statives’
In 4.12, mention has been made of Hittite mediopassives like kīša(ri)
‘becomes’ and nēa(ri) ‘turns (intr.)’, which descend from *gei̯s-o-r(i) (?),
*nei̯H-o-r(i). That the final -r(i) of these forms represents a secondary
137
Apart from OIr. ar‧sissedar and Gr. γίγνομαι (4.32), see perhaps also Gr. ἵσταμαι ‘take a
stand’, ἵεμαι ‘rush’, Ved. īý ate ‘hastens’ (4.28); but in cases like Ved. jíghnate ‘strikes, kills’ to
prototypically transitive *g u̯ hen-, the middle voice must be used for other reasons: cf. 4.28,
fn. 115.
addition is shown by the comparison with otherwise identical mediopas-
sive structures notably in Indo-Iranian.138 In that branch, *-o is partly
retained and partly replaced by *-to. Typical examples include Ved. śáye
‘lies’ (< *k̑ éi̯-o(i̯), cf. Luw. zīi̯ar(i) ‘lies’) or stáve ‘is renowned/praised’ (<
*stéu̯ -o(i̯ )).139 The remodelled version of the former is Ved. śéte, which
corresponds to Gr. κεῖται ‘lies’ (< *k̑ éi̯-toi̯) and Hitt. kitta(ri) (< *k̑ éi̯-to(ri)),
thereby implying an early change *k̑ éi̯-o → *k̑ éi̯-to.
Since the *CeC-o structures attested here are often associated with non-
dynamic meanings, they have often been treated as a separate archaic
category of PIE ‘statives’, rather than as straight precursors of the
PIE middles (with 3sg. *-to(i̯)) that act as voice partners to actives (3sg.
*-t(i)).140 As we shall see (4.42, with fn. 154; 10.14, 10.19), there is some truth
in both positions: on the one hand, not every ‘normal’ middle has a ‘stative’
ancestor, but on the other hand, neither was there ever a system with three
fully-fledged voices. For our present purposes, we may suspend judgment on
this matter and merely recognise the existence of the ‘stative’ type as such.
4.35 PIE *CeC-o as a Nominal Form

Following similar ideas of Kuryłowicz on the PIE perfect (5.26), Watkins
plausibly hypothesised a nominal origin of the *CeC-o structure:
So our first hypothesis is that . . . full-graded barytone *k̑ éi̯-o/e and zero-
graded oxytone *dhugh-ó/é . . . were originally thematic nominal forms, which
were assigned the function of a verbal predicate in the 3sg. (expressed by zero-
ending) when occurring in the syntactic position of nominal predicates. Both
formal features, the ablaut grade of the root and the accent, are typical of
thematic nominal forms in Indo-European since the earliest times.141
The oxytone type mentioned by Watkins, and the mutual relationship
between the oxytone and the barytone types, will occupy us later (5.40–5.42).
But if it can be said with Gotō that in both of them the essential feature is that
‘a certain quality is present on the subject’ or ‘the subject features in this/the
present period this or that quality (as realised)’,142 the nominal nature of our
138
See also 4.35 on the Celtic passive.
139
Cf. Narten (1968b), Eichner (1975: 99), Oettinger (1976: esp. 119–34; 1993), Rix (1977: 134–5),
Kümmel (1996), Gotō (1997: esp. 178–83).
140
See the literature in the previous footnote. Others, like Neu (1968a: 154–7), Lazzeroni (1993), and
Bruno (2005: 45–60), reject a categorial separation. The recessive nature of the attested forms
definitely speaks against an innovation (pace Lindeman 1972a, García Castillero 1998; 2002).
141
Watkins (1969: esp. 106) (translated); cf. Kuryłowicz (1964a: 61–3) and for earlier remarks of a similar
kind already Vaillant (1942–5: esp. 82). On the deeper reconstruction, see also 5.41 and 9.24, fn. 82.
142
Gotō (1997: 177).
verb-root-based *CeC-o formation may be specified further: it corresponds to
that of forms classified as mediopassive ‘participles’ in historical languages.
With prototypically intransitive and non-dynamic roots like *k̑ ei̯ - ‘lie’ or
*men- ‘stay’, the reinterpretation of such ‘participles’ as finite verbal forms
was most straightforward. In nominal sentences like *X k̑ ei̯-o ‘X [is] lying’
or *X men-o ‘X [is] staying’, to which one might only object the absence of a
nominative ending on the nominal predicate,143 ‘participial’ *k̑ ei̯-o and
*men-o could easily be reinterpreted as ‘stative’ verb forms (‘lies’, ‘stays’).
However, just as a Greek mediopassive participle in -μενος can also be
built to other kinds of roots, the same will have been true for *CeC-o when
this was still a productive type of deverbal nominals in Proto-Indo-
European. In the case of prototypically transitive and dynamic roots like
*g u̯ hen- ‘strike’ or *bher- ‘carry’, the relevant *CeC-o participles should then
trigger patientive, or at least inagentive, readings: e.g., *gu̯ hen-o ‘[is] (being)
struck, hit’ (reference to the patient of an underlying transitive phrase (O))
or ‘[is] hitting’ (as said of a tree branch that hits against a wall; reference to
the subject of an underlying intransitive phrase (S)). In this light, not only
the existence of a few arguably passive ‘statives’ like Ved. stáve ‘is renowned/
praised’ makes good sense, but also the fact that the same type may be the
source of Celtic passives such as OIr. -berar ‘is carried’ (< *bhero(-r)).144
4.36 Watkins on the Thematic Root Presents

The reason for bringing the *CeC-o statives into our discussion is that
Watkins identified them as the source of the thematic conjugation.
Observing that there is a cross-linguistic tendency to build paradigms on
3sg. forms with (perceived) zero-ending, he argued that this is what happened
when *CeC-e/o structures were analysed as root + suffix + 3sg. zero-ending:
When the zero-ending has become exchangeable with the other endings, the
further constitution of the paradigm follows automatically:
1. Sg. *ghwen-é-ə̯ 2o
2. Sg. *ghwen-é-tə̯ o
3. Sg. *ghwen-é
This paradigm, which has been construed in a purely theoretical manner,
actually exists. It is the simplest and oldest form of the Hittite thematic
mediopassive and of the thematic hi-conjugation:
˘
143
But see 10.19, where the structural logic behind this absence will become clear: there is not really no
case ending in *CeC-o, but the zero-ending of a Pre-PIE absolutive case.
144
Thus Jasanoff (1977: 160), Meid (1977: 117–18), and Rix (1977: 143); doubts are voiced by Cowgill
(1983: 101–2) and García Castillero (2015). On the added *-r, see the Epilogue, fn. 1.
neyahha *waštahha > waštahhi

˘˘
neyatta ˘˘
waštatta > ˘˘
waštatti
neya *wašta > waštai
. . . The only difference is that the -a of neya, *wašta does not reflect *-e, but
*-o. In this case we may assume ablauting *ghwen-o and hence *ghwen-o-ə̯ 2o
*ghwen-o-tə̯ 2o.145
In branches like Indo-Iranian, where the thematic 3sg. ends in *-et(i) >
-at(i), the story would be similar: *-et(i) would result from the addition of
the athematic 3sg. *-t(i) to a thematic base form in *-e.146
4.37 Phonological Adjustments

For all its attraction, there are some problems with Watkins’s theory. A
minor one concerns the unspecified distribution of e-vocalism and o-
vocalism in his formulae, and notably in the ‘stem’ vowel of the presumed
3sg. Here we can make progress if we espouse the ablaut theory outlined in
3.41. A form with double e-grade, like Watkins’s *g u̯ hen-é, should not in
theory exist after ablaut had run its course. By contrast, both *g u̯ hén-e and
*g u̯ hén-o are regular if an underlying reduced *-ə was realised as either *-e or
*-o depending on the phonotactic environment, and if one or the other
outcome was subsequently generalised according to grammatical category
(e.g., *-o in the ‘stative’ 3sg., but *-e in the 2sg. ipv., which typically occurs
in pausa). So, while ‘stative’ *CéC-o is an expected surface result of reduced
*CéC-ə, so is *CéC-e, the form needed as the basis of recharacterised *CéC-
e-t(i) (underlying *CéC-ə-t(i)).147 In other words, we do not have to start
from a questionable *CeC-é structure (with suffix accentuation) in order to
reach the *CéC-e-t(i) structure of the simple thematic present of the
historical Indo-European languages (with root accentuation).
4.38 Morphological Adjustments

Another issue arises when we look more closely at Watkins’s example of a
‘thematic hi-conjugation’ verb in Hittite, u̯ ašta-i ‘sin’. If this verb, just like
˘
the thematic root presents in other branches of Indo-European, was
145
Watkins (1969: 107) (translated), whose general idea is followed by Hart (1990), Mottausch (2003:
esp. 23–6), and Pooth (2004a). A denominal origin of this thematic type was already postulated by
Vaillant (1937: 91–2).
146
Cf. Watkins (1969: 132–3), Mottausch (2003: 24).
147
In her version of Watkins’s theory, Hart (1990: 448) starts from *CéC-o alone, and sees*CéC-e-t(i)
instead of *CéC-o-t(i) as remodelled after forms with thematic *-é/ó-, *-i̯é/ó-, *-sk̑ é/ó-; but the
alternation *-e/o- is more difficult to explain under the accent (3.38; cf. 10.39, fn. 77, on possible
evidence for non-alternating *-i̯é-).
somehow based on a *CéC-e/o structure, we should expect an e-graded root
(as in nēa(ri): 4.34). Moreover, we cannot simply treat 3sg. u̯ aštai as *u̯ ašta +
added ‘primary’ *-i when in the corresponding 1sg. and 2sg. the same
addition of *-i must have happened early enough to yield *-hai̯, *-tai̯ >
-hhi, -ti; for if *-i was added at roughly the same time also in the ˘ 3sg., the
˘ ˘
outcome should then be †u̯ ašti. So Hitt. -ai must conceal something more
complex than just *-o > *-a + *-i.
Apart from various affixed formations, including reduplicated ones like
mimma-i ‘refuse’ (group (iii) in 4.9), the hi-conjugation class of u̯ ašta-i
contains radical verbs to roots in *-h2/3-.148 ˘These must be compared with
the normal hi-conjugating root verbs, whose 3sg. has the structure CaC-i <
˘ latter will play an important role elsewhere (5.31, 5.33), but
*CoC-e(i̯ ). The
they are already essential in the present context; for they explain what must
have happened to their laryngealic congeners. The starting point was the
same *CoC-e structure for all the radical hi-conjugation verbs. With roots in
*-h2/3-, however, *CoCh2/3-e turned out, by ˘ laryngeal colouring, an ‘irregular’
ending *-a/o instead of *-e. In order to remedy this, and realign the aberrant
group with the majority of the radical hi-verbs, the regular *-e (→ *-ei̯ with
‘primary’ *-i) was simply attached again, ˘ yielding *-a/o-e(i̯) > *-āi̯/*-ōi̯ > -ai.149
This being so, even if we could ever establish a direct comparison between
a PIE thematic root present like *bher-e-t(i) and a Hittite verb inflecting like
u̯ ašta-i and featuring the correct e-grade in the root, we could still not treat the
Hittite item as a direct reflex of the thematic root present’s precursor.
Instead, we would have to acknowledge that, just as a *CeC-e/o structure
was recharacterised as *CeC-e-t(i) ← *CeC-e + *-t(i) in non-Anatolian
Indo-European, so the same structure was recharacterised as *CeC-o-e(i̯)
← *CeC-o + *-e(i̯) in Anatolian. The procedure would thus have been the
same, but the actual model whence the added ending was borrowed would
have been a different one: the athematic root type (3sg. *CeC-t(i)) outside
Anatolian, and the *CoC-e(i̯) type within.
4.39 Hittite Correspondents to PIE Thematic Root Presents

Unfortunately, what we effectively find does not fall into place so neatly.
Initially encouraging is the fact that there are indeed exceedingly few
thematic presents of the *bher-e-t(i) type in Anatolian – as we should
wish if Anatolian recharacterised in one way and non-Anatolian Indo-
148
Cf. Kloekhorst (2008: 140), but his explanation slightly differs from the one given here. The
specific case of u̯ ašta-i is etymologically difficult: see Kloekhorst (2008: 985–6, s.v. u̯ ašta-i/
u̯ ašt-).
149
For this outcome of *-āi̯, cf. Kimball (1999: 228–9) on inherited *-ōi̯.
European in another. However, neither is there a *CeC-a-i class (e.g., with
an imaginary Hitt. 3sg. *pērai < *bhér-o-e(i̯)). What Anatolian has instead,
unlike the non-Anatolian languages, is the substantial hi-conjugation
*CaC-i class mentioned in 4.38 and discussed further in˘ 5.31 and 5.33.
Thus, for example, Gr. σπένδει ‘libates’ (< *spend-e-ti) matches Hitt.
išpānti ‘libates’ (< *spond-ei̯).150
And yet, there seems to be just enough evidence to suggest that the *bher-
e-t(i) type was not altogether absent from Anatolian.151 If this is true, we
cannot entirely assign the creation of *bher-e-t(i) etc. to the period after
Anatolian parted company with the rest of Indo-European. We must then
rather envisage a scenario whereby Proto-Indo-European before the
Anatolian split-off knew both the *CoC-e(i̯) ancestor type of the Hittite
*CaC-i class and the *CeC-e/o → *CeC-e-t(i) ancestor type of the thematic
root presents, presumably in roughly similar functions already. Whereas
the *CeC-e/o → *CeC-e-t(i) type became increasingly productive else-
where, more or less ousting the *CoC-e(i̯) type (though cf. 5.32),
Anatolian separated early enough for this not to happen, and for the
*CoC-e(i̯) type eventually to retain the upper hand.
4.40 Hittite and PIE Reduplicated Presents

We are now in a position to explain why PIE reduplicated presents so
often correspond to Hittite reduplicated presents that inflect according
to the h i-conjugation type with 3sg. -ai (4.12). If Watkins’s basic idea is
˘ reduplicated presents should be based on a 3sg. in *-e/o, like the
right, the
thematic root presents. But if reduplicated *C1e/i-C1C-e/o → *C1e/i-C1C-e-t(i)
matches unreduplicated *CeC-e/o → *CeC-e-t(i) outside Anatolian, the
same evolution must not be expected within that branch with its weakly
developed thematic root paradigm and its strongly developed *CoC-e(i̯)
150
For another Greek–Hittite pair of this kind, see Gr. ἔχει ‘has’ < *ség̑ h-e-ti ~ Hitt. šākki ‘knows’ ←<
*sóg̑ h-ei̯ (according to Willi 2011a; the semantic objections of Melchert 2013: 145 n. 13 are weak if the
basic meaning of *seg̑ h- was ‘grasp’).
151
Thus, Oettinger (2002: xx and 314), followed by LIV 114–16, s.v. 1. *demh2-, derives HLuw.
dama- ‘build’ from *dem(h2)-e/o- (cf. Gr. δέμω ‘build’, Table 8.1). Similarly, 3pl. nēanzi ‘they
direct’ might represent *nei̯H-o-nti (LIV 450–1, s.v. *nei̯H-, after Eichner 1975: 91 and
Oettinger 2002: 460, 482; but cf. also Kloekhorst 2008: 598–600, s.v. nē-a(ri), nai-i, *ni-).
The case of (Neo-)Hitt. tarratta ‘is able’ is different because this need not be based on *terh2-
e/o-to(r) (LIV 633–4, s.v. *terh2-), but can be a direct remake of *tarra < *terh2-o (Kloekhorst
2008: 832–3, s.v. tarra-tta(ri); cf. also Hart 1990: 460–1). One or two further uncertain items
are cited by Tremblay (2009: 501–2), who wants to make out a small group of remodelled
thematic presents and suggests that the type was once common in Anatolian. In Tocharian,
too, simple thematic root presents are rare (cf. Ringe 2000, Kim 2010: 191–2); but pace
Jasanoff (1998: esp. 313–14) this hardly justifies a separation of two different thematic root-
present classes in Proto-Indo-European.
paradigm (4.39). In Anatolian, *C1e/i-C1C-e/o will rather have been
recharacterised, under the influence of the dominant *CoC-e(i̯) type, into
*C1e/i-C1C-o-e(i̯), just as *CoCh2/3-a/o was recharacterised into *CoC[H]-a/o-ei̯
(4.38). And *C1i-C1C-o-e(i̯) is of course precisely the formula under which the
Hittite reduplicated presents of group (iii) were subsumed in 4.12. Though the
outcome is different, the mechanisms leading to a Hittite hi-conjugation pair
˘ inferrable from a
tittai ‘installs’ ~ dāi ‘puts’ are thus the same as those that are
non-Anatolian pair like Gr. μίμνω ~ μένω.
4.41 A Semantic Query

In response to Watkins’s theory, we may finally ask why an originally
nominal, whence ‘stative’, form of the *CéC-e/o type should have taken on
active endings like 3sg. -t(i). Should we not expect it to use the endings of
the less transitive PIE h2e-conjugation, which are ancestral to the historical
middle and perfect endings (cf. 2.14, 5.3)?
As noted in 4.35, like a Greek mediopassive participle in -μενος, the *CéC-e/o
nominal will have allowed both general intransitive and passive readings (e.g.,
*k̑ ei̯-o ‘lying’ vs. *gu̯ hen-o ‘struck’). Whether the referent is the subject of an
underlying intransitive phrase (S) or the object of an underlying transitive one
(O), it will prototypically feature a low degree of agentivity or control over the
action. Thus, Greek τρεπόμενος may mean, depending on context, (i) ‘being
turned’ (O-oriented) or (ii) ‘turningintr.’ (S-oriented). But in addition it may
also express (iii) self-benefactive ‘turning for oneself’ with a direct object and
therefore predicating a referent who occupies the subject role in an underlying
transitive phrase (A). If τρεπόμενος were now reinterpreted as a finite 3sg., a
personal ending commonly used in transitive/agentive forms (as in 3sg. τρέπει
‘turnstr.’) could be transferred more readily to the agentive usages (ii) and (iii),
but less readily to the patientive usage (i). So, from a single low-transitive
(‘mediopassive’) category, a split into one more transitive (active) and one less
transitive (mediopassive) category would ensue.
According to this scenario, which seeks to spell out what Watkins
seems to have envisaged for Proto-Indo-European,152 a *CéC-e/o form
initially used with reference to underlying S’s and O’s would first have
spread also to underlying A’s, and it would then have taken on the person
marker 3sg. *-t wherever that had happened. Though conceivable in
principle, such an explanation still has certain shortcomings, which
152
Watkins (1969: 118, and cf. 127–8) is not very explicit when he writes that ‘the thematic type . . . has
. . . taken on a new active function in opposition to a newly arisen and differentiated thematic
middle’. Hart (1990: 462) also leaves the matter open, while Mottausch (2003: 25) compares the
activisation of deponents in Latin and Germanic.
favour a different approach (10.24). But although this alternative is even
simpler in some ways, we are not yet ready to tackle it. For the time being,
we must content ourselves with acknowledging that somehow intransi-
tive/passive 3sg. *CéC-e/o forms could indeed be converted into active 3sg.
*CéC-e-t(i) ones by the addition of active endings.
4.42 Schematic Summary

Figure 4.2 summarises the above account of the thematic present’s pre-
history. The root *trep- ‘turn’ is chosen as an example because its labile
nature illustrates well the interactions between transitive, intransitive, and
passive meanings; but the case of *bher- ‘carry’ demonstrates that the
essential developments are the same when a prototypically transitive root
is involved.
As Stage V, the figure includes the remodelling of the mediopassive
*CéC-o forms that had not been activised through the addition of endings
like 3sg. *-t. Although some of them survived as relics in the guise of those
Stage I nominal (‘participial’) *trép-e/o ‘turningintr., turned’

*bhér-e/o ‘carried’
Stage II verbalised (< nominal sentences) *trép-e/o ‘is turningintr., is (being) turned’
*bhér-e/o ‘is (being) carried’
Stage III creation of a voice opposition *trép-e ‘is turningtr.’ *trép-o ‘is turningintr., is (being) turned’
(with morphologised*-e vs.*-o) *bhér-e ‘is carrying’ *bhér-o ‘is (being) carried’
Stage IV addition of finite active endings *trép-e-t ‘is turningtr.’ *trép-o ‘is turningintr., is (being) turned’
*bhér-e-t ‘is carrying’ *bhér-o ‘is (being) carried’
Stage V remodelling of the mediopassive *trép-e-t ‘is turningtr.’ *trép-e-to ‘is turningintr., is (being) turned’
*bhér-e-t ‘is carrying’ *bhér-e-to ‘is (being) carried’
(next to ‘stative’ remnants of Stage IV)
˘
Stage VI addition of primary*-i *trép-e-ti ‘is turningtr.’ *trép-e-toi ‘is turningintr., is (being) turned’
*bhér-e-ti ‘is carrying’ *bhér-e-toi ‘is (being) carried’
˘
(next to ‘stative’ remnants in *-o →*-oi )

˘
Fig. 4.2. The genesis of the thematic present
‘statives’ from which we started (4.34), their coordination with new the-
matic actives more commonly led to an analogical remake. The ending *-o,
which was associated with mediopassive meaning but which lacked a
distinct person marker, was added to the corresponding active form
(*CéC-e-t), yielding a new middle ending *-to.153 Thanks to this move,
the older pair act. *CéC-e-t : med.-pass. *CéC-o (Stage IV) was replaced by
the younger pair act. *CéC-e-t : med.-pass. *CéC-e-to (Stage V) in which
both voices featured a person marker.154 As a last step, ‘primary’ *-i was
added on both sides (Stage VI). (For an account of the constitution of the
full paradigm, see 10.24–10.25.)
4.43 Inferior Alternatives to Watkins’s Model

Since the model just sketched is not entirely straightforward, it may
legitimately be asked whether we really need it. What do we gain by
connecting the thematic root presents with the PIE ‘statives’? Would it
not be simpler to argue, with other scholars, that the thematic root presents
must be either (a) ‘mechanically’ thematised athematic root presents155 or
(b) stranded subjunctives to athematic root presents (or root aorists),
containing the regular subjunctive marker *-e/o-?156
153
Thus, medial -to is no ablaut (o-grade) variant of active -t (Hirt 1904/5a: 70–1, Brugmann 1913–16: 590–1;
1921a: 133–4, Meillet 1922d: 64–70; 1923; 1935, Gray 1930: 235–6, Erhart 1989: 18, 35), no demonstrative
pronoun used in reflexive function (Georgiev 1985: 221; cf. Shields 1992: 109–13), and no direct relative of
the verbal adjective in *-to- (Hirt 1928: 102, Hart 1988: 87–9; 1990: 466, Schmalstieg 1988: 591–5, Stempel
1996: 61); nor is -o a reflexive pronoun, added to the active endings to form a reflexive middle but
unrelated to any ‘stative’ ending (Rix 1988; cf. Kortlandt 2001: 9). At the same time, it is imprecise to
diagnose in *-to the ‘insertion’ of 3sg. *-t- into old statives (Mottausch 2003: 19; cf. 10.14). If middle
forms, unlike stative ones, can (also) refer to ‘agentive-reflexive’ eventualities (Oettinger 1993), this is
precisely because they are based on ‘agentive-non-reflexive’ actives.
154
The remake *k̑ ei̯-o → *k̑ ei-to(i̯) (4.34, Watkins 1969: 50–1, 85–6; similarly *steu̯ -o → *steu̯ -to(i̯) >→
Gr. στεῦται ‘boasts, declares’ vs. Ved. stáve) differs from *bher-o → *bher-e-to(i̯) mainly in that there
never was a thematic active †k̑ ei̯-e-t(i) to suggest medial *k̑ ei̯-e-to(i̯). Once *-to had become an
equivalent of *-o (cf. the ongoing replacement of 3sg. med. -a(ri) by -ta(ri) in Hittite; Neu 1968a:
19–23), it was moreover feasible to renew the *bhero type by simple recharacterisation as *bhero-to;
this may account for middle paradigms with consistent thematic o-vocalism (cf. Watkins 1969: 213,
Jasanoff 1978a: 47–53; 2002/3: 158–9, Oettinger 1985: 311, Hart 1990: 448, on Hitt. -atta, Goth. -ada,
etc. and on comparable Tocharian data; against the antiquity of this feature, Cowgill 1985b: 147–8,
Strunk 1999b: 593–4).
155
Thus Ruijgh (1972: 217–19); similarly Adrados (1974: 2.610–13; 1981a: 48–55) (thematic vowel
originally devoid of any functional value), Erhart (1989: 23–4, 47) (thematic vowel extracted from
disyllabic roots?), Yoshida (2009: 276) (thematic vowel extracted from *-i̯e/o- and transferred to root
presents; cf. Kerns and Schwartz 1968: 718).
156
See e.g. Lazzeroni (1980: 39–40; 2000), Barschel (1986: 10–17), Rasmussen (1997b: 250; 2002: 383),
Dunkel (1998b: 92) followed by Bammesberger (2004: 21–4), Jasanoff (1998: 312–13; 2003: 224–7)
(subjunctive in a “‘prospective’ or quasi-modal function”; but Jasanoff partly accepts Watkins’s
argument, and Dunkel claims a subjunctive origin only for selected items), Ringe (2000: 137–8;
2012: 125–31), Bock (2008: 21–3) (hesitant); cf. already Renou (1925: 315), Bonfante (1932) (the latter
In response to (a), it must first be said that, if the thematisation had been
purely mechanical, we should expect it to have affected the root aorists as
well as the root presents. This it did not do. To be sure, there is the
thematic aorist, which is widely thought to represent a thematised variant
of the root aorist. But even those who have held this view, to be challenged
in Chapter 6, have not maintained that the thematic aorist’s thematicity is
as old as that of the thematic root presents. So the appearance of early
thematic *CéC-e-t(i) forms only in the present-stem system does suggest an
independent and somehow presentic source, whose thematicity is unre-
lated to phonotactics.157
As for (b), the connection between the thematic root presents and the
oldest strata of the PIE subjunctive is no doubt a real one, to be explored
further in 4.46–4.48. However, while we shall see that the subjunctive may
indeed have the same ancestry as the thematic present, to treat the thematic
present as nothing but a stranded subjunctive would only displace the
problem: for the genesis of the subjunctive itself would remain obscure.
Moreover, except for certain modal verbs (such as Engl. would or Germ.
möchte), a large-scale subjunctive → indicative shift is not very likely anyway.
4.44 Thematic Root Presents and the Middle Voice

But Watkins’s model cannot only be defended e negativo. One important
philological observation positively supports it against the alternatives.
Following Renou, Watkins already highlighted the tendency of thematic
root presents to inflect medially in Vedic.158 Even if this synchronic
anomaly were an isolated phenomenon, it would be difficult to explain
without reference to some kind of middle-voice affinity in the category’s
prehistory. But in fact, the earliest Greek data point in the same direc-
tion. As the following lists show, there is a remarkably large number of
only for 1sg. *-ō). Contrast Hirt (1901: 212–19) and Erhart (1989: 81) with the equally problematic
idea that the subjunctive originated from the injunctive of a thematic aorist. For still other views,
see fn. 157 and 4.44, fn. 158.
157
This consideration also excludes the unsubstantiated idea of Shields (1989: 16; 1992: 90–3)
that the thematic vowel originated from a non-present deictic; cf. Shields (1988) on the
subjunctive suffix.
158
Renou (1932: 21 n. 1), Watkins (1969: 65); cf. Gotō (1987: 48–56, 67–8), Hart (1990: 451–2). This
fact, which Lazzeroni (1982a) ascribes to the alleged modal origin of the thematic category although
it is no general feature of Indo-European subjunctives, is altogether disregarded by Kuryłowicz
(1977: 100), for whom the thematic presents are a ‘derivative built on the nominal stem in -é- . . .
with active value’ (italics added), and by Kortlandt (1979a: 68; 1983), who claims that “the thematic
flexion . . . is predominantly transitive at the earliest reconstructible stage” and follows Knobloch
(1953) in suggesting that the “thematic vowel referred to an object in the absolutive . . . case”. To
dismiss the latter idea (and its corollary that the laryngeal in 1sg. *-o-H references a dative) need not
entail a rejection of a Pre-PIE ergative stage: see Chapter 9.
media tantum among the thematic root presents in Homer (i).159 And
among those thematic root presents that occur in the active or middle
voice in Homer, there are many more whose middle variant is likely to be
primary because a comparatively rare active just serves as an oppositional
factitive (ii).160 So the joint evidence of Vedic and Greek suggests a
skewed distribution already in the proto-language. There it makes perfect
sense if the entire category was built around intransitive/mediopassive
*CéC-e/o forms which could be formally updated, over the course of time,
into functionally equivalent *CéC-e-to forms (4.42).
(i) αἴδομαι ‘am ashamed’ (*h2ei̯sd-e/o-, LIV 260–1)
ἀλέομαι ‘avoid, shun’ (*h2leu̯ -e/o-, LIV 278)
ἄντομαι ‘meet, encounter’ (*h2ent-e/o-)
ἄχθομαι ‘am vexed, loaded’ (*h2ed hgh-e/o-, LIV 255)
ἄχομαι ‘grieve’ (*h2egh-e/o-, LIV 257)
δέρκομαι ‘look (at)’ (*derk̑ -e/o-, LIV 122)
δε(ύ)ομαι ‘need, require’ (*deu̯ s-e/o-, LIV 125)
159
The list is based on Risch (1974: 263–9); cf. also Hart (1990: 454–6). Among the much fewer athematic
root-present stems (Risch 1974: 255), there are also a number of media tantum, but the e-graded root of
δέατο ‘seemed’ (LIV 108, s.v. *dei̯h2-), εἷμαι ‘wear’ (LIV 692–3, s.v. 1. *u̯ es-), ἧμαι ‘sit’ (LIV 232, s.v.
*h1eh1s-; cf. Hitt. eša ‘sits’ and 4.52, fn. 179), κεῖμαι ‘lie’ (LIV 320, s.v. *k̑ ei̯-; cf. 4.34), κρέμαμαι ‘hang’
(LIV 337–8, s.v. *k̑ remh2-; cf. 6.16, fn. 63), and στεῦται ‘declares’ (LIV 600–1, s.v. *steu̯ -; cf. 4.34 on
Ved. stáve), together with their semantics and/or comparanda in other languages, suggest *CeC-o →
*CeC-to(i̯) remodellings here. A similar analysis is feasible for ἔραμαι ‘love’ (3sg. *h1erh2-[t]o(i̯) or
*serh2-[t]o(i̯); cf. LIV 240, s.v. ?*h1erh2-, and Weiss 1998: 35–47 vs. Willi 2010a: 254–7 for further
connections), ὄνομαι ‘blame, find fault’ (3sg. *h3enh3-[t]o(i̯), cf. Hitt. hannari ‘sues, judges’ < *h3enh3-o
(ri); Oettinger 1976: 122–3, Hackstein 1995: 65–6, LIV 282, s.v. ˘*h2neh3-), and ἄγαμαι ‘admire’
(etymology unclear). Thus, only δίεμαι ‘speed’ (LIV 107, s.v. *die̯ h1-) and perhaps parts of the difficult
family of ἔρυμαι/(inf.) ῥῦσθαι ‘protect’ (cf. LIV 684–5, s.v. 1. *u̯ er-) are left as real (zero-graded)
middles of athematic root presents; contrast active (*)ἄημι ‘blow’ (LIV 287, s.v. *h2u̯ eh1-; cf. Ved. vā́ ti,
YAv. vāiti ‘blows’), (inf.) ἔδμεναι ‘eat’ (LIV 230, s.v. *h1ed-; cf. Ved. átti ‘eats’, Hitt. ēdmi ‘eat’, etc.),
εἰμί ‘am’ (LIV 241–2, s.v. *h1es-; cf. Ved. ásti, Hitt. ēšzi ‘is’, etc.), εἶμι ‘(will) go’ (LIV 232–3, s.v. *h1ei̯-;
cf. Ved. éti ‘goes’, etc.), ἦ ‘said’ (LIV 256, s.v. 2. *h2eg̑ -, though analysed there as aor., not impf.), φημί
‘say’ (LIV 69–70, s.v. 2. *bheh2-; cf. Arm. bay ‘says’). (On (ϝ)ίεμαι ‘rush, pursue’ see Table 4.1, s.v.
*u̯ ei̯h1-, on (inf.) ἄμεναι ‘satiate oneself’, Table 6.1, s.v. *seh2-.)
160
Also, many of the remaining thematic root presents in Homer show prominent intransitive usages:
ἀλέγω (+ gen.) ‘care (for)’ (LIV 276–7, s.v. *h2leg-), ἀρήγω (+ dat.) ‘aid, succour’ (LIV 284, s.v.
*h2reh1g-), βρέμω ‘roar’ (LIV 216, s.v. ?*g u̯ rem-), ἐθέλω ‘am willing, wish’ (LIV 246, s.v. *h1g u̯ hel-;
but cf. 7.16, fn. 80), ἕρπω ‘move slowly, walk’ (LIV 536, s.v. *serp-), ἔρρω ‘wander, come to harm’
(?; despite Forssman 1980 and LIV 691–2, s.v. *u̯ ert-, *u̯ ert-i̯e/o- is phonologically doubtful), εὕδω
‘sleep’ (?*seu̯ d-), ζέω ‘boil, seethe’ (LIV 312–13, s.v. *i̯es-), ἥκω ‘come’ (*Hi̯eh1k-; Table 4.1), θέω ‘run’
(LIV 147–8, s.v. *d heu̯ -), λήθω ‘hide’ (LIV 401–2, s.v. *leh2d h-), μέλω ‘am an object of care/thought’
(?*mel-), μένω ‘stay, wait’ (LIV 437, s.v. *men-), νείφω ‘snow’ (LIV 573, s.v. *snei̯g u̯ h-), πλέω ‘sail’
(LIV 487–8, s.v. *pleu̯ -), πνέω ‘breathe’ (*pneu̯ h1-; cf. Table 6.2), πρέπω ‘am conspicuous/fitting’
(LIV 492, s.v. *prep-), ῥέπω ‘incline (intr.)’ (LIV 701, s.v. ?*u̯ rep-), ῥέω ‘flow’ (LIV 588, s.v. *sreu̯ -),
σπεύδω ‘hasten (intr.)’ (LIV 581, s.v. *speu̯ d-), στείχω ‘go, march’ (LIV 593–4, s.v. *stei̯gh-), στένω
‘moan, sigh’ (LIV 596, s.v. *sten-), τρέμω ‘tremble’ (LIV 648–9, s.v. *trem-), τρέχω ‘run’ (LIV 154,
s.v. *d hregh-; cf. Table 8.1), τρέω ‘flee from fear’ (LIV 650–1, s.v. *tres-), φεύγω ‘flee’ (LIV 84, s.v. 1.
*bheu̯ g-).
(→ post-Homeric δέω (+ gen.) ‘lack, miss’)
δέχομαι ‘receive’ (*dek̑ -e/o-, LIV 109–12; cf. Table 6.2)
(ἐ)έλδομαι ‘wish, long’ (?*h1u̯ eld-e/o-, LIV 254)
εἴδομαι ‘look like, resemble’ (*u̯ ei̯d-e/o-, LIV 665–7)
ἕπομαι ‘follow’ (*sek u̯ -e/o-, LIV 525–6)
ἐρείκομαι ‘am rent, shattered’ (*h1rei̯k̑ -e/o-, LIV 504)
(→ post-Homeric ἐρείκω ‘rend, bruise’)
ἐρεύγομαι ‘belch, bellow, roar’ (*h1reu̯ g-e/o-, LIV 509)
ἔρχομαι ‘go, come’ (*h1erg̑ h-e/o-?, LIV 238–9; but cf. Table 5.4)
εὔχομαι ‘pray, vow’ (*h1eu̯ g u̯ h-e/o-; cf. LIV 253, s.v. *h1u̯ eg u̯ h-)
θέρομαι ‘be(come) hot’ (*g u̯ her-e/o-, LIV 219–20)
(→ post-Homeric θέρω ‘heat, make hot’)
κέλομαι ‘urge, command’ (*kelh1-e/o-; cf. Table 3.1, Table 5.5, against LIV
348–9, s.v. *kel-)
μάχομαι ‘fight’ (*magh-e/o-?, LIV 422; cf. 5.44)
μέδομαι ‘provide for, plan’ (*med-e/o-, LIV 423)
(→ post-Homeric μέδω ‘rule’)
μέλδομαι ‘soften (by boiling) (intr.?)’ (*meld-e/o-, LIV 431)
(→ post-Homeric μέλδω ‘soften (tr.)’)
μέμφομαι ‘blame, censure’ (?*membh-e/o-)
μήδομαι ‘plan, intend’ (?*mēd-e/o-; cf. 8.5, fn. 23, 8.47)
νέομαι ‘return’ (*nes-e/o-, LIV 454–5)
ὄθομαι ‘take heed’ (*h3ed h-e/o-)
οἴχομαι ‘go away’ (*h3ei̯gh-e/o-, LIV 296–7)
πένομαι ‘toil, work’ (*pen-e/o- (?); cf. 4.25, fn. 105)
πέτομαι ‘fly’ (*pet-e/o-; cf. Table 4.1)
πεύθομαι ‘hear, learn’ (*bheu̯ d h-e/o-, LIV 82–3)
(→ post-Homeric πεύθω ‘give notice’)
σέβομαι ‘feel awe/shame, worship’ (*ti̯eg u̯ -e/o, LIV 643)
(→ post-Homeric σέβω ‘worship’)
σήπομαι ‘rot’ (?*Ki̯eh2p-e/o-, LIV 361)
(→ post-Homeric σήπω ‘make rotten’)
σμῡ ́ χομαι ‘smoulder away’ (*sm(e)u̯ gh-e/o-?)
(→ post-Homeric σμῡ ́ χω ‘make smoulder’)
στρεύγομαι ‘am exhausted’ (*streu̯ g-e/o-, LIV 605)
(→ Hsch. σ 1987 στρεύγει· ἀνιᾷ ‘distresses’)
τέρσομαι ‘be(come) dry’ (*ters-e/o-, LIV 637–8)
(→ post-Homeric τέρσω ‘dry up (tr.)’)
φέβομαι ‘flee’ (*bheg u̯ -e/o-, LIV 67)
φείδομαι ‘spare, save’ (*bhei̯d-e/o-, LIV 70–1)
φθέγγομαι ‘make/utter a sound’ (?*d hghu̯ eng-e/o-; cf. Table 8.1)
ψεύδομαι ‘lie’ (?*pseu̯ d-e/o-; cf. Table 8.1)
(ii) ἀέξομαι ‘increase, grow’ : act. ἀέξω ‘increase, foster’ (*h2u̯ eks-e/o-, LIV 288–
9; cf. 3.2)
αἴθομαι ‘burn, blaze’ : act. αἴθω ‘flash, (post-Homeric) light up, kindle’
(*h2ei̯d h-e/o-, LIV 259)
ἀμείβομαι ‘change, reply, requite’ : act. ἀμείβω ‘exchange’ (*h2mei̯g u̯ -e/o-,
LIV 279)
ἀμέρδομαι ‘am bereft of’ : act. ἀμέρδω ‘bereave’ (*h2merd-e/o-, LIV 280)
(ἐ)έλπομαι ‘hope’ : act. ἔλπω ‘cause to hope’ (*(h1)u̯ elp-e/o-, LIV 680)
ἐρείδομαι ‘lean upon’ : act. ἐρείδω ‘prop up’ (*h1rei̯d-e/o-, LIV 502)
κήδομαι ‘am concerned, care for’ : act. κήδω ‘trouble, distress’ (*k̑ eh2d-e/o-
(?), LIV 319; cf. Table 3.1, s.v. *k̑ ad-)
κλέομαι ‘am famed’ : act. κλε(ί)ω ‘tell of, celebrate’ (*k̑ leu̯ -e/o-, LIV 334–5)
μέλπομαι ‘sing’ : act. μέλπω ‘celebrate, sing’ (*melp-e/o-)
πείθομαι ‘trust’ : act. πείθω ‘convince, persuade’ (*bhei̯d h-e/o-, LIV 71–2)
πέλομαι ‘come into existence, be(come)’ : act. πέλω ‘do.’ (*k u̯ elh1-e/o-, LIV
386–8)
σπέρχομαι ‘(am in) haste’ : act. σπέρχω ‘set in rapid motion’ (*sperg̑ h-e/o-,
LIV 581)
στρέφομαι ‘turn about (intr.)’ : act. στρέφω ‘turn about (tr.)’ (?*strebh-e/o-,
LIV 603)
τέρπομαι ‘enjoy’ : act. τέρπω ‘delight’ (*terp-e/o-, LIV 636)
τήκομαι ‘melt (intr.)’ : act. τήκω ‘melt (tr.)’ (*teh2k-e/o-, LIV 617; cf. 8.39)
τρέπομαι ‘turn round (intr.)’ : act. τρέπω ‘turn round (tr.)’ (*trep-e/o-, LIV
650; cf. Table 5.4)
τρέφομαι ‘grow up’ : act. τρέφω ‘rear, nurture’ (*d hrebh-e/o-, LIV 153–4)
4.45–4.48 Systemic Consequences I: The Subjunctive

4.45 Thematic vs. Athematic Root Presents
The creation of the thematic root presents had major consequences for
the entire verbal system. As soon as forms like *trép-e/o or *bhér-e/o were
available as finite active verbs (Stage III in Fig. 4.2, 4.42), they had to
interact closely with all those finite active verb forms that were not of
nominal descent, notably the athematic root formations (3sg. *CeC-t,
before the introduction of ‘primary’ *-i). In the case of prototypically
atelic roots such as *bher- ‘carry’, the functional overlap between *bher-t
‘carries, is carrying (Lat. fert)’ and *bhér-e/o → *bhér-e-t must have been
considerable. Because of its participial ancestry, *bhér-e/o → *bhér-e-t
should initially have been quality-descriptive, meaning something like
‘is someone who carries (Lat. ferens est)’, but following the verbalisation
of the form the semantic difference between it and *bher-t would have
been reduced. If manifesting itself at all, it should have surfaced as a
preference for *bhér-e/o → *bhér-e-t in general contexts (John carries books
(normally)), but for *bher-t in specific ones (John is carrying books (now)).
As a consequence of this partial synonymy, many of the athematic root
formations to prototypically atelic roots were pushed out of the system and
replaced by the incoming thematic ones. This is why there are relatively
few athematic root presents, but many thematic verbs of the *bhéret(i) type.
The latter had the advantage of transparently preserving forms that would
otherwise have produced complex clusters or voicing assimilations leading
to root allomorphy (e.g., *h2eg̑ -t ‘leads’ > *h2ek̑ -t vs. *h2ég̑ -e-t >→ Gr. ἄγει,
Lat. agit, Skt. ájati, etc.).161
Occasionally, however, the replacement was not complete. In the case of
*bher-, there are still traces of the former parallelism in forms like Gr. 2pl.
ipv. φέρτε < *bhér-te (Il. 9.172) vs. 2pl. ind. φέρετε, or Lat. 3sg. fert and Ved.
3sg. bhárti (RV 1.173.6) < *bhérti vs. usual bhárati.162
4.46 Thematic Indicatives to Subjunctives

Once the equivalence of thematic and athematic root presents had been
established, ‘mechanical’ thematisations of previously athematic root pre-
sents may indeed have occurred among verbs that did not have a strong
*CéC-e/o formation to begin with.163 We cannot therefore say for every
individual thematic present whether it really descends from a *CéC-e/o
form. But the general picture is confirmed by the fact that even in those
cases where an athematic root present was resilient enough to survive (e.g.,
Gr. ἐστί, Lat. est, Skt. ásti, etc. < *h1es-ti ‘is’; Ved. hánti, Hitt. ku̯ enzi <
*g u̯ hen-ti ‘strikes’, 3.33), a thematic counterpart exists. In such instances, the
relevant forms are classified as subjunctives (e.g., *h1es-e-t(i), *gu̯ hen-e-t(i)).
As noted in 1.7, the oldest subjunctives to athematic formations are short-
vocalic ‘thematic’ ones. While regular in Vedic, in Greek such short-vowel
subjunctives survive only occasionally (e.g., Hom. 1pl. ἴομεν ‘let us go’, to
athematic εἶμι ‘go’; cf. also 8.12).164 Mostly, the analogical long-vowel
subjunctive has superseded them (4.48; e.g., post-Homeric ἴωμεν).
161
Cf. Meillet (1931), Kuryłowicz (1977: 94), Lazzeroni (1980: 43–5).
162
Cf. e.g. Meillet (1931: 197–8); contra Szemerényi (1964: 189–99). More systematically, athematic
forms like inf. Lith. nèšti, OCS nesti ‘carry’ (to *h1nek̑ -) are found in otherwise thematic Balto-Slavic
paradigms (1sg. Lith. nešù, OCS nesǫ , etc.), and the roots of this phenomenon may well be old.
163
And not just there: as soon as thematicity was no longer functionally loaded, it could be used
wherever there was a phonotactic demand for it; cf. 3.39 on its spread in the reduplicated aorist.
164
See Chantraine (1958: 454–61); ἴομεν may be analogical (after ind. 1pl. ἴμεν) for †ἔομεν < *h1ei̯-o-me(s).
Note also the synchronically irregular athematic 3sg. fut. ἔσται ‘will be’, which finds a simple
explanation if it shares the subjunctival origin of Lat. erit ‘will be’ (< *h1es-e-t(i) ← *h1es-o). In
The link between subjunctives showing a stem structure *CeC-e/o- and
simple thematic presents has long been noticed. A philological investiga-
tion of the evidence in Vedic, and the recognition that the Vedic sub-
junctive is often still root-derived rather than stem-derived, made Renou
conclude that both categories have a common modal source, which he
termed ‘thematic eventualis’ (“éventuel thématique”).165 On this basis,
Kuryłowicz and Watkins went a step further, arguing that
the functional value of this ‘eventualis’, ‘valeur mi-réelle, mi-modale’, is a
result of its being pushed out of the aspect and tense system, towards a
modal understanding, under the pressure of new present (indicative) forms;
it is, as it were, a ‘downgraded’ indicative.166
4.47 Semantic Evolution of the Subjunctive

In 4.49, we shall come back to the replacement of an old thematic
indicative stem by newer alternative stems. But what is not sufficiently
highlighted by Kuryłowicz and Watkins is the fact that the modalisation of
the thematic type is not a random development, which could have hap-
pened to any kind of present stem. Crucial again is the nominal/participial
origin of the thematic category, as already intuited by Curtius.167
Because a predicative participle refers to an ongoing or even permanent
quality of the subject rather than to the subject’s performing a specific
eventuality (cf. 4.45), a finite verb deriving from it is likely to rank lower
on the transitivity scale (3.35) than an otherwise corresponding alternative
formation: where the latter will feature some actual action kinesis, this is not
necessarily the case with the former. So in a pair like *bhér-t(i) vs. *bhér-e-t(i),
high-frequency paradigms like that of *h1es-, archaisms survive well, and PGr. *h1es-toi̯ may therefore
be a remake of previous *h1és-o, paralleling the development of *k̑ ei̯-o → *k̑ ei̯-toi̯ >→ κεῖται (4.34;
Pooth 2009a: 388 n. 15). Against Wackernagel (1890: 315), Szemerényi (1964: 162–5), and Sommer
(1977: 157), we thus need neither an unusual syncope nor any other ad hoc derivation from *h1es-se-toi̯
(cf. 1sg. ἔσομαι < *(h1)es-so-mai̯).
165
Renou (1932: 5), followed by Watkins (1969: 64–5, 124–6); for G. Curtius as a precursor, see below,
for two dissenting voices, Tichy (2002: 202–4) (subjunctive suffix *-h1e-, built to ‘stative’ *-eh1-
nouns) and Hill (2009) (subjunctive as a stem-based ‘Vrddhi derivation’).
166 ˙ cf. also Risch (1965a: 238) (‘voluntative’),
Watkins (1969: 65) (translated), after Kuryłowicz (1956: 28);
Kuryłowicz (1970: 13–17; 1977: 93–5), Rix (1986: 14–15), and more recently E. Dahl (2013a: esp. 414–
22). Hart (1990: 464) stresses that, for example, “[w]hen the same form appears as a root aorist
subjunctive in Vedic but as a thematic present in Germanic, like Vedic gamati (subjunctive) and
Gothic qiman (indicative), there is no need to derive the Gothic present indicative specifically from an
IE aorist subjunctive”. Contrast Strunk (1988a: 307–9), according to whom the subjunctive ~
thematic indicative correspondence is due to the former being created by formal analogy to the latter;
but the detail is unconvincing as the allegedly pivotal ‘voluntative’ 1sg. in *-oh2 is at the same time
thought to have lost its modal distinctiveness in the presumed model paradigm.
167
Curtius (1877–80: 2.69–70).
the second member will be (however slightly) less semantically transitive
than the first one. At the same time, the Transitivity Hypothesis correlates
higher transitivity with ‘realis mode’ and lower transitivity with ‘irrealis
mode’ (used as a cover term for all kinds of non-realis shades). From a
typological perspective, it therefore makes sense if it is an intrinsically low-
transitive present-stem type that turns into a subjunctive (or “éventuel”).
To concretise things, one may compare the emergence of the PIE sub-
junctive with that of the periphrastic future in Sanskrit. Although the Sanskrit
future is not based on participles as such, it makes use of the para-participial
category of nomina agentis in -tár-. Though combined with the auxiliary as-
‘be’ in the first and second persons, the nomen agentis appears on its own, like a
finite future, in the third person (dātā́ ‘giver, someone who gives’ > ‘will give’,
to *deh3-).168 The semantic [agent noun] > [future] development observed
here hinges on the ability of the subject. When a person is qualified as
‘someone who gives’ or as a ‘giver’, this may carry the implicature that, sooner
or later, he/she will also ‘give’, if he/she is not doing so at the moment.169
In the same way, we can reconstruct the evolution of the de-participial
thematic *CéC-e/o → *CéC-e-t(i) subjunctive. As Gonda puts it, in Indo-
European “[a] process in the subj[unctive] represents a mental image on the
part of the speaker which, in his opinion, is capable of realization, or even
awaits realization”.170 So if, say, *gu̯ hén-e/o → *gu̯ hén-e-t(i) initially meant
something like ‘is someone who (regularly) strikes’, but was predicated of
someone who was not striking at the moment (*gu̯ hén-t(i)), to interpret it as a
proposition about that person’s ability and likely inclination to strike was
natural.171
168
See Renou (1938), Thumb and Hauschild (1959: 328–9), Tichy (2006: 310).
169
Thus, Bybee, Perkins, and Pagliuca (1994: 265–6) trace a semantic path from [ability] via [root
possibility] to either [epistemic possibility] or [futurity] (one of their main examples being
Cantonese where the particles “hó nàng and wŭi express both possibility and future”: “[b]oth hó and
nàng derive from verbs meaning ‘be able to’, as does wŭi”). Regarding the Sanskrit future, Lazzeroni
(1995: 93) speaks of a ‘situation destined to manifest itself at a moment which is different from that
of the enunciation’ and compares futuric injunctives.
170
Gonda (1956: 70). That the modal semantics of the subjunctive are grounded in speaker expectation
is also held by A. Scherer (1973) (expected consequence), Rix (1986: 10), and Tichy (2002: 198–202;
2006: esp. 268–79, 327–9), following Mutzbauer (1903: esp. 390; 1908). Willmott (2007: 53–112)
differs in terminology more than in substance. To speak of ‘fictive factuality’ (“fiktive
Tatsächlichkeit”) (Hoffmann 1970: 38) is unhelpful as there is nothing ‘fictional’ about many
subjunctives. The ambiguous status of the PIE subjunctive as a non-actual, but actualisable present
explains why the subjunctive could (secondarily) take ‘primary’ as well as ‘secondary’ endings (cf.
Kuryłowicz 1927a: 173–9, Renou 1932: 5–13, Ruipérez 1952: 20–1, Gonda 1956: 110–11, Beekes 1981b,
Barschel 1986: 13–14, Rix 1986: 14, Neu 1988: 466, Strunk 1988a: 303, Lazzeroni 1996, Szemerényi
1996: 258–9, Dunkel 1998b, Gotō 2013: 91).
171
Contra Bozzone (2012: 12–13), the future value of the PIE subjunctive is therefore not truly primary.
E. Dahl (2013a: 398–9) pertinently stresses certain generalising usages of Indo-European subjunctives.
4.48 Long-Vowel Subjunctives
In accordance with Renou, Kuryłowicz, and Watkins, a strict modalisation
of the thematic type only took place when an athematic root formation
continued to exist beside it, but not when an athematic root present was
superseded by a thematic one.172 In that sense, the emergence of a fully-
fledged subjunctive is a ‘late’ luxury, conditional upon the thematic for-
mation not being employed for more basic purposes. But as with every
luxury, once people got used to it, they wanted more. If athematic root
formations had generalising or futuric modal forms next to them, other
stems also required these. In the case of non-radical athematic stems, the
emerging need could easily be met by treating the thematic vowel as a
modal marker. So, for example, the athematic s-aorist acquired a corre-
sponding subjunctive in *-se/o- (cf. 8.2, 8.12, 8.20, 8.29).
Thematic stems asked for a slightly different procedure. In order to
provide them with subjunctives, the entire post-radical part of subjunctives
like *gu̯ hén-et(i) (vs. ind. *g u̯ hén-t(i)) was attached to the already thematic
indicative stem. So an indicative such as *bhére-t(i) acquired a corresponding
subjunctive *bhére-et(i), whence long-vocalic *bhérēt(i) by contraction.173
And because the lengthened thematic vowel which thus came to characterise
subjunctives to thematic stems was a more distinctive modal marker than
the simple thematic vowel that also occurred in many indicative stems,
Greek ultimately generalised the long vowel as an all-purpose subjunctive
morpheme (e.g., s-aor. subj. -ση/ω- for earlier -σε/ο-: 1.7).174
4.49–4.52 Systemic Consequences II: Reduplicated Presents

4.49 Thematic Presents and Athematic Root Aorists
In 4.45, we have seen how athematic and thematic root presents merged
because of their functional overlap (*CeC-t ~ *CéC-e-t). No such overlap
resulted between thematic and athematic root formations to prototypically
172
Cf. especially Renou (1932: 29) (‘The subjunctive will prevail as long as the verb retains an athematic
present or athematic aorist to support the mood; the indicative when the stem in -a- is felt to be
isolated and independent’); similarly now Mottausch (2003: 27–9), Bozzone (2012: 16–18), E. Dahl
(2013a: 423).
173
Cf. Strunk (1988a: 310–12), also on the still disyllabic scansion of some long-vowel subjunctives in
Avestan.
174
Since this generalisation is ongoing in historical times (cf. 1.7, 4.46), long-vowel subjunctives must
be younger than short-vowel ones (pace Vaillant 1937: 99–100, Kerns and Schwartz 1981: 12–13).
That subjunctives to affixed stems are a later development than thematic ‘root subjunctives’ is
generally acknowledged (cf. e.g. Rix 1986: 12, 17–18, Strunk 1988a: 300, 310, Bozzone 2012: 7, 17,
E. Dahl 2013a: 421–2; pace Hill 2009: 96–100, subjunctives like Ved. 3sg. dádhat(i) ‘shall put’ <
*d he-d hh1-e-t(i) do not contradict this because ‘later’ does not imply ‘post-PIE’).
telic roots, if the latter shifted into the perfective (aorist) domain because of
their telicity (3.1, 3.36). Following that shift, there was instead a contrast
between perfective *CeC-t and imperfective *CéC-e/o → *CéC-e-t. In other
words, as soon as *CéC-e/o was treated as a finite active verb, its formant,
the later thematic vowel, was a distinguishing feature of the imperfective
aspect in such pairs. If nothing else had happened, we should thus expect
that historical root aorists or their descendants regularly correspond to
simple thematic presents. Such situations may indeed have existed more
often than is usually acknowledged,175 but it is also true that they are not
the rule in the historical data.
The reason is not too difficult to guess. The more thematicity lost its
functional significance in the present-stem system and became a mere
phonotactic convenience (4.45), the less suitable it was to act as a
grammatical marker elsewhere. We have even argued that the phonotac-
tically conditioned thematisation of the reduplicated aorist could not
have happened without a prior defunctionalisation of thematicity (3.39).
Following this development, the only way to maintain a morphologically
marked differentiation of perfective vs. imperfective stems within any
aspectual pair consisting of a root aorist and a thematic root present was
therefore to replace either the former or the latter member of the opposi-
tion with a more clearly marked stem. Where the thematic root present
was too resilient to be replaced, the root aorist could be substituted by an
s-aorist (cf. 8.3, 8.55). Where, on the other hand, the root aorist was
stronger, a more distinctly characterised present stem had to be chosen.
In some cases, another old imperfective stem may have been available:
see 10.32–10.39 on the i̯-presents and the Epilogue on the nasal
presents as archaic types. In other cases, more recent secondary
imperfective stems were the solution. In 8.41, an argument to this
effect will be made for the presents in *-sk̑ e/o-. But before these gained
in productivity, the same role was taken on by the reduplicated
presents, to which we now return.
175
Thus, Safarewicz (1965: 155–6) observes that “[a]ccording to the [Vedic] materials presented by
Macdonell [1910], the athematic radical aorist is known for 129 verbs: in 54 cases this aorist is
accompanied by the present of the bhávati type”. From this he concludes that “the primitive
function of the thematic radical present was to supply an undetermined present made on the basis
of an athematic radical aorist”. On Vedic, see also Gotō (1987: 63–6) and Hart (1990: 452). For
Greek, cf. Table 6.2, esp. s.vv. *legh-, *pet-, and *pneu̯ h1- (also on λείπω ‘leave’ ~ Goth. leiƕan ‘lend’
< *lei̯k u̯ -e/o- vs. Ved. 2sg. inj. aor. med. rikthās ‘you surpass’), or Gr. φείδομαι ‘save (< *split off)’ ~
Goth. beitan ‘bite’ < *bhei̯d-e/o- vs. Ved. 3sg. aor. ábhet ‘has split’, Gr. δέρω ‘flay’ ~ Goth. (ga)tairan
‘rip apart’, Lith. derù, OCS derǫ ‘flay’ vs. Ved. 3sg. aor. dárt ‘has broken apart’.
Perfectives Imperfectives
Stage I *Ce-CC- *CeC- [*CeC-e/o-
(redupl. aorist) (root ipfv.) (quality-descriptive)]
Stage II *Ce-CC- ~ *CeC- ? [*CeC-e/o-

(redupl. ~ root aor.) (quality-descriptive)]
Stage III *Ce-CC- ~ *CeC- *Ce-CC-e/o- ~ *CeC-e/o-

(redupl. ~ root aor.) (redupl. ~ them. root pres.)
Stage IV [*Ce-CC- *CeC- [*CeC-e/o- *Ce-CC-e/o-

(factitive redupl. aor.)] (root aor.) (root aor. subj.)] (redupl. pres.)
Fig. 4.3. The evolution of reduplicated and unreduplicated aorist and present stems
4.50 Reduplicated Presents as Imperfective Gap-Fillers

Before any replacement of the thematic root present was on the cards, the
aspectual shift of the telic root formations had already had a more immedi-
ate effect. If the model proposed in 3.36 is correct, the shift also meant that
the original (i.e., reduplicated) perfectives to prototypically telic roots
suddenly found themselves without their previous imperfective counter-
parts. Instead, such roots now had two competing perfective stems, an
older reduplicated one and a newer unreduplicated one. This is dia-
grammed in Stages I–II of Fig. 4.3, which builds upon Fig. 3.1 (3.36), but
adds the thematic root presents.
The resulting imbalance called for remedial action. As the thematic root
formations were only gradually turning from quality-descriptive (4.45)
into all-purpose imperfectives, they could not instantly fill the gap beside
the perfectives (‘?’ in Stage II). However, because their thematic vowel
*-e/o- now correlated with the aspectual divide between perfectives and
imperfectives to all the roots affected by the aspect shift, one easy solution
presented itself.176 By attaching *-e/o- to the reduplicated perfective stems,
176
Another possibility was the establishment of suppletive relationships between the emerging root
aorists and present stems originally belonging to different (but partially synonymous) roots. While
such patterns need not always be old, they are well-attested in various ancient Indo-European
languages (cf. e.g. Strunk 1977a, Deshpande 1992, Casaretto 2002; 2006, García Ramón 2002: 112–
26; 2004b, Kölligan 2007a); but since they do not fundamentally affect the systemic layout, they
can be disregarded in our context.
it was possible to imperfectivise these. So the hypothesis of 4.33, that the
thematic vowel may have been used as an imperfectiviser, is not only
feasible, but in fact a logical consequence of a series of independently
established changes in the system.
4.51 Perfective and Imperfective Stem Selections

With the filling of the imperfective gap, we have almost reached
Stage III in Fig. 4.3. But the thematic root formations had in the
meantime continued their journey towards semantically unrestricted
imperfectivity. Because of this, by Stage III they were functionally as
close to the innovated reduplicated imperfectives as the new root
aorists were to the old reduplicated aorists on the perfective side. In
3.36, we have seen how this ‘overcrowding’ was resolved among the
perfectives: with a few exceptions, the reduplicated ones were either
superseded by the new arrivals, or they were marginalised in the
factitive domain (Stage IV).
Among the imperfectives, the selection process was equally
rational. Since the thematic vowel was increasingly unsuitable to act
as the sole marker of imperfectivity (4.49), the odds were stacked
against the thematic root presents when the athematic root aorists
were at the same time becoming the dominant perfectives. So wher-
ever no alternative marked imperfective stem was readily available
(4.49), there was practically no other option than to go for the
reduplicated presents.177 And these presents had one further advan-
tage. Because of its perfective ancestry, their reduplication openly
encoded boundedness. In theory this had of course been subjective
boundedness, but in practice subjective and objective boundedness
could not easily be separated in perfective stems to prototypically telic
roots (cf. 4.6); so when the addition of *-e/o- subjectively unbounded
the reduplicated perfective stems, turning them into imperfectives,
the unaltered reduplication feature became associated with objective
boundedness instead.
To include such a boundedness marker was most convenient pre-
cisely because these were (neo-)imperfectives. Perfective forms are
interpreted as objectively bounded (telic) by default: if they are not,
this has to be signalled. Thus, in Greek, Κῦρος ἐβασίλευσε will
normally be understood to have the telic meaning ‘Cyrus became
177
At this stage too, it was useful to maximise formal aspect differences by analogically spreading i-
reduplication among the imperfectives, but not the perfectives (4.25).
king’, even though the verb βασιλεύω is durative; only by adding an
adverbial specification like τριάκοντα ἔτη ‘for thirty years’, a durative
reading of the eventuality can be (re)established. Exactly the opposite
happens with imperfective forms. Here the default interpretation is
unbounded (atelic). Hence, for example, even the distinctly punctual
verb δίδωμι ‘give’ is often assigned a durative meaning ‘be ready/try
to give’ when used imperfectively. In order to ensure a telic interpreta-
tion, imperfective stems therefore require telicity marking more
urgently than perfective ones.178 Seen in this light, far from being a
theoretical inconvenience, it is only natural if various PIE present-stem
markers are specifically associated with telic/bounded meanings rather
than atelic/unbounded ones (cf. 2.6).
4.52 Root-Aorist Subjunctives and ‘New’ Reduplicated Presents

By the time Stage IV of Fig. 4.3 was reached, the original distribution had
thus been turned on its head. There were now many pairs in which an
unreduplicated aorist stem (athematic) matched a reduplicated present
stem (thematic). In 4.20, it has been noted that this situation will have
constituted an incentive for the subsequent athematisation of (some of) the
reduplicated presents. From a diachronic perspective, however, we realise
that it is a categorial error to treat the reduplicated presents as a redupli-
cated version of the root aorists.
And yet, the redundancy that was inherent in Stage III did not lead to
the complete demise of the thematic root formations to prototypically
telic roots. In accordance with Kuryłowicz’s ‘Fourth Law of Analogy’
(3.34), they were merely marginalised, retreating to the modal domain.
Just as thematic root formations next to resilient athematic root presents
became present subjunctives (4.48), they now became subjunctives to
root aorists.
Moreover, the same redundancy had one further consequence. As long
as prototypically telic roots could still have a (less bounded/telic) unredu-
plicated and a (more bounded/telic) reduplicated present stem alongside
178
Compare English or Russian where the default meaning of John read the book ~ Ivan pročitalpfv.
knigu is that the book was read in its entirety; with John was reading the book ~ Ivan čitalipfv. knigu,
this is not the case, and only the addition of an explicit telicity marker can establish that reference is
made to a complete reading (John was reading through the book ~ Ivan pro-čitvyalipfv. knigu).
Similarly, we can see why in Vedic jíghnate ‘strikes, kills’ is preferred to hánti ‘do.’ when there is a
plural object like vrtrāni ‘the enemies’ (Lazzeroni 2011b: 133–4): because the default interpretation
of an imperfective ˙is progressive
˙ rather than habitual, the implicature of using a variant marked for
its boundedness may be that a habitual reading (with a number of bounded (sub)eventualities) is to
be selected instead.
4.53 Conclusion 205
each other, it was possible to copy this pattern among prototypically atelic
roots, which should not have needed a secondary reduplicated present to
begin with (since for them no imperfective gap had ever resulted from an
aspectual shift of the root formation). Thus, even a root like *men- ‘stay,
wait’, whose root formation did not turn into an aorist, could acquire a
reduplicated present *me-mn-e/o- → *mi-mn-e/o- as a more bounded/telic
variant of simple *men-e/o-.179
4.53 Conclusion
4.53 Conclusion
This chapter has argued that the existence of PIE reduplicated present
stems does not invalidate the claim that reduplication was the oldest way
of marking aspectual perfectivity. In order to maintain this, we neither
need to trace aorist-stem and present-stem reduplication to different
origins nor to challenge the view that Indo-European reduplication has
iconic roots (4.2). Instead, we may assume that what started off as a
marker of verbal collectives eventually turned into a marker of perfectiv-
ity (4.5–4.6). Importantly, though, the reduplicated present stems must
not be mistaken for reduplicated versions of corresponding root forma-
tions, in which the reduplication syllable signalled atelic iterativity. In
reality they represent secondary imperfectives to reduplicated perfective
stems (4.7, 4.50), endowed with a high degree of semantic transitivity
(4.13–4.14, 4.26–4.33) and built with the help of the ‘thematic vowel’
whose role as an imperfectivising suffix is inseparable from the denominal
prehistory of the simple thematic presents and subjunctives (4.34–4.48).
By implication, the thematic reduplicated present stems must be older
than the athematic ones. This view is borne out by a number of
179
Normally, such reduplicated presents would of course develop in parallel with all the others.
However, there may be at least one exception where the added boundedness (or semantic
transitivity) was insufficient to prompt the attachment of active endings like 3sg. *-t(i) (4.41).
In the family of Gr. (κάθ)ημαι ‘sit’, to *h1eh1s- (cf. LIV 232, s.v. *h1eh1s-), 3sg. ἧσται and Ved.
ā́ ste < *h1eh1s-to(i̯) show the same remodelling of *h1eh1s-o as Gr. κεῖται ~ Ved. śéte < *k̑ ei̯-to(i̯)
← *k̑ ei̯-o (4.34), while *h1eh1s-o itself may also have given rise, via *h1eh1s-o(r), to Hitt. eša
‘sits’ (cf. Oettinger 1976: 112, Bader 1980: 33; Beekes 1973: 90–1, Oettinger 2004b: 491 and
2011, and Melchert 2014: 254–5 prefer *h1es-o(r) and argue for acrostatic *h1ēs-/h1es- instead of
*h1eh1s-, but this requires an unmotivated extension of the ‘strong’ stem to the CéC-o form
outside Anatolian). In reality, *h1eh1s- is not truly a root, but reduplicated *h1es- ‘be’ (cf.
Lindeman 1972a: 66–7, Eichner 1973: 54; contra Kölligan 2007a: 213–16): ‘sitting’ can be a
temporally bounded form of ‘being’ (cf. John sits ~ is on the floor). For a far less reliable
potential parallel, see Table 6.2, s.v. *h1eu̯ g u̯ h-, on εὖκτο ‘prayed’.
distributional facts (4.19–4.20), including the correspondence of a
specific group of reduplicated h i-conjugation stems in Hittite (4.9,
˘
4.12) with cognates in other languages such as Greek (Table 4.1). If
some reduplicated presents were eventually athematised in Greek or
Indo-Iranian, this is due to analogical adjustments taking place at a
time when they were already pairing with athematic root aorists and
when the original functional load of thematicity had been obliterated
(4.20–4.21, 4.52). In the same period, i-reduplication spread at the
expense of e-reduplication, but here too there is enough evidence still
to recognise the previous invariance (4.24–4.25).
chapter 5
The Perfect
5.1–5.2 Introduction
5.1 Divergent Views on Perfect Reduplication
In the preceding chapters, it has been argued that reduplication signalled
perfectivity in earlier Proto-Indo-European. This value is directly reflected
in the reduplicated aorists, and it accounts for the high transitivity of the
reduplicated presents qua secondary imperfectives. But reduplication is
also prominent in the perfect. We thus have to ask if the functional
interpretation given so far is applicable here too.
As is generally acknowledged and will be reiterated in this chapter, the
PIE perfect was in origin a syntactically intransitive category. Although this
need not exclude a high degree of semantic transitivity (4.35), it therefore
looks arduous to reconcile the evidence with the thesis defended so far, and
to argue for a common source of perfect and non-perfect reduplication. As
Di Giovine observes in his study of the Indo-European perfect,
other scholars1 have . . . suggested to make out in the reduplication an
element which conveys the specifically stative valency of the perfect: so the
reduplication would provide the perfect stem with a durative and stative
nuance, in verbs with processual valency. Such an explanation is legitimate
in itself, but certainly also makes it necessary to accept two connected
corollaries: (a) one will have to admit that the reduplication in the perfect
fulfilled a completely different – and in fact, opposite – function compared
to the prevailingly perfectivising (or terminative) function that is attested in
the reduplicated present; (b) one will have to suppose that the other
constitutive elements of the perfect (ablaut grade, endings) did not convey
1
Reference is made to Aitzetmüller (1962: 258 n. 12), Carruba (1976: 141), and Cowgill (1979: 36). Di
Giovine’s phrasing sets them apart from scholars like Loewe (1907: 268–78), Rosenkranz (1958: 219–
20), Meid (1975: 216–17; 1983: 330–1, 334), Tischler (1976: 18–19), or Erhart (1989: 42–3), for whom the
perfect reduplication initially conveyed an ‘iterative-intensive’ (or ‘emphatic’, Pisani 1926: 332) value;
the so-called ‘intensive perfects’ (5.20) might then provide a connection, but no one states
clearly how.
207
208 The Perfect
a stative-durative valency or, alternatively, that several elements with an
identical function were cumulated in the perfect.2
The view that there were two functionally distinct and unrelated kinds of
reduplication to begin with is not falsifiable; but neither does it make for an
economical reconstruction. And in fact, Di Giovine continues:
In relation to the question raised under (a), but in the diametrically opposite
direction, some have proposed to make out in the reduplication a value that is
perfectivising in every case, that is, not only in the reduplicated present, but also
in the perfect: the reduplication would provide the verbal root with the
punctual value, the perfectivity and at the same time processivity which
would ensure that it can be used in the constitution of all perfects (indicating
the state resulting from a process) . . . Against this explanation one can raise only
one objection, though not a marginal one: if the task of the reduplication was to
confer a punctual character, i.e. perfectivity, to primarily durative or stative
roots, why is it that precisely verbs with stative semantics turn out originally not
to have had a perfect? It is the evidence in the historical languages (original
incompatibility between stative verbs and perfect) which makes it problematic
to admit the existence of a (theoretically acceptable) pathway of the following
kind: <durative (stative) root + reduplication → punctual (perfective) stem +
perfect ablaut and endings → perfect (resultant state)>.3
Two qualifications are in order here. As witness for the second point of
view, Di Giovine cites Hoffmann, who writes: ‘One would now have to
assume that the original task of the perfect reduplication was to endow the
meaning of a verbal root with the punctual Aktionsart, and thus to enable
its use in the perfective aspect.’4 But this statement occurs in the very article
that treated the reduplicated presents as intrinsically imperfective because
of their ‘iterative-durative’ reduplication syllable (2.5). Had Hoffmann
really believed in the basic identity of present and perfect reduplication,
there would be a paradox. Effectively, however, Hoffmann does not con-
tradict himself. The idea that there could be a ‘perfectivising value’ in the
reduplication of the reduplicated present is Di Giovine’s,5 not Hoffmann’s.
In other words, if we want to advocate a holistic approach to reduplication,
we cannot rely on Hoffmann’s support.
2
Di Giovine (1996: 117–18) (translated). 3 Di Giovine (1996: 118) (translated).
4
Hoffmann (1970: 40). In addition, Di Giovine references the remarks by Rix (1988: 103) and, less
vaguely, van Brock (1964: 150). Van Brock’s ideas partly foreshadow what will be argued in 5.29: ‘the
addition of the reduplication to the perfect has had two consequences and accounts for two historical
developments that cannot easily be explained on the basis of a perfect “of state”: on the one hand, the
resultative value of the perfect, which is attested already in the oldest texts; on the other hand, the
transitive perfect’.
5
Or rather, Vendryes’s: cf. Di Giovine (1996: 108), with reference to Vendryes (1918); 4.26.
5.2 Reduplicated Roots or Reduplicated Stems?
The second, more important, qualification regards Di Giovine’s objection.
That prototypically stative roots did not originally form perfects in the
proto-language is Di Giovine’s conclusion from a philological examination
of the Indo-Iranian material.6 To accept this view, or a modified version of
it,7 need not however entail Di Giovine’s further attitude. Firstly, the labels
‘durative’ and ‘stative’ must not be lumped together. Secondly, we must
not take it for granted that roots, not stems, are reduplicated. If the
reduplicated aorist is best analysed as the reduplicated version of a com-
plete root formation (3.42), and if the reduplicated present is ultimately
based on the same type (4.50), it is perfectly conceivable that another,
‘stative’, formation was reduplicated in a similar way and thereby gave rise
to the PIE perfect. The restriction on perfects to prototypically stative roots
would then be due to only prototypically non-stative roots allowing the
creation of the ‘stative’ formation underlying the perfect. Intuitively, this
would make sense since there would be no reason for roots whose root
formation as such was already ‘stative’ (e.g., *h1es- ‘be’) to acquire a stative
derivative.
Accordingly, Di Giovine’s formula ‘<durative (stative) root + reduplica-
tion → punctual (perfective) stem + perfect ablaut and endings → perfect
(resultant state)>’ may be recast as ‘<non-stative root + perfect ablaut/
endings → stative stem + reduplication → PIE perfect>’. In a nutshell,
this is what the present chapter will argue for. By doing so, it will not even
contradict Di Giovine’s opinion that ‘the principal function of the redu-
plication in the perfect – just as in the present, aorist, etc. – must have been
of a morphological kind, in the sense that it offered the option of individ-
uating a specific inflectional stem on the basis of a verbal root’.8 It will
simply do so in a more committal manner, without denying that formal
and functional connections with reduplicating types outside the perfect are
recoverable. But in order to achieve this, we must first look at the form
(5.3–5.9) and meaning (5.14–5.25) of the perfect in their own right, once
again starting from and focusing on the Greek (notably Homeric)
evidence.
6
Di Giovine (1990); cf. E. Dahl (2010: 131–4) only on Vedic.
7
As Berrettoni (1976: 230) observes, ‘Ancient Greek knows an entire series of stative verbs which
normally and typically occur in the perfect stem: these are, above all, the well-known verbs which
refer to a mental or perceptual operation’ (e.g., ἔολπα ~ ἔλπομαι ‘hope’; 5.15). Berrettoni therefore
proposes to distinguish ‘tensive statives’ (which ‘visualise a process that develops towards a final
point’ and exclude a perfect) and ‘distended statives’ (which look at a state per se and allow a perfect).
Cf. also 5.16.
8
Di Giovine (1996: 119).
210 The Perfect
5.3–5.9 Formal Prehistory of the Greek Perfect
5.3 Perfect, Middle, and hi-Conjugation Endings
As highlighted in 1.18, the ˘perfect simultaneously features a characteristic
stem formation (1.12) and a set of special endings (1.6). While a Greek
sample paradigm like the following no longer reflects the full extent of their
distinctiveness, we have already seen how the endings are to be reconstructed
for later Proto-Indo-European and what changes led to the Greek outcome:
1sg. λέ-λοιπ-α 1pl. λε-λοίπ-αμεν 1sg. *-h2e 1pl. *-me
2sg. λέ-λοιπ-ας 2pl. λε-λοίπ-ατε 2sg. *-th2e 2pl. *-(t)e
3sg. λέ-λοιπ-ε 3pl. λε-λοίπ-ᾱσι 3sg. *-e 3pl. *-(e)rs
The similarity of the reconstructed singular endings to (some of) the

PIE middle endings was first noted by Kuryłowicz and Stang.9 Save for
the vowel colour and the presence/absence of ‘primary’ *-i, 3sg. perf.
*-e matches 3sg. med. *-oi̯ in ‘stative’ middles such as Ved. śáye < *k̑ éi̯-
oi̯ (1.4, 4.34); and 1sg. perf. *-h2e mirrors Ved. 1sg. med. -e < *-ai̯ <
*-h2e-i just as accurately (1.4, 10.4). Even in the 2sg., the disagreement
between the perfect ending *-th2e and the ‘primary’ middle ending
*-soi̯ /-sai̯ is less serious than it looks at first sight; for in 1.4 the
existence of Hitt. 2sg. med. -ta(ri/ti) and Vedic ‘secondary’ -thāh has
also been recorded, and these are derivable from *-th2e (with separate ˙
additions, *-r(i) in Hittite, *-as in Vedic; cf. 5.11 on -thāh).
Just as importantly, however, the singular perfect endings˙ resemble the
singular endings of the Hittite hi-conjugation (cf. 2.9, 2.14); and while the
˘
3pl. pres. ending of the hi-conjugation is the same as in the mi-conjugation
˘
(-anzi < *-(e/o)nti), the 3pl. pret. ending of both Hittite conjugations is also
relevant:
PIE perfect Hittite hi-conjugation
˘
present (with *-i) preterite (without *-i)
1sg. *-h2e -hi (OHitt. -he) < *-hai̯ < *-h2e + *-i -hun ← *-ha < *-h2e (after mi-conj. -un)
2sg. *-th2e ˘ (OHitt. *-te)
-ti ˘ < *-tai̯
˘ < *-th e + *-i ˘
-(š)ta ˘ e (cf. 8.32 on -š-)
< *-th
2 2
3sg. *-e -i (OHitt. -e) < *-ei̯ < *-e + *-i [-š: cf. 8.31]
3pl. *-(e)rs [-anzi] -er/-ir < *-ēr < *-ers (5.33, 5.50)
These matches are certainly no coincidence and deserve further attention

(see 9.28–9.29 and 10.3–10.4 on the singular, 5.50 on the 3pl.). But it
would be rash to infer from them that the PIE perfect and the PIE middle,
or the PIE perfect and the Hittite hi-conjugation, continue a single
˘
9
Kuryłowicz (1927c: 102–3; 1932), Stang (1932); cf. 2.9, fn. 18.
proto-paradigm (2.14). Such conclusions are only warranted when the
correspondences extend to stem-formational features.
5.4 Perfect Stems with Ablauting o-Grade

Most Greek perfects no longer show ablaut alternations in the root.
However, a number of mainly epic forms testify to an older state of affairs,
where an o-grade in the singular active alternated with a zero grade in the
plural (or dual), middle, participle, and infinitive (e.g., ptcpl. μεμᾰ(ϝ)ώς
‘keen on’ < *me-mn̥ -u̯ ós-). This pattern replicates that of Vedic and must be
inherited: see e.g. Ved. 3sg. ja-gā́ m-a < *g u̯ e-g u̯ óm-e vs. 3pl. ja-gm-úh < *g u̯ e-
˙
g u̯ m-r̥ ́ s, ptcpl. ja-gan-vás- for *ja-ga-vás- < *g u̯ e-g u̯ m̥ -u̯ ós- (cf. ta-sthi-vás-
‘standing’ < *te-sth2-u̯ ós-). Note that the o-grade is indirectly reflected in
Vedic by the long radical -ā- in the 3sg.: Brugmann’s Law has operated on
*-o- in open syllables before the loss of laryngeals (contrast 1sg. ja-gám-a
‘have gone’ < *g u̯ e-g u̯ óm-h2e).10 In Latin, the root mostly appears in the zero
grade, although some forms are ambiguous (e.g., meminī ‘remember’ <
*me-mon-ai̯, rather than *me-mn-ai̯ → *me-mn̥ -ai̯). Since intraparadigm-
atic analogy usually favours the singular over the plural, as often in the
Greek perfect (5.5), an additional source may have contributed to this zero-
grade preference (cf. 3.24).
For the roots listed in Table 5.1, ablauting o-grade perfects are attested in
early epic.11
5.5 Non-ablauting o-Grade Perfect Stems

In many other cases, no ablaut alternation is attested, either because
potential zero-grade forms are missing or because the o-grade stem has
been generalised (Table 5.2).12 This group includes a few perfect stems to
laryngeal-initial *HCeC- roots, which show ‘Attic’ reduplication (structu-
rally *VC1-V:C1oC- ← *V:C1oC- < *He-HC1oC-; 3.13).
5.6 Perfect Stems to *HeC- Roots

In a small group of perfects, which are based on roots of the shape *HeC- (or
*HeCC-), the non-ablauting pattern is phonologically regular (Table 5.3).
These stems may have promoted the loss of ablaut distinctions elsewhere. In
particular, for pertinent roots with initial *h3- we can posit a merger of *h3e-
h3oC- > *ōC- and *h3e-h3C- > *ōC- (→ re-reduplicated *oC-ōC-: 3.13). By
10
Kuryłowicz (1948: 53), superseding Belardi (1950: 109–25, 130–1).
11
See Chantraine (1958: 424–5), with further detail. 12 Chantraine (1958: 425–6).
212 The Perfect
Table 5.1. Early Greek ablauting o-grade perfects
o-grade perfect stem

(3sg., unless otherwise Zero-grade perfect
Root noted) stem (ex.)
*bhei̯d h- ‘trust’ (LIV 71–2) πέποιθ-ε ‘trusts’ πεπιθ- (1pl. plupf.

< *bhe-bhoi̯d h-e ἐπέπιθμεν)
< *bhe-bhid h-
*bhend h- ‘bind’ (LIV 75) or πέπονθ-ε ‘suffers’ πεπαθ- (fem. ptcpl.
*k u̯ end h- ‘suffer’ (LIV 390) (?) < *bhe-bhond h-e or πεπαθυίῃ)
*k u̯ e-k u̯ ond h-e < *bhe-bhn̥ d h- or
(cf. Ved. ba-bándh-a *k u̯ e-k u̯ n̥ d h-
‘has bound’, if from
*bhend h-, Pedersen
1938b: 193)
*du̯ ei̯- ‘fear’ (LIV 130) 1sg. δείδω ‘am afraid’ δειδι- (1pl. δείδιμεν;
< *de-du̯ oi̯ -a hence also 3sg. δείδιε, for
intransparent †δείδου <
*de-du̯ oi̯-e)
< *de-du̯ i-
*g̑ enh1- ‘bring/come forth, γέγον-ε ‘is, has become’ γεγα- (3pl. γεγάᾱσι,
generate (vel sim.)’ (LIV 163–5) < *g̑ e-g̑ onh1-e ptcpl. (acc.) γεγαῶτα)
(cf. Ved. ja-jā́ n-a ‘has < *g̑ e-g̑ n̥ (h1)-
generated’)
*men- ‘think’ (LIV 435–6) μέμον-ε ‘is keen’ μεμα- (1pl. μέμαμεν)
< *me-mon-e < *me-mn̥ -
(cf. Lat. me-min-ī
‘remember’, Ved. plupf.
á-ma-man ‘intended’)
*smer- ‘share’ (LIV 570) ἔμμορ-ε ‘has a share’ εἱμαρ- (3sg. plupf. med.
(Aeol.) εἵμαρτο ‘was decreed’)
< *se-smor-e < *se-smr̥ -
*u̯ ei̯d- ‘see’ (LIV 665–7) (ϝ)οῖδ-ε ‘knows’ (ϝ)ιδ- (1pl. (ϝ)ίδμεν)
< *u̯ oi̯d-e < *u̯ id-
(unreduplicated!)
(cf. Ved. véd-a ‘knows’,
Goth. wait ‘knows’)
*u̯ ei̯k̑ - ‘enter, assimilate’ (LIV (ϝ)έ(ϝ)οικ-ε ‘resembles’ (ϝ)ε(ϝ)ικ- (3du. ἔϊκτον)
669–70) < *u̯ e-u̯ oi̯k̑ -e < *u̯ e-u̯ ik̑ -
(cf. Ved. (ā́ ) vi-véś-a ‘has
entered’)
Table 5.2. Early Greek non-ablauting o-grade perfects

(3sg., unless otherwise Analogical o-grade
Root noted) form (ex.)
*derk̑ - ‘look, stare’ δέδορκ-ε ‘looks’ ptcpl. δεδορκ-ώς

(LIV 122) < *de-dork̑ -e
(cf. Ved. da-dárś-a ‘has
seen’)
*drem- ‘run’ (LIV 128) (ἀνα/ἐπι)δέδρομε ‘has run –
up/over > reaches up/covers’
< *de-drom-e
*d hg u̯ her- ‘pass away’ (vel 2sg. (δι)έφθορ-ας ‘you have [post-Hom. ptcpl. (ntr.)
sim.) (cf. LIV 213–14, s.v. lost your wits’ (δι)εφθορ-ός ‘corrupted’;
*g u̯ g̑ her-, Puhvel 2002) ←< *g u̯ he-g u̯ hd hor- (vel sim.) but cf. med. (δι)έφθαρται]
*d hrebh- ‘grow (fat)’ (vel τέτροφ-ε ‘(intr.) has grown, –
sim.) (LIV 153–4) congealed’
< *d he-d hrobh-e
*gen(s)- (← *gem(s)-) γέγων-ε ‘shouts’ ptcpl. γεγωνώς
‘shout’ (?) (cf. Lat. gem-ō < *ge-gons-e (?) or *ge-gon-e
‘groan’, Toch. A ken- (with analogical
‘call’; Hackstein 2002: lengthening) (?)
188, Vine 2010)
*ghend- ‘take in, hold’ 3sg. plupf. κεχόνδει –
(neo-root, replacing ‘contained’
*ghed-, LIV 194) < *ghe-ghond-e(-e)
*g u̯ els- ‘wish, prefer’ (προ)βέβουλε ‘prefers’ –
(neo-root, cf. 8.13, fn. < *g u̯ e-g u̯ ols-e
56, against LIV 208–9,
s.v. *g u̯ elh3-)
*h1ger- ‘wake up’ (LIV ἐγρήγορ-ε ‘is awake’ (post- 2pl. ipv. med. ἐγρήγορ-θε,
245–6) Hom.) whence a perfect with
← *ἐγήγορ-ε ←< *h1e- secondary -θ- (e.g., 3pl.
h1gor-e (cf. 3.13 with fn. 25) ἐγρηγόρθᾱσι; cf.
(cf. Ved. jā-gā́ r-a ‘is awake’) Chantraine 1958: 429)
*h1leu̯ d h- ‘go up, grow’ εἰλήλουθ-ε ‘has come’ (with 1pl. εἰλήλουθμεν
(LIV 248–9) metrically lengthened εἰ-) [but note metrically
←< *h1e-h1lou̯ d h-e conditioned 1sg.
(cf. Ved. ru-ruh-ur ‘have ἀπελήλυθα, where an o-
grown’) grade form is expected]
*h1ned h- ‘come out’ (ἐπ)ενήνοθ-ε ‘has come on, –
(LIV 249) is on’
(cf. ‘quasi-aor.’ ἀνήνοθ-ε ←
*ἀνενήνοθε ‘has come up’)
←< *h1e-h1nod h-e
214 The Perfect
Table 5.2. (cont.)

(3sg., unless otherwise Analogical o-grade
Root noted) form (ex.)
*lei̯ k u̯ - ‘leave (behind)’ λέλοιπ-ε ‘has left, is gone’ [post-Hom. 1pl. λελοίπ-
(LIV 406–8) < *le-loi̯k u̯ -e αμεν etc.]
(cf. Ved. ri-rec-a ‘has left’)
*lengh- ‘reach, obtain’ (post-Hom.) λέλογχ-ε ‘has 3pl. λελόγχασιν (with old
(cf. Table 3.1) (obtained)’ -ᾰ-!)
< *le-longh-e [but note Empedocles fr.
115.5 λελάχασι with *le-
ln̥ gh-]
*mregh- ‘wet’ (?) (cf. (ἀνα)βέβροχ-ε ‘has watered’ –
Chantraine 2009: 186, < *be-brogh-e, as if from
s.v. βρέχω) *bregh- ← *m(b)regh-
*su̯ eh1d h- ‘be(come) εἴωθ-ε ‘is accustomed’ ptcpl. εἰωθ-ώς
accustomed’ (neo-root) < *se-su̯ oh1d h-e
*u̯ elp- ‘hope’ (LIV 680) (ϝ)έ(ϝ)ολπ-ε ‘hopes’ –
< *u̯ e-u̯ olp-e
*u̯ erg̑ - ‘work, make’ (ϝ)έ(ϝ)οργ-ε ‘has made’ ptcpl. ἐοργ-ώς
(LIV 686–7) < *u̯ e-u̯ org̑ -e
(cf. YAv. vauuarǝza ‘has
acted’)
analogy with such cases, and to remain lexically transparent, perfects

involving *h2eC- and *h1eC- roots will have developed into *aC-āC- and
*eC-ēC- respectively. Thus, for example, a stem *h2e-h2oC- > *a-oC- > *ōC-
(→ expected *oC-ōC-) was adjusted to the stem *h2a-h2C- > *āC- (→
*aC-āC-). Exceptionally, however, the *ōC- stage is retained without re-
reduplication: see ἄν-ωγ-ε ‘orders’ < *-h2e-h2og̑ -e (3.12, fn. 21).13
13
Here as elsewhere, it is assumed that *h2 did not colour an adjacent *o into *a (cf. e.g. Cowgill 1965:
145–6, Beekes 1969: 127–8, 166–8; 1972, Peters 1980a: 1–2, Mayrhofer 1986: 135, Kimball 1988, Rix
1992: 39, 69, 71; contrast Ruijgh 1971: 190–5; 1988: 448–9, Kortlandt 1980, Lindeman 1997: 45–6, 70–
5). More complex than the above cases is that of the perfect participle Il. 2.218 συνοχωκότε ‘verging
together’ (nom. du.), based on (intr.) συνέχω and its root *seg̑ h- (Chantraine 1958: 424, after
Brugmann 1902/3b; differently Wackernagel 1902: 738–9, Hackstein 2002: 164–7). This may replace
*συνοκωχότε, suggesting *se-sog̑ h- > *he-hokh- > *e-okh- (by Grassmann’s Law) >→ *ōkh- → re-
reduplicated *ok-ōkh-. Note also the isolated relic without re-reduplication in Il. 12.340 ἐπώχατο
Table 5.3. Greek perfect stems to *HeC- roots
Perfect stem
Root (3sg., unless otherwise noted)
*h1ed- ‘eat’ (LIV 230–1) ptcpl. ἐδηδ-ώς ‘having eaten’

← *ēd- ← *ōd- (?) < *e-od- < *h1e-h1od- vs. *ēd- < *h1e-h1d-
*h2eg̑ - ‘say, tell’ (LIV 256) (ἄν)ωγ-ε ‘οrders, tells (to)’
< contracted *-a-og̑ -e < *h2e-h2og̑ -e (cf. 5.6)
*h2er- ‘fit’ (LIV 269–70) 3sg. plupf. ἀρήρ-ει ‘fit (intr.)’
< ἀρᾱρ- ← *ār- ← *ōr- < *a-or- < *h2e-h2or- vs. *ār- <
*h2e-h2r-
*h3ed- ‘smell’ (LIV 296) 3sg. plupf. ὀδώδ-ει ‘smelled (intr.)’
← *ōd- < *o-od- < *h3e-h3od- vs. *ōd- < *h3e-h3d-
*h3ek u̯ - ‘see, observe’ (LIV 1sg. ὄπωπ-α ‘have seen’
297–8) ← *ōk u̯ - < *o-ok u̯ - < *h3e-h3ok u̯ - vs. *ōk u̯ - < *h3e-h3k u̯ -
*h3elh1- ‘perish’ (LIV 298) ὄλωλ-ε ‘is ruined’
← *ōl- < *o-ol- < *h3e-h3ol(h1)- vs. *ōl- < *h3e-h3l(h1)-
*h3er- ‘move, arise’ (LIV ὄρωρ-ε ‘has arisen’
299–300) ← *ōr- < *o-or- < *h3e-h3or- vs. *ōr- < *h3e-h3r-
5.7 Long-Vowel Perfects

All the Homeric perfects discussed so far can be traced back directly to an
ablauting prototype with o-grade singular. More perplexing are various
long-vowel perfects to roots without an initial laryngeal.14 With ἕστηκα
‘stand’ and τέθνηκα ‘am dead’, these include high-frequency items that
cannot be one-off accidents; nor are they all easily explainable as analogi-
cally remodelled after the zero-grade stem of the plural, middle, or parti-
ciple. It is true that, because of the stative-intransitive nature of the
inherited perfect (5.14–5.23), the middle perfect is nearly as frequent in
Homer as the active one,15 and the active participle is also very common.
Hence, even if such a direction of analogical pressure should not normally
be assumed, an influence from the middle onto the active may be
‘(the gates) held fast’, 3pl. plupf. of ἐπέχομαι. The same treatment of a root with initial *s- is observed
in Il. 23.112 (ἐπὶ) ὀρώρει ‘watched over’, 3sg. plupf. to *ser- (cf. LIV 534, s.v. 1. *ser-, with e.g. Hom.
3pl. pres. ὄρονται ‘they watch over’); but since Grassmann’s Law would not have operated here and
later *-eho- does not contract readily, the form must be artificially modelled after ὄρωρε ‘has arisen’
(cf. Meister 1921: 20).
14
Chantraine (1958: 426–7).
15
‘More frequent’ according to Chantraine (1958: 431); but see 5.9, fn. 27.
216 The Perfect
admissible in the case of a perfect like (3sg.) act. εἴρηκε ‘has said’ (not:
†(ϝ)έ(ϝ)ορε < *u̯ e-u̯ orh1-e or †εἴρωκε < *u̯ e-u̯ roh1-(k)e) ← med. εἴρηται
‘is said’ < *u̯ e-u̯ r̥ h1-toi̯;16 and similarly, participial τεθνη(ϝ)ώς ‘dead’ (<
*d he-d hn̥ h2-u̯ os-) can have supported the replacement of non-participial
3sg. †τέθονε ←< *d he-d hon(h2)-e.
With ἕστηκα, however, such an explanation fails. Its weak stem is
ἑστᾰ- (< *se-sth̥ 2-; e.g., 2pl. ἕστατε), and if anything the strong stem
invades the weak-stem domain, not vice versa (e.g., Hom. 3pl. ἑστᾶσιν,
but once ἑστήκασιν). Also, given the many o-graded perfect stems
attested, it is difficult to see what should have precluded a stem †ἑστω(κ)-
(< *se-stoh2(k)-). At least for this important verb, if not also for parallel
cases like βέβηκα ‘have gone’ to *g u̯ eh2-,17 we therefore need another
approach.
In theory, the Proto-Greek perfect to *steh2- should have contained
forms such as 1sg. *se-stoh2-h2e, 3sg. *se-stoh2-e and 1pl. *se-sth̥ 2-me(n), 3pl.
*se-sth̥ 2-nti. Of these, both the 1sg. and the 3sg. should have produced *se-
sto-a > *se-stā (be it directly via *-oa > *-ā or with *-oa > *-ō → *-ā after
other forms in the *stā- paradigm). Since *se-stā no longer featured overt
endings, these were analogically restituted, behind a hiatus-filling element
-κ- to prevent re-contraction (→ 1sg. *se-stā-(k)a, 3sg. *se-stā-(k)e > ἕστηκα,
ἕστηκε).18 In two paradigmatically central forms, a new long-vowel struc-
ture without o-ablaut had thus arisen. Other verbs could now follow suit,
first among which must have been those that also had an a-vowel stem in
the system.
Among the evidence for long-vowel perfects, we find both
(a) anit-root perfects with root-internal *-h2- or *-a-,19 such as
˙
• γέγηθε ‘is happy’ for †γέγωθε, to *geh2d h- ‘rejoice’,
• ptcpl. ἑᾱδώς ‘pleasant’ for [*se-su̯ h̥ 2d-u̯ ōs →] †ἑωδώς, to *su̯ eh2d-
‘please’,
• ptcpl. κεκληγώς ‘screaming, shouting’ for †κεκλωγώς, to *kleh2 g-
‘scream’,
• ptcpl. κεχηνώς ‘gaping’, to *ghan- ‘gape’,
• πέπηγε ‘is stuck’ for †πέπωγε, to *peh2g̑ - ‘stick’,
16
Cf. LIV 689–90, s.v. *u̯ erh1-; on the root, see Table 3.1.
17
Or ptcpl. πεπτηώς ‘cowering, crouching’ to *pi̯eh2- (pres. πτήσσω), if Hackstein (1992) is right in
separating this from *pet- ‘fly, fall’.
18
On the origin of this -κ-, see 6.12, on its later spread also 1.12.
19
Cf. the list in Kimball (1988: 242–3), who also holds that -η- < *-ā- for *-ō- in γέγηθε, πέπηγε, etc.
may be influenced by ἕστηκε; but ἕστηκε itself she sees as remodelled after πέφῡκε (= (c) below).
• ptcpl. πεπληγώς ‘having struck’ for †πεπλωγώς, to
*pleh2 g- ‘strike’,
• σέσηπε ‘is rotten’ for †σέσωπε, to *ki̯eh2p- ‘rot’ (vel sim.; cf. LIV
361, s.v. ?*Ki̯eh2p-),
• τέθηλε ‘flourishes’, to *d hal(h1)- ‘flourish’,
• τέτρηχε ‘is confused’ for †τέτρωχε, to *d hreh2gh- ‘confuse’; and
(b) set-root perfects with a root structure *CeRH- and hence zero-grade
˙
vocalism *CR̥ h1/2/3- > *CRē/ā/ō-, such as
• βέβληκε ‘has hit’ for †βέβολε, to *g u̯ elh1- ‘throw, hit’,
• ptcpl. βεβρωκώς ‘having swallowed’ for *βεβρωϝώς (< *g u̯ e-g u̯ r̥ h3-
u̯ ós-; cf. later attested, but expected βεβρώς), to *g u̯ erh3- ‘devour’,
• εἴρηκε ‘has said’ for †(ϝ)έ(ϝ)ορε, to *u̯ erh1- ‘say’ (cf. above),
• κέκμηκε ‘has wrought’ for †κέκομε ~ Ved. śaśāma ‘has toiled’, to
*k̑ emh2- ‘toil’,
• μέμβλωκε ‘is there’ for †μέμολε, to *melh3- ‘come’,
• τέθνηκε ‘is dead’ for †τέθονε, to *d henh2- ‘pass by/away’,
• τέτληκε ‘has endured’ for †τέτολε, to *telh2- ‘lift, endure’.20
Reinforcement for these long-vowel perfects also came from
(c) perf. πέφῡκε ‘is (by nature)’ (~ Ved. babhū́ va ‘is’) to the non-
ablauting root *bhuh2- ‘be(come)’ (cf. LIV 98–101, s.v. *bhu̯ eh2-); and
(d) certain ‘intensive’ perfects (5.20), whose onomatopoetic origin allowed
ablaut alternations only in terms of vowel quantity, not quality, whether
or not the internal vowel was *-ā̆- (cf. κεκληγώς under (a)):
• βέβρῡχε ‘roars, bellows’,
• ptcpl. λεληκώς ‘screaming’ (~ fem. λελᾰκυῖα),
• ptcpl. μεμηκώς ‘bleating’ (~ fem. μεμᾰκυῖα),
• ptcpl. μεμῡκώς ‘lowing, bellowing’,
• τέτρῑγε ‘squeaks’.
Some of the restructurings behind all this are fairly recent as they postdate the
transformation of vocalic nasals and liquids. Thus, the Homeric perfect
τέθηπε ‘is amazed’ must belong with the root *dhembh- ‘be silent’ and replace
*τέτηφε, under the influence of cognate words like θάμβος ‘amazement’;21 but
20
Even group (b) may show influence from the ἕστηκα model since its members sometimes display a
new ablaut alternation -ᾱ-/-η- : -ᾰ-, instead of invariant -ᾱ-/-η- (e.g., 1pl. τέτλᾰμεν, inf. τεθνάμεναι,
but ptcpl. τετλη(ϝ)ώς; cf. Chantraine 1958: 427, Kimball 1988: 253).
21
Szemerényi (1954: 238–49), Kimball (1988: 251), Barton (1993), LIV 143, s.v. ?1. *d hembh-, Hackstein
(2002: 237–8).
218 The Perfect
it then presupposes a zero-grade form with root-internal *-a- < *-m̥ -, most
likely the participle (*dhe-dhm̥ bh-u̯ os- > *τετᾰφ(ϝ)οσ- → 3sg. *τέτᾱφε >→
τέθηπε → analogical ptcpl. τεθηπώς). Similarly, Hom. μέμηλε ‘matters’
(next to pres. μέλει ‘do.’) is accounted for if its paradigm is based on a zero-
graded participle: to a (synchronic) root *mel-, this should have been *me-ml̥ -
u̯ ós- > *μεμᾰλ(ϝ)οσ-, whence analogical 3sg. μέμηλε (*μέμᾱλε) and, by further
analogy, also ptcpl. μεμηλώς.22
5.8 Further Developments and Results of the Perfect-Stem Survey

Further developments in the formation of perfect stems need not detain
us.23 Essentially, the trend away from o-graded perfects was coupled with
the establishment of non-ablauting stems. So, just as 3sg. ἕστηκε
matched e-graded parts of the paradigm of *steh2-, so e-graded perfects
like πέφευγε ‘has fled’ or κέκευθε ‘has hidden’ were formed alongside
φεύγω or κεύθω (1.12); and similarly, the long-vowel perfects prompted
the creation of, say, βέβρῑθε ‘is heavy’, ἔρρῑγε ‘shudders’, or δέδῡκε ‘has
entered’ (pres. βρίθω, ῥιγέω, δύω/δύομαι). By perfects like τέθνηκε
(ptcpl. τεθνη(ϝ)ώς), the application of a new formant -η(κ)- (ptcpl.
-η(ϝ)-) was eased in secondary formations such as κεχαρη(ϝ)ώς ‘rejoicing,
happy’ (to χαίρω, aor. ἐχάρην, for †κεχαρ(ϝ)ώς < *g̑ he-g̑ hr̥ -u̯ ós-), δεδάηκε
‘knows’ (to aor. ἐδάην ‘learned’; cf. ptcpl. δεδᾰ(ϝ)ώς ← *δεδᾱ(ϝ)ώς <
*de-dn̥ s-u̯ ós-), or βεβίηκεν ‘has overpowered’ (to denominal pres.
βιάομαι).24
Since all the changes outlined in 5.6–5.8 took place within the prehistory
of Greek alone, we may conclude that, despite the variety of historical
perfect formations, the only paradigm that must be posited for the proto-
language had the following structure:25
1sg. *C1e-C1oC-h2e 1pl. *C1e-C1C-me

2sg. *C1e-C1oC-th2e 2pl. *C1e-C1C-e (?)
3sg. *C1e-C1oC-e 3pl. *C1e-C1C-(e)r(s)
22
Cf. Hackstein (2002: 222–4), who starts from *melh1-. With *mel-, 3sg. plupf. med. μέμβλετο may
replace *μέ-μ(β)λα-το < *me-ml̥ -to. In either case, a ‘proterodynamic’/‘acrostatic’ perfect (Beekes
1973) is needed here no more than for ἄνωγε (Table 5.3), γέγωνε, and εἴωθε (Table 5.2).
23
See Chantraine (1958: 426–39) on the Homeric data.
24
But the -η- of these forms must ultimately be the same ‘stative’ *-eh1- as in the intransitive/passive
aorist (1.10; cf. e.g. ἐχάρην ~ κεχαρη(ϝ)ώς, Chantraine 1928, Hackstein 1997/8; 2002: 239–40, García
Ramón 2014: 161–2).
25
Whether or not this was the only admissible pattern: see 5.42. On unreduplicated (ϝ)οῖδα ‘know’,
see 5.30.
5.9 Middle Perfects
The oldest perfects of the type just described were usually intransitive (e.g.,
γέγονε ‘is ~ has become’, next to middle pres. γίγνεται ‘becomes’;26 5.14–
5.23). Together with the above paradigm layout, this feature must form the
basis for the further reconstruction of the category’s prehistory. However, we
cannot exclude that morphologically middle perfects also already began to be
built when Graeco-Aryan Indo-European was still a unity.27 Whether the
structural overlap between Indo-Iranian and Greek middle perfects (redupli-
cation, zero-grade root, athematic middle endings28) proves this is a matter of
opinion. Independent developments cannot be ruled out with such a well-
motivated innovation, through which middle presents and perfects became
aligned morphologically as well as semantically. But neither is it the case that
‘given the original function of the perfect as a nactostatic present there cannot
have been a middle in the Indo-European proto-language’.29 Not only is the
premise to this statement questionable (5.18–5.23), but the restriction would
also at best be valid only for any stage of the proto-language when the active
perfect existed alone, without excluding a subsequent stage when things
started to change. One might even argue that, precisely because the stative
(or ‘nactostatic’: 5.18) value is predominant in the early perfects of both Indo-
Iranian and Greek, and because the subjects of both statives and patientive
middles are typically non-agentive/non-controlling,30 the temptation to cre-
ate patientive middle perfects will have been as great in later Proto-Indo-
European as it was in Proto-Indo-Iranian or Proto-Greek.31 Yet, there is no
26
For a list of similar pairs (πείθομαι ‘obey’ : πέποιθα, δέρκομαι ‘look’ : δέδορκα, etc.), see Bader
(1972: 2–4).
27
Cf. Meillet (1924a), Birwé (1956: 33–5), Durante (1976: 21–2), Drinka (2003: 97–100); but after Di
Giovine (1990: 24–5), and with reference to the statistics of Avery (1872–80: 311, 315) and
L. Schlachter (1907/8: 210–11), Drinka finds that “[t]he expansion of the middle perfect did not
occur at the same rate in Sanskrit and Greek”: “in the Vedas, the active perfects and pluperfects
predominate over the middle perfects 2 : 1 (1563 : 843 tokens), while in Homeric Greek, the ratio of
active perfects and pluperfects to middle perfects is 7 : 5 in the Iliad (933 : 695 tokens) and almost
even in the Odyssey (655 : 599 tokens)”. However, these figures are not directly comparable since, on
the active side, (younger) transitive perfects are also much more common in Vedic than in Homer.
28
The Indo-Iranian and Greek endings differ not only where they do in every middle paradigm (e.g.,
1sg. Ved. -e vs. Gr. -μαι: 1.4, 10.14), but also in the 3sg./3pl., where Indo-Iranian uses the old ‘stative’
endings (Ved. 3sg. -e < *-oi̯, 3pl. -re < *-roi̯; cf. 5.11, 5.50, fn. 194). Given the prehistorical connection
between these and the ‘active’ perfect endings (3sg. *-e, 3pl. *-r̥ (s): 5.40, 5.50), this does not surprise,
but since the ‘normal’ middle endings are 3sg. -te < *-to-i, 3pl. -nte < *-nto-i in Indo-Iranian too, it
favours an early date for the middle perfect.
29
Kümmel (2000a: 93). 30 On this affinity, cf. Berrettoni (1972a: 153–4).
31
Kümmel (2000a: 93) rejects the existence of a mediopassive perfect in Proto-Indo-Iranian because
Vedic (on which see also Renou 1925a: 139–84) and Avestan hardly ever share pertinent forms: ‘an
Avestan reflexive perfect pairs with a Vedic patientive middle perfect and vice versa’. But why should
one use have excluded the other? Similarly, Kümmel relies too much on specific equations, rather than
available formation patterns, when he observes that ‘on the basis of equations, only few middle perfects
220 The Perfect
doubt that the middle perfect is secondary compared to the active one, and
that there is indeed a semantic reason for this: only that this reason, as we shall
see, is not so much the ‘nactostatic’ value of the perfect as the nature of the
formation that turned into the ‘nactostatic’ perfect (5.27–5.29).
Whatever their age, within Greek the new middle perfects were
a success. In Homer they statistically compete with the active ones
(5.7), and in Mycenaean no finite active perfect and some ten instances
of active participles (e.g., a-ra-ru-wo-a, a-ra-ru-ja = nom. pl. ntr.
/arāru̯ oha/, nom. sg./du./pl. fem. /arā̆ rui̯ i̯ a(i̯ )/ ‘fitting’) stand against
nearly twice as many mediopassive ones (e.g., de-do-me-na = nom. pl.
ntr. /dedomena/ ‘given’, (a-pu) ke-ka-u-me-ṇ ọ = nom. sg. masc. /(apu)
kekaumenos/ ‘burnt (off)’; 1× finite e-pi-de-da-to = /epidedastoi̯ / ‘is
distributed’).32
5.10–5.13 The Pluperfect

5.10 Pluperfects as Pivot Forms
According to Chantraine,33 the spread of middle perfects in Greek was
promoted, if not triggered, by the creation of pluperfects. Because there
were no ‘secondary’ perfect endings, a straightforward way to form a past
tense to the perfect qua stative present was to resort to the normal
‘secondary’ endings. However, since the oldest pluperfects were as usually
intransitive as the oldest perfects, the middle endings were preferred.34
Thus, next to pres. (δια)φθείρομαι ‘perish’ and intr. perf. (δι)έφθορα ‘am
ruined’ (cf. Il. 15.128 διέφθορας ‘you have lost your wits’), the plupf.
(δι)εφθάρμην ‘was ruined’ was built. As a consequence, in Homer we still
can be reconstructed for Proto-Indo-Iranian without any doubt: *ćućluu̯ -ái̯, *d hā̆d hr-ái̯, *ȷ́ haȷ́ hǝR-ái̯,
*mamn-ái̯, *papl(ь)-ái̯. None of these must be taken to be inherited from PIE’. If equations were
probative, one could as well compare, say, Gr. δέδεται ‘is bound’ (←< *de-dh1-toi̯; cf. Myc. ptcpl. ntr.
pl. de-de-me-na = /dedemena/ ‘bound’) and Ved. dadé ‘is bound’ (< *de-dh1-oi̯), or Gr. ἔσσυται ‘is in
haste’ (←< *k u̯ e-k u̯ i̯u-toi̯) and Ved. cucyuvé ‘has undertaken’ (←< *k u̯ e-k u̯ i̯u(u̯ )-oi̯); but Kümmel
(2000a: 242, 181) rightly doubts the antiquity of dadé or cucyuvé.
32
See the list in Bartoněk (2003: 328, 331–2). The identification of Myc. a-re-ta-to and qe-qi-no-to as
finite perfect forms is unlikely (cf. Aura Jorro 1985–93: 1.102 and 2.194–5, s.vv.).
33
Chantraine (1927a: 47–70).
34
This semantic factor seems more crucial than the formal one stressed by Chantraine (1927a: 56–7):
when attached to the perfect stem, the active endings would have produced problematic results (e.g.,
3sg. “*(ϝ)ε(ϝ)οικτ > *(ϝ)ε(ϝ)οικ”). But if the use of middle endings had been just a mechanical
remedy, one might expect forms like 3sg. †(ϝ)έ(ϝ)οικτο; nor can it be maintained that the middle
endings were mere apophonic variants of the active ones, used preferentially in preterital contexts
(Chantraine 1927b, after Meillet 1922d: 64–70; 1923; cf. 4.42, fn. 153, and for criticism Perel’muter
1977: 60–2). That the plupf. ἐῴκει is really older than (ϝ)έ(ϝ)ικτο seems doubtful, even if the use of
(ϝ)έ(ϝ)ικτο is metrically determined (Hackstein 1989: 48–54).
sometimes find active perfects and middle pluperfects in similar or iden-
tical contexts (e.g., (ϝ)έ(ϝ)οικε ~ (ϝ)έ(ϝ)ικτο, ἔμμορε ~ εἵμαρτο). But these
middle pluperfects in their turn then facilitated the transition from act.
(δι)έφθορα to med. (δι)έφθαρμαι, perhaps first in the plural where no
distinct perfect endings survived, and in the participle where Homer
interchangeably uses for instance πεφευγώς and πεφυγμένος ‘having
escaped’ (cf. Od. 1.12, 1.18).35 Moreover, the establishment of the middle
perfect then allowed (a) the use of act. (δι)έφθορα in the transitive sense
‘have destroyed’, corresponding to pres. (δια)φθείρω, (b) the production of
perfect paradigms to denominal and other verbs previously lacking a
perfect (e.g., τετίμημαι ‘am honoured’, to τιμάω; πεφόβημαι ‘am frigh-
tened’ to φοβέομαι ‘be(come) scared’), and (c) the creation of secondary
active pluperfects (5.11–5.12).
5.11 PIE Pluperfects?

If we accept that middle perfects may already have been formed in later
Proto-Indo-European (5.9), we may also ask if Chantraine’s develop-
ment cannot equally reach so far back. The question whether the late (at
least Graeco-Aryan) proto-language already possessed a pluperfect has
been controversially discussed by many.36 However, the semantic point
made in 5.10 has generally been overlooked.37 If anything, we should in
the first instance think of a PIE middle pluperfect – or, as long as a
differentiation between ‘normal’ and ‘stative’ middle endings persisted,
a middle/stative one (with 3sg. *-o, 3pl. *-ro, rather than *-to, *-nto; cf.
5.50, fn. 194). Since Greek nowhere preserved the ‘stative’ endings (cf.
Gr. κεῖται ‘lies’ vs. Ved. śáye or śéte: 4.34), we naturally find *-to, *-nto
here. Once allowance is made for that, for the Indo-Iranian recharac-
terisation of 3sg. *-o > PIIr. *-a and 3pl. *-ro > PIIr. *-ra into Ved. -a(t)
and -ran with clearer person marking, and for a few other disagreements
not confined to the pluperfect (e.g., Gr. 2sg. med. -σο < *-so ≠ Ved.
-thāh <*-tha [<*-th2e] + *-as [< *-es];38 10.14), the Greek and Indo-
˙
35
For a similar observation in Vedic, see Renou (1925a: 121–4); cf. Kümmel (2000a: 91–2). In Old Irish
too, the reduplicated preterite (< perfect) has acquired deponential endings in the plural (Chantraine
1927a: 62).
36
Pro, e.g. Birwé (1956: 35–6), Adrados (1974: 1.196–8), Neu (1989b: 158–9), Rix (1992: 257),
Szemerényi (1996: 298), Jasanoff (1997; 2003: esp. 34–43), Rasmussen (2000), J. T. Katz (2006);
contra, Euler (1990: 131), Sihler (1995: 578).
37
Though see at least Neu (1989b: 159).
38
With Hollifield (1978: 219–20) and García Ramón (1985: 205), PIIr. 2sg. med. *-thās (also aor.;
contrast pres.*-sai̯ ~ Gr. -σοι; 10.14) must be based on 2sg. perf. *-th2e (1.6, 5.3). When 3sg. *-o > *-a
was remade into *-at (Wackernagel 1907b: 310–11, Thieme 1929: 44, Kümmel 2000a: 52–3), it
222 The Perfect
Iranian middle pluperfects are homologous: they feature the same redupli-
cated athematic stem (with or without augment) and, mutatis mutandis,
corresponding endings. We may thus cautiously admit that suitable roots
acquired a middle pluperfect next to an active perfect already in Graeco-Aryan
Proto-Indo-European. For *trep- ‘turn’ (perf. *te-trop-e ‘has/is turned (intr.)’),
this would have inflected as follows:39
1sg. *(h1e-)te-tr̥ p-h̥ 2 1pl. *(h1e-)te-tr̥ p-med hh̥ 2

2sg. *(h1e-)te-tr̥ p-th2e/-so 2pl. *(h1e-)te-tr̥ p-d hu̯ e
3sg. *(h1e-)te-tr̥ p-o/-to 3pl. *(h1e-)te-tr̥ p-ro/-nto
From here, the creation of a late-PIE middle perfect (3sg. *te-tr̥ p-toi̯ > Gr.
τέτραπται) would have been as straightforward as the development assumed
by Chantraine for Proto-Greek, requiring just the replacement of the ‘sec-
ondary’ middle endings by ‘primary’ ones.40 And only when an opposition of
active and middle perfects had thus arisen, facilitating the use of active perfects
in transitive as well as intransitive contexts (5.14), the idea of an active
pluperfect would also have sprung up.41
5.12 Early Active Pluperfects

In Indo-Iranian, the active pluperfect combines the reduplicated and ablauting
active perfect stem with (generally athematic42) ‘secondary’ active endings
(Ved. 1sg. -(a)m, 2sg. -(ī)s, 3sg. -(ī)t, etc., but note 3pl. -ur < *-r̥ (s) as in the
perfect):43 thus, e.g., 3sg. ájagan ‘had come’ < *(h1e)g u̯ e-g u̯om-t. With a small
suggested 2sg. *-as, and Vedic forms in -as are indeed occasionally attested (Thieme 1929: 46,
Kümmel 2000a: 40). However, a more distinctive 2sg. med. *-th2a-es > *-t(h2)ās (or *-t(h2)ēs?; cf.
Wackernagel 1890: 307) may have arisen already in later Proto-Indo-European from *-th2e > *-th2a +
2sg. *-es, since there is also Celtic *-tās > OIr. 2sg. impf. -tha (or *-tēs > OIr. 2sg. deponent ipv. -the?;
cf. Thurneysen 1892: 462–3, Jasanoff 2006: 205–6).
39
The 3sg. structure *C1e-C1C-o represented here of course belongs to a much later stratum than the
one discussed in 4.40.
40
Such a substitution, not a mechanical addition of *-i, is suggested by the Indo-Iranian 2sg. perf.
med. in (Ved.) -se < *-soi̯, not †-the: since 2sg. med. -se normally pairs with 3sg. -te < *-toi̯,
hypothetical *-th2e-i would hardly have been replaced by *-soi̯ when the 3sg. was *-oi̯, not *-toi̯.
Contrast the attachment of *-i to the active perfect endings in Italic (1.6 on Latin) or Slavic (OCS
1sg. vědě ‘know’ < *u̯ oi̯da-i), and to the hi-conjugation endings in Anatolian (5.3). Against this
conventional view (e.g., Di Giovine 1996: ˘182–90), Untermann (1968: 165–9) and Kümmel (2000a:
54–5) have suggested that perfect endings with and without *-i coexisted in PIE; but since the
presentic value of the perfect remains prominent in early Greek (and to a lesser extent, Indo-
Iranian), it would be odd that here the variant without *-i was preferred if both were inherited.
41
Cf. Berg (1977: 225–6), who considers this chronological sequence but then rejects it for no apparent
reason.
42
Occasional thematic forms need not be explained through the influence of 1sg. -am < *(-C)-m̥ , but
are rather due to confusion of the pluperfect with the reduplicated aorist: cf. 3.20–3.21.
43
Kümmel (2000a: 47–9); cf. J. T. Katz (2006: 17–20), also on the Greek thematic pluperfect.
adjustment regarding the 3pl., Proto-Greek should therefore have known the
following parallel structure:
1sg. *(h1e-)C1e-C1oC-m̥ 1pl. *(h1e-)C1e-C1C-me(n)

2sg. *(h1e-)C1e-C1oC-s 2pl. *(h1e-)C1e-C1C-te
3sg. *(h1e-)C1e-C1oC-t 3pl. *(h1e-)C1e-C1C-n̥ t
Pertinent plurals (and similar duals) are indeed attested in Homer (e.g., 1pl.
plupf. ἕσταμεν ‘we stood’ < *se-sth̥ 2-me(n), ἐπέπιθμεν ‘we trusted’ < *(h1e-)
bhe-bhid h-me(n)).44 In the singular, however, the 1sg. would have fallen
together with the 1sg. perfect (save for the optional augment), as *-m̥
became -α; and the 3sg. would not have been viable since it should have
lost at least the ending *-t, if not the entire cluster following the root vowel.
In principle, this loss could be prevented by the alphathematisation process
that is observable in the s-aorist (with 1sg. *-s-m̥ > -σα vs. 3sg. *-s-t >→ -σε:
8.2), but the result was then again a form that was identical (save for the
augment) with a perfect. Even so, a 3sg. plupf. *(h1e-)C1e-C1oC-e[t] must
have existed at some point, for it provides the basis from which correspond-
ing thematic 1sg./3pl. plupf. forms in -ον were built. A handful of these are
marginally attested in early Greek (e.g., Il. 5.805 ἄνωγον ‘I ordered’, Od.
9.439 μέμηκον ‘they bleated’45). Also, a pluperfect – reinterpreted as a
thematic imperfect – with 1sg. ἄνωγον, 3sg. ἄνωγε etc. is probably needed
to explain why the perfect ἄνωγα was gradually replaced by an innovated
thematic present ἀνώγω.46
And yet, while the thematisation thus made it possible to (re-)differentiate
perfects and pluperfects in the 1sg. and 2sg. (with thematic -ες vs. perf. -ας
← -θα), in the 3sg. the overlap remained. A consistent use of the augment in
the pluperfect could have remedied this, but for some reason the pluperfect
was augmented only reluctantly (7.3, 7.5, fn. 13). The differentiation was
therefore achieved by other means.
5.13 Later Pluperfects

If the trigger for the formation of the classical Greek pluperfect was the
wish to undo the merger of the 3sg. perf. and the (thematised) 3sg. plupf.,
the most obvious way forward was to add to the pluperfect what by then
44
Mekler (1887: 65–9), Chantraine (1927a: 56).
45
See Mekler (1887: 48–64) and Chantraine (1927a: 58); J. T. Katz (2006: 11 n. 26) cites some
epigraphic examples. Ruijgh (1957: 128–30) and Berg (1977: 230, 231–2) assume an ‘Achaean’
(‘Mycenaean’) dialect feature.
46
Chantraine (1958: 312, 439), J. T. Katz (2006: 11 n. 26).
224 The Perfect
(i.e., after final *-t had been lost) was a typical past-tense ending.47 To pick
for this purpose an imperfect ending might have made sense as long as the
perfect and pluperfect were still predominantly stative. However, the
addition of 3sg. impf. /-e/ would have entailed the elision of the preceding
ending (*C1e-C1oC[-e]-e), leading back to square one. At the same time, we
have seen in 5.11 that the active pluperfects were also needed as opposi-
tional transitives next to intransitive middles. As such, they semantically
correlated with the recent transitive active perfects as much as with the
older intransitive ones.48 And just as the creation of these transitive active
perfects gradually shifted the category’s focus away from the present state
of the subject towards the past eventuality resulting in that state
(5.14, 5.22), so the active pluperfect could develop a functional affinity
with the aorist rather than the imperfect.
A morphological recharacterisation with the help of the prototypical
aorist endings, those of the s-aorist, was therefore just as natural.49 So the
3sg. plupf. was updated from *(e-)C1e-C1oC-e into *(e-)C1e-C1oC-e-se.50
From here, we reach the historical 3sg. plupf. ending -ει by regular sound
change (*-ese > *-ehe > *-ee > /-e:/ = -ει). If 3sg. plupf. -ει is frequent at verse-
end in Homer,51 this need not indicate that it was always monosyllabic.
It rather reflects the history of the form, which started off as (monosyllabic)
47
The following account is similar, but not identical, to the ones of Perel’muter (1977: 72–8) and
Berg (1977: 233–9). Berg’s theory is criticised by J. T. Katz (2006: 15–16), but Katz himself relies
too much on a hypothetical 3sg. *(ē)̆ u̯ oi̯st ‘knew’ as a source for an ending *-st → *-se. Contra Berg,
it is doubtful that the 1sg. plupf. in -εα is older than the 3sg. in *-εε and was created after the s-aorist
when the 3sg. aor. still ended in *-s < *-s-t; how natural would it have been to reinterpret the 3sg.
plupf. in -ε as *-e- + zero-ending when there were many other 3sg. forms in *-e (< *-e-t)? If just a
new 1sg. had been needed, only the thematic pluperfect (à la 1sg. ἄνωγον) could have resulted.
Even less plausibly, Beckwith (2004) suspects an imperfect (with *-ēi̯e/o- > *-ee/o-) behind the 3sg.
in -εε; and Peters (1997: 214) resorts to an unsustainable analogy in order to maintain the – a priori
unlikely – primacy of -η over -εε (cf. fn. 53).
48
Lyonnet (1934) even suggested that the pluperfect catalysed the spread of the resultative perfect
(5.14). In any case, perfects and pluperfects always evolved in parallel (Berrettoni 1972b).
49
Cf. Perel’muter (1977: 78), although he seems to assume an addition only of 1sg. -α, 3sg. -ε (not *-sa/
*-se or *-ha/*-he). Significantly, the verbs left out and thus retaining thematic pluperfects, tend to
“show non-perfect semantics such as ἤνωγον ‘they bade’” (Beckwith 2004: 78; cf. J. T. Katz 2006:
16, 21–3).
50
Or *(e-)C1e-C1oC-e-he, if the adjustment postdates *-s- > *-h-, but predates the restitution of *-s- in
the aorist (Rix 1992: 217, Sihler 1995: 172, 8.18; in the pluperfect, there were of course no forms with
retained *-s- to cause a restitution). For our purposes, all that matters is that the 3sg. aor. in *-s[t] was
given the ending *-e before the change *-s- > *-h- had run its course (pace Risch 1956; note Risch’s
own reservations in Risch 1981: 762). A connection between the pluperfect and the s-aorist was first
suggested by Brugman (1880b: 16–17, passim); but he and Osthoff (1884: 397–8) saw in the (doubtful)
form ἠ(ϝ)είδεα ‘I knew’ an inherited counterpart to a Sanskrit is-aorist (8.26). For criticism of this
and other early theories, see Berg (1977: 218–22). ˙
51
Chantraine (1927a: 59; 1958: 437); cf. Berg (1977: 228–31), with the explanation adopted here.
5.14–5.25 Semantics of the Perfect in Greek & Proto-Indo-European 225
*-e > -ε before being remodelled. But as soon as the new disyllabic *-ese >
*-ehe had contracted into /-e:/, every verse-final pluperfect in -ε could easily
be replaced by one in -ει in the Homeric text.
Crucial confirmation for this account comes from the 1sg. In Homer,
this still ends in uncontracted [*-eha >] -εα (e.g., πεποίθεα ‘I trusted’52), the
precursor of Attic -η (itself followed by analogical -ειν after 3sg. -ει). If it is
indeed the sigmatic aorist that was the source for the new pluperfect
conjugation, and if the classical paradigm is built around the 3sg., every-
thing falls into place in the 1sg. too (Fig. 5.1).53
3sg.*(h1e-)C1e-C1oC-t → *(e-)C1e-C1oC-e (5.12) → *(e-)C1e-C1oC-e-se > *-ehe > -ει
→
1sg.*(h1e-)C1e-C1oC-m > *(e-)C1e-C1oC-a (5.12) → *(e-)C1e-C1oC-e-sa > *-eha > -η (→ -ειν)
º
Fig. 5.1. The development of the classical Greek active pluperfect (3sg. and 1sg.)
5.14–5.25 Semantics of the Perfect in Greek

and Proto-Indo-European
5.14 Wackernagel’s Taxonomy
Any discussion of the semantics of the Greek perfect must start from
the classic treatments by Wackernagel and Chantraine.54 Though
mainly interested in the rise of what he called the ‘resultative perfect’
of post-Homeric Greek, Wackernagel set out a basic taxonomy of
52
Chantraine (1958: 438).
53
In the Homeric manuscripts, οἶδα ‘know’ generally has 3sg. plupf. ᾔδη, not ᾔδει (though ᾔδεε is also
found, and confirms that -ει results from contraction; cf. Mekler 1887: 72–3, Berg 1977: 217,
Hackstein 2002: 260–1). Chantraine (1958: 438) therefore wonders if Homeric 3sg. plupf. -ει
might not regularly conceal -η. However, unlike most other verbs, verbs for ‘to know’ occur more
frequently in the 1sg. than in the 3sg., so that the usual direction of analogy (3sg. → 1sg.) is inverted
(cf. Ringe 1989: 135, Willi 2011a: 190–3). So, while 3sg. plupf. -ει elsewhere led to 1sg. -ειν, 2sg. -εις
instead of -η, -ης < -εα, -εας, 1sg. ᾔδεα > ᾔδη gave rise to 3sg. ᾔδη instead of ᾔδει. Prior to this, the
trajectory of the 3sg. may have been “1) *(e)woyde → 2) *(ē)wide → 3) *(ē)widee” (Berg 1977: 240–56),
even if the reasons for the zero grade are unclear (analogy with aor. εἶδε < *e-u̯ id-e[t] since the aorist
and pluperfect shared *-u̯ id- in the plural?). In any case, we must not separate ᾔδη etc. from the other
pluperfects and/or derive them from a form in *-eh1- (Peters 1997, Schrijver 1999a, Ruijgh 2004b:
54–6, J. T. Katz 2006: 26–7; cf. also Adrados 1974: 1.197–8), let alone from a root aorist (Hackstein
2002: 256–9). ‘Super-thematic’ pluperfects like 3pl. ἠνώγεον (Nussbaum 1987: 248–50, Beckwith
2004: 76, J. T. Katz 2006: 11–12 n. 27) are simple products of analogy too: when the 3sg. was at the
*-e(h)e stage, but not resigmatised, it could easily lead to a 3pl. *-e(h)on. Unsurprisingly, this
happened primarily to those pluperfects that were not already remade by analogy with the aorist
(cf. fn. 49).
54
Wackernagel (1904), Chantraine (1927a); important, too, are Berrettoni (1972a) and Romagno
(2005).
226 The Perfect
perfect usages in Homeric Greek as well. According to this, the
perfect was used in early epic
(i) to refer to present states tout court (e.g., Il. 10.172 μεγάλη χρειὼ
βεβίηκεν Ἀχαιούς ‘a great need is oppressing the Achaeans’),
(ii) to refer to present states the transition into which is expressed with
an aorist (e.g., τέθνηκε ‘is dead’ vs. aor. ἀπέθανε ‘died’),
(iii) to refer to the lasting effect of a past action on the subject, transla-
table with an English present perfect (e.g., ὄπωπε ‘has seen’), and
(iv) to refer to ‘a sequence of continuous actions that have their end-
point in the present’, as with ἐσθλὰ ἔοργε in Il. 2.272–5:
ὢ πόποι, ἦ δὴ μυρί᾿ Ὀδυσσεὺς ἐσθλὰ ἔοργε
βουλάς τ᾿ ἐξάρχων ἀγαθὰς πόλεμόν τε κορύσσων·
νῦν δὲ τόδε μέγ᾿ ἄριστον ἐν Ἀργείοισιν ἔρεξεν,
ὃς τὸν λωβητῆρα ἐπεσβόλον ἔσχ᾿ ἀγοράων.
“Wow! Odysseus has done countless noble things, initiating good
plans and organising war: but now he has done his masterpiece
among the Argeians, as he has put an end to this impertinent
nuisance speaking up.”
Many of the most common transitive verbs (e.g., δίδωμι ‘give’, τίθημι
‘put’) have no active perfect in Homer. Later on, perfects such as δέδωκα
and τέθηκα may refer to the effect of a past action on the verbal object
rather than the subject. For this purpose, Homer still uses the (augmented:
7.8) aorist, as in Il. 1.178
εἰ μάλα καρτερός ἐσσι, θεός που σοὶ τό γ᾿ ἔδωκεν
“[I]f you are very strong, then it is because a god has granted this to you.”
The present state of the granting god is of no interest here; but in the
previous example, Odysseus’ lasting quality as an achiever of good things is.
Thus, Wackernagel stresses, even transitive perfects in early Greek are not
‘resultative’ in the sense of object-focused or object-resultative. A perfect
τέτοκα is initially used to express that ‘X is a mother/is in the childbed’
(e.g., Hippoc. Aph. p. 4.544.14 Littré γυνὴ μὴ κύουσα μηδὲ τετοκυῖα ‘a
woman who is neither pregnant nor in childbed’), not that ‘X has born Y’
(so that Y is now alive); and because the lasting effect on the subject is
crucial, τέτοκα is not said of the father, who is not affected by the birth-
event in the same way as the mother: a father can only be ὁ τεκών. Vice
versa, votive inscriptions use the aoristic formula ‘X ἀνέθηκε’, because the
lasting effect on the object is crucial – the object is now sacred – , whereas
the current state of the giver is less relevant.
Wackernagel then goes on to explain the shift towards the resultative
perfect. Whether or not their beginnings reach back to Homer, resultative
perfects appear with some frequency only in fifth-century Greek, from
Pindar onwards (e.g., Pind. Isthm. 3/4.55 ἀλλ᾿ Ὅμηρός τοι τετίμακεν δι᾿
ἀνθρώπων ‘but Homer has honoured him [sc., Ajax] among mankind’: the
focus is on Ajax’ state of being honoured, not on Homer’s state as an
honouring poet). This innovation must have been promoted by the
increased use of parallel mediopassive perfects, although the state expressed
by them was naturally still that of the subject. Occasionally, this line of
influence is even reflected formally, by the zero-grade vocalism of new
active transitive perfects (e.g., ἔφθαρκα ‘have destroyed’ next to ἔφθαρμαι
‘am destroyed’; cf. 5.10 on old intransitive (δι)έφθορα).
5.15 Chantraine’s Classification of Homeric Perfects

Following Wackernagel, Chantraine too acknowledged that ‘the proper
role of the perfect is in fact to express the state’. Only in the later resultative
perfect does the accusative object introduce ‘the notion of a realisation
which is essential in the process envisaged’.55 Thus, it is not the mere fact of
a perfect being transitive which makes it resultative. For example, in Od.
17.284 κακὰ πόλλα πέπονθα ‘I have suffered great misfortune’, Chantraine
finds that ‘the accusative only defines and circumscribes the verbal idea, it
does not add the notion of a realisation’.
Against this background, he offers the following classification of verbs
with a Homeric perfect:56
(i) verbs denoting a mental state (e.g., οἶδα ‘know’, πέπυσμαι ‘am
informed’, μέμονα ‘intend/am keen’),
(ii) verbs expressing a feeling (e.g., γέγηθα ‘am happy’, πέποιθα ‘am
confident’, ἔολπα ‘hope’, δείδω ‘am afraid’),
(iii) verbs denoting a state of the body (e.g., κεκόρημαι ‘am satiated’,
κεχηνώς ‘gaping’),
(iv) verbs meaning ‘stand’, ‘lie’ vel sim. (e.g., ἕστηκα ‘stand’, τέταμαι
‘am stretched out’),
(v) verbs meaning ‘lean upon’ vel sim. (e.g., πέπηγα ‘am fixed’),
(vi) verbs expressing a physical state (e.g., τέθηλα ‘am flourishing’,
τέτροφα ‘am thickened/congealed’, ὄλωλα ‘am destroyed’, τέθνηκα
‘am dead’),
55 56
Chantraine (1927a: 4, 6). Chantraine (1927a: 8–11); cf. Delbrück (1897: 178–210).
228 The Perfect
(vii) verbs expressing the idea of ‘becoming’ (e.g., πέφυκα ‘am (by
nature)’, γέγονα ‘am’),
(viii) verbs expressing a movement (e.g., βέβηκα ‘have gone’, εἰλήλουθα
‘am present’, πέφευγα ‘am gone’),
(ix) verbs expressing a sound/noise (e.g., βέβρυχα ‘roar’, λέληκα
‘scream, shout’, μέμυκα ‘low, bellow’),
(x) passives referring to a state of the subject (e.g., ἐδήδοται ‘is eaten’,
εἴρηται ‘is said’),
(xi) verbs expressing the idea of seeing (e.g., ὄπωπα ‘have seen’,
δέδορκα ‘have a look in my eyes, stare’),
(xii) verbs meaning ‘have, possess, abandon, make’ (e.g., ἔκτημαι ‘own’,
λέλοιπα ‘am gone’, λέλογχα ‘possess’, ἔοργα ‘have done’).
It is obvious that some of these categories, such as (i) and (ii), or (iv) and
(v), are close to each other, while others, notably (xii), stand apart. Overall,
though, the taxonomy demonstrates both the stative value of the Homeric
perfect and its predominant intransitivity. Transitive perfects are mainly
found in group (xii). However, Chantraine agrees with Wackernagel that
the vast majority of these is not ‘resultative’ (object-stative). The only
exception he makes is for βεβίηκεν in Il. 10.145 = 16.22, 10.172 (5.14),
which Wackernagel had taken to be ‘purely presentic’. According to
Chantraine, ‘we do have here a resultative perfect. This is a novelty, as is
revealed by the very structure of the verb’ (cf. 5.10).57 The disagreement
shows how difficult it can be in individual instances to decide what should
count as ‘resultative’. When Nestor addresses Odysseus in Il. 10.145 with
the words μὴ νεμέσα· τοῖον γὰρ ἄχος βεβίηκεν Ἀχαιούς, one may either
translate, in Wackernagel’s sense, ‘don’t be angry: such grief is exerting its
force over the Achaeans’ (focusing on the permanent oppressive weight of
ἄχος, i.e., the subject-state), or, with Chantraine, ‘such anxiety has over-
come the Achaeans’ (focusing on the past point at which ἄχος set in, and
the resulting state of the Achaeans). In either case, passages like this one
contain at least the germ of the resultative perfect, simply by virtue of being
transitive.
5.16 Reconsidering Wackernagel’s Taxonomy: ‘Continuous’ Perfects

In order to assess such divergent interpretations, it is instructive to look at
some further passages. Although he admits that the use of the perfect can
be ambiguous, Chantraine does follow Wackernagel’s readings elsewhere.
57
Wackernagel (1904: 5), Chantraine (1927a: 14); cf. also Romagno (2005: 98–9).
Thus, in ἐσθλὰ ἔοργε of Il. 2.272–5 (5.14), where we hear the Achaeans talk
to each other after Odysseus has silenced Thersites, Chantraine sees a
perfect used ‘to designate a series of actions which lead to a present
state’,58 echoing Wackernagel’s function (iv) (‘sequence of continuous
actions that have their end-point in the present’). With this, he compares
κακὰ πέπονθα at Od. 17.284 (5.15), where Odysseus tells Eumaeus:
τολμήεις μοι θυμός, ἐπεὶ κακὰ πολλὰ πέπονθα
“[M]y mind is tough since I have suffered great misfortune.”
However, in both cases it is misleading to speak of an end point. Neither
will Odysseus stop doing good things after having dealt with Thersites; nor
is it likely that his troubles have come to an end as he talks to Eumaeus. So
we might rather translate ‘Odysseus has been doing noble things’ and ‘I
have been suffering great misfortune’. To be sure, as with every Homeric
perfect a state is involved (viz., ‘being a doer of noble things’, ‘being a
sufferer’), but the actuality of this state implies a continuation of the verbal
actions involved. The implicature of these perfect forms is therefore more
similar to that of a sentence such as (a) John is a [boar-]hunter than to that
of (b) John has hunted [a boar], whose scope is less general.
This comparison of a perfect like ἔοργε with a stative predicate consist-
ing of a nominal form (e.g., an agent noun) + copula can be underpinned
further by the following Homeric verse where the perfect participle ἐοργώς
appears on a par with the adjective ἀεργός (Il. 9.320):59
κάτθαν᾿ ὁμῶς ὅ τ᾿ ἀεργὸς ἀνὴρ ὅ τε πολλὰ ἐοργώς.
The man who is an idler and the man who is always busy both die.
Similarly, a free nominal translation ‘such grief is the oppressor of the
Achaeans’ for τοῖον γὰρ ἄχος βεβίηκεν Ἀχαιούς does more justice to the
context of Il. 10.145 than Chantraine’s resultative interpretation
(5.15).60 And in Il. 1.37, where the priest Chryses invokes Apollo with
the words κλῦθί μοι, Ἀργυρότοξ᾿, ὃς Χρύσην ἀμφιβέβηκας, Chantraine is
certainly right to dismiss Meister’s interpretation of ἀμφιβέβηκας as
another resultative perfect, but the decisive point is not so much that
58
Chantraine (1927a: 13) (italics added); contrast Romagno (2005: 68), whose reading is similar to the
one advocated here.
59
Cf. Berrettoni (1972a: 145). Berrettoni (1972a: 72) also highlights a sequence of perfects alternating
with nominal sentences in Od. 20.351–7.
60
Cf. Berrettoni (1972a: 140–1), on βεβίηκε ‘summarising’ a series of descriptive (and presentic)
mediopassive perfects.
230 The Perfect
‘the accusative depends on the preverb ἀμφί’,61 but that Apollo is not
addressed as someone who ‘has gone round’ (~ ‘has protected’) the
island of Chryse at some point in the past: rather, the god with the
silver bow is asked to listen as one who ‘has been [and still is] going
round/protecting Chryse’, who ‘is the protector of Chryse’. Significantly,
elsewhere a comparable perfect παρμέμβλωκε is even combined with the
adverb αἰεί ‘always’, which would not make sense if a single act of
assistance were referred to:62
δοιαὶ μὲν Μενελάῳ ἀρήγονες εἰσὶ θεάων,
Ἥρη τ᾿ Ἀργείη καὶ Ἀλαλκομενηῒς Ἀθήνη·
ἀλλ᾿ ἤτοι ταὶ νόσφι καθήμεναι εἰσορόωσαι
τέρπεσθον, τῷ δ᾿ αὖτε φιλομμειδὴς Ἀφροδίτη
αἰεὶ παρμέμβλωκε καὶ αὐτοῦ κῆρας ἀμύνει. (Il. 4.7–11)
“Menelaos has two helpers among the goddesses, Hera of Argos and
Athena the Guardian; but these are now enjoying themselves, sitting apart
and watching, while Aphrodite the Ever-Smiling is always his assistant and
is warding off from him death.”
Just as the perfect παρμέμβλωκε parallels the present ἀμύνει in these lines,
so the perfect ἀμφιβέβηκας in Il. 1.37 is more reminiscent of a present
(ἀμφιβαίνεις) than of an aorist (ἀμφέβης). With a proper resultative perfect,
this would not be the case.63 However, there is also an important differ-
ence. A present ἀμφιβαίνεις would not be equally stative or non-dynamic.
It would tell us that Apollo is at the moment protecting Chryse, but it would
not be safe to infer from it anything about the god’s lasting attitude to
Chryse in the past and future. By contrast, ἀμφιβέβηκε ‘represents a state
which is situated in a “general present”’.64 In the same vein, Berrettoni has
observed that a Homeric perfect ἀλάλημαι ‘am wandering, erring’ differs
61
Chantraine (1927a: 14), against Meister (1921: 122–3).
62
On the common combination of αἰεί/αἰέν (as well as ἔτι ‘still’, οὔπω ‘not yet’, νῦν ‘now’, ἤδη
‘already’) with the perfect, see Meltzer (1909: 349–50) and Berrettoni (1972a: 68, 77–81), and on the
passage under discussion also Romagno (2005: 90–1); cf. further 5.22.
63
Cf. Kieckers (1912), Chantraine (1953: 198).
64
Berrettoni (1972a: 94), also referring to ἀμφιβέβηκε next to pres. ἱκάνει in Od. 12.73–5 οἱ δὲ δύω
σκόπελοι ὁ μὲν οὐρανὸν εὐρὺν ἱκάνει | ὀξείῃ κορυφῇ, νεφέλη δέ μιν ἀμφιβέβηκε | κυανέη ‘of these two
rocks, one reaches the broad heaven with its pointed tip, and a dark cloud envelops it’. Here the use
of a perfect is more ‘necessary’ with ἀμφιβέβηκε than with ἱκάνει to bring out the timeless nature of
the situation: a rock cannot literally go and dynamically ‘reach’ anything, but a cloud could in
principle constantly ‘move around’ the tip of a rock. Cf. Berrettoni (1972a: 74) on Od. 6.42–6, where
presents refer to ‘a tensive and dynamic process in the atmospheric verbs that refer to the world “of
men”’, but perfects to ‘a static and perennial condition that is well suited to the representation of the
seat of the gods as unaffected by the “processive” course of time’.
from the corresponding present ἀλάομαι in that ‘the present stem will
contain the indication of a real act of “wandering around”, which can be
localised in time and be considered, above all, in its tensive processuality’,
whereas ‘the perfect . . . will represent a permanent and static condition
that is seen as typical (even if just momentarily) for the person of whom
one speaks’.65
5.17 Perfects of ‘Lasting Effect’

To acknowledge the para-nominal character of some old perfects, both
transitive and intransitive, does not of course mean that every Homeric
perfect can be interpreted like this. Having problematised the notion of
an ‘end point’ in Wackernagel’s function (iv), we must not therefore call
into question also his function (iii), referring to the lasting effect of a past
action on the subject (5.14). Many cases like Il. 2.799 ἀλλ᾿ οὔ πω τοιόνδε
τοσόνδέ τε λαὸν ὄπωπα ‘but I have never so far seen an army of this sort
and size’ or Il. 17.542 ὥς τίς τε λέων κατὰ ταῦρον ἐδηδώς ‘like a lion who
has eaten a bull’ unquestionably envisage specific/single past eventuali-
ties. However, for our further discussion it is important to realise that
function (iii) is in no way more basic or fundamental than the other
functions, notably (i), where no specific/single past eventuality is of
relevance. On the contrary, it has justly been noted that the function of
indicating a state is presupposed by that of indicating anteriority, but not
vice versa.66
Consequently, to translate Homeric perfects with presents or present
copula + nominal form (be it an adjective or an agent noun: 5.16) is usually
more to the point than to opt for more ambiguous alternatives involving
Engl. ‘have’ (e.g., τέθνηκε ‘is dead’ vs. ‘has died’, λέλοιπε ‘is away/gone’ vs.
‘has left/gone’, γέγονε ‘is’ vs. ‘has become’, ἕστηκε ‘stands’ vs. ‘has stood
up’, εἰλήλουθε ‘is present’ vs. ‘has come’, βέβρυχε ‘roars’, etc.).
Interestingly, this may be true even where a function (iii) interpretation
is natural, as at Il. 15.90 (Themis to Hera):
Ἥρη, τίπτε βέβηκας; ἀτυζομένῃ δὲ ἔοικας.
“Hera, why are you here? You seem upset.”
65
Berrettoni (1972a: 84): see e.g. the perfects in Il. 23.74, Od. 11.167 (with αἰέν) vs. the presents in Il.
10.141, Od. 3.73. For more examples, see Berrettoni (1972a: 98–103) (e.g., ἀκαχίζομαι ‘grieve’ vs.
ἀκάχημαι ‘am aggrieved’, γηθέω ‘rejoice’ vs. γέγηθα ‘am happy’, μέλει ‘matters’ vs. μέμηλε which
‘indicates above all a characteristic feature that is innate and valid at any moment’); cf. also Romagno
(2005: 74) and Willi (2007: 42–3).
66
Berrettoni (1972a: 161).
232 The Perfect
Given the paradigmatic connection of βέβηκας with βαίνω/ἔβην, ‘why have
you come?’ would be a possible rendering as well. However, the same
translation would be appropriate if an augmented aorist ἔβης had been
used; for in Homer the augmented aorist, too, is often interested in the
result of a past action (7.8–7.9). And yet, only the perfect conveys the
permanent/stative nature of the result. Thus, a translation ‘why are you
here?’ underscores that the journey and/or arrival as such are of no more
interest to Themis than, say, the moment when Hera began to seem upset
(cf. perf. ἔοικας). All Themis is really concerned with is that Hera is present
and upset now.67
Having said that, especially where prototypically telic roots are involved,
there is not much to separate such readings from ones that give more
prominence to the past action implied by the present state. As soon as only
a little attention was paid to specific/single past eventualities, the stative
focus of the category was in danger. In that sense, Wackernagel’s function
(iii) represents a first – albeit tentative – step towards the classical resulta-
tive perfect and its even later consequences, the functional merger of the
perfect and aorist in post-classical times.
5.18 The PIE Perfect as a ‘Nactostatic’ Category?

Although these later developments are not central to our investigation, they
help us to understand what must have happened to the PIE perfect in
languages like Latin where ancient aorists and perfects fell together in a
single category (cf. 3.23, 5.24). However, the suggestion that Wackernagel’s
function (iii) is secondary as compared to the more exclusively stative-
presentic functions of the perfect may raise some eyebrows, not least because
the roots of function (iii) must go back to Proto-Indo-European itself. In his
study of the perfect in Indo-Iranian, next to Greek the Indo-European
branch in which the perfect survives most distinctly, Kümmel summarises
the communis opinio:
In its oldest function, in Indo-Iranian too the perfect – that is, originally, the
perfect stem – signalled the state of the carrier of the action/first actant
which is produced by the (usually completed) action expressed by the root,
67
Cf. Berrettoni (1972a: 87–93) with similar observations on τίπτ(ε) εἰλήλουθας ‘why are you here’ vs.
τίπτ(ε) ἦλθες ‘why have you come’ (e.g., Il. 1.202, 6.254 vs. Il. 7.24–5, 13.250): ‘in the first case the
question refers to the reason not only for coming but also for staying, whereas in the other case this
second element is irrelevant’. In theory, τίπτ᾿ ἦλθες καὶ ἀπῆλθες ‘why have you come and gone
again?’ is possible, but †τίπτ᾿ εἰλήλουθας καὶ ἀπειλήλουθας ‘why are you present and absent?’ is not;
and, as Berrettoni (1972a: 89) notes, a combination of the perfect with πῶς; ‘how?’ (†‘how are you
here?’) is also excluded.
i.e., the state reached. For this Aktionsart, Gotō [1997: 169] has proposed the
term nactostative, which I would like to modify here into nactostatic in analogy
with static. In this function, the perfect syntactically corresponds to a present
and may be used, like the latter, in a general/timeless or an actual manner. The
past event, though factually implied, plays no essential role, its point in time is
irrelevant. In this use, the perfect indicative is not classified as a category in the
dimension of tense, and so it does not have a tight paradigmatic connection
with a present, aorist, etc. It shows an independent meaning, which differs from
other verbal stems by its Aktionsart, so the perfect is here derived as an Aktionsart
formation. Since the special meaning applies not only to the indicative but to
the perfect stem in general, one may also derive from it a preterite and modal
formations, just as with ‘real’ presents of other Aktionsarten.68
The main problem with this presentation is the unconditional reference to a
‘past event’ as Kümmel talks of a ‘state reached’ (“erreichter Zustand”) or
attaches the label ‘nactostatic’69 – rather than just ‘stative/static’ – to the perfect
in general. Not considered is the possibility that examples like ἀλλ᾿ οὔ πω
τοιόνδε τοσόνδέ τε λαὸν ὄπωπα (5.17) could be ‘nactostatic’ by mere
implicature, not because ‘nactostativity’ is inscribed into the verbal category
as such.
To illustrate this, let us again assume that ὄπωπα essentially means
something like ‘I am a seer [someone who habitually sees]’ (5.16).70
Because this ‘stative’ quality is contextually anchored in a specific seeing
(or, as it happens, not-seeing) eventuality (the ‘seeing of such an army’), a
‘nactostatic’ interpretation naturally arises. Consider again (a) John is a
boar-hunter: under normal circumstances, this will of course imply that
John has become a boar-hunter at some point, and presumably also that
John has already hunted boars. Even so, it does not convey exactly the same
meaning as the uncontroversially ‘nactostatic’ variant (b) John has hunted a
boar/boars. Although (b) is also true only if John has hunted boars at least
once in the past, (a) alone implies that boar-hunting is a usual/habitual,
68
Kümmel (2000a: 66–7) (translated); similarly e.g. Delbrück (1897: 177), Rodenbusch (1907: 132–4;
1907/8), Renou (1925a: 7), Aitzetmüller (1962: 258), K. H. Schmidt (1964b: 5), Rix (1977: 137–8; 1988:
103). Contrast Meltzer (1909: esp. 345–50, 355–6), Cowgill (1975: 563), Perel’muter (1977: esp. 23–8,
40–3), Austefjord (1979: 211), Meid (1978: 32–3; 1983: 330), Ruipérez (1984).
69
This is equivalent to ‘subjective resultative’ in Nedjalkov and Jaxontov’s (1988: 9) terminology.
Because their ‘object(ive)-resultative perfects’ have long been known as ‘resultative perfects’ in
Ancient Greek linguistics (5.14), the labels ‘nactostatic’ and ‘resultative’ will continue to be used in
the following discussion.
70
Cf. Hermann’s (1943: 622) rendering of εἴ που ὄπωπας in Od. 3.93 by ‘if, through having seen
somewhere, you have him before your eyes’ (“wenn du von dem irgendwo Gesehenhaben ihn vor
Augen hast”); this is criticised as ‘contorted’ by Berrettoni (1972a: 36), but Berrettoni (1972a: 113–14)
himself later paraphrases ὄπωπα as ‘I have seen and still have before my eyes’ (“ho visto e ho ancora
negli occhi”).
234 The Perfect
perhaps even professional, activity of John’s – in other words, that John has
the permanent quality of someone who hunts and has hunted boars,
although he may not be engaged in boar-hunting at present.
Yet, certain eventualities are singular/specific by definition. Actions like
‘dying’ or ‘(not) so far seeing an army of this sort and size’ cannot be
repeated by a given person. A ‘nactostatic’ value is therefore automatically
attached to τέθνηκα or οὔ πω τοιόνδε τοσόνδέ τε λαὸν ὄπωπα: for the
quality that characterises a ‘dier/not-so-far-seer of an army of this sort and
size’ can only be predicated on someone who fulfils the necessary condition
of having performed the activity the one time he/she could possibly per-
form it. In other words, a ‘nactostatic’ value develops by semantic and
pragmatic implicature from a purely ‘static/stative’ one.
That this is regularly the case with telic eventualities can be gathered
from an example like (c) Mario Vargas Llosa is the winner of the 2010 Nobel
Prize in Literature. There is no question of Vargas Llosa ever winning again
the 2010 Nobel Prize. Thus, alhough formally (c) is closer to (a) than to (b)
above (boar-hunter ~ winner), the interpretation of (c) is as nactostatic as
that of (d) Mario Vargas Llosa has won the 2010 Nobel Prize in Literature.
The big question arising for the Greek and Indo-European perfect is
this, then: if its frequent nactostatic value, especially with telic eventuali-
ties, may be a simple implicature based on an underlying purely stative
value, is there anything to suggest that the ‘nacto-’ part of the conventional
definition is indeed epiphenomenal? Those who believe in nactostatic
primacy will not of course easily accept the interpretation suggested in
5.16 for cases like Homeric ἐσθλὰ ἔοργεν (~ ‘is a doer of noble things’,
rather than ‘has done noble things’) or Χρύσην ἀμφιβέβηκας (~ ‘you are the
protector of Chryse’, rather than ‘you have protected Chryse’). Hence,
little can be built on such instances alone. But if there were archaic usages
of the perfect that are distinctly non-nactostatic and hard to explain on the
basis of an intrinsically nactostatic category, then this would speak against
descriptions like Kümmel’s capturing the real essence of the PIE perfect.
5.19 The Problem of Root (A)telicity

The task of ascertaining (or not) the existence of such non-nactostatic
usages is not straightforward. The main difficulty lies in our inability to
assign with any certainty ‘basic’ meanings to verbal roots (2.4). If, for
example, we attribute the telic meaning ‘take a stand’ to *steh2-, a PIE
perfect such as (3sg.) *ste-stoh2-e (>→ Gr. ἕστηκε, Ved. tastháu, Lat. stetī)
may mean ‘stands’ only because this perfect is nactostatic (‘s/he has taken a
stand’ > ‘stands’); but if we maintain that telicity is ultimately a phrasal, not
radical, property and if we therefore operate with a root meaning ‘stand’
whose telicity is not specified, *ste-stoh2-e ‘stands’ does not necessarily point
to a nactostatic origin.71
The practical relevance of these matters may be brought out with a second
example. Homeric μέμονε (Table 5.1), with its frequent participle μεμαώς
(< *me-mn̥ -u̯ ōs), principally expresses the keen intention, mental aim, or desire
of someone to do something, or the concrete/local aim in going somewhere:72
ὣς εἰπὼν ὤτρυνε πάρος μεμαυῖαν Ἀθήνην (Il. 4.73, etc.)
Speaking thus, he urged on Athena, who was keen anyway.
ἀλλ᾿ ἄγε, πῶς μέμονας πόλεμον καταπαυσέμεν ἀνδρῶν; (Il. 7.36)
“Come on, how do you intend to stop the war among men?”
πῇ μέματον; τί σφῶϊν ἐνὶ φρεσὶ μαίνεται ἦτορ; (Il. 8.413)
“Where are you aiming? Why is your heart raving in your mind?”
The root *men- also appears in nouns such as Gr. μένος ‘urge’ (< *men-os;
cf. Skt. mánas- ‘mind’) or Lat. mens ‘mind’ (< *m(e)n-ti-s). With LIV
435, s.v. 1. *men-, we may therefore posit a basic cognitive meaning
‘formulate a thought’ (“einen Gedanken fassen”). But again, does this
have to be telic – ‘formulate a thought’ rather than ‘think’? As with
*steh2-, the existence of a root aorist in Ved. 3sg. mid. ámata, Av. mantā
‘thought/thinks of sth.’ need not prove much.73 Moreover, in this case ˙
there is a strong argument for the opposite view. LIV 437, s.v. 2. *men-,
posits a second root *men- with the atelic meaning ‘stay, wait’ (cf.
Table 4.1: Gr. μένω, μίμνω, etc.). Logically, the separation of two
homonymous roots can never be disproved. However, if we assume
that *men- could occur in atelic contexts as easily as in telic ones, the
need to operate with two *men- roots disappears. From atelic ‘wait’, a
cognitive value ‘intend keenly’ would develop without difficulty (as
with Engl. wait in the sense of ‘look forward with desire’).74 And if
this is so, we are again not entitled to classify a perfect such as μέμονα as
71
The issue is complicated further by the question exactly which roots with prototypically non-
dynamic meanings had no perfects (5.2, with fn. 7): was e.g. *steh2- more similar to *h1es- ‘be’ or to
*u̯ elp- ‘hope’ in this respect?
72
R. Führer in LfgrE 3.121, s.v. μέμονα, translates ‘strive (somewhere), feel a spontanenous urge’
(“(wohin) streben, spontanen . . . Drang haben”).
73
The i̯-present Ved. mányate (~ Gr. μαίνομαι ‘rage’) does not mean ‘is forming a thought’, but simply
‘thinks’.
74
Identifying the two roots thus does not require Carruba’s (1986: 123) artificial semantic chain
‘“I have waited, hesitated”, hence “I think”’.
236 The Perfect
intrinsically nactostatic (‘have formed a thought and hold it now’),
rather than as purely stative (‘think, intend’). But of course, by merely
holding the door open for both options, we have not yet produced a
decisive argument against nactostatic primacy either.
5.20 Intensive Perfects

In order to make real progress, we must consider well-established uses of
the Homeric perfect for which a nactostatic interpretation is more difficult
to defend. Firstly, this is true of the ‘intensive perfects’, which are com-
monly found with verbs expressing a sound or noise (Chantraine’s group
(ix) in 5.1575). Two representative examples are given here:
ὡς δ᾿ ὅτ᾿ ἐπὶ προχοῇσι διιπετέος ποταμοῖο
βέβρυχεν μέγα κῦμα ποτὶ ῥόον, ἀμφὶ δέ τ᾿ ἄκραι
ἠϊόνες βοόωσιν ἐρευγομένης ἁλὸς ἔξω,
τόσσῃ ἄρα Τρῶες ἰαχῇ ἴσαν (Il. 17.263–6)
As when the huge sea-waves roar against the current at the mouth of a
fast-flowing river, and the headlands of the shore resound as the sea
belches out, with such shouting the Trojans went forth.
σμερδαλέω δὲ λέοντε δύ᾿ ἐν πρώτῃσι βόεσσιν
ταῦρον ἐρύγμηλον ἐχέτην· ὃ δὲ μακρὰ μεμυκώς
εἵλκετο, τὸν δὲ κύνες μετεκίαθον ἠδ᾿ αἰζηοί. (Il. 18.579–81)
[A]nd two dreadful lions held a bellowing bull among the cows at the
front; he was being dragged away, lowing loud, while the dogs and
young men went after him.
In neither passage is a nactostatic reading plausible. The point of βέβρυχεν
and μεμυκώς is not that the waves make a noise whose effect persists (†‘have
roared against the current’) or that the bull lows and acquires a different state
by doing so (†‘having lowed loud’). Rather, the waves are continuously – as
it were, by nature – roaring (cf. the parallel pres. βοόωσιν), and the bull is
continuously lowing as he is being dragged away. The states or qualities
referred to are those of roaring/lowing now, not those reached by having
roared/lowed in the past. As Berrettoni observes, more often than not such
intensive perfects are ‘characterised by their reference to a “general present”
or, better, to a timeless and permanent situation’ (as in our first passage); and
there is a marked tendency for them to occur as participles (as in our second
passage), the participle being ‘the form which is most strongly endowed with
75
Cf. Chantraine (1953: 197); on the existence of Greek ‘intensive’ perfects more generally, see Meltzer
(1909) and Kieckers (1912), after Curtius (1877–80: 2.172–8) and others.
the qualifying, semi-adjectival function of indicating a characteristic or a
state’.76 So,
on the basis of the few interpretative elements offered by the contextual
distribution of these perfects, . . . it seems possible to think that these forms
too were able to indicate a “state”, or more precisely a characteristic and
typical condition, independently of its actualisation at a real moment in
time.
5.21 ‘Lexicalised Perfecto-Presents’

Secondly, like these ‘intensive perfects’, a perfect like ἄνωγα (Table 5.3) in
Il. 10.120 is hard to interpret as anything other than a purely presentic (but
stative) form:
ὦ γέρον, ἄλλοτε μέν σε καὶ αἰτιάασθαι ἄνωγα
“[O]ld man, I am telling you to blame [him] another time.”
Agamemnon is here not claiming to be in the state of someone who has (in
the past) told Nestor to blame Menelaos only when the latter deserves it. He
indicates that his current state is that of someone who tells Nestor now
(whether or not he has done so in the past as well). Such instances, which can
easily be multiplied also by reference to verbs of feeling (e.g., ἔολπα ‘hope’
next to pres. ἔλπομαι ‘hope’77), therefore fall under Wackernagel’s function
(i) (reference to present states tout court), not the nactostatic function (iii)
(5.14). In his discussion of similar Indo-Iranian perfects, Kümmel speaks of
‘lexicalised perfecto-presents’:
In Old Indo-Iranian, the derived perfect is often synchronically classified as
a present, and all the tense/mood forms that are built to it are used like
present forms. There is no paradigmatic opposition to a present/aorist:
within the system, the perfect is functionally no perfect at all, but only
displays the shape of a perfect. . . . By definition, the type is no longer
productive and consists only of inherited stems.78
Kümmel gives a list of relevant Indo-Iranian items, among which noise/
sound verbs (vāvaś- ‘scream longingly’, mī̆ máy- ‘bellow’) feature along-
side many others (e.g., ā́ h- ‘say’, bibháy- ‘be afraid’, mamán- ‘intend’ ~
76
Berrettoni (1972a: 147), also with the following quotation (translated).
77
Merely in order to preserve a nactostatic reading of the perfect, LIV 680, s.v. *u̯ elp-, suggests a
meaning ‘get hopeful’ (“Hoffnung schöpfen”), not ‘hope’, even for this root, which is attested
verbally only in Greek. Such classifications culminate in the unsustainable claim of Haug (2008: 65)
that “the perfect is restricted to telic verbs which express a change of state in the subject”. For a full
list of Greek examples, stressing their semantic diversity, see Rosenkranz (1980: 276–8).
78
Kümmel (2000a: 69) (translated).
238 The Perfect
Gr. μέμονα79). Their lack of paradigmatic correspondences with presents/
aorists reinforces the impression that they represent archaisms, and are
not merely built to fill previously empty paradigmatic slots.80
Being an advocate of nactostatic primacy, Kümmel sees these ‘lexicalised
perfecto-presents’ as a peculiar subgroup of nactostatic perfects, which
eventually turn into true presents: ‘Where the stems survive for a long
time, they are normally reanalysed and transformed into a present, i.e., the
morphology is adjusted to the function.’81 In Greek, the development of
ἄνωγα ‘order’ would be a case in point. The transformation of this perfect
into a present (ἀνώγω), apparently through the reinterpretation of plu-
perfects like ἤνωγον as imperfects (5.12), already starts in Homer if
passages like Il. 19.101–2 are reliable:
κέκλυτέ μοι, πάντές τε θεοὶ πᾶσαί τε θέαιναι,
ὄφρ᾿ εἴπω τά με θυμὸς ἐνὶ στήθεσσιν ἀνώγει.
“Listen to me, all you gods and all you goddesses, so that I may say what
my mind in my breast bids me to say.”
If ἄνωγα were nactostatic to begin with, its meaning ‘order’ would have
arisen from ‘have said (authoritatively)’ (LIV 256, s.v. 2. *h2eg̑ -). We would
then witness, as with Kümmel’s explanation of the Indo-Iranian ‘perfecto-
presents’, a transformation [nactostatic perfect] > [(stative)
perfecto-present].82 But can we really postulate the same for ‘intensive’
perfects like βέβρυχα, μέμυκα? By doing so, we would be forced to posit a
meaning ‘start roaring/lowing’ for βρῡ- and μῡ- respectively: for only ‘have
started roaring/lowing’, but not simple ‘have roared/lowed’, is roughly
equivalent to presentic ‘roar/low’. At the same time, βρῡ- and μῡ- are
clearly onomatopoetic (5.7). So how should the putative inceptive value
‘start roaring/lowing’ have arisen?
One way of cutting the Gordian knot, and of saving nactostatic primacy,
would be to separate the ‘intensive’ perfects from ‘real perfects’.83 However,
79
Cf. Kümmel (2000a: 364–6).
80
Similarly, Gr. μυκάομαι (Od. 10.413 μυκώμεναι) and (post-Homeric) βρυχάομαι do not call into
question the antiquity of the ‘intensive’ perfects μέμυκα and βέβρυχα (5.15): the presents are clearly
secondary formations built with the productive suffix *-āi̯e/o- > -αε/ο- (1.11).
81
Kümmel (2000a: 69); for Greek, cf. most explicitly Rodenbusch (1907: 132–4; 1907/8).
82
Cf. E. Dahl (2010: 358–9), who claims that “[t]he stative present reading of the Early Vedic Perfect
Indicative may . . . be regarded as the lexically conditioned variant of the resultative reading, . . .
being restricted to instantaneous achievement verbs”; but he concedes that the latter restriction may
not be valid.
83
Thus for example K. H. Schmidt (1964b: 4), Tischler (1976: 18 n. 49), Tichy (1983: 63–75), Di
Giovine (1990: 81–6; 2010: 199–200), Drinka (2003: 91–3); contrast Wackernagel (1926a: 166–7),
this is a last resort when the two types formally match each other. Not only
are the ‘intensive’ perfects reduplicated in the normal way, rather than with
the fuller reduplication of ‘intensive’ presents (4.17), they also contain the
synchronically anomalous perfect endings. But if they therefore are
accepted as true perfects, they constitute a first piece of evidence against
an intrinsically nactostatic character of the category as a whole.
5.22 Evolutionary Sequences

A second piece emerges when we seek to combine modelling economy with
typological considerations. For perfects that do stand in a paradigmatic
opposition to aorists/presents, Kümmel postulates not the above transfor-
mation [nactostatic perfect] > [(stative) perfecto-present], but an
alternative pathway, [nactostatic perfect] > [resultative perfect]:
The original PIE perfect of state, as it is still attested in Homer, merely
implied a past action, which had preceded the state referred to. But as long
as this action was implied, i.e., was at least understood alongside, it was
possible to shift the focus from the resulting state towards the past action;
this procedure may be termed resultative metonymy. In this way, the perfect
acquired a temporal function with past reference, in which even the resul-
tative character of the formation could finally be lost. The development
went through several intermediate steps, which are still recognisable in
Indo-Iranian. . . . At first, the present reference was retained: the perfect
was used either comprehensively for actions that reach right into the present
or for actions where there is a result in the present.84
For the former of the two options mentioned at the end, Kümmel speaks of
a ‘continuative use’ (cf. 5.14), and he compares what is also known as a
‘perfect of persistent situation’:85
Strictly speaking, in this case there is no state reached, but a summary is
given of actions that are carried out again and again (habitually and/or
iteratively); their continuous repetition is, as it were, regarded as a state,
which then still lasts in the present. Meanwhile, the basic meaning and
Aktionsart are retained. Thus, every verb whose semantics allow iteration or
continuation might in principle form such a perfect (but, e.g., ‘to die’ only
when negated). This use of the perfect emerges especially with durative
verbs, and in the earliest textual layer its dominance among these is almost
complete.86
Chantraine (1927a: 16–19), Berrettoni (1972a: 145–9), Rosenkranz (1980), Ruipérez (1982: 51–74),
Romagno (2005: 74–8).
84
Kümmel (2000a: 71–2) (translated). 85 Comrie (1976a: 60).
86
240 The Perfect
As a Vedic example Kümmel cites, among others, RV 2.28.4cd (with
Kümmel’s translation):
ná śrāmyanti ná ví mucantiy eté
váyo ná paptū raghuyā́ párijman
Diese [Ströme] ermüden nicht noch spannen sie aus, wie Vögel fliegen
sie [immer schon] schnell in ihrem Umlauf. (‘These [rivers] do not tire
nor do they slacken, like birds they fly [as always] quickly in their
circulation.’)
The addition of “immer schon” is justified by the fact that adverbial
expressions like purā́ (. . .) nūnám ‘previously/hitherto [and] now’ or
satrā́ ‘continuously = as always’ may occur with this type of perfect (cf.
5.16 on Gr. αἰεί).87 With regard to purā́ , it should however be stressed that
this adverb is also used with the present indicative in Vedic; so it does not
entail a past reference point any more than, say, Engl. since time immemor-
ial. It is therefore misleading to treat the ‘perfect of persistent situation’ as
an ‘intermediate step’ on the way to the resultative perfect. On the con-
trary, as Kümmel’s translation of RV 2.28.4cd correctly indicates, the focus
is exclusively presentic and thus in line with what we have seen in 5.16 for
Greek. Whereas nactostatic perfects do imply that a specific past action has
taken place, such specificity is not given here. In no way does the perfect
paptū convey more information about the past than the presents śrāmyanti
and mucanti.
Moving on, Kümmel finds a relative of the ‘perfect of persistent
situation’ (or ‘continuative perfect’) in the ‘comprehensive perfect’,
where ‘the perfect encompasses the entire past up to the boundary with
the present . . ., so the past actions have just been completed. . . . In Vedic,
purā́ “previously, hitherto” is found in this case without following
nūnám.’88 This corresponds to Wackernagel’s function (iv) (5.14), and
Kümmel explicitly compares the Homeric ἐσθλὰ ἔοργε passage. The
following Vedic example illustrates how the past may enter the picture
here:
ná yásya te śavasāna
sakhyám ānám śa mártiyah
nákih śávām si˙ te naśat (RV
˙ 8.68.8)
˙ ˙
87
Cf. Delbrück (1897: 214–16).
88
Kümmel (2000a: 73), with reference to Delbrück (1897: 214–15, 272).
Du mächtiger, dessen Gefolgschaft kein Sterblicher jemals erreicht hat,
niemand wird (je) deine Kräfte erreichen. (‘You powerful one, whose
companionship no mortal has ever reached, no one will (ever) reach your
powers.’)
Given the contrast with the aorist subjunctive naśat ‘will reach’, the perf.
ānám śa indeed refers just to the past up to the present, but not beyond.
˙ it makes sense to follow Kümmel here and see in such instances,
Hence,
and in the ‘comprehensive perfect’ more widely, a transitional point
between the ‘perfect of persistent situation’ and the ‘resultative perfect’.
All that needs to be questioned is the first ‘>’ of Kümmel’s sequence as
represented in Fig. 5.2.
[NACTOSTATIC PERFECT]
> [PERFECT OF PERSISTENT SITUATION]
> [COMPREHENSIVE PERFECT]
> [RESULTATIVE PERFECT]
Fig. 5.2. Semantic evolution of the PIE perfect with nactostatic primacy
In view of the preceding remarks on the ‘perfect of persistent

situation’, it is preferable to rearrange things as in Fig. 5.3, where
the semantic contribution of referencing a past action gradually
increases.89
[PERFECT OF PERSISTENT SITUATION] (no implication about specific past action)
> [COMPREHENSIVE PERFECT] (new: possible discontinuation ‘from now on’)
> [NACTOSTATIC PERFECT] (new: implication about specific past action)
> [RESULTATIVE PERFECT] (new: focus on specific past action)
Fig. 5.3. Semantic evolution of the PIE perfect without nactostatic primacy
89
See in this sense already Meltzer (1909: 347–8), Austefjord (1979: 213–14), K. H. Schmidt (1980:
101–2).
242 The Perfect
5.23 ‘Perfecto-Presents’ in the Evolutionary Sequence
The sequence sketched in Fig. 5.3 must not be interpreted in a strictly
chronological manner. We have seen that nactostatic perfects naturally
arise by implicature wherever a ‘persistent’ or ‘comprehensive’ interpretation
is impossible or unlikely (5.18). Since such an implicature will rarely be
triggered in atelic contexts, Kümmel’s observation that durative verbs are
prominently represented among the ‘perfects of persistent situation’ is
unsurprising. This constitutes the counterpart to nactostatic perfects being
typically found with change-of-state verbs.90 So, Fig. 5.3 merely represents
the logical sequencing between the different perfect types. Any ‘nactostatic
perfect’ can be as old as a ‘perfect of persistent situation’. All that is claimed is
that its value results from an additional semantic operation.
Importantly, the inverse would not be true.91 If the nactostatic value had
been primary in the PIE perfect, nothing would have made atelic verbs
(e.g., ‘sing’) form ‘perfects of persistent situation’. On the contrary, for the
Romance languages it has been suggested that the extension of an originally
nactostatic type to atelic verbs was instrumental in the rise of the temporal
(anterior) perfect:
Ernout and Thomas 1951 cite verbs such as ‘discover’, ‘learn’, ‘persuade’, and
‘compel’ as occurring with the habēre resultative in Ciceronian Latin. From
this point, the construction spread to dynamic verbs of all types, which
forces an interpretation not so much of a state resulting from an action but
of an action with some lasting relevance. A construction that has spread to
this point would be considered an anterior.92
Moreover, the sequence in Fig. 5.3 has a further advantage over that in
Fig. 5.2. In 5.21, we saw that Kümmel postulates for his ‘lexicalised
perfecto-presents’ a separate development [nactostatic perfect] >
[(stative) perfecto-present]. In other words, the nactostatic perfect
would split into one branch yielding purely presentic perfects (ἄνωγα,
μέμυκε, etc.) and another branch eventually producing the temporal
perfects of Hellenistic Greek – without there being a reason for the
initial split (Fig. 5.4).
90
Bybee, Perkins, and Pagliuca (1994: 69); cf. Romagno (2005: 55–7, 81–9, 114–16), Randall and Jones
(2015: 154–5).
91
Pace E. Dahl (2010: 359–61) on the Vedic perfect; like Kümmel, or Ruipérez (1982: 62–7; 1984) for
Greek, Dahl finds that “the universal reading is mainly found with Perfect Indicative forms of atelic
predicates”.
92
Bybee, Perkins, and Pagliuca (1994: 69), who use the term ‘resultative’ for what is here called
‘nactostatic’: “Resultatives signal that a state exists as a result of a past action” (Bybee, Perkins, and
Pagliuca 1994: 54).
[NACTOSTATIC PERFECT]
[(STATIVE) PERFECTO-PRESENT] [PERFECT OF PERSISTENT SITUATION]

> [TEMPORAL PERFECT]
Fig. 5.4. ‘Perfecto-presents’ in the evolution of the PIE perfect (after Fig. 5.2)
That there is significant functional overlap between the ‘perfects of persis-

tent situation’ and the (stative) perfecto-presents, including their ‘intensive’
instantiations, can easily be seen if we compare, for example, Gr. βέβρυχεν
μέγα κῦμα ‘the huge sea-waves roar’ in Il. 17.264 (5.20) with Ved. váyo ná
paptū ‘like birds they fly’ in RV 2.28.4d (5.22). It is not clear how Kümmel’s
class of ‘lexicalised perfecto-presents’ could ever be semantically told apart from
‘perfects of persistent situation’ (where the ‘persistence’ is conceptualised as a
state). Kümmel’s own statement on ā́ h- ‘say’, the first of his ‘perfecto-presents’,
is revealing:
The perfect ā́ ha predominantly shows a general/timeless use; it is employed
especially to convey the contents of an utterance in cases where the exact
placement in time of the utterance itself is irrelevant and only the contents
of the utterance and their continued validity and effect matter (cf. Renou
1925: 11). This usage is particularly frequent with the 3pl. āhúr, which largely
corresponds to Fr. on dit, Germ. man sagt [‘they say’].93
The generalising function of Ved. āhúr ‘they say’ is directly comparable
with the generalising use of ‘perfects of persistent situation’. In RV 2.28.4d too,
what matters is not the temporal location of the birds’ flying but its time-
lessness and permanence.94 But if at least some perfecto-presents thus become
inseparable from perfects of persistent situation, the split sequencing of
Fig. 5.4 no longer makes sense. Instead, we should refine Fig. 5.3, start from
a single95 [(stative) perfecto-present]/[perfect of persistent situation]
93
94
Cf. 5.20 with the quotation from Berrettoni (1972a: 84).
95
Note that the equation of ‘(stative) perfecto-presents’ with ‘perfects of persistent situation’ is not
invalidated by the latter not being internally stative when they refer to ‘activities’ (in the sense of
Vendler 1957, as distinguished from ‘states’ by the feature [+dynamic]: e.g., the flight of birds). The
perfecto-presents also include lexemes like ἄνωγα ‘order’ or ‘intensive perfects’ which refer to
eventualities that are not in the same way ‘stative’ as, e.g., ἔολπα ‘hope’. Similarly, John is a boar-
hunter can be termed ‘stative’ even if hunting boars is a dynamic eventuality (whereas John is a
believer is both formally ‘stative’ and refers to a stative eventuality). Whether the label ‘(stative)
perfecto-present’ or ‘perfect of persistent situation’ seems more adequate therefore depends on the
eventuality type involved.
244 The Perfect
value, and diagnose an unsplit sequence that evolves from the purely presentic
towards the purely anterior (Fig. 5.5).
[(STATIVE) PERFECTO-PRESENT] / [PERFECT OF PERSISTENT SITUATION]
> [NACTOSTATIC PERFECT]
> [TEMPORAL (ANTERIOR) PERFECT]
Fig. 5.5. ‘Perfecto-presents’ in the evolution of the PIE perfect (revised)
5.24 A Slavic Comparandum

Typological comparanda enhance the plausibility of the sequence in Fig. 5.5.
That temporal (anterior) perfects (i.e., perfects used as simple preterites, for
instance in narrative) frequently have their roots in stative or nactostatic
constructions is well-known.96 As mentioned before (3.23, 5.18), in Italic and
Celtic original perfects and aorists have functionally merged. Traces of the
earlier state of affairs of course persist, for instance in Latin ‘perfecto-presents’
like ōdī ‘hate’ or meminī ‘remember’ (5.4) and in certain non-narrative usages
of the Latin perfect; but by and large the situation in classical Latin is more
reminiscent of Hellenistic than of Homeric Greek.
What languages like Latin do not reveal is the positioning of the
‘nactostatic perfect’ before or after the ‘perfect of persistent situation’. In
order to test the argument of 5.22–5.23, we must turn to languages where
either the morphology of a perfectoid category reveals something about its
origins or where a set of functional parallels within such a category mirrors
the distribution posited here for the PIE perfect.
For the former option, a look at Slavic is instructive. In the modern Slavic
languages, the preterite is formed with a suffix -l- < *-l(o/ā)- (e.g., Russ. fem.
nes-la ‘carried, brought’, to nesti ‘carry, bring’). The participial antecedents of
this formation are reflected by the endings, which agree with gender, and by
the joint use of the copula in some Slavic languages (e.g., OCS masc. neslъ
jesmь ‘I have carried’). In other Indo-European languages, the same suffix
*-lois also continued: both in agent nouns or agentive adjectives, notably in
Italic (e.g., Lat. figulus ‘potter’, bibulus ‘drunkard’, crēdulus ‘credulous’) and
96
Cf. e.g. Meillet (1921: 149–58), Nedjalkov and Jaxontov (1988: 41–4), Bybee and Dahl (1989: 68–77),
Bybee, Perkins and Pagliuca (1994: 68–9, 81–7), Lindstedt (2000: 366–74). Stempel (1995: 518–22)
compares the Indo-European perfect with the Semitic ‘stative’. See also 7.35.
Germanic (e.g., Goth. slahals ‘bully’ < *‘striker’, OHG slegil ‘hammer’,
stehhal ‘piercing’), and in the participles in -ea-l of Armenian (e.g., bereal
‘carried’).97 Unlike the Slavic participles, which are generally active when
formed to transitive verbs98 and therefore match the agentive adjectives of
Italic/Germanic, the Armenian l-participles to transitive verbs are passive; but
for our purposes this divergence does not matter because our concern is the
development within Slavic.99 There, the preterital use of the *-lo- nominal
suggests its previous grammaticalisation as an active past participle in nacto-
static constructions (e.g., nes-lъ jesmь ‘I have carried’ < ‘I am *having
carried’). However, we cannot easily project this nactostatic value (‘having
X-ed’) back into Proto-Indo-European since this would imply an unmoti-
vated loss of the [past] element in the related agentive nouns/adjectives of
Italic, Germanic, etc. (*[act. past ptcpl.] > [agentive nominal]: e.g., Lat.
figulus *‘having formed’ > ‘potter’). On the other hand, as observed in 5.18,
the fact that someone is a professional/habitual X-er (e.g., pot-former) usally
implies that he or she has already X-ed (formed pots). So, not only is it more
economical to assume that only one branch of Indo-European has innovated,
it is also easier to envisage a change [agentive nominal] > [act. past
ptcpl.]. But it then also follows that the nactostatic value of a perfectoid
combination of *-lo- form + copula in Proto-Slavic must be secondary
compared to the purely stative value of the PIE precursor of an expression
like Lat. Marcus est figulus ‘Marcus is a potter’ (~ M. forms pots habitually).100
5.25 A Japanese Comparandum

The Slavic parallel is notable because it is not easy cross-linguistically to
identify active constructions whose actual and/or reconstructible stative/
nactostatic semantics correspond to those of the early Indo-European
perfect.101 No less interesting, however, is a Japanese comparandum,
which corroborates the idea that the actuation of any given PIE perfect
as a ‘nactostatic perfect’ or a ‘perfect of persistent situation’ (or ‘perfecto-
97
See M. Leumann (1977: 311) (Latin), Casaretto (2004: 390–403) (Gothic), Klingenschmitt (1982:
55–9) (Armenian); cf. also the Tocharian gerundives in Toch. B -lle ~ Toch. A -l < *-l-ii̯o- (Malzahn
2010: 49). Elsewhere see for example Gr. ἀπατηλός ‘deceitful’, σιγηλός ‘silent’, etc. (Chantraine
1933: 237, 241–2) or Ved. pālá- ‘protector, keeper’ (Wackernagel and Debrunner 1954: 862).
98
Cf. Vaillant (1966: 83–4) and Arumaa (1985: 342–3), who stress that exceptions exist.
99
The difference recalls that between Anatolian and non-Anatolian participles in *-nt-, discussed in
10.10; we will see there that such splits are best explained as diverging generalisations pivoting
around forms that are oriented towards the subject of underlying intransitive phrases (S).
100
Also, in Slavic itself this explains why the same participle can be used in conditional periphrases
where no [past] element is at stake. For more detail about the Slavic evolution, see Kuryłowicz
(1970–2), Igartua (2014).
101
Cf. Ö. Dahl (1985: 135).
246 The Perfect
present’) will have been determined, at least in part, by its prototypical
telicity (5.23).
Modern Japanese features a ‘gerund’ in -te which can be used in a variety
of functions (temporal, concessive, conditional, instrumental, etc.) and
roughly corresponds to an English -ing gerund in sentences like Coming
home, he discovered that the fridge was empty (temporal) or By ticking this box,
you agree (instrumental/conditional). In combination with the verb iru
‘exists’ used as a copula-like auxiliary, this gerund in -te has three main
values: repetitive (“does (or will do) repeatedly, regularly, all the time”),
continuative (“is (or will be) in the process of doing; is (will be) doing”), and
‘resultative’ (“is (or will be) in the state resulting from the action taking place
and changing things; has the experience that results from doing”).102 Most
verbs admit all three interpretations of the -te iru construction, except that
the continuative option is restricted for a group of punctual verbs, and stative
verbs do not occur in the -te iru form at all. For example, yuubín-kyoku o
tóotte iru can mean ‘is past the post office’ (resultative/nactostatic), ‘passes the
post office all the time’ (repetitive), or ‘is passing the post office’ (continua-
tive).103 However, with atelic (activity) verbs the -te iru construction tends to
express the continuative function, whereas the resultative function is usual
with telic (achievement/accomplishment) verbs – as if Engl. she is eating
regularly meant (continuative) ‘she is eating’, but she is coming home regularly
meant (resultative/nactostatic) *‘she has come home’.
We may thus set up the following correlations:
Japanese Proto-Indo-European
atelic VP ‘continuative’ -te iru ‘perfects of persistent situation’/‘perfecto-presents’
telic VP ‘resultative’ -te iru ‘nactostatic perfect’
Were the resultative -te iru construction ever to oust the continuative
one and become default also with atelic phrases, the structure would turn
into a ‘normal’ perfect, and later perhaps into a simple preterite, just like
the Slavic *-lo- + copula type. Conversely, the Slavic *-lo- nominal was
probably first used as an active past participle in telic phrases.
5.26–5.33 A Form/Function Analysis of the PIE Perfect

5.26 Kuryłowicz’s Verbal Adjective
The typological comparanda in 5.24–5.25 lead us back to the question of
the formal origins of the PIE perfect. In both cases we have seen the
102
Martin (1975: 517); the label ‘resultative’ is here again equivalent to our ‘nactostatic’.
103
Martin (1975: 518).
combination of a participle or para-participial converb with a copula.104
This will not surprise when we recall that Homeric perfects are often best
translated by an agentive nominal + copula (5.16) and that many stative
predicates consisting of an agent noun + copula semantically entail a
nactostatic interpretation (5.18).
Against this background, let us reconsider the structure of the PIE 3sg.
perf., *C1e-C1oC-e (5.8). In order to maintain that verbal reduplication at
one point marked aspectual perfectivity, we should hypothesise that *C1e-
C1oC-e originated as the perfective counterpart to an unreduplicated,
imperfective *CoC-e. At the same time, we have just seen that a periphrastic
combination of a (para-)participial nominal + copula would represent a
plausible source construction for the PIE perfect. If we now acknowledge
that non-copular nominal predicates are likely to have been as acceptable in
Proto-Indo-European as they are in many of its daughter languages
(including Greek), this suggests that *CoC-e could in origin be precisely
such a (para-)participial formation accompanied by a ‘zero copula’.
As such, a nominal analysis of the PIE perfect is not new. According to
Kuryłowicz, for example,
[t]he I.E. perfect goes back to a verbal adjective in -é, conveying a meaning
comparable to that of the younger formation in -tó-, plus elements (-ə2o,
-tax, zero) functioning as grammatical subjects, whatever their etymology. E.g.
*gh u̯ ené ‘killed’, *gh u̯ en-ə2ó ‘I (am) killed’, *gh u̯ en-táx ‘thou (art) killed.’
The incorporation of these nominal phrases into the conjugational
system of early I.E. (cf. the analogous incorporation of the type occisus est
in the Lat. conjugation), its semantic subordination to the already existing
paradigm of the present system, entailed the taking over of the redundant
features characterizing the latter, viz. of the accentuation of the root in the
sing. as against the accentuation of the endings in the plur. (and in the dual):
3rd p. *gh u̯ én-e but 1st p. plur. *gh u̯ en-mé
1st p. *gh u̯ én-ə2o etc.
2nd p. *gh u̯ én-tax105
One problem with this theory is brought out by the comparison with Lat.
occīsus ‘killed’. Unlike occīsus, the participial formation we are looking for
should not be passive in meaning. If the PIE perfect was primarily
104
On the continuum linking participles with agent nouns/adjectives and converbs (‘gerunds’), see
e.g. Sasse (2001), Lazzeroni (2010; 2012: 152–5), Lowe (2015: 316–27). The prototypical participle is
more ‘verbal’ (in terms of argument structure, paradigmatic productivity, lack of time-stability)
than the prototypical agent nominal, but the ease with which participles are adjectivised (cf. Engl. a
gripping novel) shows that there are no hard boundaries.
105
248 The Perfect
intransitive (5.1, 5.9), this does not make it a passive in disguise. The middle
presents corresponding to active perfects in early Greek are not passive
counterparts to active presents: next to perf. γέγονα ~ pres. γίγνομαι, no
act. †γίγνω implies that γίγνομαι ever meant *‘am created’ rather than
‘come into being’. Similarly, λέλοιπα ‘am gone’, (ϝ)έ(ϝ)ολπα ‘hope’, or
πέποιθα ‘trust’ cannot be understood as passives, nor is this possible for
PIE *u̯ oi̯de ‘knows’ (> Gr. οἶδε, Ved. véda; not †‘is known/seen’). And of
course the genesis of the ‘nactostatic’ value of the PIE perfect as sketched in
5.18 crucially relies on any underlying participle being active, not passive.
5.27 Cowgill’s Agentive Nominal

Fortunately, this does not complicate but simplifies the matter. It may be
noted that Kuryłowicz’s proto-formation *g u̯ héne (“*gh u̯ én-e”) does not
display the typical perfect vocalism. In his view, this is because “the -o-
grade of *gh u̯ óne etc., attested by the historical languages (Greek, Germanic
and so on) has been explained . . . by the status of the perfect as a form
derived from the present”.106 Whether or not the latter characterisation is
appropriate, he thus presupposes the following steps:
I. Separate existence of PIE presents and PIE verbal adjectives in *-é
(*g u̯ hené)
II. Incorporation of verbal adjectives in *-é into the presents’ conjuga-
tional system (as a ‘proto-perfect’), triggering an analogy-induced
accentual shift (*g u̯ hené → *g u̯ héne)
III. Marking of the new ‘derivational’ status of the proto-perfect by a
change of the root-vowel grade (*g u̯ héne → *g u̯ hóne)
Step III lacks any motivation. To use Kuryłowicz’s own example, it is as if a
Latin *-to- participle like factus ‘made’ had been turned into, say, †foctus as
soon as factus sum came to be treated as a passive corresponding to active
fēcī ‘made’.
The difficulty disappears if we abandon not only Kuryłowicz’s passive
value of the required (para-)participle, but also his explanation of the
o-grade. Instead, we can operate with an agentive nominal featuring an
o-grade already before its integration into the verbal system. As Cowgill
106
Kuryłowicz (1964a: 62), referencing Kuryłowicz (1956: 41–8). Reminiscent of this is the view of Di
Giovine (2012: 46–7) that the o-grade was used in PIE verbal forms to mark “a deverbative actional
stem”. Even if this were a synchronically adequate description for (later?) Proto-Indo-European, we
should still ask how the o-grade acquired this ‘function’. In his criticism of phonology/analogy-
based explanations of o-graded formations, Di Giovine (2012: 44–5) overlooks that not every one of
them must have existed before ablaut differences arose.
pointed out in the second of his articles on ‘Proto-Indo-Hittite’ (2.10),
there is strong independent evidence for precisely this formational type:
[T]he nominal form that lies at the base of the Indo-European perfect and the
Anatolian hi-conjugation would be a pure stem without case ending, used
predicatively, of a formation with o-grade of the root and -e-/-o-suffix, with
active meaning, of the type seen in Homeric ἀοιδός ‘singer’, πομπός ‘escort’;
Vedic nāyá- ‘leader’, śāká- ‘helper, helping’; Lat. procus, coquus; OCS prorokŭ
‘prophet’; Toch. B plewe ‘raft, boat’; Hitt. iš-ha-a-aš ‘master’ (< *sxox̑ -o-s or
*sxoi̯-o-s). (For the difference in accent between uninflected *(Ce-)CóC-e and
inflected *CoC-ó-s, compare the set Skt. táva : Gr. τε(ϝ)ός.)107
5.28 Accentual Matters

Cowgill’s source of the PIE perfect ideally suits our requirements.
However, two modifications are called for. The first and less significant
one concerns the accentuation issue he mentions briefly. It is unclear why
the presence or absence of ‘inflection’ should correlate with a different
accent seat, and it may even be wrong to regard the *CoC-é nominal as
‘uninflected’ in the strict sense. As we shall see (10.30), the lack of the
nominative ending *-s,108 which one might expect in a predicate phrase ‘[is
(being)] an X-er’, finds a principled explanation in the nominal system of
(Pre-)Proto-Indo-European. On the accent, Kuryłowicz’s idea is therefore
more promising (5.27). As soon as *CoC-é turned into a verbal form, it
became liable to analogical influence from other radical formations; and
since athematic root formations were regularly root-accented in the sin-
gular (3sg. *CéC-t), the same pattern was adopted by the *CoC-é type (→
*CóC-e). Since ablaut had run its course by the time this happened, the
change had no further phonological implications.
Regarding the accent of the reduplicated variant, meanwhile, two possi-
bilities exist. In 3.42 and 4.24, we have seen that the reduplication syllable
regularly carried the accent in the reduplicated aorist and present. If we
therefore assume that the reduplicated structure *C1e-C1oC-e also initially
107
Cowgill (1979: 39), with forerunners (cf. 2.10, fn. 24; critically Belardi 1950: 102–3). For further
Greek nouns/adjectives continuing this *CoC-é/ó- type, see Chantraine (1933: 8–10), for Sanskrit
(and Indo-Iranian) material Debrunner (1954a: 60–9, 98–103). With Cowgill’s derivation,
Ruipérez’s (1982: 69) objection to a fundamentally stative interpretation of the Greek perfect
becomes invalid: even if ‘one cannot really speak of a “state of shouting”’ (cf. κέκραγε), one can
speak of the ‘state of being a shouter’. Also, the partial restriction on perfects to prototypically
stative roots (5.2) makes sense: such roots do not readily form agent nouns (cf. Engl. †lier, †be-
er, etc.).
108
And with it the retention of *-é (not *-ó, pace Dunkel 1977): cf. voc. *-e in the thematic
paradigm (4.38).
250 The Perfect
had the accent on the reduplication syllable – while being created only at a
time when such an accent no longer caused any root-vowel reduction109–, we
obtain an input for the *k u̯ etu̯ óres rule (4.22: *-é-o-V- > *-e-ó-V-). However,
in view of the unaccented reduplication syllable not only of the singular, but
also of the plural in Vedic perfects (e.g., 3sg. ja-gā́ m-a < *g u̯ e-g u̯ óm-e ~ 3pl. ja-
gm-úh), it seems more likely that reduplicated *C1e-C1óC-e etc. were created
˙ by reduplicating *CóC-e and other forms in its paradigm but
directly,
retaining the accent of the unreduplicated version.110
5.29 Reduplication and Perfect Semantics

The second modification relates to the semantic value of reduplication in
the perfect. In this context, Cowgill refers to the conventional iterative
reading of reduplicated structures (4.2):
What roots of P[roto-]I[ndo-]H[ittite] formed nominal verbs can hardly be
determined. If we assume for the sake of example that *dhex̑ - ‘place’ was such a
root, then its nominal verb would have had the shape 3rd. sg. *dhóx̑ -e, 1st. sg.
*dhóx̑ -xe, etc., which can be approximately and crudely rendered ‘is a placer’,
‘am a placer’, etc. It is pretty clear that PIH also had reduplicated nominal
verbs, the meaning of which was presumably iterative or perseverative. If
*dhex̑ - had such a form, it was *dhe-dhóx̑ -e, presumably with a meaning that
can be approximated as ‘is one who constantly or habitually places’.111
However, by virtue of being a ‘nominal verb’ the unreduplicated variant
should already have conveyed an ‘iterative’ or ‘habitual’ value. This is
because nominal propositions, in contrast to verbal ones, are ‘typicalised’
or ‘de-individuated’:
A propositional act involves, apart from reference and predication . . ., a series
of further operations. These find their expression in categories which help to
constitute the sentence: mood, aspect, tense, diathesis, person, complements
with their case roles. The individuality of a proposition or thought consists in
the specification of all these categories. If they are neglected in any way, this
leads to a generalisation or typicalisation of the thought. It loses its individual
character, begins to refer to a more or less precisely determined fact and finally
turns into an eventuality notion [“Ereignisbegriff”]. This typicalisation of
propositions into notions goes hand in hand with nominalisation. The
109
Or the reduction of final *-e into *-e/o. Even if one holds that ‘the set of endings *-h2e, *-th2e, *-e
without vowel reduction or apophony . . . can only have arisen under the accent’ (Mottausch 2003:
10), this has no bearing on our question as long as the reduplicated version is altogether secondary.
110
The recessive accent of Greek (e.g., γέγονε) is of course as unrevealing here as elsewhere (1.2).
111
Cowgill (1979: 34); cf. Bopp (1833: 749–50) and Curtius (1877–80: 2.171) with an ‘intensive’ reading
of perfect reduplication.
categories just listed, which help to constitute a proposition, gradually dis-
appear in the process of nominalisation.112
So, just as John is a boar-hunter implies that boar-hunting is a usual/
habitual activity of John’s (5.18), Cowgill’s *d hóh1-e ‘is a placer’ must
have expressed on its own that the subject usually/habitually places. Nor
can we argue that, when the reduplicated variant was built, the unredupli-
cated nominal verbs had already been verbalised so fully that they had lost
their ‘typicalising’ effect (*‘is a placer’ > ‘places’). In that case, an iteratively
reduplicated *d he-d hóh1-e could perhaps have meant ‘places constantly/
habitually’, but such a meaning, unlike ‘is a/the placer’, is no longer an
ideal seed for the historical perfect with its nactostatic implicature.
Let us therefore explore our alternative, according to which *d he-d hóh1-e
started off as the aspectually perfective counterpart to imperfective *dhóh1-e.
A rendering ‘is a placer’ could still be used for both forms, but whereas
*d hóh1-e would focus on the internal structure of this eventuality, *d he-
d hóh1-e would look at it as a whole (4.4). Unlike*d he-d hóh1-e, *d hóh1-e could
thus also be translated as ‘is (being) a placer’, or ‘is (currently) acting as/
displaying the qualities of a placer’. Reduplicated *dhe-d hóh1-e, on the other
hand, would consider the subject’s quality of being a ‘placer’ from a general,
atemporal perspective. Such a timeless function of the perfective aspect is
common in aspect-oriented languages, like Ancient Greek with its gnomic
aorist or the (mainly South) Slavic languages where “[t]he uses of the
Perfective Present . . . involve cases where the Present Tense is used in
ways that are not strictly referring to the present moment”, for instance
“with habitual meaning . . . where the habituality involved is that of a
situation which would in itself, as a single instance, be treated as perfective”:
a speaker thereby implies “that this is what happens whenever a certain set of
circumstances holds [even if] it is quite likely that this particular set of
circumstances does not hold precisely at the present moment” (cf. 7.15).113
It hardly needs stressing how well this fits the philological data. In
5.16–5.17 and 5.20, we have observed that Homeric perfects are often
coordinated with (obviously atemporal) adjectives, applied to ‘persistent
situations’ (Χρύσην ἀμφιβέβηκας ‘you are [in general] the protector of
Chryse’, as opposed to ‘you are [right now] involved in a specific action to
protect Chryse’), or utilised like timeless (general) presents. These are
exactly the features that prompted the comparison with temporally unspe-
cified agentive nominals in the first place. But while the primary evidence
112 113
C. Lehmann (1982: 68) (translated). Comrie (1976a: 67, 69–70).
252 The Perfect
thus favours the functional reconstruction of an aspectually perfective stative
proto-form, the nominal source *CoC-é to which all formal considerations
point could not possibly have been perfective as such. Consequently,
there is every reason to think that this aspectual trait entered the picture
with the one element that was added after the verbalisation of *CoC-é:
reduplication.114
5.30 *CóC-e Imperfectives I: PIE u̯ ói̯de

One corollary of this account is that we no longer have to regard the perfect
reduplication as ‘optional’ or redundant;115 but neither is the unreduplicated
perfect *u̯ ói̯d-e ‘knows’ (> Gr. οἶδε, Skt. véda, etc.) to be explained by an
isolated dereduplication process.116 In reality, *u̯ ói̯d-e continues the imper-
fective counterpart to the perfective nominal-verb formation behind the
other perfects. The reason for this survival can perhaps be guessed. Cross-
linguistically, verbs of knowing occur far more often in the 1sg. than in the
3sg., unlike most other verbs (cf. 5.13, fn. 53): people like to point out what
they know rather than what someone else knows. Moreover, situations in
which someone says I know (that . . .) tend to be pragmatically anchored in a
concrete hic et nunc, where the speaker’s focus is not on the timeless
availability of his/her knowledge but on its immediate relevance at the
moment of speaking – a context which makes the imperfective aspect
most suitable. Hence, we may suppose that the imperfective form of this
‘nominal verb’ was used more frequently than its perfective partner.
5.31 *CóC-e Imperfectives II: Anatolian

Beside *u̯ ói̯d-e, the Anatolian hi-conjugation root formations represent the
most obvious offshoots of the ˘ imperfective ‘nominal verbs’ (2.9–2.10).117
114
We need not then ask, with Bybee, Perkins, and Pagliuca (1994: 172 n. 3) or Drinka (1998: 125–8),
how “forms so clearly [sc., by reduplication] connected to the imperfective/progressive/present path
come to mark anteriors and perfectives”: when reduplication was applied to the nominal verb, it had
long been a pure perfectivity marker. That the PIE perfect started off as a perfective present has also
been suggested by Kim (2007), but since he thinks the same about the non-reduplicated type, he
cannot answer his own question, “how did a perfective non-past come to acquire stativity – a
decidedly non-punctual value?”. With our account, perfectivity is superimposed on the nominal
verbs’ pre-existing ‘stativity’.
115
Thus e.g. Belardi (1950: 95–8), Kuryłowicz (1956: 42) (‘the reduplication is not essential’) and (1964:
70), Bader (1969) (who treats as unreduplicated also Herodotean οἶκα ‘resemble’, Hom. ptcpl. εἰκώς
‘resembling’ and implausibly assumes a contamination of two distinct perfect types; cf. Bader 1968
with equally disputable Latin evidence), Watkins (1969: 105) (‘secondarily endowed with the
accessory sign of reduplication’), Hoffmann (1970: 40), Adrados (1974: 1.189, 2.687), Austefjord
(1979: 208), Erhart (1989: 43), Neu (1989b: 171–2); cf. 2.9 with fn. 19.
116
Whether triggered phonologically (Winter 1993) or analogically (Jasanoff 2003: 228–33).
117
Cowgill (1979: 33–4).
Following the analogical addition of ‘primary’ *-i, forms such as *d hóh1-e ‘[is
(being)] a placer > [is currently] placing’, *mólh2-e ‘[is (being)] a grinder > [is
currently] grinding’, or *u̯ óh2g-e ‘[is (being)] a breaker > [is currently]
breaking’ gave rise to historical Hitt. dāi ‘is placing, places’, mallai ‘is
grinding, grinds’, or u̯ āki ‘is biting, bites’.118 This was a natural development,
and it is also natural that, when it took place, these originally intransitive
formations lost their intransitivity and began to behave like normal presents,
including the thematic root presents which they eclipsed (4.39).
In 2.13, reference has been made to some evidence supporting the notion
that Anatolian has lost a PIE (or ‘Proto-Indo-Hittite’) aspectual system,
preserving only a few traces. Unsurprisingly, therefore, only one of the two
aspectual variants of the PIE ‘nominal verb’ survived as a productive type.
However, it will be recalled from 4.11 that even in Hittite there are a handful
of reduplicated presents which structurally correspond to PIE perfects,
including u̯ e-u̯ akk-i ‘demand, ask’ (< *u̯ e-u̯ ok̑ -e(i̯)). It was noted that the
only oddity about these is their transitivity. But if the corresponding imper-
fectives were normalised as an alternative hi-class without distinctive intran-
sitivity, the perfectives had to follow suit. ˘Hence, the transitivity of u̯ e-u̯ akk-i
etc. is not a problem for their derivation from ‘proto-perfects’, but part of a
more general Anatolian rearrangement of its inheritance.
More intriguing is the question what made the perfective form prevail
over the imperfective one in the five or six reduplicated unsuffixed hi-
conjugation verbs belonging to the group. We may not be able to answer ˘
this for every item, especially because reduplication retained some produc-
tivity in Anatolian (5.9). But at least for u̯ e-u̯ akk-i it is suggestive that this is
a verb that must have been common in performative contexts (‘I [herewith]
ask you . . .’). Like timeless statements (5.29), performative ones are a
suitable environment for perfective presents, despite the usual exclusion
of perfectives from the present tense (4.6).119
118
The exact pathway followed by *d hóh1e(i̯) is disputed: cf. 4.12, fn. 52. For *mólh2e(i̯), one need not
regard the stem-form mall(a)- as “extracted from the 3pl. mallanzi (< virtual *mélh2-n̥ ti)” and
“generalized to all positions in the paradigm” (Jasanoff 2003: 71). More likely, while e.g. *u̯ óh2ge(i̯)
went to *u̯ āgei̯, *molh2ei̯ yielded *mall-ai̯ (due to laryngeal colouring), but since *-ei̯ (> OHitt. -e)
was the standard 3sg. ending in this class, *mallai̯ with its irregular *-ai̯ was then remodelled into
*malla(i̯)ei̯ > mallai, and mall(a)- ‘extracted’ from there.
119
Cf. e.g. Borik (2006: 172–4), with the Russian example Ja poprošu vas nemedlenno ujti ‘I ask you to
leave immediately’ (~ Hitt. u̯ eu̯ akhi) and the observation that in English too “simple present in
˘
general bans an actual present interpretation, but it can be used with performative verbs”. Hewson
(2012: 515–19) stresses that ‘performatives’ and ‘perfectives’ must be kept apart, but concedes that
“[Performatives] typically represent the complete performance of all phases of the event; with
Activities, Achievements, and Accomplishments they represent a complete event, and in this
function Performatives and Perfectives overlap”.
254 The Perfect
5.32 *CóC-e Imperfectives III: Germanic and Baltic
That unreduplicated (i.e., originally imperfective) ‘nominal-verb’ descen-
dants other than *u̯ ói̯de also survived outside Anatolian is perhaps to be
inferred from the ‘preterite-present’ class of Germanic. Next to Proto-
Germanic *wait (< *u̯ ói̯de), this includes about a dozen other lexemes
which follow the same synchronically irregular inflection pattern: e.g.,
PGmc *(ga)man ‘remembers’ < *món-e, *(ga)dars ‘dares’ < *d hórs-e, *dau̯ g
‘is useful’ < *d hóu̯ gh-e, *mag ‘can’ < *mógh-e.120 Not all of these have clear
etymologies, let alone perfectoid cognates in other languages. So, “[i]t is
reasonable to conclude, with caution, that at least some . . . must be
innovations”, suggesting an inner-Germanic productivity of the type.121
What is more difficult to decide is whether we should assume (a) a loss of
the reduplication syllable in the prehistory of Germanic, in which case the
starting point would have been the (reduplicated) PIE perfect sensu stricto,
especially in its ‘perfecto-present’ function, or (b) a small core group of
parallels to *u̯ ói̯d-e.122 Since the aspectual contrast of imperfective vs.
perfective ‘nominal verbs’ would have been lost in Germanic, the formal
differentiation would have become redundant. However, Germanic also
preserves unreduplicated continuants of PIE perfects in preterital function,
in its strong past (e.g., PGmc *band ‘tied’ < *(bhe-)bhónd h-e).123 As noted in
5.29, whereas imperfective ‘nominal verbs’ will initially have referred to
hic et nunc notions like ‘is (currently) displaying the qualities of an X-er’,
only their perfective counterparts could easily develop from atemporal/
general (perfecto-)presents first into nactostatic perfects and then into
simple preterites (5.23). For the Germanic strong pasts we must therefore
admit dereduplication in any case. Arguably, this Proto-Germanic
dereduplication may have been eased by the fact that among the non-
preterital ‘nominal verbs’ – i.e., the ancestors of the historical ‘preterite-
presents’ – there was, at an early point, still some formal competition
between reduplicated and unreduplicated items, although the functional
(aspectual) contrast had been lost. In such a situation, to opt for the less
120
Cf. Benveniste (1949: 20), Meid (1971: 18–39), Cowgill (1975: 569), Birkmann (1987: esp. 61–90),
Ringe (2006: 153–5); Randall and Jones (2015) give a full list.
121
Ringe (2006: 155).
122
Meid (1971: 20; 1978: 33–8; 1983: 332) and Randall and Jones (2015: 157–61) prefer (b), unlike many
others (e.g., Loewe 1907: 311–15, Cowgill 1975: 566, 569, Lindeman 1985b, Di Giovine 1995: 119–20).
Even if (b) is correct, there can of course still have been a productive reduplicated perfect in Proto-
Germanic or Western Indo-European more widely (pace Drinka 2003, who oddly sees a counter-
argument in the existence of the ‘preterital’ types of Lat. lēgī ‘read’, Goth. staig ‘climbed’, and OIr.
tách ‘fled’).
123
Meid (1971: 40–54), Ringe (2006: 157), Jasanoff (2007: esp. 243–4), Mailhammer (2007: 34–45).
marked, unreduplicated, variants made sense in the presentic group.
Subsequently, the preterital group could follow this model, even if
there had been no preterital forms without reduplication to start with.
Beyond Germanic, the waters are murkier still. Closest to the Germanic
material may be a group of Baltic athematic o-graded root formations with
generally intransitive and sometimes stative meaning (e.g., OLith. barti
‘scolds’ [→ Modern Lith. bãra] < *bhórH-ti, OLith. -kakti ‘reaches, suffices’
[→ Modern Lith. -kañka] < *k(u̯ )ók(u̯ )-ti).124 It is conceivable that the unusual
‘nominal verb’ endings were here replaced at some prehistoric point (i.e., 3sg.
*CóC-e → *CóC-ti). This should have happened when athematic (e-graded)
root formations were still numerous because otherwise the thematic type,
which prevails in Modern Lithuanian, might have been preferred.
5.33 Jasanoff’s ‘h2e-Conjugation’ Root Presents Reconsidered

In addition to the above evidence, thematic root formations with a radical
o-grade are occasionally attested in various Indo-European languages.
Jasanoff has plausibly connected these with his ‘h2e-conjugation’ root
presents, the equivalent of our (or Cowgill’s) ‘nominal verbs’ (2.15).125
Jasanoff’s main example is Lith. málti, Goth. malan, Lat. molō ‘grind’,
whose root *melh2- also appears in the Hittite hi-conjugation present
mallai (5.31). If one derives these verbs from *molh˘ -e/o-, but wants to
2
126
refrain from positing a full-blown thematic class with unusual o-grade
root vocalism, it is most economical to assume that 3sg. *CóC-e was
remodelled into *CóC-e-ti: the addition of the standard 3sg. ending *-t(i)
would be identical to the one that gave rise to the e-graded thematic root
presents (4.36).127 On the basis of 3sg. *CóC-e-ti, corresponding thematic
forms could then be introduced in the other persons.
124
Cf. Stang (1966: 309–19), Hiersche (1980: 223–8); see also Stang (1942: 24) and Vaillant (1962: 52–3)
on some remodelled Slavic evidence. Pace Ringe (2012: 134), the Tocharian Class I and V
subjunctives are probably based on the PIE perfect with reduplication: see the literature in 3.31,
fn. 78, and cf. 10.18, fn. 39, on the insufficient basis for Ringe’s theory of a specifically subjunctival
proto-category as their ancestor.
125
Jasanoff (2003: 64–90); others had again assumed dereduplication for these and their athematic
parallels (Klingenschmitt 1982: 85, 216, Lühr 1984: 64–5 n. 78, Rasmussen [1985] 1999; 2004: 272–4;
cf. also Mottausch 1996). As a compromise, Kümmel (2004: 143–7) suggests an o-grade/zero-grade
ablauting, mi-conjugated athematic class. This is followed by Kroonen (2012: 195–6), but Kroonen’s
argument only hinges on the ablaut pattern, not on the conjugation type.
126
With Hiersche (1963); earlier scholars had sought analogical explanations for the vocalism (after o-
grade nouns according to Gärtchen 1905, after perfects and *CoC-éi̯e/o- verbs (5.34–5.39) according
to Brugmann 1913).
127
For a parallel but no doubt much later development, see Arm. gitem ‘know’, based on (3sg.) *u̯ oi̯de-ti
← *u̯ oi̯de ‘knows’ (Klingenschmitt 1982: 135, Peters 1997: 209–10).
256 The Perfect
In another respect, however, we have to part company with Jasanoff. As
we have seen in 2.15, he reconstructs the ‘h2e-conjugation’ paradigm with
an e-grade root in the plural. To support this, he refers to e-grade cognates
of the o-grade lexemes just mentioned. In this context he cites Meillet, who
had already “conjectured that the three ablaut variants *molh2-, *melh2-,
and *ml̥ h2- all belonged to a single apophonically complex root present
in the parent language”.128 Concretely, an e-graded (and secondarily the-
matised) root formation like OIr. meilid ‘grinds’ < *mel(h2)-e/o- would go
back to the same paradigm as Goth. malan or Lat. molō, the only difference
being that the ablaut grade of the plural has prevailed; and similarly, a zero-
graded (and secondarily thematised) root formation like Arm. malem
‘crush’ < *ml̥ h2-e/o- would owe its existence to a “tendency for the plural
to be renewed as *ml̥ h2-mé, *-té, *-énti in the dialectal period”, whence
again a generalisation of the (new) plural ablaut grade. Of course, if we do
not object to the unmotivated spread of the plural vocalism to the singular
instead of the expected opposite (3.24), such a scenario works. But so
would any scenario that freely packs all the ablaut grades into a single
paradigm.
Jasanoff’s ablaut pattern should therefore be backed by more positive
evidence, which is not really forthcoming. It is true that there are
Anatolian h i-conjugation root presents like Hitt. šākki ‘knows’ (probably
˘ )129), whose o-grade singular alternates with (a) a zero-grade
←< *sóg̑ h-e(i̯
plural (e.g., 2pl. OH šaktē̆ ni) and (b) e-grade forms that are generally
restricted in Old Hittite to the preterite plural and plural imperative (e.g.,
3pl. šekkir ‘they knew’).130 However, both (a) and (b) are also found next
to e-graded mi-conjugation root formations and therefore no prerogative
of the h i-conjugation. Although the 3pl. pret. ending in -er/-ir (< *-ēr)
˘
must have originated in the h i-conjugation (5.3, 5.50), one could thus
˘
assume that the e-graded preterites and plural imperatives are a legacy of
the mi-conjugation, owing their root vocalism to the corresponding
singulars there. Only in the present plural would the same analogical
extension of the singular’s e-grade have been prevented (or, given some
post-Old Hittite evidence like 2pl. šektē̆ ni, at least delayed) by the greater
frequency, and hence greater resilience, of the original zero-grade forms.
128 129
Jasanoff (2003: 68), referring to Meillet (1916b). Willi (2011a); cf. 4.39, fn. 150.
130
According to Kloekhorst (2008: 122–3, 142–3; 2012: 157–9), these apparently e-graded plurals in
reality contain anaptyctic /ɨ/. Melchert (2013) disputes this, but despite Sideltsev (2005)
Kloekhorst’s general point that only the o/ø-ablauting pattern is old, and that the e-grade spread
from the 3pl. forms in -er/-ir (Kloekhorst 2012: 152–7; cf. below), remains strong (cf. also Kloekhorst
2014).
5.34–5.39 Related Formations I: *CoC-éi̯ e/o- ‘Iterative-Causatives’ 257
But even if we dismissed this possibility at least for the 3pl. pret.,131
because of the ending, the Hittite data would still not warrant the
claim that the entire plural paradigm was always e-graded. In 5.50, we
shall see why it makes sense to assume this only for the 3pl., the one
form whose ending in -r does not conform with the *-nt(i) ending of
the e-graded thematic presents that are supposed to have sprung
from it.132
To abandon Jasanoff’s o/e-ablauting ‘h2e-conjugation’ paradigm is no
serious loss. When there is an e-graded or zero-graded thematic root
present in one language, and an o-graded one in another, this may just as
well result from the fact that several stem formations could coexist in
Proto-Indo-European as much as in the later languages. That a given
root should feature, with an o-grade, in a ‘nominal verb’ did not exclude
its also being used in, say, a thematic present with radical e-grade (or zero-
grade: 6.2, 6.28). To be sure, whenever a ‘nominal verb’ lost its special
status and was assimilated to a ‘normal’ verb both semantically and
formally (e.g., *mólh2-e ‘is (being) a grinder’ → *mólh2-e(-ti) ‘is grinding’
> Lat. molit etc. ~ thematic *mélh2-e-ti ‘is grinding, grinds’ > OIr. melid),
only one of the two formations would survive in each daughter language;
but as long as the types still fulfilled different functions, there was no
redundancy at all.
5.34–5.39 Related Formations I: *CoC-éi̯e/o-

‘Iterative-Causatives’
5.34 The Formal Type
Wherever they occur, the unreduplicated ‘nominal-verb’ descendants
discussed in 5.32–5.33 are exceptional. In no daughter language is there a
productive type of thematic o-graded root presents. Given the redun-
dancy that would result when the ‘nominal verbs’ became similar to
other verbs, this marginalisation is unsurprising. And yet, the ultimate
131
Not the plural imperative: in the mi-conjugation, forms like 2pl. ipv. ēpten ‘take!’ < *h1ép-te(n) are
easily explained as analogical with 2sg. ipv. ēp < *h1ép, and the relationship of, say, 2pl. ipv. ēpten :
2pl. apteni could then trigger the creation of a 2pl. ipv. šekten ‘know!’ next to 2pl. šaktēni (despite
2sg. ipv. šāk). In a paradigm descended from a ‘nominal verb’, the imperative may in any case be a
latecomer. As for the 1pl. and 2pl. preterite, their Old Hittite e-grades can of course result from
inner-Anatolian analogy with the 3pl.
132
Jasanoff (2003: 88–9) suggests that a 3pl. pres. ending *-r(i) may have been replaced by *-nt(i)
already in Proto-Indo-European (cf. Hitt. 3pl. -anzi in the h i-conjugation). This is possible, but
there is no good evidence for Old Hittite h i-conjugation ˘ 3pl. presents with e-grade root to
support it. ˘
258 The Perfect
reason for their disappearance may lie deeper, within Proto-Indo-European
itself.
Following his derivation of the Indo-European perfect and the
Anatolian hi-conjugation from the noun type of Gr. ἀοιδός etc. (5.27),
˘
Cowgill remarks in passing:
Since the iterative and causative verb formation with o-grade root and
*-ei̯e-/-ei̯o- suffix is probably ultimately a denominative made by adding
the verb-proper suffix *-i̯é-/-i̯ó- to these same nouns (and also the action-
noun type seen in Hom. λόγος, πόθος, Vedic śā́ ka- ‘help’), it follows that
in attempting to unravel the events that led to o-grade ablaut (Abtönung)
in our language family, and its original distribution, we can and must
discount these verbal formations, and concentrate on examining the
occurrence of o-grade in nominal forms.133
For our present purposes, the ablaut question is less relevant than Cowgill’s
point about the denominal origin of the ‘iterative-causative’ verbs in
*-éi̯e/o- (cf. 1.11). With this he echoes earlier statements by Kuryłowicz
and Redard.134 These verbs, whose basic structure is *CoC-éi̯ e/o-, are amply
attested throughout Indo-European and particularly well-represented in
Indo-Iranian, Germanic, and Slavic. There they give rise, respectively, to
the causative Class X of Sanskrit (darśáyati ‘makes see, shows’ < *dork̑ -éi̯e/o-,
janáyati ‘generates’ < *g̑ onh1-éi̯e/o-, etc.; cf. 3.16), the causative and iterative-
intensive verbs in the weak Class I of Germanic (Goth. lagjan ‘make lie, lay’ <
*logh-éi̯e/o-, waljan ‘choose’ < *u̯ olh1-éi̯e/o-, etc.), and the causative and
iterative verbs of Class IVa in Old Church Slavonic (-buditi ‘make awake,
(tr.) wake up’ < *bhou̯ d h-éi̯e/o-, nositi ‘carry’ < *h1nok̑ -éi̯e/o-, etc.).135 Healthy
numbers are also found in the Latin second conjugation, again with either
factitive/causative or iterative-intensive function (e.g., moneō ‘remind’ <
*mon-éi̯e/o-, spondeō ‘vow’ < *spond-éi̯e/o-, doceō ‘make perceive, teach’ <
*dok̑ -éi̯e/o-).136
133
Cowgill (1979: 39).
134
Kuryłowicz (1948: 57; 1956: 86–94; 1964a: 105), Redard (1972: 185–7); cf. already Specht (1932: 69),
and more recently e.g. Rasmussen (1997b: 256), Alfieri (2008: 49–50). Less convincingly, Pooth
(2004b: 426–7) analyses *CoC-éi̯-e/o-, with the thematic vowel added to a finite 3sg. *CoC-éi̯.
Contrast Lubotsky’s (1989: 110–11) connection of the type with nominal i-stems and Schmitt-
Brandt’s (1967: 129) periphrastic theory (‘compounding of the verbal root with the forms of a verb
“make”’).
135
See Delbrück (1897: 109–19), van Wijk (1927), Vaillant (1966: 410–32) (on Slavic), Jamison (1983a)
(on Vedic), García García (2005) (on Germanic).
136
M. Leumann (1977: 540–1); cf. Sjoestedt (1925) and Schulze-Thulin (2001a) on Celtic material, and
Rix (1999: 518–21) on corresponding Latin formations to roots in *-h2- which end up in the first
conjugation. Schulze-Thulin (2001a: 13–25) gives a general overview (including Albanian,
Armenian, Baltic, Tocharian; on Anatolian, see 5.39 with fn. 150).
5.35 Greek Evidence
As in some other languages, in Greek it is difficult to keep apart the old
*CoC-éi̯e/o- formations, which are synchronically ‘deverbal’, from more
recent, synchronically denominal, items.137 Table 5.4 casts the net fairly
wide and includes data for which a denominal interpretation is as likely
as a deverbal one.138 It illustrates a widespread pattern whereby the
*CoC-éi̯e/o- formation parallels a simple thematic root present. That
this must have gained a certain productivity in Greek is suggested by a
number of apparently secondary *CoC-éi̯e/o- verbs, such as ὀρχέομαι
next to ἔρχομαι (if this is originally a present in *-sk̑ e/o-), ὀχθέω to a
neo-root ἐχθ-, or σοέω, στροφέω, and τροφέω whose limited attestation
points to nonce forms. Also, the *CoC-éi̯e/o- type must have been
perceived as relatively homogeneous, for otherwise phonologically
expected *κομάω (< *k̑ omh2-éi̯e/o-) would hardly appear as κομέω in
the absence of a present *κέμω.139
5.36 Semantic Variation

Among the Greek *CoC-éi̯e/o- verbs, the factitive/causative value which is
prominent in Indo-Iranian and Germanic is weakly represented. Even an
example like φοβέω vs. φέβομαι has been questioned by arguing that φοβέω
was created as an oppositional (factitive) active to φοβέομαι, while
137
For clearly denominal items (e.g., νοστέω ‘return home’, οἰκέω ‘inhabit’, etc.), see Schwyzer (1939:
726) and especially Tucker (1990: esp. 147–51), who argues that the denominal type is indebted to
the inherited deverbal one; cf. also Tucker (2004) on the parallel situation in Avestan. As Schwyzer
(1939: 717–18) notes, the issue is further complicated by the fact that these verbs interact with similar
‘frequentatives’ in -άω, another group with a denominal nucleus (e.g., ποτάομαι ‘fly hither and
thither’, as if from an action noun *ποτή < *pot-eh2 ‘flying’; cf. μολπή ‘singing’, σπουδή
‘haste(ning)’, etc., Chantraine 1933: 18–20). Semantically, pairs like ‘iterative’ ποτέομαι (*‘am/act
as a flier’) vs. ‘frequentative’ ποτάομαι (*‘am engaged in flights’) merged.
138
The list is based on Schwyzer (1939: 719–20), who (like Tucker 1990: 123–33 on the Homeric
material) includes more problematic cases: *βολέω (extracted from Hom. 3pl. plupf. pass.
βεβολήατο ‘they had been hit’, βεβολημένος ‘hit’), δουπέω ‘make a heavy sound’ (cf. nominal
(-γ)δοῦπος ‘thud’), where the perfect δεδουπώς ‘fallen, dead’ may be secondary (Chantraine 2009:
282, s.v. δοῦπος), (ἐγ)κονέω ‘am in service, haste’ (from nominal *ἔγκονος?, cf. διάκονος ‘servant’,
Chantraine 2009: 296, s.v. ἐγκονέω, LIV 352, s.v. *kenh1-), κορέω ‘sweep out’ (cf. Chantraine 2009:
544, s.v. κορέω; perhaps < *‘look after’ < *‘feed = make grow’, García Ramón 2010b: 80), ὁδεῖν·
πωλεῖν ‘sell’ (Hsch. ο 72), “στοχέω (: στόχος [‘pillar, also: target, mark?’]) : *στέχω?” (not listed in
LSJ, but see ἀστοχέω ‘miss the mark’, εὐστοχέω ‘hit the mark’, Chantraine 2009: 1024, s.v.
στόχος), (*)τορέω ‘bore, pierce’ (cf. Hsch. τ 1162, 3.6, fn. 9; thematic aorist according to
Chantraine 2009: 1086–7, s.v. τορεῖν). Possible, too, is a derivation of κυρέω ‘hit upon’ from
*k u̯ or-éi̯e/o- to *k u̯ er- ‘cut’ (cf. Ved. krnóti ‘makes, does’, Hitt. kuerzi ‘cuts’, etc.; LIV 391–2, s.v.
*k u̯ er-) if one accepts an extended version ˙ ˙ of ‘Cowgill’s Law’ (despite Vine 1999: esp. 563–4; i.e.,
*k u̯ or-éi̯e/o- > *k(u̯ )ur-éi̯e/o-, next to *k u̯ r̥ -i̯é/ó- >→ *kur-i̯é/ó- > κῡ ́ ρω ‘do.’).
139
Contrast perhaps πτοάω ‘frighten’, if this is from *pi̯oh2-éi̯e/o- ‘make cower’ to *pi̯eh2- (cf. πτήσσω
‘cower, crouch’, Hackstein 1992: 151–3; 5.7, fn. 17).
260 The Perfect
Table 5.4. Greek *CoC-éi̯ e/o- ‘iterative-causatives’
Cognate thematic root presents

(where attested); other
Root *CoC-éi̯e/o- formation comparanda (selection)
*bheg u̯ - ‘flee, run’ φοβέω ‘put to flight’, med. φέβομαι ‘flee (in terror)’ (Hom.)
(LIV 67) φοβέομαι ‘be(come) afraid, (< *bhég u̯ -e/o-); cf. Lith. bė́gti
scared’ ‘run, flee’, OCS aor. -běgъ ‘fled’
(< *bhog u̯ -éi̯e/o-)
*bher- ‘carry, bring’ φορέω ‘carry, bear φέρω ‘carry, bring’ (< *bhér-e/o-);
(LIV 76–7) (habitually)’ cf. Lat. ferō, Arm. berem ‘carry’,
(< *bhor-éi̯e/o-) Ved. bhárati, Toch. B paräm
˙
‘carries’, Goth. bairan ‘carry,
give birth’, OCS berǫ ‘take’
*bherd h- ‘ravage, πορθέω ‘ravage, destroy’ πέρθω ‘ravage, destroy’
destroy’ (LIV 77–8) (< *bhord h-éi̯e/o-) (< *bhérd h-e/o-)
*dek̑ - ‘receive, δοκέω ‘expect, suppose’ δέκομαι (Att. δέχομαι) ‘receive,
perceive’ (LIV (< *dok̑ -éi̯ e/o-; cf. Lat. doceō accept’ (< *dék̑ -e/o-); cf.
109–12) ‘teach’) athematic aor. Hom. (ἔ)δεκτο
‘received’ (Table 6.2), athematic
pres. ptcpl. δέγμενος ‘expecting’,
etc., Ved. pres. dāsti ‘waits
on’ (3.40) ˙˙
*d hrebh- ‘grow (fat)’ ?τροφέω ‘rear’ (Od. 3.290?) τρέφω ‘nurture, rear’, med.
(vel sim.) (LIV (< *d hrobh-éi̯e/o-) τρέφομαι ‘grow (intr.)’
153–4) (< *d hrébh-e/o-)
*d hreu̯ - ‘shout, cry’ θροέω ‘cry, utter aloud’ θρέομαι ‘cry aloud, shriek’
(LIV 155–6) (< *d hrou̯ -éi̯e/o-; cf. MidPers. (< *d hréu̯ -e/o-)
dr’y- ‘cry’)
[neo-root ἐχθ- ← ὀχθέω ‘am angered, vexed’ ἔχθω ‘hate’ (and pass. ἔχθομαι
ἐχθρός < *(h1)eks- [< *ὀχθ-ε(i̯ )ε/ο-] ‘am hated’) [< *ἐχθ-ε/ο-]
tró- ‘outer’]
?*g u̯ rem- ‘make βρομέω ‘buzz’ βρέμω ‘roar, make noise’
noise’ (LIV 216) (< *g u̯ rom-éi̯e/o-) (< *g u̯ rém-e/o-)
*g u̯ hed h- ‘pray, ποθέω ‘long for, desire’ [cf. only i̯-pres. Gr. θέσσεσθαι·
desire’ (LIV 217) (< *g u̯ hod h-éi̯e/o-) αἰτεῖν, ἱκετεύειν (Hsch. θ 409),
Av. jaiδiiemi ‘ask’, Goth. bidjan
‘request’, etc. (< *g u̯ hed h-i̯é/ó-);
s-aor. θέσσασθαι‘implore’]
*h1erg̑ h- ‘mount’ ὀρχέομαι ‘dance, leap’ ἔρχομαι ‘go, come’ (possibly <
(LIV 238–9) (?) (< *h1org̑ h-éi̯e/o-) *h1r̥ -sk̑ e/o-, not *h1érg̑ h-e/o-; if so,
ὀρχέομαι is analogical after pairs
like φέβομαι : φοβέομαι)
Table 5.4. (cont.)

*h2u̯ ers- ‘rain’ (LIV οὐρέω ‘urinate [< *let rain]’ Ved. vársati ‘rains’ (< *h2u̯ érs-e/o-),
291–2) (< *(h2)u̯ ors-éi̯e/o-; cf. Ved. root aor.˙ ávarsīt
varsáyati ‘lets rain’) ˙
˙
*k̑ emh2- ‘toil’ (LIV κομέω ‘take care of, tend’ [cf. Ved. root aor. aśamīt ‘has
323–4) (< *k̑ om(h2)-éi̯e/o-; cf. Ved. become quiet’; Gr. thematic aor.
śamáyati ‘calms’) ἔκαμον ‘toiled’]
*k(u̯ )i̯eu̯ - ‘move σοέω ‘set in motion, drive’ (*)σέομαι (< *k(u̯ )i̯ eu̯ -e/o-; cf.
(intr.)’ (LIV 394–5) (Bacch. 16.90) Aesch. Pers. 25
(< *k(u̯ )i̯ou̯ -éi̯e/o-; cf. Ved. σοῦνται ‘they rush’, Table 6.2),
cyāváyati ‘sets in motion’) replaced by σεύομαι (with
secondary act. σεύω ‘drive,
chase’) after s-aor. ἔσσευα
‘drove’ (8.5, fn. 23); cf. Ved.
cyávate ‘moves (intr.),
undertakes’
*k u̯ elh1- ‘turn’ (LIV πολέω ‘go about’ (also πέλομαι (and πέλω) ‘come into
386–8) med.), also tr. ‘turn up (the existence, become, am’ (Hom.
earth with a plough)’ [Aeol.]) (< *k u̯ elh1-e/o-); cf. Ved.
(< *k u̯ olh1-éi̯e/o-; cf. YAv. cárati, OAv. caraitī ‘moves, goes
kāraiieiti ‘makes a furrow’ about’, Lat. colō ‘look after,
(?), also CLuw. kuu̯ alīti cultivate’
‘turns (tr.)’?)
*leu̯ h3- ‘wash’ ?λοέω (> λούω) ‘wash’ cf. Lat. lavō, lavere ‘wash’,
(LIV 418) (possibly < *lou̯ (h3)-éi̯e/o-, Umbr. vutu ‘shall wash’ (<
but the verb may also be *leu̯ h3-e/o-); Gr. λόω (as in Od.
analogically based on the 10.361 with 3sg. impf. λόε) might
aor. λοεσ(σ)α-: cf. 6.16, with also reflect a thematic root
fn. 64 on στερέω ‘deprive’ present if based on (e.g.) 3sg.
after στερεσ(σ)α-) *leu̯ h3-e-ti > *leu̯ -o-ti → *lou̯ -e-ti
(with the metathesis described
in 6.15)
*pet- ‘fly, fall’ (cf. ποτέομαι ‘fly (about)’ πέτομαι ‘fly’ (< *pét-e/o-); cf.
Table 4.1, LIV (< *pot-éi̯e/o-; cf. Ved. Ved. pátati, YAv. pataiti ‘flies’,
477–9) patáyati ‘flies about’, with Lat. petō ‘rush (for sth.)’
secondary pat- for pāt- to
distinguish from caus.
pātáyati ‘lets fly’?)
*seg̑ h- ‘hold, ὀχέω ‘hold fast, endure’ ἔχω ‘hold, have’ (< *ség̑ h-e/o-);
overcome’ (LIV (< *sog̑ h-éi̯e/o-) cf. Ved. sáhate ‘overpowers’
515–16)
262 The Perfect
Table 5.4. (cont.)

*spek̑ - ‘look, watch’ σκοπέω ‘contemplate, [cf. only i̯-pres. Gr. σκέπτομαι
(LIV 575–6) consider’ ‘look about, consider’, Ved.
(←< *spok̑ -éi̯e/o-, with páśyati ‘looks (at)’, Lat. speciō
metathesis; cf. Ved. ipv. ‘look (at)’; s-aor. Gr. ἐσκέψατο,
med. spāśayasva ‘peer!’) Ved. áspasta, Lat. spexī]
˙˙
*srebh- ‘slurp, sup ῥοφέω ‘sup up, gulp down’ [cf. Arm. aor. arb-i ‘I drank’;
up’ (LIV 587) (< *srobh-éi̯e/o-; cf. Lat. note also Hitt. šarāpi ‘sips’
sorbeō ‘suck up’, Alb. gjerb (< *sróbh-ei̯ )]
‘sucks up’, both with
metathesis)
*stei̯gh- ‘go, march’ στοιχέω ‘march in line’ στείχω ‘go, march’ (< *stéi̯gh-e/o-);
(LIV 593–4) (< *stoi̯gh-éi̯e/o-) cf. OIr. tíagu ‘go’, Goth. steigan
‘climb’
?*strebh- ‘turn στροφέω ‘turn [the στρέφω ‘turn round/about (tr.)’,
round/about’ stomach] upside down’ (Ar. med. στρέφομαι ‘turn round
(LIV 603) Pax 175) (intr.)’ (< *strébh-e/o-)
(< *strobh-éi̯e/o-); cf. also
στροβέω ‘whirl about’, but
the link between *streb- (?)
and *strebh- is unclear
*ti̯eg u̯ - ‘withdraw σοβέω ‘scare away’ σέβομαι (and post-Hom. σέβω)
(intr.)’ (LIV 643) (< *ti̯og u̯ -éi̯ e/o-) ‘feel awe, worship’ (< *ti̯ég u̯ -e/o-);
cf. Skt. tyajati ‘abandons’
*trem- ‘tremble’ τρομέω ‘tremble’ τρέμω ‘tremble’ (< *trém-e/o-);
(LIV 648–9) (< *trom-éi̯e/o-) cf. Lat. tremō ‘tremble’
*trep- ‘turn’ (LIV τροπέω ‘turn’ (Il. 18.224) τρέπω ‘turn (tr.)’, med.
650) or *trek u̯ - (cf. (< *trop/k u̯ -éi̯e/o-); note τρέπομαι ‘turn (intr.)’ (<
Myc.; see also LIV Myc. to-ro-qe-jo-me-no = *trép/k u̯ -e/o-); cf. Skt. trapate ‘is
635, s.v. *terk u̯ -) /trok u̯ ei̯ omenos/ ‘?visiting’ ashamed’, but also Lat. torqueō
‘twist, wind’ (and Hitt. tarukzi
‘dances’ < *térk u̯ -ti vs. teripzi
‘ploughs’ < *térp-ti)
*u̯ eg̑ h- ‘drive’ (LIV ὀχέω ‘let ride, transport’, (*)(ϝ)έχω ‘drive, transport’ (in
661–2) ὀχέομαι ‘(intr.) drive, ride, Pamphylian ϝεχέτω ‘shall
am carried’ bring’) (< *u̯ ég̑ h-e/o-); cf. Ved.
(< *u̯ og̑ h-éi̯ e/o-; cf. Ved. váhati, Av. vazaiti ‘drives, flows’,
vāhayati ‘makes drive’, Lat. vehō, Lith. vežù, OCS vezǫ
Goth. -wagjan ‘shake, ‘drive’
move’, CSl. voziti ‘drive’)
φοβέομαι is the regular ‘iterative-intensive’ variant of φέβομαι.140 However,
although there may be parallels for the creation of such oppositional
factitives,141 at least transitive πολέω ‘plough < turn up (the earth with a
plough)’ and σοβέω ‘scare away’ are not easily explained along these lines,
given the lack of med. *σοβέομαι and the different meaning of med.
πολέομαι. Despite the divergence between non-factitive/causative142 Gr.
δοκέω ‘expect, suppose’ (~ ‘accept’) and factitive/causative Lat. doceō
‘teach’ (< *‘make accept/perceive’), Greek thus supports the reconstruction
of a factitive/causative as well as ‘iterative-intensive’ value of the class.
Having said that, Kuryłowicz rightly stresses that the extent of the
causative Class X in Sanskrit must be secondary:
The stock of Indo-Iranian causatives thus consists of (a) forms like loukéi̯eti
(rocáyati) which contrast with intransitive mediopassives (deponents) [like]
léuketai (rócate); (b) in the second place, forms like gā̆ máyati which contrast
with intransitive actives; (c) only in the third place, doubly transitive verbs
like kārayati ‘make do’ (< kr̥ nóti, karóti) which contrast with transitive
actives. Group (c) does not yet ˙ exist in either Vedic or Avestan: it only
represents a later Indic development. Thieme (Das Plusquamperfectum im
Rigveda) has been the first to note that in the RV true causatives only exist
next to intransitive verbs.143
The same is true in Germanic. As García García has shown, jan-
causatives next to transitive base verbs are found in Gothic (as in other
Germanic languages) only when the transitive base verbs are ‘medial’
(position in space, verbs of grooming) or ‘ingestive’ (verbs of eating,
perceiving, etc.), i.e., when they have an experiencer subject.144 They are
excluded from the more agentive groups of transitive verbs, whereas
intransitive verbs readily pair with them. Similarly, Kölligan finds among
the Latin *CoC-éi̯e/o- verbs
140
Kuryłowicz (1956: 87).
141
Kuryłowicz’s (1956: 87 n. 54) comparison with ‘ἀπ-όλλυται “he perishes” : ἀπ-όλλῡσι “he makes
perish”’ is problematic because the transitivising effect of the nasal suffix (*-νῡ-) must also be taken
into account. More pertinently, Kölligan (2004: 205) points to πείθομαι ‘obey’ → πείθω ‘convince’
(cf. 4.42), but in some such cases the existence of factitive s-aorists (πεισα- etc.) may have been
instrumental too (cf. Table 8.1, 8.8–8.10).
142
Pace Ruijgh’s (2004b: 58–9) “*‘I make something acceptable’” > “*‘I consider something
acceptable’”.
143
Kuryłowicz (1956: 89) (translated), after Thieme (1929: 18–23); cf. Redard (1972: 187), Jamison
(1983a: esp. 185–9), Lubotsky (1989: 108–10), Tichy (1993), Lazzeroni (2002c: 109–10; 2009: 7–11),
Kulikov (2006: 76).
144
García García (2005: 33); cf. already Kuryłowicz (1956: 91–2). Ingestive verbs enjoy a similar special
status in Vedic and elsewhere: see Lazzeroni (2009: 10–11), with reference to Shibatani and Pardeshi
(2002).
264 The Perfect
that, in the case of agentive roots, the corresponding Class II verb is also
agentive, possibly with an iterative or intensive nuance, whereas in the case
of non-agentive base verbs it is the formation in -ē- – of course with the
exception of the representatives and continuants of the stative type in PIE
*eh1 – that has a factitive-causative meaning: e.g., Lat. mordēre ‘bite, offend’
to PIE *h2merd- ‘harm’ in Gr. ἀμέρδω ‘deprive of’, OAv. mōrǝndat̰
‘neglects’, OE smeortan ‘hurt’, etc., and on the other hand for example ˙
145
torrēre ‘dry, roast’ to PIE *ters- ‘dry out’ (Ved. tŕ syant- ‘thirsty’).
˙˙
5.37 Iteratives to Factitives?

In order to explain this distribution, both Kuryłowicz and Kölligan assume
an iteratival origin of the *CoC-éi̯e/o- type.146 According to Kuryłowicz, a
typical (active) *CoC-éi̯e/o- formation initially contrasted with a base verb
in both the active and mediopassive voices. Through the weakening of its
iteratival nuance, the *CoC-éi̯e/o- formation then became (quasi-)
synonymous with the active base verb and eventually ousted it. At that
point, the only contrast left was with the mediopassive base form, turning
the *CoC-éi̯e/o- verb into an ‘oppositional factitive/causative’. For example,
the precursor of σοβέω, an iteratival PIE *ti̯ og u̯ -éi̯e-ti ‘distances (sb./sth.)
habitually’, might have ousted active *ti̯ ég u̯ -e-ti ‘distances (sb./sth.)’, while
leaving unaffected medial *ti̯ ég u̯ -e-toi̯ ‘distances him/herself’ (> Gr.
σέβεται). But the question then arises why *ti̯og u̯ -éi̯e-ti became synon-
ymous with *ti̯ég u̯ -e-ti in the first place, when the iteratival value of the
*CoC-éi̯e/o- type survived well enough in other paradigms, and why a
middle *ti̯og u̯ -éi̯e-toi̯ was not also built. After all, Kuryłowicz himself
treated a verb such as Gr. φοβέομαι as an ‘iteratival’ variant of φέβομαι
(5.36) and in a pair like φορέω vs. φέρω it is undeniable that the former
often implies “repeated or habitual action”:147 ὕδωρ ἐφόρει ‘she carried/
145
Kölligan (2004: 235) (translated); cf. Kölligan (2007b).
146
Kuryłowicz (1928: 204–9; 1956: 93; 1964a: 86–8), Kölligan (2004: esp. 208–17); cf. already Delbrück
(1897: 118–19), the critical discussion in Jamison (1983a: 18–20), and Deroy (1993). García García
(2005: 39–40) (with examples from Zulu, Swahili, Shoshone, and Miwok) stresses that ‘it is
typologically well attested that a causative suffix may express other side meanings, such as an
intensive-iterative one’, and she therefore demands that an explanation of the factitive/causative ~
iterative-intensive relationship be ‘sufficiently comprehensive to be compatible with the data of other,
non-Indo-European languages which also have an intensive-iterative/causative formation’. We
cannot explore here whether this is the case with the explanation given in 5.38 (and by Redard
1972: 186–7; cf. also Pooth 2004b: 429). Even if similar outcomes had resulted from different
trajectories in Proto-Indo-European and the non-Indo-European languages named, diverging func-
tions of denominal verbs in languages like German might still be compared (e.g., ‘iterative’ bauern ‘to
be a farmer = Bauer’ vs. ‘factitive/causative’ knechten ‘to turn into a serf = Knecht’).
147
LSJ 1950, s.v. φορέω; cf. Deroy (1993: 98–9). Elsewhere, however, “the meaning and usage of the -o-
grade -éō present and the parallel formation are very similar” (Tucker 1990: 140, with more detail).
would carry water’ (≠ ὕδωρ ἔφερε) is said of a maid charged with this typical
servant’s task (Od. 10.358), and σώματα φωτῶν φορέουσι ‘they carry about
the bodies of men’ is what the waves surrounding the deadly Planktai cliffs
do (Od. 12.67–8).
If the [iterative] → [factitive/causative] trajectory were correct, it
would therefore be preferable to postulate a transformation rather than a
loss of iterativity. In this vein, Kölligan has suggested that the factitive/
causative usage arose in situations where two subjects A and B were said to
carry out the same action, but where the more agentive A at the same time
caused the less agentive B to do so (e.g., Peter and Paul turn = ‘Peter turns,
and makes Paul turn [with him]’). At first, the fact that there was more
than one subject would have necessitated the use of the ‘iterative’ forma-
tion; but later on, the requirement that A also take part in the action would
have been relaxed through a functional reanalysis of the verb.
Unfortunately, Kölligan does not specify how such a reanalysis should
have worked in practice. It is not obvious how a PIE phrase like *Anom.
Binstr. u̯ ortéi̯eti (or u̯ ortéi̯onti?) ‘A turns with B’ could have mutated into
*Anom. Bacc. u̯ ortéi̯eti ‘A turns B’ (even if A’s own turning were no longer
considered relevant).148 Furthermore, it is questionable whether the mere
presence of more than one (semantic) subject would have licensed the use
of a *CoC-éi̯e/o- verb when the action expressed was conceived of as a single
one. There is nothing to suggest that *CoC-éi̯e/o- verbs prefer plural
subjects, and where their ‘iterative’ function is discernible it is rather the
(habitual or generic) iteration of the eventuality that seems to be at stake.
5.38 Denominal Iteratives and Factitives

A better solution can be found if we take into account the derivational ideas
of Kuryłowicz, Redard, and Cowgill (5.34) and do not insist that the
factitive/causative function must have grown out of the iterative one. If
the *CoC-éi̯e/o- verbs originated from *-i̯e/o- derivatives to the same *CoC-é
nominals that stand behind the PIE perfects and the Hittite hi-conjugation
root presents, their semantic variation loses its mystery. The ˘ fundamental
meaning of a denominal (3sg.) *CoC-é-i̯e-t(i) should then be ‘is/was [acting
as/behaving like] an X-er’, not unlike that of the nominal verb *CóC-e itself
(5.29). To the extent that nominal *CoC-é was specifically agentive, perti-
nent forms may have been built most readily when the semantics of the
148
As an intermediate step, Kölligan (2004: 215–17) suggests an ‘applicative’ function, through which
the comitative argument was turned into a direct object; but again too much is left open and the
non-factitive/causative *CoC-éi̯e/o- verbs do not show ‘applicative’ tendencies.
266 The Perfect
verbal root allowed an agentive/controlling subject. It seems more natural
to refer to someone as e.g. a ‘carrier’ (especially when he/she habitually/
professionally carries: *bhor-é) than as an ‘out-drier’ or ‘up-waker’ (for
someone who habitually/regularly ‘dries out’ or ‘wakes up’: *tors-é,
*bhou̯ d h-é).
Meanwhile, with labile roots like *u̯ ert- or *trep- ‘turn’, which could
equally well occur with or without a direct object (in the latter case as
medial ‘deponents’), the relevant agentive nominal would have been
ambivalent: *u̯ ort-é or *trop-é would either refer to someone who (habi-
tually) turns things round or to someone who (habitually) turns
(changes direction). Semantically, *u̯ ort-é or *trop-é and their verbal
derivatives *u̯ ort-é-i̯e-t(i), *trop-é-i̯e-t(i) were therefore relatable both
(a) to active *u̯ ért-e-t(i), *trép-e-t(i) ‘turns (sth.)’ and (b) to middle
*u̯ ért-e-to(i̯), *trép-e-to(i̯) ‘turns (intr.)’. In the former case they would
be synchronically analysable as ‘iteratives’, in the latter case as ‘factitive/
causatives’. But as ‘factitive/causatives’ they could also become conve-
nient models for the creation of similar verbs to base forms with non-
agentive/controlling subjects: for if there had been a ‘contradiction’
between the inherent agentivity of a *CoC-é nominal and the non-
agentivity of, say, a waking-up or a drying-out process, there was no
such contradiction between the nominal’s agentivity and the agentivity
of causing someone to wake up or something to dry out (e.g., *bhou̯ d h-é-
i̯e-t(i), *tors-é-i̯ e-t(i)). Accordingly, the ‘factitive/causative’ value of the
*CoC-éi̯e/o- type is not so much secondary as another way of looking at
the same nucleus of forms. Nor is it a problem if one and the same
formation, like PIE *dok̑ -éi̯e/o-, surfaces in the daughter languages as
either ‘factitive/causative’ (Lat. doceō ‘teach’) or ‘iterative’ (Gr. δοκέω
‘suppose’). This is due to divergent lexicalisations in a situation where
the basic semantics of the root (‘receive, accept’) allowed more or less
agentive/controlling nuances.
5.39 Relative Chronology

If this is accepted, why does the PIE perfect, though based on the same
agentive nominal, not show a similar leaning towards factitivity? Two things
have to be borne in mind. Firstly, the interpretation of *CoC-é nouns to
labile verbs did not have to favour (b) over (a): a ‘turner’ (*u̯ ort-é, *trop-é)
could also be someone who (habitually) changes direction. In that case, the
*CoC-é noun, or its verbal derivative, did not enter a factitive/causative
relationship with a medial base verb (e.g., πείθoμαι ‘trust’ ~ πέποιθα *‘am
trusting/a truster’, not †‘truster (somebody)’).
Secondly, we must not forget the diachronic dimension. Compared to
the nominal-verb type, the *CoC-éi̯e/o- derivatives look like a younger
formation. Leaving aside the perfective version which turned into the
‘perfect’, only relics of the former are found in non-Anatolian Indo-
European (5.34). By contrast, the *CoC-éi̯e/o- class with its broad repre-
sentation throughout Indo-European and its increasing productivity in
some branches is no endangered archaism.149 So, when the nominal-verb
type came into being through a reinterpretation of the *CoC-é nominals
(Stage I), the creation of *CoC-éi̯e/o- verbs still lay in the future. Since
*CoC-é (→ later *CoC-ós) agent nouns continued to be productive, noth-
ing speaks against their *CoC-éi̯e/o- derivatives being built only later
(Stage II).
Once we recognise such a two-stage process, we may also envisage that
the agentive nominals themselves somehow changed in character
between Stages I and II. The above argument on the factitive/causative
*CoC-éi̯e/o- verbs works best if the *CoC-é nominals on which they are
based were oriented towards the A-role (= the subject of a transitive verb;
cf. 4.41, 9.1) of an underlying proposition. Had it been oriented towards
the S-role instead (= the subject of an intransitive verb), the *CoC-éi̯e/o-
formations would not have been regularly interpreted as factitive/causa-
tives when occurring next to middle (intransitive) base verbs. At Stage I,
though, things may still have been different. Why such an idea is not
completely arbitrary will become clear later (10.31). For now, we can only
say that if it holds, it makes sense for the perfect not to show the same
inclination towards factitivity/causativity as the *CoC-éi̯e/o- class does
(Fig. 5.6).
Finally, we can now clarify the distributional point from which we
started (5.34). Although Stage II must have been reached before
Anatolian split off (since there are a few verbs like Hitt. u̯ aššezzi ‘dresses
(tr.)’ < *u̯ os-éi̯e-ti150), it may well be that the *CoC-éi̯ e/o- type became fully
productive only after the separation of Anatolian. In Anatolian, the old
(imperfective) nominal verbs therefore survived. Elsewhere, the ‘iterative-
causative’ newcomers caused their decline and eventual disappearance.
149
Note also Lazzeroni’s (2009: 15–16) observation that *CoC-éi̯e/o- factitive/causatives appear to
supersede factitive/causatives with a nasal affix; the latter clearly rest on an archaic structure (cf.
the Epilogue).
150
Oettinger (2002: xx); cf. Eichner (1970), and for a few other possible examples Watkins (1971: 68–9)
(lukke-zi ‘lighten’ < *lou̯ k-éi̯e/o-), Jasanoff (1978b), and Melchert (1997b: 134–6) (on Luwian/
Lycian). To assume a far-reaching transition of *CoC-éi̯e/o- verbs into the Anatolian hi-conjugation
˘
(Schulze-Thulin 2001b) is unnecessary with the above account; but so is the inverse assumption that
u̯ aššezzi is based on a lost hi-conjugation verb *wāši (Hart 1990: 459).
˘
268 The Perfect
Stage I ‘nominal verb’ nomen agentis
perfective imperfective
*Ce-CóC-e *CóC-e *CoC-é (S-oriented)
Stage II ‘iterative-causative’ nomen agentis

*CoC-é-ie-t(i)
˘ *CoC-é (A-oriented)
(>→*CoC-ós)
,
IE perfect Anat. hi-pres. ´ σοβεω
e.g.,ϕορεω, ´ e.g., αοιδος
´ , etc.
˘
Fig. 5.6. A relative chronology of ‘nominal verbs’ and *CoC-éi̯e/o- verbs
5.40–5.42 Related Formations II: Zero-Grade Statives

5.40 *CoC-é and *CéC-o
It will be noticed that nominal *CoC-é, which has played a central role in
the preceding discussion, differs only in its accent seat and vocalism from
nominal *CéC-o, as encountered in 4.34–4.35 (e.g., *k̑ éi̯-o(i̯) > Ved. śáye).151
According to the ablaut principles outlined in 3.41, both *CoC-é and
*CéC-o (= *CéC-e/o: 4.37) can be traced back to a prior *CeC-e
structure. When accented on the first syllable, the vowel of the second –
short of being lost altogether, perhaps to preserve morphological transpar-
ency – would have surfaced as [*-ǝ >] *-e/o, making *CéC-o the generalised
version of one of the two possible outcomes in sandhi. When accented
on the second syllable, the expected outcome would be either *CC-é or
*CǝC-é, the latter yielding *CoC-é as a typical surface realisation.
The fundamental difference between *CoC-é and *CéC-o therefore con-
cerns just the accentuation. In 4.41, it has been argued that the typical
referent of a *CéC-o form should have been endowed with a low degree of
agentivity. We compared it there to a mediopassive participle, which is
oriented either towards the direct object (O) of a transitive verb or to a
151
On this link between the PIE perfect and the thematic present, see also Bader (1972); but her
presentation remains vague on the exact relationship. Lazzeroni (1990; 1996: 135) diagnoses a
‘complementary distribution’ of the earliest media tantum and perfects: typical media tantum
(incl. śáye/κεῖται, but also thematic middles like those of 4.44) are said to contain roots unlikely
to form perfects. As a tendency, this is in line with what follows: such roots prototypically feature a
SO-subject, predisposing them for the *CéC-e/o nominal.
non-agentive subject of an intransitive one (i.e., to the S of ‘unaccusative’
verbs such as ‘lie’ or ‘fall’: SO). Thus, *CéC-o and *CoC-é seem to comple-
ment each other: for *CoC-é, the evidence favours an agentive interpretation,
with an orientation towards either the A-role of transitive verbs, or pre-
viously the S-role of intransitive ones (5.39) – but, we may now add, of an
‘unergative’ type, where S is still agentive (or volitional/controlling: e.g.,
‘turn [on purpose]’, ‘trust’: SA).
5.41 Agentivity and Accent

Conveniently, such a correlation between agentivity and accentuation may
be inferred not only from the verb, but also from (well-known) nominal
evidence. In Greek, oxytone φορός can be applied, for example, to a
‘favourable’ wind or a fertile (‘productive’) woman, whereas φόρος refers
to ‘that which is brought in by way of payment, tribute’ (LSJ 1951, s.vv.);
τομός means ‘cutting, sharp’, as opposed to τόμος ‘slice’ (i.e., ‘that which is
cut’) (LSJ 1804, s.vv.); and τροχός designates the ‘running’ wheel, but
τρόχος the ‘course’ that is run (LSJ 1829, s.vv.). Thus, Chantraine writes
on the thematic nouns of Greek:
What one can clearly make out in this huge and confused category is the
symmetrical double group of agent nouns with accented suffix and of action
nouns whose structure is identical except that they have the accent on the
root. The type is old, and in Indo-Iranian there are corresponding forms in
terms of both meaning and accent seat: Skt. kā́ mah ‘love’ and kāmáh
‘loving’; çókah ‘heat’ and çokáh ‘burning’, etc.152 ˙ ˙
˙ ˙
The same relationship extends to compounds, although the oxytone
accentuation of the agentive items is often transformed there into a
paroxytone one due to Wheeler’s Law153 and analogical extensions thereof.
For example, whereas θεόγονος means ‘born of God’ (< possessive com-
pound *‘having one’s birth from God’), θεοτόκος refers to the ‘mother of
God’, the person giving birth to God (LSJ 790, 792, s.vv.).
Now, if nothing but the accent differentiated the more agentive semantics of
the PIE nomina agentis (type *CoC-ós) from the non-agentive semantics of the
otherwise identical nomina actionis and nomina rei actae (type *CóC-os), it
requires no leap of faith to assume the same for the *CéC-o vs. *CoC-é pair. But
152
Chantraine (1933: 7) (translated); cf. Wheeler (1885: 69–85) also on Germanic and Vedic, Brugmann
(1906: 27), Hirt (1895: 266–7), Debrunner (1954a: 98–100) on Vedic, Risch (1974: 8), Krasukhin
(2004: 121–33), Viti (2015c: 124–5). Lazzeroni (1971) offers a critical, but too radical, reassessment.
153
I.e., the accent shift from ultimate to penultimate syllable in words ending in a heavy-light-light
sequence: cf. Wheeler (1885: 89) and Probert (2006: 93–4), comparing e.g. Gr. φωσφόρος ‘light-
bearing’ with Ved. pustim-bhará- ‘bringing prosperity’; Risch (1974: 196–8).
˙˙
270 The Perfect
we may venture even further. For any ablaut theory along the lines of 3.41, the
accented radical o-grade of nomina actionis/rei actae like Gr. φόρος ‘tribute’, Skt.
kā́ mah ‘love’, etc. is awkward, unlike the unaccented o-grade of the nomina
˙ Scholars have therefore long suspected that only the latter is a regular
agentis.
product of ablaut, and that the former either results from a semantically
motivated accent retraction (agentive *CoC-ó- → non-agentive *CóC-o-) or is
analogical with the situation in recessively accented (possessive) compounds
where the o-grade would have arisen regularly also in non-agentive second
elements (i.e., *x́ -CeC-e- > *x́ -CoC-e/o-).154 In either case, the *CóC-e/o- nomina
actionis should conceal a previous *CéC-e/o- structure. And that then recalls the
existence of a more marginal, hence potentially more archaic, e-graded group
of thematic nomina actionis/rei actae, including Gr. ἔργον ‘work’ ~ OHG werc
(< *u̯ érg̑ -o-m *‘that which is done/made’) and Gr. πέδον ‘ground’ ~ Hitt. peda-
ntr. ‘place’, Umbr. peřum ‘ground, place’ (< *péd-o-m *‘that which is “footed”/
trampled (on)’?, contrast Ved. padá- ntr. ‘step, track’ etc.).155
In the end, there is thus a perfect match between the conclusions drawn
from the verbal data and those based on the nominal material:156
Verbal evidence Nominal evidence
SA/A-oriented nominal (‘participle’) *CoC-é nomen agentis *CoC-é/ó-
‘X-ingtr./intr. [agentive]’ ‘X-er’
SO/O-oriented nominal (‘participle’) *CéC-e/o nomen actionis/rei actae *CéC-e/o-
‘X-ingintr. [non-agentive], X-ed’ ‘X-ing [process], that which is X-ed’
5.42 Zero-Grade Statives

As (re)stated in 5.40, *CoC-é (< *CǝC-é) was only one possible realisation
of ablaut-reduced earlier *CeC-é: it was called for when fully syncopated
*CC-é was unviable, for example because an undesirable or unstable consonant
154
For the latter theory, which presupposes very early PIE θεόγονος-compounds, see especially Hirt
(1900: 157–8; 1913: 304–12), for the former, in various guises, e.g. Güntert (1916/17: 55–6), Benveniste
(1935: 172), Mottausch (2001: 8), Krasukhin (2004: 133).
155
Meillet (1922b), Chantraine (1933: 15). On *péd-o- vs. *ped-ó-, see Wodtko, Irslinger, and Schneider
(2008: 528, 534–6): ‘Pace [Dunkel 2002b: 26–7], the separation [sc., of *ped-ó-] from *péd-o- and the
attribution of only one semantic value to each of them is difficult’. Is *ped-ó- a Vrddhi derivative
(‘derivation in -o- with added infixation of -e-’, Meier-Brügger 2002: 288; cf. Darms˙1978: 376–91) of
the root noun for ‘foot’, i.e. *‘that of/relating to the foot’? The formal relationship of such *CéC-e/o-
nomina actionis/rei actae with s-stem neuters that also serve as nomina actionis/rei actae (cf. Stüber
2002: 224–31, 234–6, 238–43) equally deserves further thought.
156
On the presumable secondariness of *CoC-é/ó- for *CoC-é- in the agent nouns, see 3.38, on the
endingless state of ‘verbalised’ *CoC-é and *CéC-e/o see 5.28, 10.19, and 10.30. None of this excludes
the further comparison of the *CéC-o nominal with similarly structured adjectival stems (Hart 1988:
87; 1990: 466; 9.24, fn. 82): both ‘participles’ and adjectives denote a non-agentive quality (e.g.,
*k̑ ei̯-o ‘lying’ ~ *leu̯ k-o- ‘[being] bright’, Gr. λευκός, etc.).
cluster would have resulted (e.g., *TT-é to *TeT- roots). In the case of
*CeI̯ C- or *CeRC- roots, this was not the case. Of course, the *CoC-é type
could be analogically extended to such items (cf. Gr. οἶδα ‘know’,
πέποιθα ‘trust’, to *u̯ ei̯d-, *bhei̯d h-); but originally their agentive nom-
inal, with derivatives, should have had the structure *CIC-é, *CR̥ C-é.
Such a coexistence of *CoC-é and *CIC-é/*CR̥ C-é replicates the one
observed with action nouns in *-éh2 (3.41: Gr. φυγή ‘flight’ ~ βολή
‘throw’, etc.); or also, even more directly, with compounds such as
Ved. gav-is-á- ‘cow-desiring’ (< *-h2is-ó-) next to the type of Gr.
θεοτόκος <˙ *-tokós (5.41).157
Theoretically, the existence of archaic perfect forms with a zero-grade
root in both the singular and plural cannot then be excluded. If a 3sg. perf.
*Ce-CóC-e is based on a reduplicated version of nominal *CoC-é → verbal
*CóC-e (5.27–5.29), then nominal *CIC-é/*CR̥ C-é → verbal *CÍC-e/
*CŔ̥ C-e → reduplicated *Ce-CÍC-e/*Ce-CŔ̥ C-e is conceivable as well.
Even if the Greek evidence does not require such forms (5.8), the issue
may still have an impact on our assessment of what we find in other
branches (see 3.23 on Italic and Celtic zero-graded perfects).
More crucially, however, we may now detect a further trace of our
nominal verbs in another relic category:158 the oxytone Indo-Iranian ‘sta-
tives’, commonly – though perhaps secondarily – used in passive as well as
merely intransitive function159 (e.g., Ved. duh-é ‘gives milk’ < *d hugh-é/ó(i̯ ),
vid-é ‘knows, is known’ < *u̯ id-é/ó(i̯), bruvé ‘is called’ < *mluh2-é/ó(i̯)).160
That these must be somehow related to the other ‘stative’ type, of Ved. śáye
‘lies’ < *k̑ éi̯-o(i̯) (4.34), is generally acknowledged. In view of the formal
divergence, however, one cannot just leave it at that.161 Admittedly, the
157
Compounds like gav-is-á- commonly function as nomina agentis, and they are most usual when the
root nucleus is short or˙ long i, u, or r: see Debrunner (1954a: 69). The action-noun type in *-éh2 may
ultimately go back to a collective of˙ *C(o)C-é nominals being applied to inanimate (pseudo-)agents
(cf. Engl. connection, seen as a group of connectors).
158
Similarly Pooth (2001: esp. 234–7): semantically, Ved. ‘stative’ vidé and ‘perfect’ véda often overlap.
159
Very rare transitive usages are highlighted by Pooth (2000); cf. fn. 162 and 10.19.
160
Cf. Oettinger (1976), Lazzeroni (1993), Kümmel (1996), Gotō (1997), Krasukhin (2000). Watkins
(1969: 88, 113), Oettinger (1976: 111), Jasanoff (1978a: 53–4), and Gotō (1997: 190) reconstruct
*d hugh-ó(i̯) etc., but the Indo-Iranian evidence cannot decide between *-é(i̯) (favoured by Kümmel
1996: 12, 62) and *-ó(i̯). Although *d hugh-é(i̯) etc. may have been replaced by *d hugh-ó(i̯) etc. already
in Proto-Indo-European (through analogy with the *k̑ éi̯o(i̯) type), as is intimated by Anatolian
*CC-ó material like Hitt. tukkāri ‘is visible, important’ (probably < *tuk-ó(ri) or *duk-ó(ri), not
*d hugh-ó(ri): see Schindler 1972: 36–7 and Joseph 1988, against Oettinger 1976: 113 and Gotō 1997:
176), a formula with accented *-é remains preferable as the overall starting point.
161
Oettinger (1976: 111) is purely descriptive: ‘the stative comprises a zero-graded teleutostatic (Ved.
duhé “gives milk”, Hitt. ištuu̯ āri “is/becomes apparent”) and a full-graded acrostatic inflectional
type (Ved. śáye “lies”, Hitt. eša “sits”, u̯ akkāri “is lacking”)’.
272 The Perfect
*CéC-e/o *C( )C-é [ > *CoC-é/*CIC-é/*CRC-é]
e
non-agentive nominal agentive nominal °
oriented towards ‘unacc.’ SO oriented towards ‘unerg.’ SA
creation of neo-active
new: oriented towards SAor SO

*CéC-e-t *CéC-o ˘
(e.g.,*bhér-e-t(i)) (e.g.,*kéi-o)
˘
= them. root pres. ‘stative’ (SO-subject)
marginalised by
*CoC-é [or *CIC-é/*CRC-é] (S-subject)

°
mainly w. creation of
A-subject oppositional
middle (S-subject)
ipfv.*CóC-e vs. pfv.*Ce-CóC-e

(S-subject + (S-subject
[new] A-subject) [late: + A-subj.])
*CéC-e-t(i) *CéC-e-t-o(i)˘ relics relics Anat.hi-pres. PIE perfect

(Ved.sáye) (Ved.duhé) ˘
´
Fig. 5.7. Formal relationships between PIE thematic presents, ‘nominal verbs’,
and ‘statives’
Vedic examples just cited do not decisively suggest that *CIC-é/*CR̥ C-é
was more agentive than *CéC-o, even if one might detect a pertinent
tendency at least in the frequent transitive use of duhé.162 If *CIC-é/
*CR̥ C-é forms, like *CoC-é ones, were initially SA-oriented, it must
have been tempting to extend them, at the expense of *CéC-o, to SO-
orientation, and this had to obscure the original distribution. Keeping
this in mind, and building on Fig. 4.2, we obtain the evolution shown
in Fig. 5.7.
162
See especially Pooth (2000: 98–102), who makes a case for other statives also occasionally being
agentive, but cannot cite any unambiguous *CéC-o example. In any case, nothing favours the
inverse distribution considered by Gotō (1997: 190–1) and implied by Krasukhin’s (2009)
sweeping claims about the semantics of full-grade vs. zero-grade verb forms in early Proto-
Indo-European.
5.43–5.47 Related Formations III: *CC-éi̯ e/o- ‘Iteratives’ 273
5.43–5.47 Related Formations III: *CC-éi̯e/o- ‘Iteratives’
5.43 Greek Evidence
The original equivalence of nominal *CoC-é and *CIC-é/*CR̥ C-é is sig-
nificant also for some Greek data. Since *CoC-é has been identified as the
derivational basis for the *CoC-éi̯e/o- ‘iterative-causatives’ (5.34, 5.38), what
about a parallel class of *CIC-éi̯e/o- and *CR̥ C-éi̯e/o- (that is, structural
*CC-éi̯e/o-) verbs? Of course, such a class could again have been superseded
by a generalised *CoC-éi̯e/o- type (cf. e.g. Gr. οὐρέω ~ Ved. varsáyati <
˙ in fact
*(h2)u̯ ors-éi̯e/o-, not *(h2)u̯ r̥ s-éi̯e/o- (Table 5.4)). Yet, relics might, and
163
probably do, still exist.
The principal evidence for zero-graded presents in *-éi̯e/o- has been
collected by Kölligan.164 Table 5.5 reproduces the Greek material among
the twenty-nine entries in his appendix.
5.44 Problems of Identification

Table 5.5 is almost certainly not exhaustive. Many verbs that could belong
here may also have a different origin. For example, Kölligan cites αὐχέω
‘boast’, which is probably best derived from *h2ugh-éi̯e/o- (cf. Hitt. huekzi
‘conjures’ < *h2u̯ égh-ti);165 but a denominal formation to the noun˘αὖχος
ntr. (< *h2éugh-os) can also be contemplated. A priori, the future/aorist stem
αὐχησα-, not †αὐχεσ(σ)α-, favours the first possibility; contrast denomi-
nal αἰδέομαι ‘am ashamed’, to αἰδώς fem. ‘shame’, with fut./aor. αἰδεσ-
(σ)α-.166 However, a case like (epic) μαχέομαι (~ μάχομαι) ‘fight’ shows the
pitfalls of the argument: there is no extant s-stem noun *μάχος (nor
compounds in -μαχής), but the future/aorist stem μαχεσ(σ)α- is better
attested than μαχησα-.167
Other uncertainties beset lexemes like σχάω ‘slit open’ and ἀρόω ‘plough’
(~ Lat. arō ‘plough’). Their derivation from *sk̑ h2-éi̯e/o- and *h̥ 2rh3-éi̯e/o- has
advantages over one from *sk̑ h̥ 2-i̯é/ó- and *h̥ 2rh̥ 3-i̯é/ó- if one accepts ‘Pinault’s
163
Such layering obviates the ‘need’ for Rasmussen’s (1992: 346–9) consonant-infix theory (cf. 3.41, fn.
98). Even more oddly, Ruijgh (2004b: 57–8) denies the PIE antiquity of the *CoC-éi̯e/o- type.
164
Kölligan (2002). 165 Kölligan (2002: 138); cf. LIV 287, s.v. *h2u̯ egh-.
166
Cf. Peters (1980a: 18–20). Vice versa, Klingenschmitt (1982: 236–7) separates Gr. ἀρκέω ‘ward off,
keep off’ from Lat. arceō ‘keep apart’ (< “?*h2r̥ k-éi̯e/o-” according to LIV 273, s.v. *h2erk-) because of
the fut./aor. stem ἀρκεσα-. Further ambiguous cases include ἀγρέω ‘take, catch’ (< *h2gr-éi̯e/o-?,
cf. LIV 276, s.v. ?*h2ger-, after Vine 1998: 50 n. 118), ἀλάομαι ‘wander, roam’ (< *h2lh2-éi̯e/o-?, cf. LIV
264, s.v. *h2elh2-, 8.44, fn. 189), or γαμέω ‘marry’ (< *gm̥ -éi̯e/o-?, 8.47).
167
Also, if the root were *magh- with non-ablauting *-a- (LIV 422, s.v.), it would anyway be impossible
to distinguish a *CC-éi̯e/o- from a *CoC-éi̯e/o- formation. For an entirely different approach, see
Malzahn and Peters (2010), who posit an ‘acrostatic’ aorist stem μαχε- ←< *mekha- < *meghH- (with
irregular vowel metathesis).
274 The Perfect
Table 5.5. Greek *CC-éi̯ e/o- ‘iteratives’
Root *CC-éi̯e/o- formation Commentary
*deh1- ‘bind’ ?δέω ‘bind’ An explanation as *dh̥ 1-i̯é/ó- is also

(LIV 102) (< *dh1-éi̯e/o-) feasible; cf. Table 4.1 on Hitt. ipv.
tii̯a ‘bind!’, Ved. dyáti ‘binds’, and
on the reduplicated pres. δίδημι.
*deh2- ‘divide’ (LIV δαίομαι ‘distribute’ δαι- for expected *δάομαι may be
103–4) (< *dh2-éi̯e/o-; cf. Ved. analogically restored from the
dáyate ‘distributes’) (secondary) aorist stem δαισα-
(whence also the secondary nasal
pres. δαίνυμι ‘give a feast’).
*kelh1- ‘call’ (cf. LIV καλέω ‘call’ Cf. Table 3.1 on the reduplicated aor.
361–2) (< *kl̥ h1-éi̯e/o-; cf. Umbr. (ἐ)κέκλετο and the thematic pres.
ipv. kařetu ‘shall call‘) κέλομαι ‘exhort, command’.
*k̑ u̯ eh1- ‘swell’ (LIV κυέω ‘am pregnant’ Cf. factitive s-aor. ἔκυσα ‘made
339–40) (< *k̑ uh1-éi̯e/o-; cf. Ved. pregnant’, whence med. ptcpl.
śváyati ‘swells, κυσαμένη ‘pregnant’; Lat. in-ciēns
increases’) ‘pregnant’ continues a i̯-pres. ptcpl.
*en-k̑ uh1-i̯e-nt-.
*pelh2- ‘draw near, παλαίω ‘wrestle’ For the restitution of -αι-, cf. above
approach’ (LIV (< *pl̥ h2-éi̯e/o-) on δαίομαι (*deh2-); for the
470–1) connection of παλαίω with the root
of root aor. πλῆτο ‘came near’
(Table 6.2) and nasal pres. πίλναμαι
‘approach’, see Kölligan (2002: 150–
2), following Peters in Mayrhofer
(1984: 39*).
*pesd- ‘break wind’ βδέω ‘break wind’ Cf. thematic pres. Lat. pēdō, Lith.
(LIV 477) (< *psd-éi̯e/o-?) bezdė́ti ‘break wind’; the Greek
present formation is uncertain since
‘aor. βδέσαι (unless secondary)
speaks for a (nominal?) base *bdes-’
(LIV 477, s.v. *pesd-).
*sp(h)erh2g- ‘hiss, σφαραγέομαι ‘hiss (in a Cf. zero-graded thematic pres. Skt.
crackle’ (LIV 586) fire)’ sphū́rjati ‘rumbles, crashes’.
(< *sp(h)r̥ h2g-éi̯e/o-; cf.
Ved. ptcpl. sphūrjáyant-
‘hissing (in a fire)’
*(s)teu̯ g- ‘push away’ στυγέω ‘hate, detest’ Cf. thematic aor. στυγε/ο- ‘hate,
(LIV 692) (< *(s)tug-éi̯e/o-; cf. Ved. detest’ (6.22), Ved. ptcpl. tujánt-
ptcpl. tujáyant- ‘moving vehemently’. Ved. tujáyant-
‘pushing, moving is regarded as secondary by Jamison
vehemently’) (1983a: 58).
Table 5.5. (cont.)
Root *CC-éi̯e/o- formation Commentary
*trep- ‘stamp, tread’ τραπέω ‘press grapes’ LIV 650, s.v. 1. *trep-, compares OPr.
(LIV 650) (< *tr̥ p-éi̯e/o-) er-treppa ‘they transgress’ (< ?*trep-
e/o-) as well as the remade nasal pres.
Lith. trem̃ pti ‘crush’; a connection
with *trep- ‘turn’ (cf. Table 5.4) is
difficult to substantiate.
Rule’168 and unless one believes that analogical influence – for instance from
the aorist – led to the restitution of (vocalised) *-H-.169
The most serious impact, however, has the attitude one takes towards
reconstructing a PIE ‘essive’ with zero-grade root and suffix *-h1i̯é/ó-,
describing the state of the verbal subject. Following Harđarson, this has
now been codified by LIV,170 which attributes to the category lexemes such
as Gr. θαρσέω ‘am confident, bold’ or ῥιγέω ‘shudder’ (< *‘am cold’)
(tracing them back to *d hr̥ s-h̥ 1i̯é/ó-, *sriHg-h̥ 1i̯é/ó-).171 But even if we were to
dismiss ‘Pinault’s Rule’, what do we gain by this? While Proto-Indo-
European unquestionably possessed a stative-intransitive suffix *-eh1-, as
continued in the Greek passive/intransitive aorist (1.10), there is no reliable
evidence for this suffix ablauting as would be necessary for it to constitute
the derivational basis of composite ‘essive’ *-h1-i̯é/ó-. Moreover, one should
168
That is, a PIE loss of *-H- in *-CHi̯- (Pinault 1982); for a critical discussion (and rejection) of this
rule see now Lipp (2009: 449–58), for a more positive assessment Barber (2013: 125–6, 379).
169
Cf. Kölligan (2002: 138). LIV 547 and 272–3, s.vv. *sk̑ heh2(i̯)- and *h2erh3-, starts from *sk̑ hh2i̯-é/ó- (>
Ved. -chyáti, according to Kulikov 2000 not from *sk̑ hh2-i̯é/ó-) and *h2érh3-i̯e/o-. See also Meier-
Brügger (1978) on Gr. κτάομαι ‘acquire’ ~ Skt. ksáyati ‘rule over’ < “*kþə̯ 2-éi̯e/o-” (against Jasanoff
2003: 104). ˙
170
Harđarson (1998), LIV (2001: 25). The basic idea that zero-graded verbs in *-éi̯e/o- are somehow
derived from statives in *-eh1- is older (e.g., Jamison 1983a: 67, Peters in Mayrhofer 1984: 39*–40*).
See also Barton (1990/1: esp. 34–6), Ringe (1988–90: 83–91), and Seržant (2011) on the Tocharian
Class III/IV presents, but contrast Jasanoff (2002/3: 140–1), Malzahn (2010: 393–401). The real
pièce de résistance is one part of the Germanic Class III (non-denominal weak verbs with suffix
-ai-/-ja-), explained by some with the help of *-h1-i̯e/o- (W. H. Bennett 1962, Cowgill 1963b: 265–6,
Hock 1973: 332–3, Dishington 1976: 863–4); but even here much is disputed (cf. Jasanoff 1978a: 56–
93; 2002/3: 133–40, 155–8; differently, Harđarson 1998: 331–2), and an early Germanic innovation is
not unlikely (Ringe 2006: 179, cf. 132–3, 164: the presents “in *-ǝ-yé- ~ *-ǝ-yó- were . . . backformed
to the participles [in *-ǝ-tó-]”). Note also that a suffix *-h1i̯e/o- may simply be a variant (or parent?)
of simple *-i̯e/o- (cf. 10.34, fn. 60, and 10.38, fn. 76).
171
LIV 147 and 587–8, s.vv. *d hers-, *srei̯Hg-; cf. e.g. Ved. ptcpl. dhrsánt- ‘courageous’, Lat. frīgeō ‘am
cold’. ˙˙
276 The Perfect
doubt that ‘the semantic function of the present stem in *-h1-i̯e/o- as
opposed to the underlying aorist in *-eh1- consists in the fact that the
fientive mode of behaviour becomes an essive mode of behaviour, i.e.,
entering into a state is changed into remaining in a state’:172 such a claim
unduly mixes up distinctions of aspect with Aktionsart.
Even so, their non-dynamic semantics also speak against θαρσέω, ῥιγέω,
etc. belonging to the *CC-éi̯e/o- class (as *dhr̥ s-éi̯e/o-, *sriHg-éi̯ e/o-). Instead, a
reconstruction *dhr̥ s-eh1-i̯e/o-, *sriHg-eh1-i̯e/o- is feasible.173 From a structural
point of view, pairing aoristic *-eh1-s- > -ησ(α)- with presentic *-eh1-i̯e/o- >
*-ēi̯e/o- > *-ēe/o- > -εε/ο- is straightforward (cf. 8.4; for *-eh1-i̯e/o- cf. also Lat.
videō ‘see’, Goth. witan ‘watch over’, OCS viděti ‘see’ < *u̯ id-eh1(-i̯ e/o)-).174
That such verbs in *-eh1-i̯e/o- > -εε/ο- should eventually have come to interact
with others in *-éi̯e/o- > -εε/ο- is only to be expected and explains why the
latter too acquire aorists in -ησα-.175 At the same time, the stative nature of
the type in *-eh1-i̯e/o- made it functionally resemble perfects. Pairs like pres.
ῥιγέω ~ perf. ἔρριγα ‘am cold’ therefore encouraged the creation of further
-έω presents next to pertinent perfects. Thus, long-vocalic γηθέω ‘rejoice’ or
θηλέω ‘flourish’ presuppose the perfects γέγηθα, τέθηλα (5.7) – with their
structure finally causing the emergence of -έω presents like ἡγέομαι ‘lead’ (to
*seh2g- ‘scent, trace’; i.e., *sāgēi̯e/o- for *sōgēi̯e/o- < *soh2g-éi̯e/o-) and κηλέω
‘charm, bewitch’ (if to καλ- ‘call’ of καλέω; cf. θαλ- ~ θηλέω).176
172
Harđarson (1998: 334); for formal objections, see Jasanoff (1978a: 64–7, 100; 2002/3: 130–44). García
Trabazo (2009) suggests that fientive/essive values in individual languages arose from a single
‘stative’ type in *-eh1-. Aitzetmüller’s (1962: 253–5) idea that *-eh1- was originally a temporal suffix is
unsustainable.
173
Less attractive are denominal interpretations like those of Specht (1934: 35–8) (to hypothetical
i-stems) and Schwyzer (1939: 724) (for θαρσέω: to θάρσος ‘courage’, despite fut./aor. θαρσησα-).
174
See esp. Watkins (1971), Jasanoff (2002/3), Yakubovich (2014). Pace Watkins (1971: 91) and Ruijgh
(2004b: 49–52), the athematic inflection of the relevant verbs in Aeolic (-ημι) is recent and does not
prove the existence of PIE athematic present stems in *-eh1- any more than the ambiguous Latin
material does (cf. Willi 2012a: 272–4). Diachronically, the separation of deverbal and denominal
verbs in *-eh1-i̯e/o- is unnecessary (cf. Watkins 1971: esp. 88–92, Jasanoff 2002/3: 146–9, 167,
Yakubovich 2014: 406). Harđarson (1998: esp. 334) again classifies Lat. vidēre etc. as ‘essive’, but
since *-h1i̯e/o- should yield Latin -āre he has to assume that ‘in Italic the primary or deverbal verbs of
state have introduced the ē of the aorist stem into the present’; yet, if the stem with *-eh1- of e.g.
OCS viděti and similar Balto-Slavic verbs of state were really ‘aoristic’ (and therefore ‘fientive’) in
origin, why is their meaning still ‘essive’ (i.e., comparable to the PIE perfect: cf. Wagner 1950)?
175
Cf. Watkins (1971: 89–92). The same happened in Balto-Slavic, where deverbative verbs of state
have an infinitive in Lith. -ė́̇ti, OCS -ěti (with *-eh1-) but their present inflection points to *-éi̯e/o- >
*-ii̯e/o- (e.g., OCS bъditъ ‘is awake’ vs. inf. bъděti, aor. bъděchъ; contrast e.g. nositъ ‘carries’ with
inf. nositi in the *CoC-éi̯e/o- class). Here too, a reconstruction with *-h1i̯e/o- has been mooted (Ringe
1988–90: 87–9) and rejected (Jasanoff 2002/3: 151–5, whose unlikely 3pl.-based paradigm becomes
obsolete when *-éi̯e/o- > *-ii̯e/o- is acknowledged).
176
For both verbs, earlier explanations are not compelling (cf. Frisk 1960–72: 1.621–2 and 1.839,
Chantraine 2009: 388 and 504, Beekes 2010: 1.508–9 and 1.686, all s.vv. ἡγέομαι and κηλέω). With
5.45 PIE *CC-éi̯e/o- Presents: Form
The data in Table 5.5 include a number of equations with other branches of
Indo-European. In view of these and others not involving Greek,177 the
PIE antiquity of the *CC-éi̯e/o- type is certain. Unlike the *CoC-éi̯ e/o- type,
however, it is no longer productive in any branch, suggesting its greater
archaism.
Formally, the majority of the lexemes cited above and by Kölligan178
bears out the prediction that such verbs should feature a syllabified reso-
nant or semivowel in the root (5.43). The only major exception is con-
stituted by items with a *CeH-, but not *CeR-, root. What this tells us
about the nature of the laryngeals at the time when the *CC-éi̯ e/o- presents
were still productive is difficult to say. It could be that a structure such as
*CR-éi̯ e/o- was realised more readily as *CR̥ -éi̯e/o- than *CH-éi̯ e/o- as *CH̥ -
éi̯ e/o-. If so, the wish for an invariant root coda would have jeopardised
*CR̥ -éi̯ e/o-, but not *CH-éi̯e/o-, and thus prompted the replacement of
*CR̥ -éi̯ e/o- by *CoR-éi̯e/o- (cf. Gr. φορέω, Lat. moneō, etc.), but not of *CH-
éi̯ e/o- by *CoH-éi̯e/o-.
5.46 PIE *CC-éi̯e/o- Presents: Function

Regarding the semantics of the type, Kölligan draws some interesting
conclusions.179 Firstly, he observes that ‘it is often difficult to make out a
difference between a CC-éi̯e/o- formation and a simple thematic present’.
Thus, although there is of course a contrast between, say, κέλομαι ‘order’ and
καλέω ‘call’, this may be due to a secondary specialisation following an
initial semantic convergence: contrast the situation with Ved. hváyati
‘calls’, which is synonymous with Ved. hávate even in historical times.180
This indeterminacy recalls the equivalence of simple thematic presents
and – no longer specifically iteratival/habitual – *CoC-éi̯e/o- presents in
pairs like φέβομαι/φοβέομαι ‘flee’, τρέμω/τρομέω ‘tremble’, (*)(ϝ)έχω/
ὀχέω ‘transport’ (Table 5.4). In fact, the synonymisation in a case like
μάχομαι ~ μαχέομαι ‘fight’ (5.44) may even have triggered the occasional
secondary creation of presents in -έω next to simple thematic presents
ἡγέομαι, the family of *h2eg̑ - ‘lead’ may have exerted semantic influence, but neither the construc-
tion with a dative nor the initial aspirate favour an exclusive derivation from *h2eg̑ - (pace Szemerényi
1972: 306 n. 18; cf. also Tucker 1990: 170).
177
Cf. e.g. Ved. dháyati ‘sucks’ ~ Old Swedish dīa ‘suck’ (< *d hh1-éi̯e/o-, LIV 138, s.v. *d heh1(i̯)-), Ved.
vyáyati ‘wraps’ ~ Lat. vieō ‘plait, weave’ (< *u̯ ih1-éi̯e/o-, LIV 695, s.v. *u̯ i̯eh1-).
178
Kölligan (2002: 153–4). 179 Kölligan (2002: 152–3).
180
Cf. Joachim (1978: 177), Gotō (1987: 347–50), Kölligan (2002: 140–2).
278 The Perfect
(e.g., Hom. ἑλκέω ~ ἕλκω ‘drag’, Ion. ἑψέω ~ ἕψω ‘boil’, poet. ἰαχέω ~
ἰάχω ‘cry, shout’181).
Secondly, however, Kölligan does detect a semantic nuance in some other
instances. He finds that ‘in the case of roots with a momentative verbal
character the CC-éi̯e/o- formation seems to have served as an iterative,
whereas in the case of durative or iterative roots it could appear in a hyper-
characterised manner’. Thus, he argues that Ved. śváyati ~ Gr. κυέω may be
understood as ‘swells bit by bit’, and that Gr. δαίομαι ~ Ved. dáyate
developed their meaning ‘distribute’ from iterative ‘cut off repeatedly’.
Much is uncertain here because a notion like ‘divide (up)’ easily leads to
‘distribute’ while being inherently iterative-distributive; and neither does the
existence of an Old Indic root aorist with the meaning ‘divide (from),
separate’ (ipv. dīsva) or ‘attribute’ (3sg. áva adāt) prove that the primeval
˙
sense was ‘momentative “cut off”’.182 When something is ‘divided up’, it can
obviously result in two or more pieces, but that does not entail that a division
into more than two pieces is envisaged as an iterative process, let alone
expressed by an iterative verb. Similarly, it lies in the nature of things that a
process like ‘swelling’ proceeds ‘bit by bit’. What may be more relevant, at
least for κυέω, is that this verb predicates women or female animals whose
‘swelling’ (= pregnancy) is a long-lasting quality. If the verbal class is
denominal in origin, then this ties in with the typicalising function of
nominals (5.29). Along the same lines, one might account for στυγέω
‘hate’ (applied to people who may not repeatedly ‘push away’ what they
detest, but whose ‘pushing away’ defines a permanent state), while παλαίω
‘wrestle’ is indeed adequately conceived of as ‘iteratival “repeatedly get in
touch with something”’.183 All in all, then, as long as the label ‘iterative’ is not
understood too narrowly, but taken to include situations where the focus is
less on eventuality iteration than on the quality associated with, or resulting
from, the eventuality being performed, it remains valid – and it thus
establishes a semantic parallel between the *CC-éi̯e/o- verbs and the ‘iterative’
ones in the *CoC-éi̯e/o- group (5.36).184
Thirdly, Kölligan considers if there are also factitive/causative *CC-éi̯e/o-
lexemes, which would make *CC-éi̯e/o- a true mirror image of *CoC-éi̯e/o-;
181
Cf. Schwyzer (1939: 721). Ptcpl. μεδέων ‘ruler’ may be old (~ μέδων ‘ruler’, μέδω/μέδομαι ‘rule,
provide for’, to *med- ‘measure, look after (vel sim.)’, LIV 423, s.v. 1. *med-): for the sake of clarity,
pres. *m̥ d-éi̯e/o- could be remade into *med-éi̯e/o- already in Proto-Indo-European (cf. Lat. medeor
‘heal, cure’). Mutatis mutandis, the pair (*)μεδέω : μέδομαι would thus match e.g. καλέω : κέλομαι.
182
Kölligan (2002: 144). 183 Kölligan (2002: 152).
184
Kulikov (2008) similarly stresses the ‘atelic’ rather than strictly ‘iterative’ semantics of pertinent
Vedic verbs like patáyati ‘fly (around)’.
but he has to concede that ‘in the individual cases not only the formal
analysis but also the interpretation of the attestations is crucial, as in the
case of Ved. sphūrjáya- which may be understood as intransitive “hiss,
crash” rather than “make crash”’. If anything, the evidence rather speaks
against factitive/causative readings.185 According to 5.36, a factitive/causa-
tive value, whether next to or instead of an ‘iterative’ one, should most
readily result with prototypically intransitive/inagentive roots. Hence,
roots like *k̑ u̯ eh1- ‘swell’, *kei̯t- ‘be bright, shine’, or *(s)k̑ end- ‘appear’
would seem predestined for this, but Gr. κυέω ~ Ved. śváyati, Ved.
citáyati ‘is bright, shines’ (< *kit-éi̯e/o-), and Ved. chadáyati ‘appears,
pleases’ ~ YAv. saδaiieiti ‘appears’ (< *sk̑ n̥ d-éi̯e/o-) do not realise the
potential.186
5.47 Relative Chronology

Luckily, the framework developed in 5.39 is able to explain the rarity, if not
inexistence, of *CC-éi̯e/o- factitive/causatives. We have seen that the *CoC-
éi̯ e/o- factitive/causatives presuppose an A-orientation of the underlying
*CoC-é nominals (Stage II in Fig. 5.6), but that this A-orientation may have
superseded a previous S-orientation (Stage I). Now, it is perfectly possible
that the production of denominal *C(o)C-éi̯e/o- verbs already started at
Stage I. In that case, the first *C(o)C-éi̯e/o- verbs should indeed have been
‘iteratival’ only. This does not mean to resuscitate the view, dismissed in
5.37, that the factitive/causative value grew out of the iterative one. The
point is just that the semantic conditions which were necessary for the later
creation of factitive/causatives as well as iteratives were not yet in place.
Moreover, we have noted (5.43) that the *CoC-éi̯e/o- type will have been
generalised at the expense of the *CC-éi̯e/o- type, with which it had initially
been in complementary distribution. If this generalisation started before
the new factitive/causative option arose, it is only logical that the leftovers
of the *CC-éi̯e/o- type still belong to the iteratival variant (Fig. 5.8).
185
Cf. Thieme (1929: 18), Kuryłowicz (1948: 58–9), and Jamison (1983a: 200–12) on *CC-éi̯e/o- as the basic
‘intransitive’ and *CoC-éi̯e/o- as the basic transitive type in Vedic; that there is some correlation between
root-vowel grade and semantic function had been recognised even earlier (e.g., Delbrück 1894; see the
survey in Jamison 1983a: 14–17, and for certain reservations Lubotsky 1989: 105). The whole situation is
not made clearer by the fact that some Vedic intransitives in -áya- may have an *-eh1-i̯e/o- source
(Yakubovich 2014), and that others may be indirectly denominal (Lubotsky 1989: 96–105).
186
Cf. LIV 339–40, 347, 546, s.vv. Despite Kümmel (2000a: 183–4), García Ramón’s (1988–90)
connection of *sk̑ end- with *k̑ end- as in Gr. κέκασμαι ‘excel’ (LIV 351) remains attractive; but it is
of no consequence here since García Ramón too posits an original meaning ‘appear’.
280 The Perfect
Stage Ia nomen agentis

*CC-é or *CoC-é (S-oriented)
Stage Ib ‘iterative’ *CC-é or *CoC-é (S-oriented)

*CC-é-ie-t(i) or *CoC-é-ie-t(i)
˘ ˘
Stage II ‘iterative’or ‘causative’ *CoC-é (A-oriented)

˘
*CoC-é-ie-t(i) (>→*CoC-ós)
‘
relics: e.g., κυεω
´ e.g., φορεω,
´ σοβεω
´ e.g., αοιδος,
´ etc.
Fig. 5.8. A relative chronology of *CC-éi̯e/o- and *CoC-éi̯e/o- verbs
5.48–5.50 The Constitution of a ‘Nominal-Verb’/Perfect Paradigm

5.48 Singular
Having clarified the origins of its stem and related it to some cognate
formations, we may conclude our discussion of the PIE perfect with a brief
look at the constitution of a full paradigm. For the singular this is straightfor-
ward. Following Kuryłowicz and Watkins, we may assume that the stem
vowel of the nominal form behind the reduplicated perfect and its unredu-
plicated counterpart was reinterpreted as a 3sg. ending.187 In the 1sg. and 2sg.,
corresponding endings (on whose background see 9.28–9.29, 10.3–10.4) were
then attached to the remaining radical part:
nominal *CoCé ‘[is (acting as) an] X-er, [is] X-ing’
→ 3sg. *CóC-e ‘X-es, is X-ing’ (ipfv.) ~ *Ce-CóC-e (pfv.) (5.28–5.29)
→ 1sg. *CóC-h2e *Ce-CóC-h2e
2sg. *CóC-th2e *Ce-CóC-th2e
5.49 Plural: Preliminary Observations

The plural shows several features which deserve attention:
• Firstly, it does not seem to be built on the plural that corresponded to
the nominal singular *CoC-é. If the latter was the source of a thematic
187
Kuryłowicz (1964a: 62), Watkins (1969: 107). Stefański’s (1995) idea that the 3sg. ending *-e and the
corresponding 1sg./2sg. endings continue an otherwise lost copula is without substance.
noun, its plural should have been the precursor of a later PIE nom. pl.
*CoC-ṓ s. Even if the ending is disregarded, since the singular features no
nominative *-s either (5.28), a difference between the o-grade singular
and the zero-grade plural remains.
• However, the original ablaut situation in the plural is unclear. Although
the historical evidence favours a zero grade (cf. 5.8), e-grade forms in the
OHitt. 3pl. pret. in -er have been thought to support a reconstruction
with e-grade (5.33).
• It is odd that the 3pl. ending is accented in Vedic when it has to be
reconstructed as *-r̥ (s) (1.6). Such an ending without full vowel would
make sense if its accentuation was secondary (analogical?), and if *-r̥ (s)
was initially combined with a full-grade root (*CéC-r̥ (s)).188 At the same
time, both the Hitt. 3pl. pret. and the Lat. 3pl. perf. point to *-er(s) (and
hence to *CC-ér(s), rather than *CeC-er(s) with double e-grade?).
• In the 1pl. perfect (*Ce-CC-mé), the absence of a special ending is worth
noting (1.6). That *-me originally belongs with the PIE ‘mi-
conjugation’, not with the ‘h2e-conjugation’, is intimated by the formal
relationship of 1sg. *-m with 1pl. *-me: no such similarity exists between
1sg. *-h2(e) and 1pl. *-me. This matter will be further explored in 10.5,
and it will be suggested there that the 1pl. corresponding to 1sg. *-h2(e)
may have been *-u̯ e. In any case, it looks as if a ‘mi-conjugation’ form
was here integrated into the perfect/nominal-verb paradigm, to fill a
previously empty slot.
• The peculiar *-e of the 2pl. in Vedic has already been highlighted as a
potential archaism (1.6). Note that a reconstructed 2pl. *Ce-CC-é (→
later *Ce-CC-té) would be distinguishable from a 3sg. only thanks to the
different root-vowel grade and the oxytone accentuation, both of which
recur in the 1pl.
5.50 Plural: A Developmental Scenario

The following reconstructive proposal, though unavoidably tentative, tries
to do justice to the preceding observations:
1. If the nucleus of the entire paradigm was an agentive nominal stem
*C(o)C-é, without overt endings, one and the same endingless form
could in principle have served in the 3sg. and 3pl. However, with the
188
Prosdocimi and Marinetti (1988: 101) randomly propose *-Crós > *-Cr̥ ́s; despite Henry (1889: 374–5)
and Bader (1967), there is not even support for *-ro(s) as a 3pl. perf. ending (as opposed to ‘stative’
*-ro: 5.50, fn. 191).
282 The Perfect
transformation into a finite verb of what had previously been a
nominal predicate with zero-copula, a differentiation of 3sg. and 3pl.
forms became desirable. One way of achieving this was to use a
functionally similar substitute in the 3pl. Since the 3pl. was also
employed in impersonal statements (e.g., ‘they say’ for ‘one says’, ‘it
is said’), a deverbal abstract noun of the shape *CéC-r̥ was pressed into
service.189 The existence of such *CéC-r̥ nouns is independently ascer-
tained: see for example Gr. ἄλειφαρ ‘unguent’ (< *h2léibh-r̥ ‘anoint-
ment, anointing’, cf. ἀλείφω ‘anoint’), ἔαρ ‘spring’ (< *u̯ és-r̥ for the
‘dressing’ of nature, cf. ἕννυμι ‘dress’), ἄλκαρ ‘protection’ (< *h2élk̑ -r̥
‘warding off’, cf. ἀλαλκεῖν, Table 3.1), etc.190 Thus, whereas initially
*ml̥ h2é would have meant both (3sg.) ‘[is (being)] a grinder/[is] grind-
ing’ and (3pl.) ‘[are (being)] grinders/[are] grinding’, in the latter
function *ml̥ h2é would have been replaced by the impersonally used
verbal noun *mélh2-r̥ ‘[there is] grinding’ ~ ‘they are/one is grinding’,
presumably already before the generalisation of o-grade vocalism in the
singular (*ml̥ h2-é → *molh2-é, after items with ‘unavoidable’ o-grade:
5.42). The addition of *-s (*CéC-r̥ → *CéC-r̥ s) must represent a
comparatively late step anyway.191 Perhaps designed to bring out the
plural value more clearly, it resembles the same development in the 1pl.
*-me → *-mes (1.3, 10.5).192
2. As soon as *CéC-r̥ (s) was available as an alternative to *C(o)C-é in 3pl.
function, it was also possible to recharacterise the latter as *C(o)C-é-rs.
As a result, there was a ‘full-grade’ – originally accented – ending
189
Cf. Hirt (1904/5a: 69): ‘The -r of the perfect has long been compared with the r of the heteroclitic
neuters.’ See already H. Zimmer (1890: 231), and subsequently e.g. Watkins (1969: 42–3), Puhvel
(1970: 631–3), Seebold (1971: 202), Adrados (1985: 40–1), Hart (1988: 92); less committally Kortlandt
(1979a: 68) (“indefinite plural subject marker”) and otherwise Shields (1994) (“non-singular suffix in
*-(e/o)r”).
190
Chantraine (1933: 217–19), Benveniste (1935: 15–20). Outside Greek, cf. e.g. Lat. iter ‘way, path’ ~
Hitt. itar ‘way’ (both remodelled from proterokinetic nom.-acc. *h1éi̯-t-r̥ , gen. *h1i-t-én-s ‘going’ to
*h1ei̯- ‘go’), on the class and its inflection Szemerényi (1996: 173–4) and Meier-Brügger (2002: 211–
12), and on its members in Hittite Hoffner and Melchert (2008: 124–6). Although the original
abstract meaning has often been concretised, the subtypes in -tar < *-t-r̥ and -u̯ ar < *-u̯ -r̥ , probably
extracted by resegmentation from roots ending in *-t- and *-u̯ -, still produce abstract verbal nouns
in Hittite (Hoffner and Melchert 2008: 126–8, 185–6).
191
Because *-r(-) alone survives in the plural of the Indo-Iranian statives (e.g., 3pl. śére < *k̑ ei̯-r-o(i̯) vs.
3sg. śáye < *k̑ ei̯-o(i̯)) and perhaps even in the Av. 3pl. perf. -arǝ (Jasanoff 1997: 119–20). For possible
reflexes of *-rs in Celtic as well as Phrygian and Lydian, see Eska (2007/8) and Gusmani (2010)
respectively.
192
On the addition of *-s, see especially Christol (1979) and Erhart (1989: 14, 38, 60–1). Erhart’s
explanation of *-s as ‘reciprocal’ in *-me-s seems more far-fetched than Gray’s (1930: 247) idea of
*-me-s initially encoding “we and thou (active)”; cf. also Winter (1994b). For *-r̥ s, the justification
would have to be analogical in either case.
variant *-ers next to ‘zero-grade’ *-r̥ s. In principle, either of the two
could now be generalised. If *CéC-r̥ (s) was updated into *CéC-er(s), we
obtain the apparent double-e-grade structure that seems to survive in
the Hittite 3pl. pret. (5.33).193 Similarly, *-ers is continued in the Lat.
3pl. perf. ending *-ēr-i > -ēre (1.6).
3. If the oldest 1pl. ending corresponding to 1sg. *-h2(e) was indeed *-u̯ e
(5.49), the analogical creation of a nominal-verb 1pl. *C(o)C-u̯ é (~ 1sg.
*C(o)C-h2é) would look plausible. However, it appears that the 1pl.
endings *-u̯ e and *-me at some point became interchangeable (10.5).
Any 1pl. *C(o)C-u̯ é remade into *C(o)C-mé thereby lost its main distin-
guishing feature compared to an early root pres./aor. 1pl. *CC-mé (10.16,
10.18): for before the o-graded root variant was generalised in the
singular of the nominal verb (5.42), the presence or absence of *-o- in
the root was not significant as such. Thus coalescing in form, the 1pl. of
‘normal’ root formations on the one hand and of the ‘nominal verbs’ on
the other were redifferentiated only when the remake of *-me into *-mes
left the latter unaffected (cf. 1.3, 1.6). Prior to that, the formal merger
may even have prevented the nominal verbs’ o-grade generalisation
being extended from the singular to the plural.
4. Regarding the 2pl., there is no particular reason to posit an ending *-h1é to
correspond to 2sg. *-th2é; otherwise, the story of this form could be
parallel to that of the 1pl. As it is, the irregular 2pl. *CC-é, which is
inferrable from reduplicated 2pl. *C1e-C1C-e (1.6, 5.8), rather recalls and
confirms the assumption that *C(o)C-é should initially have served in the
singular and plural alike. Just as *ml̥ h2-é would at first predicate a third-
person plural subject (‘the X-s [are (being)] grinders/[are] grinding’), so it
was usable as a predicate to a second-person plural pronoun (‘youpl. [are
(being)] grinders/[are] grinding’); but whereas in the 3pl. *ml̥ h2-é was
replaced by *mélh2-r̥ , in the 2pl. the original situation is still reflected by
the archaic ending *-e. Eventually, of course, analogical pressure from 1pl.
*CC-mé prompted a change *CC-é → *CC-té here too.
5. In comparison with *CC-mé, *CC-(t)é in the 1pl./2pl., and with the
entire singular where the o-graded root was generalised, the 3pl. *CéC-
(e)rs was highly irregular.194 Transforming it into *CC-(e)rs with the
193
Cf. Hart (1988: 92). The eventual replacement of *-ers > *-ēr > -er by *-(e/o)nti > -anzi in the hi-
conjugation present and the survival and spread (Yoshida 1991) of -er only in the preterite ˘(in
accordance with Kuryłowicz’s ‘Fourth Law of Analogy’: 3.34) are due to the general merger of hi-
and mi-conjugation plurals (cf. 2.14, fn. 37, and below). ˘
194
Contrast the situation where e-graded *CéC-r̥ (without *-s: cf. fn. 192) was similarly used as a 3pl. to
an e-graded ‘stative’ 3sg. *CéC-o. Here the only major change was due to the *-o in the 3sg. being
284 The Perfect
same vowel grade and accent seat as in the other plural forms was
therefore natural. This produced a root paradigm which was structu-
rally reminiscent of the root presents/aorists with e-grade throughout
the singular and zero-grade throughout the plural. Once the perfecti-
vising reduplication syllable is added, the outcome is again the one
seen in the historical perfect structure (5.8):
1pl. *CC-mé *Ce-CC-mé
2pl. *CC-é (→ *CC-té) → *Ce-CC-é (→ *Ce-CC-té)
3pl. (*CéC-(e)rs →) *CC-(é)rs (*Ce-CéC-(e)rs →195) *Ce-CC-(é)rs
5.51 Conclusion
5.51 Conclusion
Although the perfect merged with the aorist in some branches of Indo-
European,196 it survives as a distinct tense/aspect category in Indo-Iranian
and Greek. The evidence of these languages is therefore crucial for the
reconstruction of the ancestor type with its peculiar set of endings, partially
o-graded ablaut pattern, and almost universal reduplication (5.3–5.9).
Since the latter feature is shared with the reduplicated aorists and presents,
one aim of the present chapter has been to explore whether the claim that
PIE reduplication originally marked aspectual perfectivity is also compa-
tible with a deeper analysis of the perfect.
In order to answer this, we first had to pin down the semantic curricu-
lum of the perfect (5.14–5.25). Contrary to widespread opinion, the fre-
quent ‘nactostatic’ value of the Greek and Indo-Iranian perfect must not be
regarded as fundamental. Rather, (stative) perfecto-presents and perfects of
persistent situation (including the ‘intensive’ perfects of Homeric Greek)
reflect the nuclear function of the perfect. From it, nactostatic – and later
resultative and temporal/anterior – usages derive in a typologically pre-
dictable manner. Once this is acknowledged, it lends support to Cowgill’s
theory that a deverbal, quasi-participial, agentive nominal is the ultimate
source of the perfect paradigm (5.27–5.28, 5.48–5.50). Direct descendants
interpreted as a voice marker and hence adopted by the 3pl. too (→ *CéC-ro(i̯): e.g., Ved. śére ‘they
lie’ < *k̑ éi̯-roi̯; analogically for the *CC-é statives (5.42): e.g., Ved. 3pl. duhré ‘they give milk’ <
*d hugh-ré/ó(i̯), beside duhaté < *d hugh-n̥ tó(i̯)).
195
For a possible trace of the variant with radical e-grade, see OAv. 3pl.perf./plupf. (?) cikōitǝrǝš ‘are/
were apparent, have/had appeared’ and similar Vedic pluperfect forms discussed by Jasanoff (1997)
in connection with his theory on the h2e-conjugation ablaut (2.15, 5.33).
196
Cf. 4.23 (Italic, Celtic), 4.31 (Tocharian); for the same reason, either the aorist or the perfect stems
were discontinued in other branches (Germanic, Balto-Slavic, Armenian, Albanian).
5.51 Conclusion 285
of the ‘nominal-verb’ inflection postulated by Cowgill are to be seen at least
in the hi-conjugation root presents of Hittite, if not also in certain
Germanic˘ and Baltic verbal types with radical o-grade (5.31–5.32).
Given the notable tendency of the historical perfect to occur in timeless
or generic contexts, there are functional as well as formal reasons for
deriving it from the aspectually perfective, and therefore reduplicated,
variant of the ‘nominal verb’ (5.29). Hence, the precursor of the PIE
perfect will have come into being when the aspectual value of reduplication
was still prominent, no doubt before Anatolian branched off. This is
confirmed by the fact that a few Hittite offshoots of a reduplicated
‘proto-perfect’ still exist (5.31).
The conclusions thus reached clarify the genetic links between the PIE
perfect (and ‘nominal verb’) on the one hand and, on the other hand, (a)
the PIE ‘iterative-causative’ verbs in *-éi̯e/o-, both o-graded and zero-
graded (5.34–39, 5.43–5.47), and (b) the PIE ancestors of the Indo-
Iranian e-graded and zero-graded ‘statives’ (5.40–5.42). Once again we
see here that the structural and semantic analysis of reduplicated forma-
tions must not be carried out in isolation. At the surface, it is only too easy
to separate reduplicated and unreduplicated types and forget about their
systemic relationships. But as the following chapter will continue to show,
the diachronic reality is often more complex, and more fascinating, than
first impressions suggest.
chapter 6
The Thematic Aorist
6.1 Introduction
6.1 Revisiting Kuryłowicz’s Aorist Chain
In 3.36, it has been argued that the PIE reduplicated aorist is a relic category
sidelined by the aspectual shift of root imperfectives to prototypically telic
roots into the perfective (aorist) domain. In principle, such a scenario is
similar to the push-chain model advocated by Kuryłowicz (2.18). However,
Kuryłowicz had assumed that the root aorists were the oldest recoverable
aorist type, and he had not specified what perfective formation preceded
them if they started off as imperfectives. In response to this, we have
underlined the marginality of the reduplicated aorist, which does not
suggest a recent creation and thus renders at least parts of Kuryłowicz’s
sequence unlikely; and we have explored why the fact that there are also
reduplicated presents and perfects does not jeopardise the identification of
reduplication as a perfectivity marker but, on the contrary, lends support to
it when the philological data for these formations is taken into account: the
high-transitive nature of the reduplicated presents reflects their role as
secondary imperfectives to the oldest aorist type (4.50), and the functional
range of the earliest perfects conforms with what should be expected of a
perfective version of semantically stative ‘nominal verbs’ (5.29). All this
means that at the earliest point our reconstruction has reached, the root
formations indeed represented the formally unmarked core of the entire
verbal system; only that back then it was typically imperfectives that acted
as the unmarked members in aspectual pairs.
Having thus turned upside down Kuryłowicz’s aorist chain as far as the
relative positions of root aorists and reduplicated aorists are concerned, we
should also try to find the systemic place of the remaining aorist types. At
first, we might perhaps be tempted simply to reorder the sequence as
follows: reduplicated aorist → root aorist → thematic aorist → s-aorist.
But as we shall see, the matter is less straightforward. Among the reasons
286
for this are the difficulties that arise when we treat the thematic aorist as yet
another aspectually shifted imperfect.
6.2–6.10 Theories on the Origin of the Thematic Aorist

6.2 Kuryłowicz: Another Shifted Imperfective
To assign the thematic aorists a prehistory as imperfectives was of course
Kuryłowicz’s take on the matter.1 He related the thematic aorist with its
zero-grade structure *CC-e/o- (1.10) to the structurally identical zero-
graded thematic Class VI present of Sanskrit (type tudáti ‘pushes’):
The aorist in -á- (I.E. -é/ó-) is another example of a present stem which, replaced
in its primary uses by new formations, has been restricted to the function of a
perfective past (aorist). We must consider the Vedic present of the 6th class
(tudáti) as continuing a stage prior to the fixation of the Greek contrast λείπω :
ἔλιπον. The terminative value of the Vedic formation is probable (cf. Renou
[1925b]) and accounts for the development terminative imperfect > aorist. Such a
development could have entailed in the long run the gradual elimination of the
type tudáti in the present-imperfect system and its extension in the aorist.
Whereas Greek seems to represent the final stage of such an evolution, a
confrontation of 2nd aorist and the tudáti-present in the RV speaks strongly
in favour of the latter as being the original domain of the formation. This is
furthermore borne out by the gradual decline of the 6th present class and the
increase of thematic root-aorists in the post-Vedic period.2
In the same context, Kuryłowicz argues that the tudáti type “[belongs] to the
oldest layer of thematic verbal stems” and is “more archaic than the different
-i̯e/i̯o- formations, the inflectional endings being attached directly to the basic
stem (probably an old verbal adjective in -é/ó-)”.3 In other words, the creation
of these verbs would be parallel to the creation of o-graded thematic presents as
discussed in 5.33 (on Lat. molō ‘grind’, etc.: 3sg. *mólh2-e → *mólh2-e-t(i)).
1
See Kuryłowicz (1964a: 116–18), whose ideas were partially adopted by Watkins (1969: 100–4),
E. Dahl (2005), and Villanueva Svensson (2011: 41); cf. already Curtius (1877–80: 2.5) and Vaillant
(1937: 95–7), and for hints in the same direction also Bader (1980: esp. 25–6) on the tudáti presents
and Bader (1987: 133) on thematic aorists from a “basic middle form” of the structure *CC-é. Even if
the tudáti class cannot be adequately explained with Kuryłowicz’s theory (6.3, 6.29), it is not unlikely
that an older group of (less distinctly telic/para-aoristic) *CC-é-t(i) verbs already existed when the
tudáti type arose. These older items would then indeed have the same prehistory as the o-graded
thematic presents mentioned in 5.33. Especially the Italic and Germanic, but probably also some of
the Greek and Balto-Slavic evidence cited in 6.28, with fn. 88, may thus be unrelated to the tudáti
group. For a similar nuanced approach, see Erhart (1989: 39–40).
2
3
Kuryłowicz (1964a: 117); cf. already Benveniste (1935: 167) (‘the type Skt. tudáti . . . must be based on
either thematic nouns or participles’).
288 The Thematic Aorist
However, it is not at all clear why such a group of archaic ‘denominal’ verbs
should display the distinctly telic (‘terminative’) value of the historical tudáti
presents mentioned by Kuryłowicz himself, particularly if they are also sup-
posed to be “a functional precursor of the iteratives in -i̯e/o-”.4
6.3 Distributional Counter-Indications

Even more problematic is Kuryłowicz’s assertion that “a confrontation of
2nd aorist and the tudáti-present in the RV speaks strongly in favour of the
latter as being the original domain of the formation”.5 Since he has just
referred to the relevant article by Renou, he must here be thinking of
Renou’s statistics, according to which only 91 Class VI forms with ‘pri-
mary’ endings in the Rig Veda stand against 670 augmented or modal
forms; this starkly contrasts with the corresponding ratio for the other
present classes combined (8107 : 6180).6 Kuryłowicz takes these figures to
indicate that the few Class VI indicative present forms that do occur in the
Rig Veda are mere relics from a time when the imperfective → perfective
shift had not yet taken place. However, if this were so, we should expect
that at least those verbs which somehow did manage to survive as Class VI
present stems, without being aoristified, do not show a bias against forms
with ‘primary’ endings. Looking at the lists of Rig-Vedic forms of non-
infixed Class VI lexemes in Hill’s monograph on them,7 this prediction is
not borne out. Even if one considers only the indicative and injunctive
forms, forgetting about the other moods including the frequent impera-
tive, the four most common Class VI verbs almost consistently – and
sometimes very clearly – prefer forms without ‘primary’ endings (i.e.,
imperfects and injunctives). The relevant figures are 52 : 13 for srjáti
‘emits’, 13 : 4 for rujáti ‘breaks’, 23 : 17 for tiráti ‘transfers’, and 8 : 9˙ for
viśáti ‘enters, reaches’. Moreover, Kuryłowicz does not take into account
the important observation of Arnold that the number of unmistakable
Class VI presents increases from the earlier to the later Vedic texts, in
opposition to what an archaic relic class should do.8 All of this favours the
4
Kuryłowicz (1964a: 116); cf. the criticism in Kümmel (1996: 3). The usually telic nature of Class VI
has been recognised since Delbrück (1897: 90–4) and Renou (1925b); cf. e.g. Gonda (1962: 221)
(‘transformative’), Lazzeroni (1978: 133), Kortlandt (1983: 315–16), Kulikov (2000: 270) (“punctual, or
terminative, activities”).
5
Kuryłowicz (1964a: 118); for a similar opinion, see Adrados (1974: 1.240–1, 2.611).
6
Renou (1925b: 313), who observes a difference ‘of the same scale’ in Avestan; the odd distribution,
which is statistically significant (p < 0.001), was already noticed by E. Leumann (1895: 42).
7
Hill (2007).
8
Arnold (1897: 317, 319). Hill (2007: 13) questions the relevance of Arnold’s figures because the
distribution ‘hardly differs from the distribution of the athematic reduplicated presents of the
older, and still widely accepted, views of E. Leumann and Renou, accord-
ing to whom the Class VI presents are a secondary development, based
either directly on earlier aorists (Leumann) or on a somewhat ill-defined
thematic modal formation with punctual semantics (Renou).9 But if we
subscribe to that, Kuryłowicz’s entire construction implodes as there is no
longer a markedly telic old imperfective type to derive the thematic aorists
from.
6.4 Cardona: A Thematised Root Aorist

Searching for an alternative, we turn to the theory that has become the
scholarly communis opinio. In his classic treatment of the Indo-European
thematic aorists, Cardona concluded that
only two thematic aorists can be considered of PIE origin; these are defined
by the following correspondences:
Skr. vida-, Av. vida-, Gk. (w)ide/o-, Arm. egit etc. < *wide/o-
Gk. eluthe/o-, Toch. A läc, B lac, OIr. luid etc. < *ludhe/o-
All other thematic aorists must be considered independent creations of the
individual languages in which they occur.10
Cardona stresses the importance of the Indo-Iranian evidence in reaching
this conclusion. Because there are some instances in which a thematisation of
previously athematic root aorists can be actually observed or at least inferred
from distributional patterns within the history of Old Indic, the same
evolution must be posited, he claims, in other cases where the historical
data are less conclusive. Since, for example, a thematic 3sg. aor. áricat ‘has
left’ to the root *lei̯ku̯ - is attested only in classical Sanskrit, but an athematic
2sg. aor. med. rikthās already features in the Rig Veda, he firmly states also
“that ámucat [‘has released’] replaced amok on the model of the ambiguous
third plural *amucan”, even though ámucat already occurs (commonly) in
the Rig Veda, and amok only in the Atharva Veda.11
third class, which are certainly no innovation of Vedic or Indo-Iranian’; but as shown in 4.21, much
in Class III is in fact innovated.
9
E. Leumann (1895: 42; 1897), Renou (1925b); cf. also Lazzeroni (1978: 139–41; 1980: 35), whose ideas
are similar to Leumann’s, Erhart (1989: 24–5).
10
Cardona (1960a: 123); his treatment is (implicitly or explicitly) endorsed by Strunk (1967: 97–100),
Monteil (1978: 139–40), and Lazzeroni (1978: 135–9; 1980: 34–5; 1987: 135–6, 141–2). Bammesberger
(1985: 71–4) and Ringe (2000: 135) subsequently questioned even the two equations accepted by
Cardona. That the thematic aorist is a recent formation was already held by Thurneysen (1894: 84)
and Meillet (1931: 201–2). For lonely dissent after Cardona, see Erhart (1989: 22–4); but Erhart’s own
theory remains too vague to convince (cf. 3.3, with fn. 5).
11
Cardona (1960a: 7–8).
That such a conclusion is biased, and therefore methodologically question-
able, hardly needs stressing. If we restrict ourselves to the two verbs used for
illustration by Cardona himself, why should we not assume the exact opposite:
that the diachronic distribution of ámucat vs. amok is the ‘correct’ one, and
that therefore the root aorist rikthās must also be innovated vis-à-vis áricat,
with the latter not being attested early just by chance? Of course, this is not to
say that Cardona must be wrong either in these two cases or in general. But his
is a prejudice with consequences. Once we decide to ‘get rid’ of áricat and
ámucat (rather than rikthās and amok) for reconstructive purposes, we can no
longer see in the former a parallel to Arm. elik‘ ‘left’ and Gr. ἔλιπε ‘left’ and
posit a common proto-form *(h1e-)liku̯ -e-t for all of them.12 This, then, is a case
in point for what Cardona has in mind when he writes:
Without the basic knowledge to be gained from a study of the Indic
developments, it would have been impossible to demonstrate that almost
all the examples of the thematic aorist in other languages are independent,
parallel innovations. Only by referring the thematic aorists of other lan-
guages to their Indic equivalents when they are available, could we gain an
insight into the prehistoric developments that account for the creation of
these aorists. Even then, as we have seen, the precise developments remain
obscure for most of the languages we have studied.13
6.5 Ablaut Inconsistencies in Indo-Iranian

By focusing on just one or two potentially contradictory examples, we might
perhaps fail to do justice to Cardona’s work as a whole. But the problems
only begin there. As implied by Cardona’s remarks on ámucat, the 3pl. plays
a major role in his scheme of things. If we accept that the thematic aorist
grew out of a root aorist, the 3pl. is the only form where a Proto-Indo-Iranian
root aorist was both (mis)interpretable as thematic and endowed with the
radical zero grade that characterises most thematic aorists (e.g., 3pl. *(h1e-)
liku̯ -ent > PIIr. *(a-)lič-an: cf. thematic PIIr. *-an < *-ont). To be sure, an
ambiguous ending also arose in the 1sg., with athematic *-m̥ and thematic
*-om both yielding PIIr. *-am; but here the athematic root aorist would have
been full-graded (e.g., *(h1e-)lei̯ku̯ -m̥ > PIIr. *a-lai̯k-a(m)), hence no real
precursor of a historical thematic aorist 1sg. (áricam).
12
Similarly, Cardona (1960a: 97–8) dismisses as inconsequential the formal pairs OCS -lьpe ‘adhered
to’ ~ Skt. alipat ‘smeared’ (cf. LIV 408–9, s.v. 1. *lei̯ p-), OCS -sъše ‘dried up’ ~ Skt. (grammarians)
aśusat ‘dried’, Gr. ἐπύθετο ‘learned’ ~ Ved. 3pl. inj. budhánta ‘they wake up’ (cf. LIV 82–3, s.v.
*bh˙eu̯ d h-), and OCS -tьre ‘rubbed’ ~ Gr. ἔτορε ‘pierced’ (cf. LIV 632–4, s.vv. *terh1- and *terh3-, and
see further 6.22, fn. 79).
13
Cardona (1960a: 123).
This latter point too is not without significance. Scholars had long
recognised that some thematic aorists of Sanskrit are obvious offshoots of
older root aorists. As “conspicuous examples” Whitney cited “akarat etc.
and agamat etc. (in the earliest period only akar and agan)”, and Cardona
admits that he can “find no example of a TeRT root with as clear
chronological developments as can be observed in kr and gam”.14
Interestingly, however, the thematic forms of kr-, including ˙ 2sg. ákaras,
3sg. ákarat, 3pl. ákaran ‘has/have made’, which˙ occur from the Atharva
Veda onwards (whereas the Rig Veda only shows 2sg./3sg. ákar etc.), all
show a full-grade root. They thus contrast with the Rig-Vedic athematic
3pl. ákran, which has the expected zero grade of the 3pl. Equally, when in
the Atharva Veda a 3pl. ágaman ‘they have come’ first appears, it displays
the same full-grade root as the athematic singular (1sg. ágaman, 2sg. ágan,
3sg. ágan), not the zero grade of the older 3pl. ágman. In other words,
although a thematisation based on the 3pl. would have been as possible
here as with the roots mentioned before, we do not find 2sg./3sg. †ágmas,
†ágmat and †ákras, †ákrat. As already noted by Bartholomae and
Wackernagel,15 the pivotal form in these cases must have been the ambig-
uous 1sg. ágamam, ákaram (< *(h1e-)gu̯ em-m̥ , *(h1e-)ku̯ er-m̥ ). Nor is this
surprising: other things being equal, we expect that the more frequent
singular analogically influences the plural, not vice versa (3.24). This
prediction is borne out by further data, such as the transfer of the singular’s
vowel grade into unmistakably athematic root-aorist forms other than the
3pl. (e.g., 1pl. ákarma, áganma16), or the ‘irregular’ long vowel of 3pl.
ábhūvan ‘they have become’ (after 3sg. ábhūt < *(h1e-)bhuh2-t, and instead
of *ábhuvan < *(h1e-)bhuh2-ent17). When the wish arose to have more
clearly marked 2sg./3sg. forms ending in thematic -as, -at, to parallel 1sg.
-am, there was simply no reason therefore also to give up the inherited
vowel grade, especially when this was shared with the 1sg.18
Against this background, the question that should be asked, but is not asked
by Cardona, is why the *CeRT-/*CeI̯ T- roots behave differently. Nor do they
all, it must be added. The aorist of *derk̑ -, whose inflection is consistently
14
Whitney (1889: 306), Cardona (1960a: 33).
15
Bartholomae (1888: 277–8), Wackernagel (1926b: 17).
16
Cf. Macdonell (1910: 366–7), Cardona (1960a: 10).
17
Cf. twice in the RV 1sg. ábhuvam < *(h1e-)bhuh2-m̥ ; Cardona (1960a: 25).
18
As Cardona (1960a: 22, 35) himself acknowledges, “[s]uch a recharacterization of second and third
singular forms starting in the Atharva-Veda also occurs in the flexion of the sigmatic aorist” (e.g., 3sg.
ahārsīt ‘has taken’ for ahār) and “[i]n later Indic . . . root-aorist forms of the 2–3sg. act. indic. were
˙
retained almost only for long vowel roots, precisely those roots whose 2–3 sg. did not lose the
personal endings phonetically”.
athematic in the Rig Veda, is subsequently thematised not into 3sg. †ádrśat but
into 3sg. ádarśat ‘has seen’ etc., in line with 1sg. ádarśam (< *(h1e-)derk˙ ̑ -m).19
̥
Also, it is of little help if Cardona wants to make out additional triggers for
thematisation, none of which is paradigmatically more central than the 3pl. No
doubt a 3pl. act. in -an could lead to the adoption of ‘thematic’ -anta (instead of
athematic -ata < *-n̥ to) also in the 3pl. middle;20 and Cardona’s explanation for
the rise of ‘thematic’ optatives to root aorists by analogy with the subjunctive,
and starting in the 1pl.,21 is convincing too as it neatly accounts for the actual
attestation pattern of unexpected thematic optatives in Vedic. But the funda-
mental issue remains unaffected by all this. The only way to defend the zero-
grade generalisation in thematic aorists to *CeRT-/*CeI̯ T- roots, but not *CeT-
or *CeR- ones, would therefore be to stress that, although analogy usually
makes paradigmatically basic (i.e., frequent, shorter, and/or otherwise
‘unmarked’) items influence other (less frequent, longer, and/or more marked)
items,22 so that 3sg. forms often act as analogical bases (3.24), individual
instances of analogy may still violate these principles. Hence, we cannot safely
exclude a 3pl. → sg. analogy in the pattern under investigation, even if under
normal circumstances (as with the *CeT-/*CeR- roots) the thematisation of
PIE root-aorist forms like those under (a) into Old Indic (b) would seem less
natural than that into hypothetical (c):
19
Cf. Wackernagel (1926b: 16–17), Kuiper (1959), Hoffmann (1960). Note similarly the Armenian full-
graded ‘semi-thematic’ aorist stems bowc(e)- ‘nourish’ (root *bheu̯ g-) and lowc(e)- ‘release’ (root
*leu̯ g-): ‘in certain athematic stems which did not end in a vowel in Pre-Proto-Armenian the
sequence of stem-final consonant + initial consonant of the ending was avoided, because of the
phonological changes affecting the consonant groups, by means of analogical transformations after
the inflection of the thematic stems (so e.g. 3sg. ind. *e-bheu̯ k̑ t < *e-bheu̯ g-t replaced by *e-bheu̯ g̑ -et,
2pl. inj. *bheu̯ k̑ te < *bheu̯ g-te replaced by *bheu̯ g̑ -ete)’ (Klingenschmitt 1982: 267). Klingenschmitt
(1982: 270–1) finds it ‘noteworthy’ ‘that originally active athematic root aorists too appear with both
full grade and zero grade in Armenian’, but his attempt to explain this with the help of two different
accentual/ablaut types is an ultima ratio.
20
Cardona (1960a: 26–9), with comments on Meillet (1920a: 202–5); cf. 6.26, fn. 87.
21
E.g., 1pl. subj. gámāma < *gu̯ ém-o-me, reinterpreted as if from thematic *gu̯ em-ō-me: hence also 1pl.
opt. gaméma and similar forms, as if < *gu̯ em-oi-me; Cardona (1960a: 29–32), Lazzeroni (1987).
22
None of these criteria (on which see e.g. Paul 1880: 61–77, Kuryłowicz 1964a: esp. 37–40, Bybee
2007, Garrett 2008) would favour a 3pl. *(h1e-)CR̥ T-ent over a 3sg. *(h1e-)CeRT-t: the greater length
and morphological markedness of the former are self-evident, and singulars are cross-linguistically
more frequent than plurals (Bybee 2007: 57–8). Krisch (1992) maintains that pertinent 3pl. forms
were phonologically less marked than 3sg. ones, but it seems doubtful that this consideration would
override a morphological one; also, his hierarchy still produces wrong results (e.g., the singular stem
*derk̑ - should have been preferred to the 3pl. ‘stem’ *dr̥ k̑ e/o- also in Greek). Meanwhile, Albright
(2008: 181) advocates a “synchronically oriented model of language change, in which learners pay
more attention to forms that are most helpful in predicting unknown forms, and analogical effects
are rooted in this organization”. Occasionally, this might give the root-aorist 3pl. of a *CeRT- root
(*(h1e-)CR̥ T-ent) a competitive edge over the 3sg. (*(h1e-)CeRT-t, which potentially led to assimila-
tions/simplifications in the final cluster), but not over the 1sg. (*(h1e-)CeRT-m̥ ).
(a) (b) (c)

1sg. *(h1e-)lei̯ku̯ -m̥ a-ric-am †(a-)rec-am23
3sg. *(h1e-)lei̯ku̯ -t a-ric-at †(a-)rec-at
3pl. *(h1e-)liku̯ -ent a-ric-an †(a-)rec-an
6.6 Lack of Pivot Forms in Greek

Yet, the problem lies even deeper. As mentioned in 6.4, from Cardona’s
conclusion that Proto-Indo-European only knew a root-aorist 3sg.
*(h1e-)lei̯ku̯ -t, but no thematic 3sg. *(h1e-)liku̯ -e-t, it follows that Gr.
ἔλιπε and Arm. elik‘ must equally be due to post-PIE thematisations in
the languages in which they (and other thematic aorists, to which the same
reasoning applies) occur. That is, in (for example) Greek too we need a
pivotal root-aorist form that could be reinterpreted as thematic and thereby
trigger the creation of the entire thematic paradigm. So let us compare the
two paradigms as they must be posited for Proto-Greek:24
Root aorist Thematic aorist
sg. 1 *(h1e-)lei̯ku̯ -m̥ *(h1e-)liku̯ -o-m
2 *(h1e-)lei̯ku̯ -s *(h1e-)liku̯ -e-s
3 *(h1e-)lei̯ku̯ -t *(h1e-)liku̯ -e-t
pl. 1 *(h1e-)liku̯ -me *(h1e-)liku̯ -o-me
2 *(h1e-)liku̯ -te *(h1e-)liku̯ -e-te
3 *(h1e-)liku̯ -ent *(h1e-)liku̯ -o-nt
Worryingly, not a single form overlaps. Following Meillet’s general ideas,
but rejecting Meillet’s ad hoc assumption that the PIE root aorist had an
athematic ending *-ont, Cardona therefore claims that in the root aorist 3pl.
*-ent was replaced by *-ont within Proto-Greek.25 That no such replacement
occurred in the verb ‘be’, with 3pl. pres. (Att.-Ion.) εἰσί < *h1s-énti (cf. Goth.
sind, OIr. it, Osc./Umbr. sent) may not on its own disprove this because the
23
The generalised palatal outcome of *-ku̯ - is unexceptional also before *-m̥ > -am (Wackernagel 1896: 148).
24
On the vowel grade of the root-aorist plural, see 6.11 with fn. 37, on the endings 1.3 and 1.5.
25
Cardona (1960a: 67–9), in response to Meillet [and Vendryes] (1953: 204 n. 1), whose views still
inform Gil (1964: 168). ‘Athematic’ *-ont(i) (Meillet 1908/9b, Lazzeroni 1987: 143–5) also features
prominently in Meillet’s (1931: 201) discussion of thematic conjugation patterns more widely. As
Cardona (1960a: 69–70) notes, Lat. sunt and OCS sǫ tъ (let alone Hitt. ašanzi) ‘they are’ do not
evince athematic *-ont(i) since they “contain endings which are regular in their respective
languages” and therefore must be “replacements of athematic forms *senti, sętъ” (cf. Gr. εἰσί
etc.; Dunkel 1998b: 84–6). In the root inflection, *-ent, not *-ont, is also indicated by the
generalised palatal outcome of inherited velars/labiovelars in Indo-Iranian (cf. above, fn. 23)
and – less conclusively – by Greek forms like 3pl. (Att.) ἔθεσαν, (Boeot.) (ἀν)έθεαν ‘they set (up)’
presupposing *(ἔ)θεν (< *(h1e-)d hh1-ent) (Schwyzer 1939: 665, 741; cf. Kortlandt 1988).
Apophonically, a form with an e-grade and a zero grade (*CC-ént(i)) also looks more regular
than one with an o-grade and a zero grade (*CC-ónt(i)).
original ending could have been preserved in such a high-frequency form;
but athematic *-ent(i) also survives unaltered in the Mycenaean root-present
3pl. ki-ti-je-si /ktii̯ ensi/ ‘they cultivate’ and in the 3pl. opt. (e.g., thematic -οιεν
< *-oi(h1)-ent; 1.8). Moreover, when *-enti is replaced in the ablauting root-
present paradigm of εἶμι ‘go’, the result is not †ἴουσι (< *(h1)i-ónti), but ἴᾱσι (<
*i-anti ←< *(h1)i-n̥ ti for *(h1)i-enti), despite the fact that the subjunctive and
optative of this verb are ‘thematic’ (ἴω, ἴοιμι, etc.) and the participle also uses a
stem ἰοντ-.
The last point is of particular relevance since Cardona, aware that his
replacement theory is not at all straightforward, tries to find an additional
justification for it by reference to the participle: “given that in the flexion of
the thematic presents of the type phérō, the third plural active indicative
phéronti (impfct. épheron) and the participle pheront- both had the desi-
nential vowel -o-, it is probable that, in the athematic flexion, the contrast
between third plural active *lipen(t) and active participle lipónt- . . . was
levelled on the model of the thematic flexion”.26 But even if there is no
reason to deny a remote link between participles in *-nt- and the 3pl. (10.9–
10.11), is it really likely that the participle exerted such a fundamental
influence on the 3pl. at the Proto-Greek stage, when nothing of the sort
happened in the paradigm of εἶμι, a verb that presented exactly the same
‘problem’?27
6.7 Problems of Reconstructive Economy

But let us assume that Cardona’s installation of *-ont, though implausible,
is nevertheless true. In that case we obtain a Proto-Greek ‘root-aorist’ 3pl.
*(h1e-)liku̯ -ont. With that, however, we are only at the point where our
Indo-Iranian difficulties started (6.5). We then have to admit again that an
unexpected 3pl. → sg. analogy produced PGr. 3sg. *(h1e-)liku̯ -e-t etc. And
26
Cardona (1960a: 69); similarly Strunk (1967: 100), Bammesberger (1985: 71). Cardona (1960a: 70–6)
justly criticises M. Leumann’s (1957: 77–8) idea (formulated for ἔπιον ‘drank’: 8.9, fn. 34) that the
thematisation was due to a 3pl. in *-ent > PGr. *-en being reinterpreted as a 3sg. in *-e(n). Since the
occurrence of ν ephelkystikon in verbal paradigms is restricted to Attic-Ionic (cf. Hämmig 2013: esp.
119), it cannot be held responsible for a development that allegedly occurred in Common (Proto-)
Greek.
27
If anything, analogical influence rather seems to have worked the other way round. Forms like Gr.
θεντ- ‘putting’ (< *d hh1-ent- for *d hh1-ont-, with Kuryłowicz 1968a: 269?) are inconclusive because
alternative explanations are conceivable (e.g. *d h(e)h1- > *d hē̆ - + *-nt-; cf. Chantraine 1961: 280,
Bammesberger 1981, Rix 1992: 234, Sihler 1995: 617), but see (a) Morpurgo Davies (1978) on the
Thessalian remake of PGr. *h1s-ont- > ἐοντ- ‘being’ (from PIE *h1(e)s-ont- ~ *h1s-n̥ t-) into ἐντ- after
3pl. *ἐντί, and (b) Forssman (1964) on the isolated relic form δρακείς ‘seeing’ (Pind. Pyth. 2.20, Nem.
7.3, fr. 123.3 Sn.–M.). Since the regular Proto-Greek root-aorist participle would be *dr̥ k-ont- (cf.
δράκων ‘serpent’), *dr̥ k-ént- must be innovated, and the most plausible model is then a 3pl. in *-ent,
not *-ont (Bammesberger 1981: 290 n. 10, Peters 2004a: 268–9).
not just that: since similar thematic aorists occur in Slavic and Armenian as
well,28 we are given to understand that both steps – the artificial creation of
a pivotal 3pl.29 and the subsequent 3pl. → sg. analogy – independently
repeated themselves in these branches. True, for both of them Cardona is
less committal when he writes that “we cannot make precise statements
about how the thematicization developed in Slavic” and that “thematiciza-
tion also took place in Armenian, but there is insufficient material for
tracing the precise developments”;30 but if we do not call upon the 3pl. here
too, we are left with empty hands.
So why not simplify the picture by positing the necessary changes just
once, in Proto-Indo-European itself? If *(h1e-)liku̯ -ent and similar 3pl.
forms were replaced by *(h1e-)liku̯ -ont already in the proto-language and
thence led to an entire thematic paradigm, at least we would not have to
multiply these surprising developments. After all, Cardona himself did
not altogether deny thematic aorists to Proto-Indo-European (6.4); and
if, say, *(h1e-)u̯ id-e-t ‘saw’ already existed, it must surely have originated
somehow.
Unfortunately, this is still no satisfactory way to deal with the Gordian
knot. Firstly, as long as everything we know from the daughter languages
suggests that athematic root formations were healthy and alive in Proto-
Indo-European, the replacement of an athematic 3pl. ending *-ent by the
thematic *-ont would have been even less motivated there than in (Proto-)
Greek or any other branch where root formations were no longer going
strong. Secondly, a Cardonian would of course still point to the fact that in
Indo-Iranian there simply are many demonstrably old root aorists and
many arguably secondary thematic aorists, and that some of the former
do match thematic aorists elsewhere (cf. also e.g. *k̑ leu̯ - ‘hear’ with Ved.
3sg. áśrot ‘has heard’ vs. Gr. ἔκλυε ‘heard’; *derk̑ - ‘see, watch’ with Ved. 1pl.
ádarśma ‘we have seen’ vs. Gr. ἔδρακε ‘saw’31). If we now tipped the balance
in favour of Greek with its rich array of thematic aorists, but relatively few
root aorists (6.11–6.13), and postulated that Proto-Indo-European had had
28
Also to be considered are at least Albanian (cf. Klingenschmitt 1994a: 230, ‘in an earlier period . . .
those original athematic root aorists which ended in a consonant were probably also . . . thematised’)
and Phrygian, where an old zero-graded thematic aorist may have been sigmatised (Gorbachov
2005: 208–13). Marginal Germanic evidence (e.g., OHG 2sg. pret. stigi ‘you climbed’ ~ Gr. 2sg. aor.
(ἔ)στιχες ‘you marched’; Meid 1971: 13–15) has been questioned (cf. Polomé 1964, Bammesberger
1988b).
29
In Armenian this would be less of a problem if the generalisation of the thematic e-vowel was early
enough (cf. e.g. 3pl. ber-e-n ‘they carry’); here too, the 3sg. (*-e-t(i)) has analogically influenced the
rest of the paradigm.
30
Cardona (1960a: 100, 102). 31 Cardona (1960a: 64).
only thematic aorists in all these contradictory cases (and perhaps in many
others too, where an Indo-Iranian root aorist does not directly contrast
with a thematic aorist), we would have to conclude that a large-scale
athematisation took place in Indo-Iranian; but the reasons for this would
be no more evident than the inverse is for a language like Greek.32
6.8 The Evidence of *(h1e-)u̯ id-e-t

All in all, it would thus be just as unwise to deny (a) the existence of many
PIE root aorists, which survive most distinctly in Indo-Iranian, as to deny
(b) the existence already in Proto-Indo-European of thematic aorists as a
type. How frequent or rare this thematic aorist was is much more difficult
to determine. But the fact that its frequency increases from earlier to later
Vedic times does not by itself warrant the conclusion that it must have
been even rarer in Proto-Indo-European than in early Vedic. One con-
sideration may actually point in the opposite direction.
As acknowledged by Cardona (6.4), the most evident PIE thematic
aorist is *(h1e-)u̯ id-e-t ‘saw’. Since verbs for ‘seeing’ are common in any
language, it comes as no surprise that *u̯ ei̯d- is one of the best-attested
Indo-European verbal roots. But according to the principle of high-
frequency resilience (3.32), our default hypothesis should then be that
*(h1e-)u̯ id-e-t ‘saw’ represents something old, not an innovation. There
is no reason why a root aorist *(h1e-)u̯ eid-t ‘saw’ (> hypothetical Ved.
*á-vet; cf. Ved. á-bhet ‘has split’ < *(h1e-)bhei̯d-t) should not have
survived into historical times, let alone why it should have been super-
seded particularly early. In fact, the Latin perfect vīdit ‘saw’ suggests
that a root aorist *(h1e-)u̯ ei̯d-t did indeed (also) exist in Proto-Indo-
European.33
6.9 Root Aorists and Thematic Aorists as Synchronic Competitors?

So if the Gordian knot cannot be untied by pulling at either the thematic
or the root aorist end, it has to be cut. We may have to concede that there
was a competition between root aorists and thematic aorists already in
Proto-Indo-European, without either being an offshoot of the other.
Once we do that, our problems disappear. We no longer need a 3pl. →
sg. analogy (let alone a host of them) nor an unmotivated replacement of
3pl. *-ent by *-ont in either the proto-language or any of its daughters.
32
Note that the conditions for such an athematisation would be different from those under which
(some) reduplicated presents were athematised in Indo-Iranian (4.21); the latter process was eased by
the frequency of root aorists in the branch.
33
Cf. Bammesberger (1985: 72–3), Meiser (1993b: 298; 2003: 205–6).
˘ PIE thematic aorist PIE root aorist
, -
Gr. ειδε, Ved.ávidat < *(h1e-)uid-e-t
˘ ~ *(h1e-)ueid-t
˘ ˘ > Lat. vıdit
‘saw’ ˘ ‘saw’ ˘
,
Gr. εδρακε
´ < *(h1e-)drk-e-t ~ *(h1e-)derk-t > ´
Ved. ádarsat
‘watched,˚ saw’ ‘watched, saw’
, –
Gr. ελιπε *(h1e-)liku-e-t *(h1e-)leiku-t
˘ ˘
´ , Arm. elik‘ < ~
˘
cf. Ved. rikthas
‘left’ ˘ ‘left’ ˘
,
Gr. εσχε
´ < *(h1e-)sg h-e-t ~ *(h1e-)seg h-t cf. Ved. 2sg. subj. sáhas
‘held, overpowered’
˘ ‘held, overpowered’
˘
,
Gr. εκλυε
´ < *(h1e-)klu-e-t ~ *(h1e-)kleu-t ´
Ved. ásrot
˘
>
‘heard’ ‘heard’
, ,
Gr. (e.g. Ion.) εταμε
´ < *(h1e-)tmh1-e-t ~ *(h1e-)temh1-t > Gr. (Att.) ´ετεμε
‘cut’ ˚ ‘cut’
Fig. 6.1. Some Indo-European thematic aorist ~ root aorist pairs
If we accept for Proto-Indo-European pairs like the ones in Fig. 6.1, the
‘contradictions’ between the data in individual languages are readily
accounted for by divergent selections and generalisations in post-PIE times.
Whereas Indo-Iranian, at least in its earlier stages, was more willing to retain
the athematic variants (as it was generally tolerant of athematic forms: 4.21),
Greek more often opted for the thematic ones. Given the frequency with
which *CeRT-/*CeI̯ T- roots feature thematic aorists also in Indo-Iranian, this
particular preference may well go back to Proto-Indo-European itself, pre-
sumably because it helped to avoid unwelcome consonant clusters in root-
aorist forms like the pivotal 3sg. (*(h1e-)Ce(R/I̯ )T-t). However, even that must
not be turned into a PIE rule, in view of items like Ved. rikthās, ádarśat, or
Lat. vīdit (6.4, 6.5, 6.8). Vice versa, we must not conclude from the overall
tendency of Greek that no root aorists (other than the obvious ones to *CeH-
roots: 6.11–6.12) were continued into Proto-Greek. Much rather, the persis-
tence of some competition between both types within Proto-Greek may
account for dialectally divergent outcomes (cf. Table 6.2, s.v. *gu̯ elh1-, 6.20–
6.22).34
Importantly, the postulate of a fully-fledged thematic aorist in Proto-
Indo-European not only accounts for the parallel existence of such aorists
34
In other branches too, the selection need not have favoured the same type in each case: see 6.5, fn. 19,
on the root-aorist-based full-graded thematic aorists of Armenian (cf. also OCS (po)stiže ‘met, reached’
< *-stei̯gh-(e)t vs. Gr. ἔστιχε ‘marched’), next to ‘regular’ zero-graded ones. On the likelihood of similar
mechanical thematisations of (middle) root-aorist forms in Greek, see Table 6.2, s.vv. *pet-, *sei̯k-; act.
τεκε/ο- ‘beget’ may be kept apart since a zero-graded thematic aorist stem *tk̑ -e/o- could have been
replaced here much earlier to prevent a metathesis into †k̑ t-e/o- (cf. Table 4.1, Monteil 1978: 141 n. 3).
Again different is the case of ὤφελε ‘ought’ (6.19, fn. 72).
in many different branches of the family. It also makes it easier to
understand why root aorists were, after all, increasingly thematised in
Indo-Iranian (6.4–6.5).35 If there were some aorists that already had a
structure *C(R̥ /I)C-e/o- > PIIr. *C(R̥ /I)C-a-, it was more straightforward
for others to be thematised as well, on the basis of the pseudo-thematic
root-aorist 3pl. *(a-)C(R̥ /I)C-an(t). The replacement of a PIIr. 3sg. *(a-)
Ca(R/I̯ )C-t by a 3sg. *(a-)C(R̥ /I)C-a-t did not then amount to the creation
ex nihilo of a new aorist paradigm, but only to an analogical spread of one
aorist paradigm at the expense of another.
6.10 Argumentative Agenda

One may of course raise an objection of principle against the above
hypothesis. Reconstructing a proto-language is always easier if one simply
projects back from the historical languages all the categories attested there.
At first sight, positing for Proto-Indo-European both a thematic and a root
aorist thus seems to disregard the need for an economical reconstruction in
a different but no less real way than Cardona’s approach does (6.7). The
step should therefore only be taken if it can be made plausible that the two
categories were initially differentiated in terms of function as well as form,
even though they functionally merged in the end. In other words, if we
assume the functional equivalence of thematic aorists and root aorists in
later Proto-Indo-European, we must also ask how this situation came
about. And since we have already situated the root aorist in relation to
the reduplicated aorist (3.36, 6.1), we must specifically explain how a
thematic aorist that is genetically unrelated to the root aorist fits into the
overall picture (Fig. 3.1).
To address these matters will be the main task in a later part of this
chapter (6.23–6.25). But before we go there, it may be useful to show that a
new model is needed not only on theoretical grounds, as argued so far, but
also because of philological data. To this end, the following sections will
concentrate on a number of cases where a Proto-Greek root aorist did not
develop into a standard (zero-graded) thematic aorist, but either into a full-
graded one (mirroring thematic aorists like ádarśat or ákarat in Vedic: 6.5)
or into an s-aorist, with the 3sg. invariably acting as a base form. The
availability of these two strategies to get rid of unwanted root aorists casts
further doubt on the idea, which is not supported by philological evidence,
that zero-graded thematic aorists were merely created for the same purpose
as well.
35
On statistical differences between the Rig Veda and the Atharva Veda, see Whitney (1889: 306).
6.11–6.22 The Fate of PIE Root Aorists in Greek
6.11 Fully Preserved Root Aorists to *CeH- Roots
Although root aorists are less common in early Greek than in Vedic, there
is enough material to allow a glimpse into the prehistory of the category
within the Hellenic branch. Least complicated is the situation regarding
the root aorists to *CeH- roots, many of which are retained without
substantial change (Table 6.1).
While the oldest ablaut pattern with a full-grade root in the singular and a
zero-grade root in the plural and middle is still reflected in the aorist
paradigms of *deh3- ‘give’, *d heh1- ‘put’, and *Hi̯eh1- ‘throw’, the ablaut
grade of the active singular has been extended to the plural in others, such
as *gu̯ eh2- ‘go’36 and *steh2- ‘stand’: thus, 1pl. ἔβημεν, ἔστημεν (*(h1e-)gu̯ eh2-me,
*(h1e-)steh2-me), not †ἔβαμεν, †ἔσταμεν, and probably also 3pl. (poetic)
ἔβαν, Hom. ἔσταν (< *(e-)gu̯ ānt, *(e-)stānt < *(h1e-)gu̯ eh2-nt, *(h1e-)steh2-nt).
Although a parallel innovation is conceivable, this levelling process most likely
started already in Proto-Indo-European (cf. Ved. 1pl. á-gā-ma, á-sthā-ma, etc.
vs. 3sg. med. á-sthi-ta < *(h1e-)sth̥ 2-to).37 With *dreh2- ‘run (away)’ and *g̑ neh3-
‘recognise’, meanwhile, the evidence is ambiguous since both *dreh2-, *g̑ neh3-
and *dr̥ h2-, *g̑ n̥ h3- yield δρᾱ-, γνω-.38 As for *bhu̯ eh2- (?) ‘be, become’, the data
suggest an inverse direction of levelling (plural → singular) only at first sight,
for throughout Indo-European this particular root regularly appears in the
zero grade (*bhuh2-) even where the full grade is expected.39
6.12 κ-Aorists
A peculiarity of the triad *deh3-, *d heh1-, *Hi̯eh1- is the addition of an
element -κ- before the personal endings of the active singular (1sg. -κα,
36
But note fossilised Hom. 3du. βάτην ‘they went’ (< *gu̯ h̥ 2-teh2m), which co-occurs with frequent
βήτην and is virtually confined to the formula τὼ δὲ βάτην and its variants. Pace Harđarson (1993a:
151–2) and LIV 209–10, s.v. *gu̯ em-, it can hardly belong with *gu̯ em- (cf. Ved. 3sg. aor. ágan ‘has
gone, come’) when all the other aorist forms of βαίνω presuppose *gu̯ eh2-.
37
According to Hoffmann (1960: 119; 1968a: 7–8) and Strunk (1985: 500–3), the Vedic distribution
with a full-grade 1pl./2pl. is old; but as Lazzeroni (1980: 38) stresses, it can hardly be original,
especially given the Greek data, and the Hittite evidence adduced by Hart (1980) is inconclusive
(since preterital full-grade plurals can well be levelled after their singulars without, or prior to, the
same happening in the present). For further discussion, see Bammesberger (1982c), H. Koch (2000),
and Malzahn (2004): both Bammesberger and Malzahn suggest that the introduction of full-grade
forms into the plural first happened in the 2pl. ipv., after the 2sg. ipv., so that the imperatives are less
significant than Watkins (1969: 32–4) thought (cf. already Lindeman 1976).
38
Ptcpl. (ἀπο)δράς (the only Homeric form to *dreh2-: Od. 16.65, 17.516) and γνούς are not decisive,
although the comparison with τάλᾱς < *tl̥ h2-ent- superficially favours *dreh2-nt-, *g̑ neh3-nt- over *dr̥ h2-
ent-, *g̑ n̥ h3-ent- > †δαραντ-, †γανοντ- (cf. Harđarson 1993a: 174–5; Table 6.2, s.v. *telh2-): *dreh2-,
*g̑ neh3- never appear as *derh2-, *g̑ enh3-, so that the anlaut cluster δρ-, γν- had to be preserved.
39
Cf. LIV 99, s.v. *bhu̯ eh2-, Kümmel (2000a: 349–50).
Table 6.1. Greek root aorists to *CeH- roots
Root-aorist forms (selection)

Comparanda (selection)
Root Comment
*bhu̯ eh2- (?) ‘be, become’ 3sg. ἔφῡ (< *(h1e-)bhuh2-t), 3pl. (Hom.) ἔφυν (< *(h1e-)bhuh2-
(LIV 98–101) nt), inf. φῦναι (< *bhuh2-nai̯), ptcpl. φῡ ́ ς (< *bhuh2-nt-), etc.
Cf. Ved. 3sg. ábhūt ‘has become’ (< *(h1e-)bhuh2-t), OCS by
‘became’ (< *bhuh2-t or secondary *bhuh2-s-t?), OLat. 2sg. subj.
(ne) fuās ‘you shall not be’ (←< *bhuh2-e-s(i) with analogical
-ā- for *-a- after thematic long-vowel subj. in *-ē- (?), against
Rix 1998: 263–4, Meiser 2003: 41–2, 51–2; on Lat. perf. fuī see
Willi 2009a: esp. 236–8), Gaul. 3sg. subj. bueti(d) ‘shall be’,
OIr. beith ‘shall be’ (< *bu̯ -e-ti ←< *bhu(h2)-e-t(i)).
On the widespread generalisation of zero-grade forms for
this root, see 6.11.
*deh3- ‘give’ (LIV 105–6) 1pl. ἔδομεν (< *(h1e-)dh̥ 3-me), 3pl. (Lac.) ἔδον (< *(h1e-)dh3-ent;
→ Att. analogical ἔδο-σαν, 1.3), 3sg. med. ἔδοτο (< *(h1e-)dh̥ 3-
to), inf. (Dor.) δόμεν (< *dh̥ 3-men), etc.
Cf. Ved. 3sg. ádāt ‘has given’, Arm. et ‘gave’ (< *(h1e-)deh3-t);
also Venetic doto ‘gave’ (←< *deh3-t?), OCS da ‘gave’ (< *deh3-t
or *deh3-s-t?, cf. 1sg. dachъ < *deh3-s-).
Singular: κ-aorist (3sg. Myc. (a-pu-)do-ke, later ἔδωκε, etc.);
cf. 6.12.
*dreh2- ‘run (away)’ 3sg. (ἀπ)έδρᾱ (< *(h1e-)dreh2-t), inf. (ἀπο)δρᾶναι (< *dr(e)h2-
(LIV 127) nai̯), ptcpl. (ἀπο)δράς (< *dr(e)h2-(e)nt-; cf. 6.11, fn. 38), etc.
Cf. Ved. ipv. drāhi (< *dreh2-d hi), 3sg. ipv. drā́ tu ‘shall run’ (<
*dreh2-tu; Narten 1968a: 114).
On the likely analogical spread of the active singular
vocalism throughout the paradigm, see 6.11.
*d heh1- ‘put’ (LIV 136–8) 3sg. (Boeot.) (ἀν)έθε̄ (< *(h1e-)d heh1-t; cf. 6.12, fn. 46), 1pl.
ἔθεμεν (< *(h1e-)d hh̥ 1-me), 3sg. med. ἔθετο (< *(h1e-)d hh̥ 1-to),
Myc. -te-to, inf. (epic) θέμεν (< *d hh̥ 1-men), etc.
Cf. Ved. 3sg. ádhāt ‘has put’, OAv. -dāt̰ ‘put’, Arm. ed
‘put’ (< *(h1e-)d heh1-t); note also Hitt. tēzzi ‘speaks’, Lyc. tadi
‘puts’ (~ Ved. dhā́ ti ‘puts’?) (< *d heh1-ti) as a reflex of the
primordial root present (before the root imperfective →
aorist shift: cf. 2.17, Table 4.1)?
Singular: κ-aorist (3sg. Myc. te-ke, later ἔθηκε, etc.);
cf. 6.12.
*g̑ neh3- ‘recognise’ (LIV 3sg. ἔγνω (< (*h1e-)g̑ neh3-t), 3pl. (poetic/Doric) ἔγνον (<
168–70) *(h1e-)g̑ n(e)h3-(e)nt), ipv. γνῶθι (< *g̑ n(e)h3-d hi), inf. γνῶναι
(< *g̑ n(e)h3-nai̯), ptcpl. γνούς (< *g̑ n(e)h3-(e)nt-; cf. 6.11, fn.
38), etc.
Cf. Ved. 2sg. opt. jñeyā́ s ‘you may recognise’ (but
elsewhere Vedic has only an s-aorist jñās-, resembling the
Table 6.1. (cont.)

Root Comment
Class III preterite of Toch. A kñasäst ‘you recognised’; cf.

˙
Narten 1964: 122, Hackstein 1993, Harđarson 1993a: 101–2,
LIV 168–9, s.v. *g̑ neh3-), OCS zna ‘knew’ (< *g̑ neh3-t or
*g̑ neh3-s-t?), Lat. (remade) perf. (g)nōvī ‘recognised, know’.
Note the absence of a κ-aorist, despite the transitive
meaning (6.12).
*gu̯ eh2- ‘go’ (LIV 205) 3sg. ἔβη (< *(h1e-)gu̯ eh2-t), 3pl. (poetic) ἔβαν (probably <
*(h1e-)gu̯ eh2-nt, not *(h1e-)gu̯ h2-ent; cf. 6.11), inf. (Dor.)
βᾶμεν (<*gu̯ eh2-men), etc.; note 3du. βάτην (< *(h1e-)gu̯ h̥ 2-
teh2m; 6.11, fn. 36).
Cf. Ved. 3sg. ágāt ‘has gone’, OAv. inj. gāt̰ ‘goes’ (< *(h1e-)
gu̯ eh2-t), Arm. 1pl. ekak‘ (< *(h1e-)gu̯ eh2-; Klingenschmitt
1982: 279).
On the analogical spread of the active singular vocalism
throughout the paradigm, see 6.11.
*Hi̯ eh1- ‘throw’ (LIV 225) 1pl. εἷμεν (< *(h1e-)[H]i̯h̥ 1-me), 3sg. med. εἷτο (< *(h1e-)
[H]i̯h̥ 1-to), inf. (epic) (ἐξ)έμεναι (< *-[H]i̯h̥ 1-menai̯), etc.
On possible residues in Anatolian (and Tocharian?) of a
root present *Hi̯eh1-ti (reflecting a stage before the root
imperfective → aorist shift?), see Table 4.1 (e.g., Hitt. pe-
i̯ ezzi ‘sends away’).
Singular: κ-aorist (3sg. Myc. a-pe-e-ke, later ἧκε < ἕηκε,
etc.); cf. 6.12.
*h3neh2- ‘benefit’ (LIV 3sg. med. (Hom.) (ἀπ)όνητο ‘enjoyed’ (< *-h3nh2-to, cf.
302–3) below), (Attic) ὤνατο; ipv. ὄνησο; ptcpl. (ἀπ)ονήμενος.
Harđarson (1993a: 181) regards the vocalism of -ονητο as
secondary after act. ὄνησα (already in Il. 1.503); but while it is
true that *h̥ 3nh̥ 2-to could have yielded *h3ǝnh2ǝ-to > *ὄνατο
(so that Att. ὤνατο may be old), it is possible that the same
sequence was alternatively vocalised as *h̥ 3nh̥ 2-to > *h3ǝnǝh2-
to > -ονητο (whether or not Att. ὤνατο were then
secondarily remodelled after pres. ὀνίναμαι, on which see
4.15, fn. 66). In any case, the active root aor. *(h1e-)h3neh2-t
has been reshaped into an s-aorist (cf. *pleh1-, *pleh3-).
*pleh1- ‘fill’ (LIV 482–3) 1sg. med. ἐπλήμην (< *(h1e-)pl̥ h1-m-), 3sg. med. πλῆτο
‘became full, was filled’ (< *pl̥ h1-to), 3pl. med. πλῆντο; ipv.
med. (ἔμ)πλησο (*pl̥ h1-so); ptcpl. med. (ἐμ)πλήμενος (<
*pl̥ h1-mh̥ 1no-).
Although an indirect trace of a corresponding active root
aorist may survive in Lat. -plēvī ‘filled’ (cf. Table 4.1, against
Meiser 1993: 286–7), this formation can have coexisted with
Table 6.1. (cont.)

Root Comment
an s-aorist already in later Proto-Indo-European: see Ved.

aprās ‘has filled’ (Narten 1964: 173) ~ Gr. ἔπλησα (and also
Arm. elic‘ ‘filled’?, cf. Klingenschmitt 1982: 287), *g̑ neh3-,
*h3neh2-, and *pleh3-, and 6.14 on the general pattern.
*pleh3- ‘swim, float’ 2sg. (ἐπ)έπλως ‘you sailed upon’, 3sg. (ἀπ)έπλω ‘sailed away’
(LIV 485) (< *(h1e-)pleh3-t); [ptcpl. (ἐπι)πλώς by irregular analogy for
*(ἐπι)πλούς, Harđarson (1993a: 183)].
There are no direct parallels, but with pres. πλώω ‘sail’ <
*pleh3-i̯e/o- (?) compare OE flōwan ‘flow’; note the
replacement by an s-aorist (Il. 3.47 ptcpl. ἐπιπλώσας): cf.
*h3neh2-, *pleh1-.
*seh2- ‘satiate oneself’ 1pl. subj. ἕωμεν ‘we (shall) satiate ourselves’ (< *ἥομεν <
(LIV 520–1) *sāomen); inf. μεναι ‘to satiate oneself’ (?).
It is difficult to decide if these isolated epic forms are active
root aorists with an intransitive meaning (i.e., *seh2- > *sā-)
or aorists formed with the intransitive aorist suffix *-eh1- (i.e.,
*sh2-eh1- > *sā-; compare *gu̯ i̯eh3-, *u̯ elh3- in Table 6.2); in
principle, even a root present might be considered (Solmsen
1901: 94, Chantraine 1958: 292, Risch 1974: 254–5; contra
Rüsing 1962: 164). In view of 3sg. pres. med. ἄεται (or ἄαται
with diectasis from contracted ἆται; cf. Hsch. α 7993 ἆται·
πληροῦται) ←< *sh̥ 2-i̯e-toi̯ (?) ‘satiates himself’ at [Hes.] Sc.
101, Harđarson (1993a: 207) prefers the first option, whereas
Hackstein (1995: 299–300) opts for the second because of
Toch. B 3pl. soyem ‘they become satiated’ < act. *s(e)h2-i̯e/o-
(cf. LIV 520–1, s.v. ˙ *seh (i̯)-). Some support for the root-
2
aorist interpretation may come from the fact that the
corresponding epic s-aorist ἀσα- (< *seh2-s-) is used both
intransitively and transitively when in the active voice; this
double function might find an explanation if the s-aorist had
initially been as factitivising as in ἔβησα : ἔβη and similar
pairs (Table 8.3), but was subsequently also employed in lieu
of the active root aorist when the latter became obsolete due
to its minimal word body (e.g., 3sg. *seh2-t > *(h)ā).
*steh2- ‘stand’ (LIV 3sg. ἔστη (< *(h1e-)steh2-t), 3pl. (epic) ἔσταν (probably <
590–2) *(h1e-)steh2-nt, not *(h1e-)sth2-ent; cf. 6.11), inf. (Dor.)
στᾶμεν (< *steh2-men), etc.
Cf. Ved. 3sg. ásthāt ‘has stood’ (< *(h1e-)steh2-t), OCS sta
‘stood’ (< *steh2-t or secondary *steh2-s-t?); also Toch. A 3sg.
subj. tās ‘shall be’ etc. (< *steh2-e-ti?, cf. Hackstein 1992: 160–1),
˙
Arm. er-t‘a- ‘go’ (< *per-steh2-, Klingenschmitt 1982: 96, 104).
On the analogical spread of the active singular vocalism
throughout the paradigm, see 6.11.
2sg. -κας, 3sg. -κε; already Myc. a-pu-do-ke = /apu-dōke/ ‘handed in’,
a-pe-e-ke = /ap-e(h)ēke/ ‘sent away’ (?), te-ke = /thēke/ ‘put’, etc.).40
Dialectally and in later periods, this κ-element was transferred also to the
plural (1pl. -καμεν, 2pl. -κατε, 3pl. -καν).41 Synchronically, it acts as a
transitivity marker because the other root aorists whose root ends in a
(historical) long vowel are either syntactically intransitive or at least have a
non-agentive experiencer subject (ἔτλη ‘endured’, ἔγνω ‘recognised’; ἔφθη
‘overtook, came before’ is frequently, though not always, intransitive: cf.
Table 6.2). However, since root aorists were clearly not restricted to
prototypically intransitive roots to begin with, this differentiation must
be secondary. One factor favouring it – and with it the analogical spread of
the singular vowel grade in the ‘intransitive’ type (6.11) – may have been
the parallel existence of the intransitive (mediopassive) aorist formations
with a non-ablauting long-vowel suffix *-(d h)eh1- > -(θ)η- before the
athematic active endings (see 1.10 and the Epilogue).42
The prehistory of the κ-element remains disputed. Because a root
variant with *-k- is attested for *d heh1- and *Hi̯eh1- also outside Greek –
certainly in Italic,43 but probably in Phrygian and/or Luwian as well44 – , the
most likely scenario is that the simple root aorists 1sg./3sg. *(h1e-)dheh1-m/t,
*(h1e-)Hi̯eh1-m/t were at first paralleled by the root aorists *(h1e-)dheh1k-m̥ /t,
*(h1e-)Hi̯eh1k-m̥ /t to the enlarged roots.45 Regular sound change then made
the third-person forms homonymous (3sg. *(e-)thē[t], *(e-)hē[t] ~ *(e-)thē[kt],
*(e-)hē[kt]), but the κ-variant survived in the 1sg. (*-km̥ > *-ka).46 By analogy
with s-aoristic 1sg. *-sa : 3sg. *-se, a new 3sg. *-ke could now be built to 1sg.
*-ka. An incentive for this may have been the fact that some less
common and therefore less conservative long-vocalic root aorists with
40
Bartoněk (2003: 326); cf. Hackstein (2002: 136–9) on Homer.
41
Thus e.g. Ion. 1pl. ἐθήκαμεν vs. Att. ἔθεμεν; cf. Sommer (1977: 242–68).
42
Cf. Chantraine (1935: 138–9).
43
E.g., Lat. perf. fēcī, iēcī (< *d heh1k-, *Hi̯eh1k-) with pres. faciō ‘make’, iaciō ‘throw’ (< *d hh̥ 1k-i̯e/o-,
*Hi̯h̥ 1k-i̯e/o-); cf. Table 4.1, Untermann (1993: 463–7).
44
See Phryg. αδ-δακ-ετ, etc. (Orel 1997: 409, 422, Sowa 2007: 75, to *d heh1k-) and HLuw. infra a-ka
‘subjected’ (Rieken 2007, to *Hi̯eh1k-).
45
Obviously, the ultimate origin of the k-element is thereby not yet identified. Some have thought of a
fossilised particle or deictic (Osthoff 1884: 324–54, Hirt 1928: 114–15, Markey 1980, Bammesberger
1984: 75–6, Shields 2002: 101–2, Dunkel 2004a), or a “dative marker *ka” (Kortlandt 2001: 8), but a
connection with k-presents like τήκω/τήκομαι ‘melt’, ἥκω ‘(have) come’ seems more promising:
see 8.39.
46
On a likely remnant of *(e-)thē in Boeot. ἀνέθε̄ ‘dedicated’ (DGE 472.B14) and elsewhere, see
Schwyzer (1939: 741) and C. de Lamberterie in Chantraine (2009: 1357, s.v. τίθημι), against the
cautioning note of Forssman (1968: 7–14). Similarly, Schulze (1892: 278–9 n. 3) suspected 3sg. aor.
*ἀφέη behind ἀφέηκε in Il. 16.590. In any case there is no reason to operate with two roots, *(H)i̯eh1-
with a κ-aorist, and *seh1- without (Petersen 1931).
transitive meaning had already been replaced by s-aorists (cf. Table 6.1 on
*h3neh2-, *pleh1-, *pleh3-; 8.3). As a result, the type itself was increasingly
associated with intransitivity, making a formal demarcation of the remaining
transitive items welcome. Finally, with 3sg. *(e-)thēk-e replacing *(e-)thē, a
further analogical intervention could complete this evolution by substituting
*(e-)dōk-e also to transitive *(e-)dō, whose root had not previously known a
k-extension.47 It was probably at this stage too that the productive Greek κ-
perfect came into being, starting from items like 3sg. *se-stoh2-a > *se-stā
(5.7). Since, after the generalisation of e.g. 3sg. *(e-)thēk-e at the expense of
*(e-)thē, the k-element was nothing but a hiatus-filler between the long-
vocalic root (*-thē-) and the vowel-initial ending (*-e), it could fulfil the
same role when the perfect endings were to be respecified (*se-stā → *se-
stā-k-e: 5.7).48
6.13 Partially Preserved Root Aorists: Patterns of Innovation

While three of the most frequent root aorists to *CeH- roots thus became
κ-aorists, presumably at a fairly late point, most root aorists to other root
types were transformed differently and no doubt earlier. According to a
recurrent pattern, a root-aorist inflection may be preserved in the middle,
but be altered into either a full-graded thematic aorist or an s-aorist in the
active. As we shall see, the 3sg. form was decisive in either case. Where
regular phonological change brought about a 3sg. that looked thematic, a
full thematic-aorist paradigm was built from there. Where no such pseudo-
thematic shape came into being, the productive s-aorist suffix was added,
and an s-aorist inflection ensued.
Since the paths taken by individual lexemes vary considerably, Table 6.2
looks separately at each root for which distinct49 root-aorist evidence is still
to be found in early Greek epic.50 Particular attention is paid to the
occurrence of zero-graded thematic aorists next to such partially preserved
47
Brugman’s (1881: 217) connection of Gr. ἔδωκα ‘gave’ with Ved. (pres.) dāst i ‘venerates’ (4.40) is
obsolete. ˙˙
48
Cf. Kimball (1991: 147–52), with divergences in the detail. According to Petersen (1928), ἕηκα would
have first impacted on the partially synonymous perf. βέβληκα. By contrast, Carruba (1992c: 165)
and Melazzo (2014) implausibly see in ἔθηκα, ἔδωκα old perfects. Equally unconvincing is
Hartmann’s (1887) idea that the κ-perfect arose when λέ-ληκ-α was resegmented as λέ-λη-κα after
pres. λάσκω ‘scream’: not only would aor. λακ-ε/ο- have prevented that, but λάσκω is also too rare
(and perhaps too young: cf. Nussbaum 1987: 230–1, 241) to exert such influence.
49
‘Distinct’ because old root-aorist forms can also be hidden in thematic paradigms to *CeRH- roots:
see 6.15–6.22. Thus, the only *CeRH- roots included in the list are those with root-aorist forms that
do not synchronically form part of a thematic paradigm.
50
Cf. in general Risch (1974: 233–7), and especially Harđarson (1993a: 176–212) with more detail but
often divergent analysis.
Table 6.2. Partially preserved root aorists in Greek

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
*bherd h- ‘ravage, destroy’ [Med.: inf. πέρθαι (Il. 16.708).]

(LIV 77–8) Like other forms raising similar questions (cf. *dek̑ -, *leg̑ -,
*legh-, *peh2 g-), the isolated middle inf. πέρθαι (with passive
meaning) can be interpreted either as a root-aorist form with
analogical full grade or as an s-aorist fossilised before the
generalisation of alphathematic -σα- (i.e., Proto-Gr.
*perth-s-thai̯) (cf. Schwyzer 1939: 751, Risch 1974: 234/237,
Forssman 1997: 39). In view of the frequent active περσα-
(inadequately analysed by Bader 1974: 5–8), the latter option
is preferred by Harđarson (1993a: 207); he argues, following
Cardona’s model, that the less common thematic aorist
πραθε/ο- (< *bhr̥ d h-e/o-) must go back to a root aorist.
However, πέρθετο in Il. 12.15 also appears to be aoristic and
might constitute a metrical substitute for an athematic root-
aorist form (cf. below on *h3er- with ὤρετο ~ ὦρτο). In that
case, πέρθαι too would stand a good chance of being a root-
aorist infinitive. Finally, there is the possibility that both
πέρθαι and πέρθετο are artificial forms (Meillet 1922c; 1924c,
Forssman 1997: 41–5).
However that may be, the parallel existence of a (usual) s-
aorist and a (rare) thematic aorist already in Homer would be
surprising if the thematic aorist really continued a
(transitive) root aorist. This would either imply a long-
standing coexistence of the root aorist with a synonymous
s-aorist, or the replacement of the (root aorist →) thematic
aorist by the s-aorist already in (pre-)Homeric times. As there
are no good parallels for either scenario (the thematic aorist
being quite resilient), it is more likely that the s-aorist
supersedes an old root aorist (perhaps prompted by 3sg.
*(h1e-)bherd h-t > *(e-)pers(t) → *(e-)pers-e according to the
s-aorist pattern; cf. 8.3) or, even better, that it represents the
original aorist next to the thematic root present πέρθω
(Table 8.1). In either case, the thematic aorist is independent.
S: If *bherd h- ever had a root aorist, this was much rather
replaced by the historical s-aorist (περσα-) than by the
thematic aorist (πραθε/ο-).
*dek̑ - ‘receive, perceive’ [Med.: 3sg. δέκτο ‘received’, Myc. de-ko-to (< *dek̑ -to?).]
(LIV 109–12) The Homeric 3sg. aor. δέκτο again represents either a root
aorist or a pre-alphathematic s-aorist (i.e., δέκτο < *dek̑ -s-to;
cf. s-aor. ἐδέξατο, Schwyzer 1939: 751, Watkins 1962a: 54–5,
Szemerényi 1964: 174–6, Risch 1974: 234/237, Viredaz 1982:
305–10). A middle root aorist should in principle feature a
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
zero-grade root, but since *dek̑ -to might stand in for unviable
*dk̑ -to, this is a weaker argument against a root-aorist
interpretation than the fact that a middle root aorist might
rather be intransitive (cf. Durante 1971: 107; contra Viredaz
1982: 307–8).
If the situation is thus only partly similar to the one
observed with *legh- (cf. below), things are complicated
further by some athematic root-present forms (Hom. 3pl.
δέχαται ‘they are awaiting/expecting’ (Il. 12.147) for
*δέκαται < *dek̑ -n̥ toi̯ ; 1sg. impf. ἐδέγμην ‘I was expecting’
(Od. 9.513), ptcpl. δέγμενος ‘expecting’). Unless these are
artificial creations (Debrunner 1956: 77–81, Szemerényi 1964:
170–3), they may be compared with the Vedic acrostatic pres.
dāst i ‘venerates (~ waits upon)’ (3.40): in an acrostatic
˙˙
paradigm, a full-grade middle might be unproblematic.
However, here too alternative explanations are available. As
an isolated archaism, a 3sg. pres. *δέκται ←< *dek̑ -to(i̯) can
replace earlier *dek̑ -o(i̯) (cf. 4.34 on κεῖται ←< *k̑ ei̯-o(i̯)),
even if *dek̑ -o was normally continued by *dek̑ -e-to(i̯) >→
δέχεται (4.44). The corresponding 3pl. *δέκαται would then
take the place of 3pl. *dek̑ -ro(i̯) (cf. 5.50, fn. 194).
In any case, the semantic equivalence of δέκτο with
(ἐ)δέξατο means that δέκτο must not be directly related to
these athematic present-stem forms (pace Tremblay 2005:
646–8). Both aorists rather pair with the thematic present
δέχομαι (Ion./Dor. δέκομαι) ‘receive, accept’ (cf. again *legh-
with (*)λέχομαι : λέκτο/ἐλέξατο).
S: Next to a thematic present, δέκτο is more likely an
s-aorist than a root aorist (cf. Table 8.1); but if it were the
latter, it would illustrate the root aorist → s-aorist replacement
pattern.
*deu̯ h1- (?) ‘submerge, [Act.: 3sg. ἔδῡ ‘plunged, sank’, 2pl. ἔδῡτε, 3pl. ἔδυν (Il. 11.263,
drench’ (cf. LIV 129–30, *(e-)dū-nt), inf. (epic) δῡ ́ μεναι, ptcpl. δῡ ́ ς, etc.]
s.v. *du̯ eH-) The attested root-aorist forms, with intransitive meaning,
parallel those listed in Table 6.1 for *bhu̯ eh2-. Harđarson
(1993a: 194) and LIV 129–30, s.v. *du̯ eH-, therefore posit the
root as *du̯ eH- and assume that the zero-grade (active plural)
ablaut variant *duH- was generalised. Given the similarity of
the φῡ- type, such a plural → singular analogy might be
acceptable here, but the existence of semantically contiguous
δεύω ‘wet, drench’ (without etymology according to Frisk
1960–72: 1.372, Chantraine 2009: 256, Beekes 2010: 1.320, all
s.v. δεύω) suggests an alternative scenario operating with
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
*deu̯ h1-.
Gr. δύω/δύομαι can be traced to a regular i̯-present to
*deu̯ h1-, *duh1-i̯e/o- : cf. φύομαι ‘become’ < *bhuh2-i̯e/o-. By
analogy with φύομαι : ἔφῡ, and given the zero-graded plural
of the inherited root aorist, sg. ἔδῡ etc. could then be built
without difficulty, replacing the expected root aorist (3sg.)
*(h1e-)deu̯ h1-t in its intransitive usage (cf. below on *gu̯ elh1-,
*telh2-). At the same time, the singular of the root aorist, used
transitively, led to the creation of a new (equally transitive)
i̯ -present *deu̯ (h1)-i̯e/o- > *dei̯i̯e/o- (*δειε/ο-) → δευε/ο- (cf.
*g̑ heu̯ - with *χειε/ο- → χευε/ο-). This new present stem was
finally endowed with an entire paradigm (including a post-
Homeric s-aorist with 3sg. ἔδευσε for *(ἔ)δε(ϝ)ε; cf. 3sg. aor.
ἔχεε).
If Arm. 3sg. aor. enerk ‘submerged, dyed’ also belongs to
this group (cf. Klingenschmitt 1982: 211–13), it might
represent an old thematic aorist coexisting with the root
aorist (i.e., *(h1e-)du(h1)-e-t > *(e-)du̯ -e-t > -erk).
S: Analogical ἔδῡ etc. reveal very little about their
background. The original (active) root aorist of *deu̯ h1- was
apparently replaced by a (fairly late) s-aorist.
*d heg u̯ h- (?) ‘burn’ (LIV [Act.: 3sg. ἔφθη ‘overtook, came first’, 1pl. ἔφθημεν, 3pl. (epic)
133–4) φθάν; ptcpl. φθᾱ ́ ς.]
Med.: ptcpl. φθάμενος ‘overtaking, coming first’ (<
*d hg u̯ h-m̥ eno- ← *d hg u̯ h-m̥ h1no-).
Many treatments of this problematic verb are
unsatisfactory. Harđarson (1993a: 178–80), LIV 134–5, s.v.
*d heg u̯ hh2-, and Lipp (2009: 292–6) posit a set root ending in
*-h2- (cf. already K. T. Schmidt 1988: 472–6, ˙ Rasmussen
1990: 189–90). This would entail that the anit root-aorist
injunctive Ved. dhak (mā́ dhak ‘shall not miss’, ˙ suggesting
h u̯ h h h h u̯ h
*d eg -t) replaced earlier *d ag -ī-t < *d eg h̥ 2-t, perhaps
after the present where *d hg u̯ h-ne-h2-ti would also have been
substituted by*d hg u̯ h-neu̯ -ti (cf. Ved. 3sg. opt. daghnuyāt, Gr.
φθάνω < *φθάνϝω < thematised *d hg u̯ h-n̥ u̯ -e/o-). However,
not only is a root of this shape unusual, but both
replacements are also ill-motivated: PIIr. *dagh-nāmi and
*dagh-ī-t should have supported each other. In Greek,
meanwhile, 3sg. ἔφθη etc. would be based on an innovated
root shape*d hgu̯ heh2-, analogical to zero-grade *d hg u̯ hh̥ 2- >
φθᾰ- (cf. e.g. φη-/φᾱ- ~ φᾰ- or στη-/στᾱ- ~ *στᾰ-).
In contrast with this, the anit reconstruction of
˙
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
Hoffmann apud Eichner (1973: 94 n. 53) fits the Vedic

material, but struggles with the Greek data as it presupposes
both a plural → singular analogy and a prior remodelling of
3pl. *(h1e-)d hg u̯ h-ent > †(ἔ)φθ-εν into (ἔ)φθαν (Il. 11.51; cf. 3sg.
ἔβη ‘went’ : 3pl. ἔβαν).
A better solution may be found if we start from the well-
attested middle participle φθάμενος. Since the participial
suffix is invariably -μενο- in Greek (contrast postconsonantal
Ved. *-m̥ h1no- > -āna-), this may derive from Proto-Greek
*d hg u̯ h-meno- syllabified as *d hg u̯ h-m̥ eno-. The stem φθαμενο-
is directly comparable with e.g. ptcpl. κτάμενος (cf. *tk̑ en-)
and φάμενος (to φημί ‘say’), whose active counterparts -κτᾱ ́ ς
and φᾱ ́ ς could therefore also trigger the creation of φθᾱ ́ ς (cf.
Il. 22.197 παραφθᾱ ́ ς ~ Il. 23.515 παραφθάμενος, Il. 7.144
ὑποφθᾱ ́ ς ~ Od. 4.547 ὑποφθάμενος). From here, the
completion of the paradigm (after e.g. aor. ἔστην ~ ptcpl.
στᾱ ́ ς, aor. ἔβην ~ ptcpl. βᾱ ́ ς, etc.) led to epic forms such as
3sg. (ἔ)φθη, 3pl. φθάν (→ later ἔφθασαν), opt. φθαίη, etc. In
the post-Homeric period, s-aorist forms (3sg. ἔφθασε, etc.)
begin to compete with these.
Importantly, there are reasons why the middle participle
should have played such a pivotal role in this particular
paradigm. Firstly, its priority over the active one is
unambiguous. Whereas φθάνω and its forms are generally
active in Homer and later, Homeric φθάμενος is much more
common, and more freely positioned, than -φθᾱ ́ ς (only 2×, at
verse-end). Thus, the participle’s synchronically irregular
middle voice is a likely archaism, which was later abandoned.
Secondly, already in Homer the three main constructions of
φθάνω are: (a) (rarely) φθάνω + acc. of a person outstripped
(Il. 21.262); (b) (more often) φθάνω as a phasal auxiliary next
to the participle of another verb (e.g., Od. 22.91–2 ἀλλ᾿ ἄρα
μιν φθῆ Τηλέμαχος . . . βαλών ‘but Telemachus hit him more
quickly’); (c) (most often) participial φθάμενος as a phasal
modifier of another finite verb (e.g., Il. 5.119 ὅς μ᾿ ἔβαλε
φθάμενος ‘who hit me first/more quickly’). Thanks to the
prominence of pattern (c), the middle aorist participle of
φθάνω is far more frequent, and hence potentially more
influential, than that of other verbs.
Etymologically, we may then identify the root of φθάμενος
etc. with *d heg u̯ h- ‘burn’ in e.g. Ved. dáhati ‘burns’ (LIV 133,
s.v. *d heg u̯ h-). Its semantic curriculum will have been similar
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
to that of Fr. brûler meaning ‘(narrowly/quickly) pass by’.

S: Most of the root-aorist forms are secondary (though
early) analogical creations. In post-Homeric Greek, they are
sidelined by s-aorist forms.
*d hg u̯ hei̯- ‘decay, perish’ Med.: 3sg. ἔφθιτο ‘decayed, perished’ (< (*h1e-)d hg u̯ hi-to),
(LIV 150–2) 3pl. ἐφθίατο (with -ατο < *-n̥ to; possibly plupf., with García
Ramón 1990: 13); 3sg. subj. φθίεται (< *d hgu̯ hi-e-toi̯); 3sg. opt.
φθῖτο (< *d hg u̯ hi-ih1-to); ipv. -φθίσθω; inf. φθίσθαι; ptcpl.
φθίμενος.
LIV 150–2, s.v. *d hg u̯ hei̯-, and Lipp (2009: 244–68) posit
an intransitive root meaning ‘“wither away (by heat),
perish”’. Accordingly, the Greek root aorist’s middle
inflection would be redundant (i.e., 3sg. (*h1e-)d hg u̯ hi-to for
*(h1e-)d hg u̯ hei̯-t; contrast factitive ἔφθεισε ‘destroyed’) and
the Vedic active ipv. ksidhī́ ‘destroy!’ would owe its factitive
value to the nasal present ˙ ksināti ‘destroys’; but Hom. ἔφθιεν
‘wasted away’ (Il. 18.446) might ˙ ˙ be an isolated archaism
(Harđarson 1993a: 188, 192 n. 173). The Greek present φθῑ ́νω
‘perish’ would have acquired its intransitive meaning from
the root aorist before the latter was medialised. Another
reflex of the earlier state of affairs might survive in 2sg. subj.
φθῑ ́ῃς (or φθείῃς) ‘you should perish’ (Od. 2.368), if from
active intransitive *d hg u̯ hei̯-ēsi (*d hg u̯ hei̯-esi). However, other
possibilities – such as emending to 2sg. subj. med. φθῑ ́εαι –
cannot be excluded (cf. Chantraine 1958: 458).
In our context, the main question is whether ἔφθιεν really
replaces *(h1e-)d hg u̯ hei̯ -t > *(e-)phthei̯(t) and thus supports the
root aorist → thematic aorist theory. Given the lack of other
evidence for a thematic aorist, this seems doubtful (cf. also
García Ramón 1990: 13–14, 19 n. 23). In Il. 18.446 ἔφθιεν
occurs prevocalically before the bucolic diaeresis, where
trochaic words are often artificially dactylised/spondeised
(cf. below on *h2u̯ er- and *h3er-); it may thus be no more
than a one-off replacement for elided ἔφθιτ(ο).
S: There is no real evidence for the root aorist being
turned into a thematic aorist; but neither is there a
transformation into an s-aorist since the historical s-aorist is
consistently factitive.
*g̑ heu̯ - ‘pour’ (LIV 179) Med.: 3sg. ἔχυτο ‘flowed out, was poured’ (< *(h1e-)g̑ hu-to),
3pl. ἔχυντο; ptcpl. (-)χύμενος, χυμένη.
In the active voice, root-aoristic 3sg. *(h1e-)g̑ heu̯ -t > *ἔχευ
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
is replaced by the Aeolic s-aorist ἔχευε (< *(h1e-)g̑ heu̯ -s-e; note
1sg. ἔχευα, and cf. below on *k(u̯ )i̯eu̯ -, Osthoff 1878: 328–9,
Schulze 1892: 62, Burger 1938: 450, Kiparsky 1967b: 627).
Forms like 3sg. ἔχεε or 1sg. ἔχεα might represent relics of the
root aorist itself (cf. Chantraine 1961: 165, Risch 1974: 249,
Hettrich 1976): 1sg. *(h1e-)g̑ heu̯ -m̥ > ἔχε(ϝ)α would be
phonologically regular, and on this basis 3sg. *ἔχευ could
have been remodelled into ἔχε(ϝ)ε, while 1sg. med. ἐχεάμην,
ptcpl. (-)χέας would be analogical with the s-aorist.
However, ἔχεα/ἔχεε etc. may also directly represent the non-
Aeolic outcome of the s-aorist, viz. *(h1e-)g̑ heu̯ -s-e >
*(e-)khē(u̯ )e (with compensatory lengthening) > ἔχεε (with
prevocalic shortening) (cf. Harđarson 1993a: 193–4).
Since we do not normally observe a (partially) surviving
root aorist next to a thematic root present (cf. 4.49), the
present χέω may be backformed from the 3sg. aor. ἔχεε
(following the pattern of ἔκλυε → κλύω: cf. below on *k̑ leu̯ -);
mutatis mutandis the same could be true for the Homeric
(Aeolic?) variant χεύω (cf. Meillet 1916a: 176). Alternatively,
χέω/χεύω can be remodellings (after the respective aorists) of
a i̯-present *g̑ heu̯ -i̯e/o- > *χειε/ο- pairing with the s-aorist (cf.
8.4; compare βασιλεύω ← *βασιλείω < *-eu̯ -i̯ e/o-, τελέω/
τελείω < *-es-i̯e/o-). Note that there is no principled way of
deriving χέω from χεύω.
S: The root aorist is being replaced by an s-aorist; there is
no thematic aorist †χυε/ο- (3sg. †ἔχυε).
*gem- ‘seize, press’ [Med.: 3sg. γέντο ‘seized’.]
(LIV 186) The status of γέντο as a root aorist is again disputed, not
least because med. *γάτο < *gm̥ -to would be expected.
However, to assume a ‘metrically conditioned artificial form
for an aoristically used imperfect *(ἐ)γέμετο’ (Harđarson
1993a: 206–7; cf. pres. γέμω ‘am full’ < *‘hold, contain’, with
the transitive ipv. in Hsch. α 6270 ἀπόγεμε· ἄφελκε ‘pull
away!’) is also difficult since syncopation is no usual
phenomenon in Homer (and epic γέντο = γένετο ‘became’,
as at Hes. Th. 199, may simply copy our form: cf.
Wackernagel 1889: 3, and for other views Bammesberger
1982a, Harđarson 1993a: 169, Tremblay 2005: 641–3).
Serbocroat žȇ ‘pressed’ (cf. OCS sъ-žęti ‘press together’) has
been thought to provide independent evidence for a root
aorist (LIV 186, s.v. *gem-); but both the Serbocroat and the
Greek forms are also compatible with an s-aorist
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
interpretation, the latter by assuming another relic of the type

*gē̆ m-s-to >→ γέντο (for phonologically regular, but
unrecognisable †γέστο, pace Szemerényi 1964: 186). See 8.5
on the common correspondence of a thematic root present
with an s-aorist, and cf. also 8.47 on γημα-. Though not
impossible, the interpretation of γέντο as a root aorist with
analogical extension of the active singular vowel grade is
therefore unlikely.
S: Even if γέντο were a root aorist, there would be no
thematic aorist descending from it.
*gu̯ elh1- ‘throw, hit’ Act.: 3du. (ξυμ)βλήτην ‘they encountered (each other)
(LIV 208) (intr.)’ (Od. 21.15) (< *-gu̯ l̥ h1-teh2m); inf. (ξυμ)βλήμεναι (Il.
21.578).
Med.: 3sg. (ἔ)βλητο ‘was hit’ (< *(h1e-)gu̯ l̥ h1-to), ξύμβλητο
‘encountered’; 3pl. ξύμβληντο; inf. βλῆσθαι; ptcpl. βλήμενος
(all with βλη- < *-gu̯ l̥ h1-).
According to Harđarson (1993a: 165–6, 180), the following
paradigmatic splits affected the active root aorist of *gu̯ elh1-:
(i) 3sg. *(h1e-)gu̯ elh̥ 1-t > *(e-)gu̯ ele-t > Arcadian ἔζελε, whence a
new thematic aorist; (ii) unaugmented 1pl./2pl. *gu̯ l̥ h́ 1-me/-te
> *gu̯ éle-me(n)/-te, feeding into the same thematic aorist, with
analogical *-eme(n) → *-ome(n); (iii) augmented 1pl./2pl.
*h1é-gu̯ l̥ h1-me/-te > *é-gu̯ lē-me(n)/-te, giving rise to the root
aorist ἔβλην/ἐβλήμην; (iv) 3pl. *(h1e-)gu̯ l̥ h1-ent → *(h1e-)gu̯ l̥ h1-
ont > ἔβαλον, whence the thematic aorist of Attic-Ionic and
other Greek dialects.
In this account, the double outcome of *gu̯ l̥ h1- need not be
doubted, even if the regularity of *-l̥ h1- > *-ele- has been
questioned (Strunk 1970b, but see Peters 1988: 373–4; cf.
6.15) and if the original distribution of the results may have
had more to do with sandhi effects than with the accent seat:
through intermediate *gu̯ əlh1- vs. *gu̯ ləh1-, *gu̯ ele- vs. *gu̯ lē-
could ultimately relate to different phonological
environments (e.g., *-C gu̯ əlh1- vs. *-V gu̯ ləh1-; see
Hoenigswald 1988).
Having said that, it seems unlikely (a) that augmented and
unaugmented forms developed independently (in (ii) and
(iii)) and (b) that a 3pl., whose shape was unusual even within
the plural, should have prevailed in most dialects over a
competing *gu̯ ele- paradigm supported by all the other forms.
So the very survival of a stem variant *gu̯ l̥ h1-V- > *gu̯ al-V- in
the 3pl. suggests that such a stem had independent backing,
most likely from a pre-existing thematic aorist (3sg.
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
*(h1e-)gu̯ l̥ h1-e-t, etc.). The status of Arc. ἔζελε as a root-aorist

relic is unaffected by this assumption. Since *(h1e-)gu̯ l̥ h1-e-t >
ἔβαλε and *(h1e-)gu̯ elh1-t > *ἔδελε (Arc. ἔζελε) competed in the
3sg., each dialect naturally continued only one of the two (cf.
6.9 on ἔτεμε/ἔταμε, and see further 6.20–6.22).
Among the Homeric root-aorist forms, the rare active ones
show an intransitive meaning. By reference to the ‘Fourth
Law of Analogy’ (3.34), one might argue that the active root
aorist survived only where endowed with the marginal
intransitive meaning of ξυμβάλλω, but was elsewhere
superseded. Interestingly, however, although the intransitive
root aorists discussed in 6.11 could have provided a model, an
analogical singular (e.g., 3sg. *ξυνέβλη) was not built. Instead,
the (regular) middle root aorist appears to have stepped in (3sg.
ξύμβλητο ~ βλῆτο; hence, from the middle stem βλη-, also
2sg. opt. βλεῖο, 3sg. subj. βλήεται).
Also of interest are the forms 2sg. ἔβλης, 2sg. opt. βλείης,
and ptcpl. βλείς in the Syracusan dialect of Epicharmus (frr.
172, 173, 225). These seem to be classified as active in parts of
the ancient grammatical tradition (though see McCullagh
2002: 66–9). If this is accurate, neither a 2sg. *(h1e-)gu̯ elh1-s nor
a ptcpl. *gu̯ (e)lh1-e/ont- would produce the required outcome.
One possibility is that models such as aor. ἔτλᾱν ‘endured’ :
perf. τέτλᾱκα or aor. ἔστᾱν ‘stood’ : perf. ἕστᾱκα triggered
the creation of ἔβλην next to perf. βέβληκα (Francis 1973: 3;
1974: esp. 28–30). Alternatively, analogical influence from the
plural (and/or middle?, cf. McCullagh 2002) might indeed be
invoked, as per Harđarson. However, Harđarson’s model fails
to give a good reason for the paradigmatic split of 1sg.–3sg.
(*(h1e-)gu̯ elh̥ 1-m/s/t >) *e-gu̯ ele-n/s/t → *e-gu̯ al-e/o-n/s/t (after
3pl.) and 1pl.–2pl. (*(h1e-)*gu̯ l̥ h1-me/te >) *e-gu̯ lē-me(n)/te into
(i) a thematic paradigm with also 1pl.–2pl. *e-gu̯ al-e/o-
me(n)/te, and (ii) an athematic paradigm with also 1sg.–3sg.
*e-gu̯ lē-n/s/t. Such a reason could be sought along the
following lines. If the root aorist 1sg.–3sg. *e-gu̯ ele-n/s/t, 1pl.–
2pl. *e-gu̯ lē-me(n)/te coexisted with a thematic aorist 1sg.–3sg.
*e-gu̯ al-e/o-n/s/t, 1pl.–2pl. *e-gu̯ al-e/o-me(n)/te in Proto-Greek,
but if the two singulars then began to merge (in most dialects
into *e-gu̯ al-e/o-n/s/t) because of the formal near-identity of
2sg./3sg. *e-gu̯ al-e-s/t and *e-gu̯ el-e-s/t, the retained distinction
in the plural (1pl./2pl. *e-gu̯ al-e/o-me(n)/te vs. *e-gu̯ lē-me(n)/te)
may have been copied (back) into the singular. The new
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
1sg.–3sg. *e-gu̯ lē-n/s/t could then preserve the function of

*e-gu̯ ele-n/s/t, while these forms disappeared. Such an account
would presuppose that the thematic aorists and the root
aorists did have different functions to begin with; but we
should assume some original functional distinction anyway if
the zero-graded thematic aorists do not go back to root aorists
(cf. 6.10).
S: Given the naturalness of a thematisation based on 3sg.
*(h1e-)gu̯ elh̥ 1-t > *ἔδελε (possibly → *ἔβελε; cf. βέλος for *δέλος
‘missile’), as in Arcadian, the widespread existence of ἔβαλε
etc. speaks against the latter thematic aorist also descending –
less naturally – from the same root aorist.
*gu̯ es- ‘go out [of fire]’ [Act.: 3sg. ἔσβη ‘[fire] went out’ (Il. 9.471, Od. 3.182); ipv.
(LIV 541–3) 2pl. σβῆτε ‘extinguish!’ (Sophron fr. 4.14), inf. -σβῆναι ‘go
out’, ptcpl. -σβείς.]
Although these forms have traditionally been taken as root
aorists, and compared with the Vedic thematic inj. 3sg. dasat
‘languished’ (←< *gu̯ es-e/o-), ptcpl. med. dásamāna- ~
jásamāna- ‘hungry, languishing’ (with das- ← jas-: cf. LIV
541–2, s.v. *(s)gu̯ esh2-), a different interpretation is preferable.
LIV 541–3, s.v. *(s)gu̯ esh2-, operates with a set root,
primarily in order to explain ἔσβη and the (probably ˙
Arcadian) gloss ζείναμεν· σβέννυμεν ‘we extinguish’ (Hsch. ζ
94), which points to a nasal present in *-neh2-. However,
given the usual present in -νῡ- (σβέννῡμι), the Arcadian form
can also be secondary (cf. γάνυμαι ‘rejoice’ ~ Hom.
(*)γανάω ← *γάνᾱμι in γανόωντες ‘rejoicing’; see García
Ramón 1982: 109–12). As for ἔσβη, its derivation from
*(h1e-)sgu̯ esh̥ 2-t > *e-sgu̯ esa-t with *-esa- > *-eha- > -η- forgets
that both Homeric attestations of the form occur at line end,
where a trisyllabic reading is impossible, and that
contraction of -εα is exceptional (Chantraine 1958: 56).
Furthermore, as Harđarson (1993a: 211 n. 251) notes, Gr.
ἄσβεστος ‘inextinguishable’ also speaks against *gu̯ esh2- (or
*gu̯ seh2-, with Rasmussen 1990: 188–9; cf. ptcpl. -σβείς, not
†-σβᾱ ́ ς!); and so does Toch. B käs- ‘go out [of fire]’ ‘with
principal parts that are typical for anit roots’ (Hackstein
2002: 145). ˙
Harđarson therefore posits the root as *sgu̯ es-, with root-
aorist 3sg. *(h1e-)sgu̯ es-t > *e-sgu̯ es ‘went out’ and
disambiguating thematisation into *e-sgu̯ es-e: ‘The form
ἔσβη . . . is either (a) an Aeolicism (representing the
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
phonologically regular outcome of Proto-Gr. *e-sgwes-e (via

*e-sbe(h)-e)) or (b) the normalisation of an Ionic *e-sbẹ̄ (<
*e-sbe(h)-e) into e-sbę̄ (the termination *-ẹ̄ <-ει-> instead of -ę̄
<-η-> (< -ē or -ā) would have been odd in a formation felt to
be a root aorist).’ The line-final position of ἔσβη is less
problematic here because disyllabic *e-sgu̯ es might have
survived fairly long and contraction of -εε- is common in
Homer. Yet, (a) is contradicted by non-Homeric forms
with -σβη- (Hdt. 4.5.4 κατασβῆναι, Hippocr. Epid. 4.31
ἀποσβείς, etc.). More plausible is (b), since the remodelling
of the root aorist into an s-aorist *e-sgwes-s-e could have been
blocked by the parallel transitive s-aorist (cf. Il. 16.293
ἔσβεσεν ‘put out’, 16.621 σβέσσαι).
However, another possibility is even simpler and solves
further problems (cf. Mahlow 1926: 433–4, V. Schmidt 1976,
Jasanoff 2008, also against the long-vocalic root aorist of
Ruijgh 2004b: 59–61). Here, ἔσβη is traced to *(h1e-)gu̯ s-eh1-t,
with the intransitive suffix *-eh1- regularly following a zero-
grade root. As the devoicing of *gu̯ - was analogically
prevented, *gu̯ s- (> *gu̯ z- > *bz-?) underwent the same
metathesis as e.g. *di̯- > *dz- > zd- (ζ-). This explains, firstly,
the initial σ- without invoking a ‘mobile s-’ not evidenced
anywhere else (García Ramón 1982: 101): given the
paradigmatic importance of the aorist, σβ- was generalised
throughout the paradigm (e.g., to pres. σβέννυμι with σβε-,
not δε- < *gu̯ e-; contrast Arc. *ζήναμεν behind ζείναμεν, with
ζ- < *d- < *gu̯ - before front vowel, and also, with analogical ζ-,
Arc. (?) ζόασον· σβέσον ‘extinguish!’ in Hsch. ζ 166 from
*ζόᾱμι ~ Ion. (*)σβοάω, Brugmann 1892b: 502–3,
V. Schmidt 1968: 87–8). Secondly, the development of *-gu̯ -
into a labial rather than a dental makes sense, again because
of *gu̯ z- > *bz- > σβ- (pace Chantraine 2009: 957–8, s.v.
σβέννῡμι, and García Ramón 1982: 102–4, *sgu̯ es- should have
yielded *zdes- > †ζεσ-: a ‘dissimilatory influence’ of *s- is
unlikely both in view of the observations of Méndez Dosuna
1991–3 and because Greek has many lexemes with initial
/zd-/ but only this one with /zb-/).
Finally, the Syracusan ipv. σβῆτε, for expected (s-aoristic)
σβέσατε, may show no more than an exceptional transitive
use of the intransitive aorist. Alternatively, since σβῆτε <
*σβέhετε would be conceivable in Sophron (cf. Willi 2008:
127; 2012b: 273–8, on apparent ‘Strong Doric’ forms in ‘Mild
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
Doric’ literary texts), this could also be an old thematic

root-present form (paralleling Ved. dasat interpreted as a
present injunctive), or an old full-graded thematic aorist (←
root aorist?) allowing transitive as well as intransitive uses
depending on context (cf. again Ved. dasat).
S: Although it resembles a root aorist, σβη- is better explained
otherwise. At best, an active root aorist may have been replaced
by a full-graded thematic and/or s-aorist when used transitively,
and by an aorist in *- eh1- when used intransitively.
*gu̯ ei̯h3- ‘live’ (cf. LIV 215– [Act.: 3sg. ἐβίω ‘survived’, ipv. 3sg. βιώτω ‘shall survive’, inf.
16, s.v. *gu̯ i̯eh3-, 8.19) βιῶναι.]
Like σβη- (cf. *gu̯ es-) and ἁλω- (cf. *u̯ elh3-), ἐβίω etc. are
no real root aorists (pace Lindeman 1964: 108–12; 1985, Hamp
1976b: 87, Bammesberger 1983; 1984: 41–6, Kölligan 2007a:
358–9). Instead, they must be intransitive aorists with suffix
*-eh1-, both because *(h1e-)gu̯ i̯eh3-t should have yielded †ἔζω
and because a verb for durative ‘live’ should rather retain a
root present (cf. Harđarson 1993a: 208–10, following Francis
1970: 84, Normier 1978: 132–3, Klein 1988: 270–1). While
ἐβίω regularly derives from *(h1e-)gu̯ ih3-eh1-t, it may of course
still have been felt to belong with the type discussed in 6.11;
this enabled the eventual replacement by an s-aorist ἐβίωσα
(cf. e.g. *pleh3- in Table 6.1; Table 8.3).
S: No root aorist.
*h1eu̯ g u̯ h- ‘vow, [Med.: 3sg. εὖκτο ‘prayed’ (Thebais fr. 3 Davies; cf. 1sg.
pronounce’ (cf. LIV 253, ηὔγμην at Soph. Trach. 610).]
s.v. *h1u̯ eg u̯ h-) Since a middle pluperfect is contextually unlikely, the
form εὖκτο, whether artificial or not, will be either a root
imperfect (cf. Ved. 3pl. pres. óhate ‘they praise’ < *h1eu̯ g u̯ h-
n̥ toi̯, OAv. 3sg. inj. aogǝdā ‘pronounced’ <*h1eu̯ g u̯ h-to;
Narten 1968a: 11–12, Watkins 1969: 113–14, Strunk 1985: 493)
or, given its occurrence in a speech-capping phrase, an aorist.
Like δέκτο, γέντο, λέκτο (cf. *dek̑ -, *gem-, *legh-), it could
then be a root aorist (next to the thematic present (3sg.)
εὔχεται, from *h1eu̯ g u̯ h-o?, cf. 4.44) or a pre-alphathematic s-
aorist (i.e., *h1eu̯ g u̯ h-s-to; cf. later ηὔξατο, Szemerényi 1964:
176, Table 8.1). Less likely is a descendance from a
reduplicated imperfect with retained e-reduplication,
comparable with ἧστο ‘sat’ to pres. ἧσται ←< *h1e-h1s-o(i̯)
(4.52, fn. 179): i.e., εὖκτο ←< *h1e-h1ug u̯ h-to (Lindeman
1972a: 67–8).
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
S: If εὖκτο were indeed a root-aorist relic, it would be

historically replaced by an s-aorist; but this is uncertain.
*h2er- ‘fit, join’ (LIV Med.: *ptcpl. ἄρμενος ‘fitting’.
269–70) As discussed in Table 3.1, in the active voice Homer uses a
reduplicated (3sg. ἤραρε ~ Arm. 1sg. arari ‘made’) and an s-
aorist (3sg. ἦρσε) to *h2er-. A further connection with the
aorist of ἄρνυμαι ‘acquire’ is thinkable: this appears as
thematic (1sg.) ἀρόμην without augment (cf. 3sg. subj.
ἄρηται, 1sg. opt. ἀροίμην, inf. ἀρέσθαι) but sigmatic (3sg.)
ἤρατο with augment (cf. A. Dettwiler and E.-M. Voigt in
LfgrE 1.1328, s.v. ἄρνυμαι). However one disentangles these
data, the correspondence of the active s-aorist with the
middle root-aorist participle (> adjective) points to another
root aorist → s-aorist replacement (3sg. act. *(h1e-)h2er-t >
*(e-)ar-t → *(e-)ar-s-e). The same root aorist (with
generalised full grade) probably appears in a thematised
shape also in Ved. 3pl. med. (sám) aranta ‘they joined
together’ (Harđarson 1993a: 199).
In principle, the s-aorist (3sg.) *(e-)ar-s-e could appear as
*ἦρε (1sg. *ἦρα), but the retention of -σ- in such s-aorists to
roots in a liquid is not unparalleled and may even be
phonologically regular (cf. Wackernagel 1888: 129–30,
Chantraine 1958: 173, 413, Risch 1956: 426): thus, with κείρω
‘shear’, ‘the active is constantly ἔκερσεν . . ., but the middle
always ἀπεκείρατο’ (Chantraine 1958: 173). Similarly, we
may compare 3sg. med. ἤρατο with active ἠρσα-. The
corresponding 1sg. would have been ἠράμην, both
augmented (*ārs-) and unaugmented (*ars- >→ *ār-). Such a
form could be fit into the hexameter if the long initial vowel
was treated as if long only due to the augment. However,
artificially de-augmented *ἀράμην was still irregular when
the root was patently ἀρ-, not ἀρα- (contrast e.g. ἐπριάμην
‘bought’ with radical πρια-). To amend this situation,
*ἀράμην was remade into ἀρόμην, bringing with it the
creation of other non-augmented thematic-aorist forms.
S: Leaving aside the fossilised participle, the root aorist has
been remade into an s-aorist; related thematic forms are
probably artificial creations.
*h2u̯ er- ‘lift up’ (LIV 290) [Med.: ptcpl. ἀπουράμενος ‘robbed (of)’.]
Following Strunk (1958) and Harđarson (1993a: 184), LIV
699, s.v. ?*u̯ reh2-, cautiously posits a root *u̯ reh2- attested
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
only in Greek: by 3sg. act. ἀπηύρᾱ ‘took away, robbed’ and

act. ptcpl. ἀπούρᾱς (with Aeolic accentuation and
representation of -ϝ-), both with full grade (cf. also Balles
2007: 18, García Ramón 2007b: 107–8). Traditionally,
however, these forms have been connected with the s-aorist
Hom. ἀπό(ϝ)ερσε ‘snatched away’ (Il. 6.348), and hence
possibly with ἀείρω ‘lift up’ as well as *(H)u̯ er- in Ved. āvar
‘has enclosed’, Lat. operīo ‘shut in’ (cf. Schwyzer 1939: 740 n.
5, and for the root LIV 227–8, s.v. *Hu̯ er-; but the semantic
distance together with Gr. (ἐ)έργω ‘shut in’ rather suggests
*h1u̯ er(g̑ )- for the Vedic and Latin evidence).
The traditional account can be upheld. Keeping apart
ἀείρω, one could operate with a root *u̯ ers- featuring both a
thematic (-ηύρᾱ < *-ηϝρα(σ)ε < *-ē-u̯ r̥ s-e-t) and an s-aorist,
the latter perhaps based on a root aorist (Sommer 1909: 63–5;
cf. Gil 1964: 181–2). Alternatively, if ἀείρω were related, a
root aorist *h1e-h2u̯ er-t > *ἆϝερ(τ) > Ion. *ἦ(ϝ)ερ could have
been remodelled into an s-aorist (*(ἀπ)ή(ϝ)ερσε), whence
ἀπό(ϝ)ερσε by a (mis)analysis of ἠ- as a long augment before
ϝ- when the link with ἀείρω was no longer perceived. In
parallel with this, (ἀπο)υράμενος would have replaced
*(ἀπ)αυράμενος (from *h2u̯ r̥ -meno-) in the participle.
For the further development, one may compare the case of
κτα- etc. (cf. *tk̑ en-). To med. (ἀπο)υράμενος, act.
(*)ἀπουρᾱ ́ ς was built like (κατα)κτᾱ ́ ς to κτάμενος (inverting
the process envisaged by Sommer 1909: 65). Similarly, the
3sg. ἀπηύρᾱ might correspond to post-Homeric ἔκτᾱ ←
Hom. ἔκτᾰ (cf. Meister 1921: 101–2), not least because short-
vocalic (*)ἀπηῦρᾰ is a plausible scansion for a form
occurring almost exclusively at verse end (except at Od.
4.646, before the bucolic diaeresis, where words ending in a
trochee are often artificially adjusted to fill the entire foot: see
Meister 1921: 13–22, Haug and Welo 2001: 134–5).
Yet, to assume that the root aorist *ἦϝερ as such stands
behind *ηὖρᾰ may not be the most economical option if the
same root aorist was elsewhere replaced by an s-aorist (cf.
above). If a (reduplicated or unreduplicated) thematic aorist
to *h2u̯ er- had already existed alongside the root aorist, its
3sg. *h2e-h2u̯ r-e-t or *h̥ 2u̯ r-e-t > *αὖρε (augmented *ηὖρε)
would provide a more direct input for an analogical change
*ηὖρε → *ηὖρᾰ. Such an idea has further advantages. Firstly,
it helps to explain Hom. 1sg./3pl. ἀπηύρων, which are often
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
thought to arise through a misinterpretation of -ᾱ as *-αε in

3sg. ἀπηύρᾱ; but again, ἀπηύρων is common only at verse
end (except at Il. 1.430, before the bucolic diaeresis) and a
well-attested variant reading is ἀπηῦρον, as from a thematic
aorist. Secondly, if we accept a thematic aorist stem *au̯ re/o-,
we can link this to Hom. pres. ἐπαυρίσκομαι, aor. ἐπαυρε/ο-
‘partake of, (med.) enjoy’, a lexeme that seems perfectly
compatible in semantic terms as well (cf. Table 3.1).
S: The group does present difficulties, but there is
evidence for the active root aorist having been remade into
an s-aorist; related thematic aorist forms are best traced back
to a separate origin.
*h3er- ‘arise, move’ (LIV Med.: 3sg. ὦρτο ‘arose, rushed off‘ (< *(h1e-)h3r-to); ipv. 2sg.
299–300) ὄρσο (< *h̥ 3r-so); ptcpl. ὄρμενος (< *h̥ 3r-mh̥ 1no-); inf. ὄρθαι.
Gr. ὦρτο is matched by Ved. ārta ‘moved (intr.)’. If it ever
existed (although all the relevant evidence is medial: cf. LIV
299, s.v. *h3er-, also on OAv. ipv. uz-ārǝšuuā ‘arise!’, Arm. ipv.
ari ‘arise!’), its active counterpart should have been *(h1e-)h3er-t
> *ὄρ/*ὦρ. Instead of this, Homer has both the s-aorist ὦρσε
and the reduplicated aorist ὤρορε ‘raised’ (Table 3.1). Since
there is no evidence for root aorists being replaced by
reduplicated aorists, in this case too the s-aorist would have to
supersede the root aorist (with the latter initially paralleling the
reduplicated aorist).
Also relevant are Hom. 3sg. ὤρετο and ipv. 2sg. ὄρσεο/
ὄρσευ. The first is confined to the position before the bucolic
diaeresis (Il. 12.279, 14.397, 22.102), where metrical
adjustments to trochaic words are common (cf. above on
*h2u̯ er- and *d hg u̯ hei̯-). ὦρτο → ὤρετο therefore need not
represent a ‘real’ transformation of a root aorist (though cf.
*sei̯k-). As for ipv. ὄρσεο/ὄρσευ, this is probably nothing but
an artificial variant of ὄρσο (Wackernagel 1890: 313,
Chantraine 1958: 417). Whatever its further analysis, the form is
clearly based on the s-aorist stem (*ὄρσ-ε-σο, Prince Roth 1973:
182–3), without there being a non-sigmatic thematic *ὄρεο/
*ὄρευ. Thus, of all the potential evidence for a thematised
*ὠρόμην (← athematic *ὤρμην), only 3sg. subj. ὄρηται (Od.
16.98, etc.) and 3sg. opt. ὄροιτο (Od. 14.522) are left. The
former can belong to the root-aorist ind. ὦρτο since any
athematic present may have a long-vowel subjunctive (1.7; cf.
Harđarson 1993a: 156 and *sel- below), and the latter follows
suit (due to the synchronic irregularity of *ὄρῑτο ~ Ved. arīta <
*h̥ 3r-ih1-to).
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
S: If there ever was an active root aorist, it has been remade

into an s-aorist; there is no reliable evidence for an
unreduplicated thematic aorist paradigm.
?*h3u̯ ath2- ‘wound’ (LIV Act.: 3sg. οὖτα ‘wounded’; inf. (epic) οὐτάμεναι.
307–8) Med.: ptcpl. οὐτάμενος.
The root shape given here and in LIV 307–8, s.v. *h3u̯ ath2-,
is posited by Peters (1980a: 60–3), who compares ὠτειλή
‘wound’ (< *h3u̯ at(h2)-el-neh2?) and Lith. votìs/vótis ‘ulcer’ (<
*h3u̯ āth2-is, with Vrddhi?) and traces Homeric οὖτα back to
˙
*h̥ 3u̯ th̥ 2-t with a generalised zero grade after the plural and
middle. None of this inspires much confidence, but there is no
obvious alternative. In order to avoid an ablauting a-vowel
root, and root-final *-th2-, one might perhaps rewrite the root
as *h3eu̯ h2t-/*h3u̯ eh2t- with Schwebeablaut, postulate *h̥ 3u̯ h̥ 2t- >
*ou̯ at- > ὠτ- for ὠτειλή and *h3u̯ eh2t-i- for Lith. vótis, and have
οὖτα replace *οὖτε (< thematised *ou̯ t-e-t ←< root aor. *ou̯ t-t
< *h3ou̯ t-t (by Saussure Effect) < *h3ou̯ h2t-t < *h3eu̯ h2t-t) next to
(e.g.) ptcpl. οὐτάμενος < *ou̯ t-m̥ eno- in analogy with ἔκτα :
κτάμενος (cf. *tk̑ en-, and Sommer 1909: 62–3, Gil 1964: 180;
in the middle, οὐτ- would have to be analogical for ὠτ- <
*h̥ 3u̯ h̥ 2t-). Be that as it may, οὖτα is in the process of being
replaced by an s-aorist (cf. Il. 7.258 οὔτασε, Meister 1921: 103).
S: Non liquet, but if οὖτα conceals an old root aorist, this is
again endangered by an s-aorist.
*k̑ leu̯ - ‘hear, listen’ (LIV Med.: ptcpl. κλύμενος (in personal names, e.g. Θεο-
334–5) κλύμενος; < *k̑ lu-mh̥ 1no-).
The active aorist is thematic (3sg. ἔκλυε) and thus
comparable with Ved. 3sg. inj. śruvat (RV 1.127.3: ‘obeys’?, <
*k̑ lu-e-t; contrast more frequent áśrot < *h1e-k̑ leu̯ -t). Since the
Vedic root aorist is regularly thematised into śrav-a- (cf. AV
3pl. áśravan, Cardona 1960a: 40), or in the later language
sigmatised (3sg. aśrausīt), even Ved. śruv-a- may not be
(exclusively) based on˙ a root aorist (pace Strunk 1967: 98);
and if it were, it would still not follow that the same must be
true for Gr. κλυ-ε/ο-. Within Greek, a certain antiquity of
the thematic aorist is suggested by the deaoristic present
κλύω (first in Hes. Op. 726; cf. Chantraine 1958: 392, 6.28).
Apart from participial (-)κλυμενος, the imperatives (sg.)
κλῦθι, (pl.) κλῦτε also provide indirect evidence for a Greek
root aorist. These forms, which are always line-initial in
Homer, must represent remodellings/contaminations of
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
(sg.) *κλύθι (< *k̑ lu-d hí, cf. Skt. śrudhí) ~ *κλεῦ (< *k̑ leu̯ ) and
(pl.) *κλύτε (< *k̑ lu-té, cf. Skt. śrutá) ~ *κλεῦτε (< *k̑ leu̯ -te, cf.
Ved. śrótā, OAv. sraotā) (Schulze 1892: 390, Schwyzer 1939:
800 n. 6, Gil 1964: 178). On related ipv. κέκλυθι/κέκλυτε, see
Table 3.1.
S: Although the attestation pattern would be compatible
with a root aorist → thematic aorist replacement, the parallel
existence in Vedic of a – rare and synchronically unexpected –
zero-graded thematic aorist suggests that *k̑ leu̯ - had both a
thematic and a root aorist already in Proto-Indo-European.
*k(u̯ )i̯ eu̯ - ‘move’ (LIV Act.: ipv. σύθι (Hsch. σ 2217) (< *k(u̯ )i̯u-d hí)?
394–5) Med.: 1sg. ἐσσύμην, 2sg. ἔσσυο, 3sg. ἔσσυτο/σύτο (<
*(h1e-)k(u̯ )i̯u-to); ptcpl. σύμενος.
Since OPers. 3sg. impf. ašiyava ‘marched (off)’ may owe
its intransitive value to the ellipsis of an object like ‘the army’
(Harđarson 1993a: 189, cf. ἐλαύνω ‘drive, march’, Germ.
ziehen), or derive from an archaic stative-intransitive
*k(u̯ )i̯eu̯ -o (Peters 1975), the best evidence for the intransitive
meaning ‘move’ (“sich in Bewegung setzen”) postulated for
*k(u̯ )i̯eu̯ - by García Ramón (1992; 1994) and LIV 394–5, s.v.
*ku̯ i̯eu̯ -, comes from the gloss σύθι· ἐλθέ ‘go!’. Against this,
Harđarson (1993a: 191) has suggested that, once a (transitive)
s-aorist had come into being (cf. below), the root-aorist
imperative acquired a new intransitive meaning. However,
Harđarson’s reference to the ‘Fourth Law of Analogy’ (3.34)
is problematic since this law does not refer to the acquisition
of new functions. More pertinently, one might compare the
antonymic active ipv. παῦε ‘stop!’ (~ παύομαι ‘stop’)
discussed by Wackernagel (1926a: 122): both παῦε and σύθι
may have arisen in phrases with (suppressed) direct object
(e.g., παῦε [λόγον] ‘stop [talking]!’). In that case, the middle
inflection of 3sg. ἔσσυτο ‘rushed’ etc. would still be essential
to convey the intransitive meaning (pace Gotō 1987: 143,
García Ramón 1994: esp. 72, Kümmel 1998: 195–7).
If we thus posit prototypically transitive root semantics, a
root-aorist 3sg. *(h1e-)k(u̯ )i̯eu̯ -t > *(ἔσ)σευ ‘moved (tr.), set
into motion’ should be expected (cf. Ved. 1sg. aor. inj. or subj.
cyávam ‘will undertake’ < *k(u̯ )i̯eu̯ -(o-)m, Hoffmann 1967a:
247–8, Strunk 1967: 90–2). This would be remodelled into the
Homeric (< Aeolic: cf. Harđarson 1993a: 193, after Burger 1938:
450, Kiparsky 1967b: 628, Peters 1980a: 308–9) s-aorist ἔσσευε/
σεῦε (< *(h1e-)k(u̯ )i̯eu̯ -s-e). Note that 1sg. ἔσσευα cannot
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
regularly reflect a root aorist *(h1e-)k(u̯ )i̯eu̯ -m̥ > †ἔσσεα

(cf. *g̑ heu̯ -) and that the s-aorist analysis is additionally
supported by alphathematic forms like (epic) 3sg. med. σεύατο,
3pl. med. ἐσσεύαντο. However, because 3sg. ἔσσευε was no
longer recognisably sigmatic, it also gave rise to analogical
‘thematic’ creations such as 3pl. med. ἐσσεύοντο. Analysed as
imperfects, these might have led to the new (mainly poetic)
present σεύω/σεύομαι; but it is easier to suspect a remodelled
thematic root present behind the latter (cf. Ved. cyávate ‘moves
(intr.), undertakes’: Table 5.4, 8.5, fn. 23; see also above
on *deu̯ h1- and *g̑ heu̯ - with δεύω, χεύω, Burger 1938: 450,
Kiparsky 1967b: 628–9, and Harđarson 1993a: 190–1, who
postulates a i̯-present).
Turning to the alternative view, if *k(u̯ )i̯eu̯ - had been
prototypically intransitive even in the active voice, and if its s-
aorist were therefore factitive (*‘make move’), the absence of a
thematic aorist (3sg.) †ἔσσυε would still deserve attention.
According to Cardona’s theory, a 3pl. *(h1e-)k(u̯ )i̯u-e/ont should
have led to †ἔσσυον and hence to a full thematic paradigm,
without the intransitive root-aorist 3sg. *(h1e-)k(u̯ )i̯eu̯ -t being
recast as med. *(h1e-)k(u̯ )i̯u-to when it was no longer (formally)
viable (cf. *pelh2-).
Finally, the thematic aor. ἔκιε ‘went (away)’ is nowadays
usually attached to a separate root *kei̯h2-, not derived from a 3pl.
*(h1e-)kiu̯ -e/ont (cf. Harđarson 1993a: 192–3, García Ramón
1994: 69–70, LIV 346, s.v. *kei̯h2-, against Strunk 1967: 100–3,
Létoublon 1989: 85–6); but even if one questioned this
separation, the fact that a 3pl.*(h1e-)kiu̯ -e/ont would in that case
display a synchronically aberrant vocalisation vis-à-vis all other
zero-graded forms in the root-aorist paradigm (with *ki̯u- > συ-)
would still make it more likely that an old thematic paradigm
(with *kiu̯ -e/o- throughout the singular and plural) initially
coexisted with the athematic one (with 3pl. *(h1e-)ki̯u-ent).
S: Much remains uncertain, but probably the root aorist is
being replaced by an s-aorist. Significantly, there is no thematic
aorist †συε/ο-.
*ku̯ rei̯ h2- ‘acquire, buy’ [Med.: 1sg. ἐπριάμην, 2sg. ἐπρίω, 3sg. ἐπρίατο (Myc. qi-ri-
(LIV 395–6) ja-to) ‘bought’; inf. πρίασθαι, ptcpl. πριάμενος.]
In order to see here a root aorist, and compare Toch. B
käryām ‘we bought’ (< *ku̯ rih2-me; cf. K. T. Schmidt 1982:
364–5, Ringe 1988–90: 71, 74–5 n. 43), one has to assume a
3pl. → 3sg. analogy before 3pl. *-ent (med. *-ento or *-n̥ to)
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
was replaced by *-ont (med. *-onto): 3pl. *(h1e-)ku̯ rih2-(e)nto

(>(→) ἐπρίαντο) → 3sg. ἐπρίατο (for *(h1e-)ku̯ rih2-to >
*ἔπρῑτο or possibly, via *-ku̯ ri̯ā-, *ἐπρίᾱτο; pace Klein 1988:
262, *-ku̯ rih2- > *-ku̯ ri̯ă- is unwarranted) (LIV 395–6, s.v.
*ku̯ rei̯h2-, following Rix 1992: 215 and Harđarson 1993a: 187;
cf. Bammesberger 1984: 47–8). However, this uneconomical
postulate is superfluous (cf. Beekes 1969: 247–8). If the zero-
graded thematic aorists are not secondary creations, ἐπρίατο
can regularly descend from an old thematic *(h1e-)ku̯ rih2-eto;
a pseudo-root-aorist paradigm was then built in analogy with
real root formations with 3sg. -ατο < *-(C)h̥ 2-to (e.g., (ἔ)φατο
< *(h1e-)bhh̥ 2-to).
S: The apparent root aorist may conceal an old thematic
aorist.
*leg̑ - ‘collect, count’ [Med.: 1sg. ἐλέγμην ‘picked myself’ (Od. 9.335), 3sg. λέκτο
(LIV 397) ‘counted’ (Od. 4.451).]
Like their parallels from *legh-, the two isolated forms may
either be root aorists or (as is more likely at least for transitive
λέκτο) pre-alphathematic s-aorists (cf. regular λεξα- to λέγω,
Szemerényi 1964: 174–6, Harđarson 1993a: 205); but perhaps
they are altogether artificial (formed after λέκτο etc. to *legh-).
S: Probably no real root aorists.
*legh- ‘lie down’ (LIV [Med.: 3sg. (ἔ)λεκτο ‘lay down’ (< *(h1e-)legh-to?); ipv. 2sg.
398–9) λέξο ‘lie down!’ (also λέξεο: cf. Chantraine 1958: 417 and
above on *h3er-); inf. (κατα)λέχθαι, ptcpl. (κατα)λέγμενος.]
Because (ἔ)λεκτο etc. feature a full-grade root in the middle
voice, and because they are often synonymous with ἐλέξατο
etc., these items are commonly classified as fossilised s-aorist
middles (i.e., 3sg. *(h1e-)legh-s-to > *(e-)lekh-s-to > *(e-)lekh-to >
assimilated (ἔ)λεκτο) (Schwyzer 1939: 751, Watkins 1962a: 55,
Szemerényi 1964: 175 n. 1, Risch 1974: 234/237; contrast Ringe
2000: 129). However, even without positing an acrostatic aorist
category (Tremblay 2005, also on λέκτο) it is equally
conceivable that a root-aorist 3sg. med. was realised as (*h1e-)
legh-to rather than *(h1e-)lgh-to in order to preserve its
analysability. If so, the middle s-aorist forms (ἐλέξατο etc.)
would be later replacements for this (and the relationship
between the factitive s-aorist ἔλεξα ‘laid down’ and the root
aorist would be comparable with that between ἔστησα and
ἔστη (Table 8.3); note that the middle inflection of ἔλεκτο
could be analogical after pres. λέχομαι). Contra Harđarson
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
(1993a: 203), Homer has few, if any, non-sigmatic forms for

which a meaning ‘lie down’ (as opposed to ‘lie’) is excluded;
Harđarson is probably right that the present λέχομαι ‘sleep’
(Hsch. λ 761 λέχεται· κοιμᾶται; cf. Toch. B lyaśäm ‘lies’, Goth.
ligan ‘lie’, LIV 398, s.v. *legh-) points to an original ˙ *legh-o(i̯)
‘lies’ (cf. *k̑ ei̯-o(i̯) ‘lies’, 4.34), but the existence of such a stative-
intransitive formation (> thematic root present) is not a priori
incompatible with that of a root aorist (cf. *dek̑ -, *gheu̯ -,
*pneu̯ h1-; 4.49).
S: If the relevant forms belonged to a root aorist, this would
be in the process of being replaced by an s-aorist.
*leu̯ H- ‘loosen, release’ [Med.: 1sg. λύμην, 3sg. λύτο ‘released (for himself), was
(LIV 417) released/ended’ (< *(h1e-)lu-to?), 3pl. λύντο.]
The analysis of these forms is complicated by the fact that
cognates point to a root-final laryngeal (Ved. lunā́ ti ‘cuts off’,
Lat. so-lūtus ‘released’, etc.). Accordingly, λῠ- instead of λῡ-
(< *luH-; λῦτο in Il. 24.1 is due to verse-initial metrical
lengthening) has to be secondary, perhaps after pres. λύω.
This form itself may either continue a i̯ -present *luH-i̯ e/o-
(> *lūi̯e/o- > λῡε/ο- > λυε/ο-; cf. still Il. 23.513 ἔλῡεν, Od. 7.74
λῡ ́ ει) or, less likely, parallel Lat. luō ‘pay, discharge’ (< *luH-
é/ó-; note that *lūi̯e/o- would yield Lat. †liō).
In any case, Greek preserves no clear trace of an active root
aorist, with 3sg. *(h1e-)leu̯ H-t (cf. Toch. B lyuwa ‘sent’, also
remade in Lat. perf. lūit?); contrast ἔχεε, ἔσσευε to *g̑ heu̯ -,
*k(u̯ )i̯eu̯ -. The existing s-aorist (3sg.) ἔλῡσε, which might have
superseded *ἔλε(υ)ε vel sim., appears to be based on pres.
λυε/ο- (or λῡε/ο-).
S: At best, λύτο etc. constitute indirect evidence for a root
aorist; at worst, they (and the uncertain λῦθι in Pind. fr. 85;
cf. κλῦθι to *k̑ leu̯ -) are artificial creations based on the
similarity of e.g. aor. (> impf.) ἔκλυε ~ impf. ἔλυε.
*mei̯k̑ - ‘mix’ (LIV 428–9) Med.: 3sg. (ἔ)μικτο ‘mingled’ (< *(h1e-)mig̑ -to?).
The root generally appears as *mei̯g̑ - in Greek, but this can
be assimilated from *mei̯k̑ - before voiced consonants (cf. LIV
428, s.v. *mei̯k̑ -, highlighting Ved. miśrá- ‘mixed’). Next to
(ἔ)μικτο, Homer commonly uses intransitive μιγη- (< *mig̑ -
eh1-), but (ἔ)μικτο need not therefore be artificial. Thus, the
active s-aorist ἔμειξε ‘mixed’ may supersede a root aorist
*(h1e-)mei̯ g̑ -t (cf. Harđarson 1993a: 195).
S: An s-aorist replaces the root aorist; there is no thematic
aorist †μιγε/ο-.
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
*nes- ‘(re)unite, return Med.: *ptcpl. ἄσμενος ‘glad (esp. after a safe return)’ (< *n̥ s-
(home) safely’ (LIV mh̥ 1no-).
454–5) Apart from the analogical retention of -σμ-, the adjective
ἄσμενος represents a neat relic of a root-aorist paradigm also
attested in Vedic (cf. Table 4.1 on Ved. 1pl. opt. (sám)
nasīmahi); there is no need to explain it, with Wackernagel
(1897: 6 n. 2), as an archaic s-aorist participle (i.e., *n̥ s-s-
mh̥ 1no-; cf. Watkins 1962a: 55 with “*ϝαδ-σ-μενος” to
ἁνδάνω ‘please’, although the semantics of *nes- fit well: see
Frame 1978: 6–24, Lamberterie 2014). Synchronically, pres.
νέομαι may no longer have an aorist, but diachronically epic
νάσσατο ‘settled’ (Hes. Op. 639, etc.) belongs with it rather
than the active pres. ναίω ‘inhabit’ (*n̥ s-i̯ e/o-: Table 4.1);
moreover, the unexpected zero grade of νάσσατο is also
accounted for if the form is a secondarily sigmatised version
of the above root aorist (i.e., *nas-s(a)-to for *nas-to ← *n̥ s-to;
cf. García Ramón 2004a: esp. 43).
S: A fossilised trace of the root aorist survives, but
generally an s-aorist has replaced it.
*peh2g̑ - ‘fasten, stick fast’ [Med.: 3sg. (κατ)έπηκτο (Il. 11.378).]
(LIV 461) As noted by Harđarson (1993a: 205–6), this apparent root
aorist is probably an artificial creation – in lieu of the usual
intransitive aor. ἐπάγη – next to act. κατέπηξε (cf. e.g. *legh-
and *mei̯k̑ - with ἔλεξε ‘laid down’ : ἔλεκτο ‘lay down’, ἔμειξε
‘mixed’ : ἔμικτο ‘mingled’). Were it not for the form’s
isolation and its intransitive rather than self-benefactive
meaning, one might also think of a fossilised pre-
alphathematic s-aorist (cf. *dek̑ -, *legh-; Risch 1974: 234/237).
By contrast, a true root aorist is less likely since *(h1e-)ph̥ 2g̑ -to
> *(ἔ)πακτο would not have called for a secondary e-grading
of the root (though cf. also Hom. πηκτός for *πακτός
‘fixed’, Wackernagel 1916: 11–12). An acrostatic root aorist
(Tremblay 2005: 652) is as unlikely here as elsewhere.
S: The exceptional root-aorist form is likely artificial.
*pelh2- ‘draw near, Med.: 3sg. (ἔ)πλητο ‘approached’ (< *(h1e-)pl̥ h2-to), 3pl.
approach’ (LIV 470–1) (ἔ)πληντο.
The common intransitive use of πελάζω ‘draw near’ (with
s-aor. πελασ(σ)α-, 6.16) intimates that the root-aorist 3sg.
*(h1e-)pelh2-t also meant ‘drew near’ (cf. Arm. 1sg. aor. act.
el-i ‘went out/up’ < *pelh2-?). As epic intr. 3sg. (ἐ)πέλασ(σ)ε
shows, an s-aorist superseded this formation. Here the lack of
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
a thematic aorist †παλε/ο- (3sg. †ἔπαλε) is particularly

damaging to Cardona’s theory because, in line with the s-
aorist’s high transitivity (8.7–8.11), transitive πελασ(σ)α-
‘bring near’ is also usual in epic. If anywhere, a root-aoristic
3pl. *(h1e-)pl̥ h2-ent shoud therefore have given rise to a
thematic paradigm in this case. That the coincidence of
intransitive and transitive πελασ(σ)α- was instead accepted
(and continued into classical times) confirms the regularity
of the root aorist → s-aorist replacement. To disambiguate
the result, however, the middle root aorist could also be used
((ἔ)πλητο, (ἔ)πληντο).
S: The root aorist is being replaced by an s-aorist; there is
no thematic †παλε/ο-.
*pet- ‘fly, fall’ (cf. LIV [Act.: 3du. καταπτήτην ‘they cowered’?]
477–9) Med.: 1sg. ἐπτάμην (< *(h1e-)pt-m̥ -), [3sg. (ἔ)πτατο];
ptcpl. πτάμενος (< *pt-m̥ eno-).
In Table 4.1, the separation of *peth1- ‘fall’ and *peth2- ‘fly’
and their set reconstruction have been questioned. The full-
˙ of the thematic aor. Att.-Ion. (3sg.) ἔπεσε,
grade vocalism
Aeol./Dor. ἔπετε ‘fell’ (to pres. πίπτω) suggests that these
forms are based on a root aorist. Not only should a regular
zero-graded thematic aorist *pt-e/o- have yielded †πτε/ο-,
but the dialectal stem alternation can also be explained if we
start from 3sg. *(h1e-)pet-t > *e-pes-t (contra Wackernagel
1890: 314, García Ramón 2007a: 200): the latter form was
thematised into *e-pes-e (cf. 8.3, fn. 13), with radical pet-
being subsequently reintroduced in some dialects.
Turning to aor. (3sg.) ἔπτατο/ἔπτετο ‘flew’ (to pres.
πέτομαι; cf. inf. ἐπιπτέσθαι in Il. 4.126, but 3sg. ἔπτατο
passim in Homer, Chantraine 1958: 381, 391), the existence of
an old thematic aorist (with 3sg. *(h1e-)pt-e-to) is possible.
Yet, a middle root aorist corresponding to the active one just
discussed is the most likely (main) source for the alternating
stem (in both Homeric and Attic Greek: cf. LSJ 1397, s.v.
πέτομαι). Since 3sg. *(h1e-)pt-to was hardly viable (> †e-pto),
to thematise and remodel this into *(h1e-)pt-e-to was sensible,
whether or not there was a competing thematic aorist to
support the change. In the 1sg. or ptcpl., however, Proto-Gr.
*(e-)pt-m̥ ām and *pt-m̥ eno- regularly yielded ἐπτάμην and
πτάμενος. This double outcome, thematised πτε/ο- next to
alphathematic πτα-, then triggered analogy in two
directions: both 3sg. ἔπτατο for ἔπτετο (after e.g. impf.
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
ἱστάμην/ἵστατο ‘was standing’ or aor. -κτάμην/-κτατο ‘was

killed’; cf. *tk̑ en-) and 1sg. ἐπτόμην for ἐπτάμην. Thus, we
need neither posit a root in *-h2- (with 3sg. *(h1e-)pth̥ 2-to,
Anttila 1969: 85) nor regard ἔπτατο etc. as ‘alphathematised’
forms like εἶπα, ἤνεικα (Hackstein 2002: 140–3; on the
different background of εἶπα, ἤνεικα, see 3.9).
Finally, once the paradigm with -α- had arisen, further
analogy with cases like φθη-/φθᾰ- (cf. *d heg u̯ h-, with ptcpl.
φθάμενος ~ act. 3sg. ἔφθη) could produce forms such as the
post-Homeric (poetic) aor. ἔπτην with corresponding
(poetic) pres. πέταμαι ‘fly’ (cf. Frisk 1960–72: 2.522, s.v.
πέτομαι; but Il. 8.136 καταπτήτην ‘they cowered’ (?) may
rather descend from *pi̯eh2-, with Hackstein 1992).
S: The root aorist has been partially thematised, and the
singular vowel grade generalised both in the active and
middle. Occasional poetic by-forms do not justify the
reconstruction of a set root.
˙
*pneu̯ h1- ‘become Med.: 3sg. (Hom.) ἄμπνῡτο ‘(re)gained consciousness’ (<
conscious, breathe’ (cf. *pnuH-to).
LIV 489, s.v. *pneu̯ H-) Next to ἄμπνῡτο and the corresponding perfect πέπνῡμαι
‘am conscious, wise’, Homer also has a thematic ipv. ἄμπνυε
‘take breath!’ (Il. 22.222). More commonly, though, an s-
aorist ἀνέπνευσε (to pres. ἀναπνέω) occurs with the related
meaning ‘recovered’. This need not be derived from a
different root (pace Harđarson 1993a: 195, LIV 489, s.v.
?*pneu̯ -). The relationship between a thematic present
*pneu̯ h1-e/o- (> πνέω ‘breathe’) and a root aor. (3sg.) *(h1e-)
pneu̯ h1-t (med. *pnuh1-to) – as well as, perhaps, a thematic
aorist *pnuh1-e/o- – is the same as that between e.g. pres.
*lei̯ku̯ -e/o- ‘leave’ (cf. λείπω) and a root aor. (3sg.) *(h1e-)
lei̯ku̯ -t (as well as aor. *liku̯ -e/o-; cf. 6.9, Table 8.2); only that,
when the present had become *pneu̯ -e/o- > πνέω, the
expected (3sg.) aor. *(e-)pneu̯ -e was not continued like that of
e.g. *g̑ heu̯ - (i.e., *ἔπνεε like ἔχεε), but instead replaced by a
synchronically regular s-aorist ἔπνευσε (cf. πλέω ‘sail’:
ἔπλευσε). Meanwhile, the parallel substitution of the
intransitive active root aorist by a middle one (ἄμπνῡτο)
recalls the situation observed with *pelh2- ((ἔ)πλητο).
S: Where Homer had used a middle root aorist, an active
s-aorist later appears. The isolated thematic form ἄμπνυε (for
*ἄμπνῡ?) is insufficient to demonstrate an alternative root
aorist → thematic aorist replacement.
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
*sel- ‘jump’ (LIV 527–8) Med.: 2sg. ἆλσο, 3sg. ἆλτο ‘jumped’ (i.e., *sl̥ -to > *ἅλτο, with
psilosis and secondary augment for *h1e-sl̥ -to > *ἧλτο); 3sg.
subj. ἅλεται (< *sl̥ -e-toi̯); ptcpl. -αλμενος.
Next to the few forms cited, an s-aorist is already found in
Homer (e.g., ἐσ-ήλατο < *-e-sal-sa-to), as in later times.
However, if the root is really *sel-, not *sal-, a fossilised s-
aorist explanation (Jacobsohn 1908) is less straightforward
for ἆλτο than for (ἔ)λεκτο etc. Moreover, there are some
forms of a thematic aorist, mainly in post-Homeric Greek
(e.g., ptcpl. ἁλόμενος, 1sg. opt. ἁλοίμην), with Hom. 3sg.
subj. ἅληται (Il. 21.536) possibly belonging here too (but cf.
above on *h3er- with ὄρηται). The chronological
distribution, as well as the fact that (a) the thematic forms
rarely if ever occur in the indicative (cf. LSJ 70, s.v. ἅλλομαι)
and (b) there is no regular early transformation of thematic
aorists into s-aorists, speak against a general replacement of
the root aorist by a thematic aorist. Instead, the s-aorist took
over from the root aorist, with occasional thematic forms
outside the indicative being motivated by long-vowel
subjunctives like ἅληται (for older ἅλεται; cf. -σηται for
-σεται in the s-aorist, Chantraine 1958: 454–61). Ved. ásarat
‘has run off, flown’ does not strengthen the case for an early
thematic aorist; like ágamat etc., it may be based on the full-
grade singular of the root aorist (*(h1e-)sel-t; cf. 6.5, Cardona
1960a: 33–4). Toch. B 3sg. pret. med. salāte ‘arose’ equally
points back to a root aorist (Hilmarsson 1990: 107–10).
Also to this verb belongs Hom. πάλτο ‘jumped’,
missegmented from ἀν-έπ-αλτο, κατ-έπ-αλτο and
semantically clearly distinct from πάλλω ‘sway, throw’
(Harđarson 1993a: 196–8, after Fränkel 1924: 278–80,
M. Leumann 1950: 60–4, and Geiss 1957).
S: The root aorist is being replaced by an s-aorist.
*sei̯k- ‘reach’ (LIV 522) Med.: 3sg. ἷκτο; *ptcpl. ἴκμενος (?).
An old root-aorist participle may be preserved in the
Homeric epithet ἴκμενος (with psilosis) applied to a
‘favourable’ wind (i.e., ‘(goal-)reaching’ or, with Létoublon
1989: 150, ‘(sail-)reaching’?; contrast Casevitz 1995, who
posits *ϝίκμενος ‘convenient’ to *u̯ ei̯k-). Apart from this, and
rare poetic occurrences of 3sg. ἷκτο (first at Hes. Th. 481), the
nasal presents ἱκάνω, ἱκνέομαι are accompanied by the
thematic aor. ἵκετο (< unaugmented *sik-e-to). Given the
lack of active forms such as 3sg. †ἷκε/†ἵκε, this formation may
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
have been mechanically thematised (*sik-to → *sik-e-to)

when the root aorists were generally abandoned. For a verb
which predominantly occurred in the low-transitive middle
voice, this could have been a more natural innovation than
to create an s-aorist.
If there ever was an active root-aorist paradigm as well,
3sg. *sei̯ k-t might have taken the regular path towards an s-
aorist, yielding 3sg. *sei̯ k-s-e. Such a form is reminiscent of
the Homeric ‘mixed’ (thematic/sigmatic) aor. ἷξε ‘came’,
though at least synchronically ἷξε rather relates to pres. ἵκω
‘(have) come’ (on which see Table 4.1, s.v. *Hi̯eh1k-); that s-
aoristic ἷξε was much rarer than thematic ἵκετο, which it
semantically resembles, will have caused its curious mixed
inflection (cf. Wahrmann 1926: 312–13 and Willi 2002: 97 n.
31, in response to M. Leumann 1953: 213 and Prince Roth
1973: 184–6).
S: The middle root aorist, if old, was replaced by a middle
thematic aorist; in the middle voice, this does not require a
plural → singular analogy.
*telh2- ‘lift, support, Act.: [3sg. (ἔ)τλη (Dor. (ἔ)τλᾱ), 3pl ἔτλαν], 1pl. (ἔ)τλημεν,
endure’ (LIV 622–3) 2pl. (ἔ)τλητε (< *(h1e-)tl̥ h2-me/-te); ipv. 2sg. τλῆθι (< *tl̥ h2-
d hí), 2pl. τλῆτε; inf. τλήμεναι, τλῆναι; *ptcpl. τάλᾱς (*tl̥ h2-
(e)nt-: cf. below), ptcpl. τλᾱ ́ ς.
The root *telh2- is attested in ‘State I’ not only in Umbr.
3sg. fut. perf. en-telust ‘will have put in’ (cf. Harđarson 1993a:
183, LIV 622, s.v. *telh2-; OLat. subj. at-tulat ‘shall bring’ etc.
may have -tulat through loss of reduplication: see rettulī
‘brought back’ < *te-t(o)lh2-, 3.23), but also in Greek (cf.
τελαμών ‘supporting strap’). Thus, one should expect a root-
aorist 3sg. *(h1e-)telh̥ 2-t > *(e-)tela(-t) (and not ‘State II’
*(h1e-)tleh2-t, with e.g. Meillet 1937: 200–1; for general
criticism see Anttila 1969: 75–8, Francis 1974: 28–30,
Harđarson 1993a: 152–3). As with *pelh2-, this root aorist was
superseded by an s-aorist (*)τελασ(σ)α-. Though unaltered in
Hsch. τ 395 τελάσσαι· τολμῆσαι, τλῆναι, the latter stem
surfaces as ταλασ(σ)α- in Homer (2sg. ἐτάλασσας, 2/3sg.
subj. ταλάσσῃ/-ς at Il. 13.829, 15.164, 17.166), probably under
the influence of related words with ταλα- (< *tl̥ h2-) such as the
frequent nominal τάλαν(τ)- (< root-aor. ptcpl. *tl̥ h2-(e)nt-, cf.
ntr. pl. τάλαντα ‘balance’; the stem variant ταλαν-, as in fem.
τάλαινα < *talan-i̯a, is based on voc. τάλαν < *τάλαντ).
The question then arises why there is also an active ‘root
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
aorist’ with 3sg. ἔτλη etc., whose vocalism continues that of

the inherited plural. The reason for this paradigm split must
again be sought on the functional side (cf. *gu̯ elh1-). Because of
the high transitivity of the sigmatic aorist (8.7–8.11), the
sigmatisation of the root aorist would have been semantically
awkward in (frequent) intransitive/absolute contexts (e.g., Il.
2.299 τλῆτε, φίλοι ‘hold out, friends!’). In the case of *pelh2-,
this problem was solved by using the middle s-aorist instead.
However, whereas a reflexive interpretation of the middle was
available there (*‘bring oneself near’), this was not the case
here (‘endure’ ≠ ‘tolerate oneself’). Hence, with both the
imperatives τλῆθι, τλῆτε ‘endure!’ and the perf. τέτληκα
(ptcpl. τετλη(ϝ)ώς) supporting it, the analogical extension of
the stem alternant τλη- (< *tl̥ h2-) was more straightforward, all
the more since the result resembled the intransitive aorists
discussed in 6.11 (e.g., στη- < *steh2-; cf. aor. ἔστη: ipv. στῆθι/
perf. ἕστηκα). The competition thus arising between (*telh2-
→) ταλασσα- and (*tl̥ h2- →) τλη- was eventually won by the
latter, as the s-aorist never really caught on.
S: While the original root aorist was partially replaced by an
s-aorist, a new analogically built paradigm proved more
successful; importantly, though, there is no thematic †ταλε/ο-
(extracted from 3pl. *(h1e-)tl̥ h2-ent).
*tk̑ en- ‘strike, kill’ (LIV Act.: [3sg. ἔκτα, 3pl. ἔκταν]; 1pl. ἔκταμεν (< *(h1e-)tk̑ n̥ -
645–6) me(n)); inf. κτάμεν(αι).
Med. (with passive meaning): 3sg. -έκτατο (< *(h1e-)tk̑ n̥ -
to); inf. κτάσθαι; ptcpl. κτάμενος.
Whereas the zero-graded plural/middle forms are
phonologically regular (*-tk̑ n̥ - > -κτᾰ-; for the metathesis cf.
τίκτω ← *ti-tk̑ -e/o-, 3.33, Table 4.1), 3sg. act. *(h1e-)tk̑ en-t >
*(ἔ)κτεν would be expected, but ἔκτᾰ is found in Homer. In
order to explain this, one has to invoke analogical influence
from the plural or middle (e.g., 3sg. med. ἔκτατο → 3sg. act.
ἔκτᾰ; cf. ἐλέγετο : ἔλεγε, Wackernagel 1907a: 544–5,
Sommer 1909: 61–2, Risch 1974: 233). It may be relevant that
*(ἔ)κτεν was (mis)analysable as *(ἔ)κτ-ε(ν) and thus more
readily alterable than if the root-final consonant had been
different. Moreover, ἔκτᾰ shows a strong preference for
verse-final positioning, where *ἔκτεν would fit equally well
and the quantity of the -α becomes ambiguous. Thus, in
later poetry 3sg. ἔκτᾱ is also encountered (Eur. HF 423), and
already in Homer 1pl. subj. κτέωμεν and ptcpl. κατακτᾱ ́ ς
Table 6.2. (cont.)

Discussion
Root Summary (S)
presuppose further analogies such as ἔφατο/φάμενος : ἔφη

(ἔφᾱ)/*φήομεν > *φέωμεν/φᾱ ́ ς = ἔκτατο/κτάμενος : X → X =
ἔκτᾱ/κτέωμεν/-κτᾱ ́ ς (cf. Schwyzer 1939: 740).
In other positions, Homer generally uses either the s-aorist
ἔκτεινε or the thematic aorist ἔκτανε. The former, which is
regular in later times and gives rise to the new full-graded i̯-
present κτείνω (for older (κατα)καίνω < *(t)k̑ n̥ -i̯ e/o-, with
different (postconsonantal/post-pausal?) treatment of *tk̑ -),
may be a sigmatised remodelling of *(e-)kten(-t) → *(e-)kten-
se (cf. similarly Ved. mā́ ksan-is-t hās ‘do not hurt yourself’
with a secondary is-aorist). ˙ ˙By˙implication,
˙ it is improbable
that the thematic ˙aorist too is extracted from the root aorist,
particularly since there is no discernible functional
difference. Also, it should be noted that the (remodelled) 3sg.
of the root aorist, ἔκτᾰ, triggers – by a normal singular →
plural analogy – the creation of a 3pl. ἔκταν, when according
to the Cardona hypothesis the root aorist’s 3pl. (*(e-)ktn̥ -ent
→) *(e-)ktn̥ -ont should inversely have generated the thematic
aorist paradigm (cf. Gil 1964: 179–80, Strunk 1967: 99–100,
Harđarson 1993a: 186). More plausibly, therefore, an old
coexistence of a root aorist (PGr. 3sg. *(e-)kten-t) with a
thematic aorist (PGr. 3sg. *(e-)ktn̥ -e-t) was continued in
historical times by the coexistence of the s-aorist with the
thematic aorist.
S: Save for some poetic relics, the root aorist is being
replaced by an s-aorist. Related thematic-aorist forms are best
traced back to a separate (already thematic) starting point.
*u̯ elh3- ‘strike’ (LIV 679) [Act.: 3sg. (Att.) ἑᾱ ́ λω (< *ἠ(ϝ)άλω, with augment ἠ- before
*u̯ -) ‘was caught, seized’; inf. ἁλῶναι, ptcpl. ἁλούς.]
Although they may have been synchronically associated
with the root aorists in Table 6.1, the forms cited here derive
from a stem *u̯ l̥ h3-eh1- > *u̯ alō- > (ϝ)αλω- with the stative-
intransitive suffix *-eh1- coloured by the preceding laryngeal
(cf. *gu̯ i̯eh3- with ἐβίω etc.; Harđarson 1993a: 208, after
Francis 1970 and Normier 1978). A corresponding active root
formation may be seen in Hitt. pres. u̯ alhzi ‘strikes’ (< *u̯ elh3-
ti) and/or behind Lat. perf. (< s-aor. ←˘ root aor.?) vellī
‘pulled, plucked’ (cf. LIV 679, s.v. *u̯ elh3-; Meiser 2003: 214).
S: No root aorist.
root aorists. If Cardona’s theory on the origin of the thematic aorist were
correct, pairs of this kind should have arisen by default whenever a root aorist
was being abandoned. Where root-aorist forms are bracketed in the table,
this is because they themselves must represent innovations, notably under
the influence of the intransitive items discussed in 6.11 and Table 6.1.51
6.14 Assessment
Contrary to what Cardona’s theory predicts, the material in Table 6.2
shows that root aorists were most commonly replaced by s-aorists.52 This
parallels the occasional sigmatisation of the root aorists discussed in 6.11.
Sigmatised outcomes are even found when thematic aorists created accord-
ing to Cardona’s model would fit into well-established patterns: there is no
†χυε/ο- ‘pour’ (*g̑ heu̯ -), †συε/ο- ‘move, rush’ (*k(u̯ )i̯eu̯ -), †μιγε/ο- ‘mix’
(*mei̯k̑ -), †παλε/ο- ‘approach’ (*pelh2-), †ταλε/ο- ‘endure’ (*telh2-).
Of course there are a number of entries where (zero-graded) thematic
aorists do occur next to the surviving root-aorist forms. But even then
doubts about Cardona’s scenario are legitimate. Sometimes, distribu-
tional restrictions reveal the artificial nature of the thematic forms
(*d hg u̯ hei̯-, *h2er-, *h3er-, *pneu̯ h1-; cf. *sel-). In other cases, the conco-
mitant emergence of an s-aorist (or, under appropriate circumstances,53 a
full-graded thematic aorist) suggests that again a root aorist → s-aorist/
full-graded thematic aorist replacement is to be assumed; and since one
must not posit an unmotivated split of an original root-aorist paradigm
into both a zero-graded thematic aorist and an s-aorist/full-graded the-
matic aorist, this implies that the zero-graded thematic aorist must have
existed independently of the root aorist (*bherd h-, *gu̯ elh1-, *h2u̯ er-,
*tk̑ en-). Admittedly, neither of these considerations pertains to *k̑ leu̯ -
with its thematic aorist κλυε/ο-, but here the parallel occurrence of a
zero-graded thematic aorist in Vedic intimates the PIE antiquity of
thematic *k̑ lu-e/o-.
51
By contrast, excluded are (1) 3sg. ἦ ‘said’ < *h1e-h2eg̑ -t, which is best understood as a root imperfect
paralleling ἔφη to φημί ‘say’ and thus giving rise to post-Homeric ἠμί ‘say’ (cf. Risch 1974: 254–5,
against Harđarson 1993a: 196 and LIV 256, s.v. 2. *h2eg̑ -; since med. ἔφατο is often used like an aorist
(2.17, fn. 52), was there a merger of a root imperfect with a thematic aorist *(h1e-)bhh2-e-to?), and (2)
3sg. ἐγήρᾱ ‘grew old’ (with ptcpl. γηράς), whose long-vocalic root points to an s-aorist (8.47).
52
See s.vv. *bherd h- (?), *dek̑ - (?), *deu̯ h1-, *g̑ heu̯ -, *h1eu̯ g u̯ h- (?), *h2er-, *h2u̯ er-, *h3er- (?), ?*h3u̯ ath2-,
*k(u̯ )i̯eu̯ - (?), *legh- (?), *mei̯k̑ - (?), *nes-, *pelh2-, *pneu̯ h1-, *sel-, *telh2-, *tk̑ en-; cf. also *d heg u̯ h-, *gu̯ es-
(?), and the commentary on *peh2g̑ -.
53
That is, when the root-aorist 3sg. naturally came to resemble a thematic 3sg. (*gu̯ elh1-); cf. below
and 6.21.
Leaving aside the special case of *ku̯ rei̯h2- where the opposite move can
be assumed with good reason, the only truly plausible instances of a root
aorist → thematic aorist replacement are thus of two kinds. Either (1) the
thematic aorist has a full-grade root, as in the singular of the root aorist, but
no sigmatisation has taken place because the 3sg. had acquired an appar-
ently thematic shape by regular sound change (*gu̯ elh1-, with Arc. ἔζελε) or
because the 3sg. was already (quasi-)sigmatic (*pet-, with *-s-t < *-t-t in
πεσε/ο-; perhaps also *gu̯ es- with radical *-s-); or (2) the relevant thematic
aorist forms are middle ones, for which a mechanical thematisation may
have been preferred to a sigmatisation because of the s-aorist’s association
with high transitivity (8.7–8.11) and/or because the root aorist’s zero grade
clashed with the typical full e-grade of the s-aorist middle (*sei̯ k-; cf. *pet-,
but contrast *sel- with a medial s-aorist).
6.15 Aorists to *CeRH- Roots: Preliminary Remarks

The usual view according to which ‘the thematic aorists that are attested in
the individual Indo-European languages regularly represent transforma-
tions of old root aorists’54 also creates difficulties when we look carefully at
the substantial group of aorists to *CeRH- roots in Greek. Some of these
have already been encountered in Table 6.2.55 According to Harđarson’s
study on the PIE root aorist and its descendants in Greek, all of them are
indeed to be traced back to root aorists.56 However, this conclusion
presupposes that a bewildering variety of analogical interventions affected
one and the same paradigmatic type.
Following Rix and others,57 Harđarson accepts that *-CR̥ HC-
sequences had a double outcome in Greek, yielding either -CVRVC- or
-CRV̄ C- (with the vowel quality /a/, /e/, or /o/ determined by the type of
laryngeal involved).58 Harđarson also accepts, after Ruipérez, Cowgill,
and Peters, that a sequence *-eRo- was metathesised into -oRe-.59 As
Cowgill conceded, this development is not fully understood, but it is
consistent with evidence from outside the verbal system: Mycenaean
54
Harđarson (1993a: 155).
55
S.vv. *deu̯ h1- (?), *gu̯ elh1-, *ku̯ rei̯h2-, *leu̯ H-, *pelh2-, *pneu̯ h1-, *telh2-, *u̯ elh3-.
56
Harđarson (1993a: 213–25); in the survey below, a few additions have been made to his data.
57
Rix (1992: 72–4); cf. Monteil (1978: 145–6), Hoenigswald (1988: 207–8), Rico (2000), against
Kuryłowicz (1956: 206–7), Cowgill (1965: 148–50), or Beekes (1969: 206–9; 1988: 74).
58
For an alternative to the idea that different accentuations are responsible for the ‘inconsistency’, see
Table 6.2, s.v. *gu̯ elh1-.
59
Ruipérez (1950: 398–9) (first in the future), Cowgill (1965: 157–9), Peters (1980a: 30 n. 19).
Lindeman’s (1971b) suggestion that aor. *στερο- → *στορε- was inspired by a perfect to the same
root is anachronistic.
Greek still has le-wo-to-ro- (= /leu̯ otro-/ ‘bath’) against Hom. λόετρον (<
*lou̯ etro- ‘bath’).
Under these premises, each PIE active root-aorist paradigm might
develop into one of three different Proto-Greek types, depending on the
root-final laryngeal:
PIE Type A (*-h1-) Type B (*-h2-) Type C (*-h3-)
1 1sg.*(h1e-)CeRh̥ 1/2/3-m *(e-)CeRe-m *(e-)CeRa-m [*(e-)CeRo-m →]
*(e-)CoRe-m
2 2sg. *(h1e-)CeRh̥ 1/2/3-s *(e-)CeRe-s *(e-)CeRa-s [*(e-)CeRo-s →]
*(e-)CoRe-s
3 3sg. *(h1e-)CeRh̥ 1/2/3-t *(e-)CeRe-t *(e-)CeRa-t [*(e-)CeRo-t →]
*(e-)CoRe-t
4a 1pl. *(h1e-)CR̥ h1/2/3-me(s) *(e-)CRē-me(s) *(e-)CRā-me(s) *(e-)CRō-me(s)
4b *(e-)CeRe-me(s) *(e-)CaRa-me(s) *(e-)CoRo-me(s)
5a 2pl. *(h1e-)CR̥ h1/2/3-te *(e-)CRē-te *(e-)CRā-te *(e-)CRō-te
5b *(e-)CeRe-te *(e-)CaRa-te *(e-)CoRo-te
6 3pl. *(h1e-)CR̥ h1/2/3-ent *(e-)CaR-ent *(e-)CaR-ant *(e-)CaR-ont
6.16 Grouping the Data

The historically attested aorists are then explained by Harđarson as
follows:
(i) Long-vocalic root aorists such as 2sg. ἔβλης ‘you threw’ (Syracusan),
3sg. ἔτλη ‘endured’ (cf. Table 6.2, s.vv. *gu̯ elh1-, *telh2-; compare
regular 3sg. med. πλῆτο s.v. *pelh2-): analogical levelling based on
active 1pl./2pl. forms (as well as pertinent middles) (= positions
[4aA–C], [5aA–C]). See also 3sg.
• ἔβλω ‘came’ (Hsch. ε 89 ἔβλω· ἐφάνη, ᾤχετο, ἔστη; LIV 433–4,
s.v. *melh3-);
• ἔβρω ‘ate’ (Hsch. ε 111 ἔβρω· ἔφαγεν, ἔδακεν, διέσπασεν, but see
already h. Apoll. 127 κατέβρως and compare the late and/or
artificial s-aorist (ἀν)έβρωσα based on the same root variant;
LIV 211–12, s.v. *gu̯ erh3-);
• ἀπ-έσκλη ‘(intr.) dried out, starved’ (LIV 553, s.v. *skelh1-);
• ἐξ-έτρω ‘miscarried’ (LIV 634, s.v. *terh3-).
(ii) Synchronically e-graded thematic aorists like Arc. 3sg. ἔζελε ‘threw,
hit’ (cf. Table 6.2, s.v. *gu̯ elh1-): analogical levelling based on active
2sg./3sg. (and 2pl.) forms of roots in *-h1- (= positions [2A], [3A],
[5bA]). See also 3sg.
• ἔτεμε ‘cut’ (< *(h1e-)temh̥ 1-t, LIV 625, s.v. *temh1-), to be com-
pared with ἔταμε (cf. 6.9 and (iv) below) and probably redupli-
cated aor. τετμε/o- ‘meet, reach’ (Table 3.1);
• εἷλε ‘took’ (< *(h1e-)selh̥ 1-t, LIV 529, s.v. *selh1-).
Superficially similar, but based on a zero-graded 3sg. med., are the
paradigms involving
• med. ἐγένετο ‘became’ (< (*h1e-)g̑ n̥ h1-to, LIV 163–5, s.v. *g̑ enh1-,
with Ved. 1sg. aor. med. ajani ‘I was born’; on artificial γέντο, see
Table 6.2, s.v. *gem-);
• med. ἤρετο ‘asked’, inf. ἐρέσθαι (< 3sg. *(h1e-)h̥ 1rh̥ 1-to, LIV 251,
s.v. 1. *h1reh1-; the root can also be posited as *h1erh1-).
(iii) Synchronically o-graded thematic aorists like 3sg. ἔπορε ‘furnished,
gave’ (< *(h1e-)perh̥ 3-t, LIV 474–5, s.v. *perh3-, with Ved. ipv. aor.
pūrdhí ‘give!’ and Lat. *ptcpl. parentēs ‘parents’; cf. Table 3.1 on
reduplicated aor. πεπαρε/o-): analogical levelling based on active
2sg./3sg. (and 1pl.) forms of roots in *-h3- (= positions [2C], [3C],
[4bC]). See also 3sg.
• ἔθορε ‘jumped’ (< *(h1e-)d herh̥ 3-t, LIV 146–7, s.v. d herh3-);
• ἔμολε ‘came’ (< *(h1e-)melh̥ 3-t, LIV 433–4; cf. (i) on ἔβλω);
• ἔτορε ‘pierced’ (as if *(h1e-)terh̥ 3-t, LIV 634; cf. (i) on ἐξέτρω,
6.21, fn. 79, and 3.6, fn. 9, on the artificial reduplicated aor.
τετορε/ο- ‘wound’).
Given the different root-final laryngeal, the following middle aorist
stands apart:
• med. ὤλετο ‘perished’ (< *(h1e-)h̥ 3lh̥ 1-to, LIV 298, s.v. *h3elh1-;
*h3elh1- is preferable to *h1elh3- because of the connection with
Hitt. hallanna-i ‘destroy’).
˘
(iv) Zero-graded thematic aorists like 3sg. ἔβαλε ‘threw, hit’ (cf.
Table 6.2, s.v. *g u̯ elh1-): analogical levelling based on active 3pl.
forms of roots in *-H- (= positions [6A], [6B], [6C], the former
two with secondary introduction of *-ont for *-ent, *-ant). See
also 3sg.
• ἔθανε ‘died’ (LIV 144–5, s.v. *d henh2-);
• ἔκαμε ‘toiled’ (LIV 323–4, s.v. *k̑ emh2-, with Ved. aor. aśamīt ‘has
become quiet’ < *(h1e-)k̑ emh̥ 2-t);
• ἔκιε ‘went (away)’ (LIV 346, s.v. *kei̯h2-; cf. Table 6.2, s.v. *k(u̯ )i̯eu̯ -);
• ἔταμε ‘cut’ (LIV 625, s.v. *temh1-; cf. (ii) above).
Formally related, but showing a different treatment (early loss) of
the root-final laryngeal (cf. 6.27), is
• ἔπλε ‘was’, med. ἔπλετο ‘became, turned out’ (LIV 386–8, s.v.
*ku̯ elh1-, with the exact parallel Arm. ełew ‘became, was’ < *(h1e-)
ku̯ l[h1]-e-to and a stem parallel also in Alb. cleh ‘became’60).
(v) Synchronically e-graded s-aorists like inf. τελάσσαι ‘dare, endure’
and 3sg. ἐπέλασ(σ)ε ‘(intr.) drew near, approached, (tr.) brought
near’ (cf. Table 6.2, s.vv. *telh2-, *pelh2-): sigmatisation based on
active singular forms to roots in *-h1- (?) and, more certainly, *-h2- (=
positions [1–3A], [1–3B]). See also 3sg.61
• ?ἐγέλασ(σ)ε ‘laughed’ (LIV 162, s.v. *g̑ elh2-): Lesb. 3pl. aor. γέλαν
(for ἐγέλασαν: Etym. Magn. 225.8) points to an original root
aorist (with γέλαν for *(ἔ)γαλαν after 3sg. *(ἔ)γελα) rather than a
denominal verb with s-aorist;62
• ἤλασε ‘drove’ (LIV 235, s.v. ?*h1elh2-);
• ἐκέρασ(σ)ε ‘mixed’ (LIV 328, s.v. *k̑ erh2-);
• ἐκρέμασ(σ)ε ‘hung (up)’ (LIV 337–8, s.v. *k̑ remh2-): if the root
meaning ‘be(come) slack > (intr.) hang’ vel sim. had been exclu-
sive (cf. Ved. mā́ śramisma ‘let us not become tired’, with an is-
˙
aorist based on a root aorist; contrast Ved. root-aor. subj. śramat ˙
‘shall make tired’), the s-aorist would have to be factitive and
could not then be directly transformed from an active root aorist;
but this assumption may be unnecessary, especially in view of the
indeterminate transitivity in Vedic;63
60
See Klingenschmitt (1982: 280–1; 1994a: 230).
61
Possibly to be included as well is epic 3sg. λίασσε(ν) ‘shrank, dropped [of feathers]’ to *lei̯h2- (LIV
406, s.v.), v.l. for 3pl. med.-pass. λίασθεν at Il. 23.879; this may stand for older *λέασσε(ν) (←<
*lei̯h̥ 2-s(e)t), transformed in analogy with other forms showing λι-, esp. pres. λιάζομαι (for *λιάομαι <
*l(i)i̯ā-i̯e/o- < *lih2-i̯e/o-?). Also at best indirectly attested is the root-aorist-based s-aorist of *senh2-
‘reach, attain’ (LIV 532–3, s.v.; cf. Ved. thematic aor. ásanat ‘has attained’ and for the root-final
laryngeal Hitt. šanhzi ‘seeks’ < *senh2-ti): Strunk (1967: 115–20) and Harđarson (1993a: 216–17) see
this behind Hellenistic ˘ Dor. ἤνεσα ‘accomplished’ (for *ἤνασα < (*h1e-)senh̥ 2-s-?) and the Homeric
epithet of mules ἐντεσιεργός (for *ἐν(ν)εσιεργός ← *ἐνασιεργός *‘work-accomplishing’?).
62
Cf. Barton (1990/1: 36 n. 30) against Chantraine (2009: 205–6, s.v. γελάω).
63
Thus, like *h2er- (3.6, fn. 9), *k̑ remh2- may have been underspecified with regard to transitivity.
Gr. κρέμαται ‘hangs’ can continue *k̑ remh2-o(i̯) ‘is slack/hanging’ → *k̑ remh̥ 2-to(i̯) > κρέμαται,
whence analogical 1sg. κρέμαμαι etc. (cf. 4.44, fn. 159; contrast Harđarson 1993a: 59 and Kümmel
1998: 194–5, who see here an acrostatic present), whereas the root formation (3sg.) *k̑ remh̥ 2-t would
have been initially usable in both transitive (‘hang up sth.’) and intransitive (‘hang’) contexts.
• ἐπέρασ(σ)ε ‘sold’ (LIV 474, s.v. *perh2-);
• ?ἐστέρεσε ‘deprived’ (LIV 599, s.v. *sterh1-): as with ἐκρέμασ(σ)ε,
the classification of this form as an old (factitive) s-aorist or a
sigmatised root aorist largely depends on whether an active root
aorist (next to pres. στέρεται ‘is deprived of, is lacking’ < *sterh1-
e-to(i̯ ) ← *sterh1-o(i̯)64) could originally be used both intransi-
tively and transitively, or only intransitively (preceding intr.
*ἐστάρην → (*)ἐστέρην/ἐστερήθην?); but in this case no inde-
pendent evidence points to a root aorist, and a factitive s-aorist
(*‘make deprived’) therefore seems more likely;65
• ?(*)ἐτέρεσσε ‘pierced’ (Hsch. τ 516 τέρεσσεν· ἔτρωσεν,
ἐτόρνωσεν; LIV 632–3, s.v. *terh1-): the poor attestation of this
form, also vis-à-vis the post-Homeric s-aorist τρησα- (~ Hom.
τετρηνα- to pres. τετραίνω: cf. 4.16, fn. 71), suggests that it was
created by artificial analogy (e.g., τερεσσα- : perf. med.-pass.
τέτρηται = δαμασσα- : perf. med.-pass. δέδμηται).66
(vi) Synchronically o-graded s-aorists like 3sg. ἐστόρεσε ‘spread’ (LIV 599–
600, s.v. *sterh3-, with Ved. 2sg. astarīs ‘you have spread’ < *(h1e-)sterh̥ 3-s,
YAv. ptcpl. med. starāna- ‘spreading’ ˙ < *str̥ (h )-mh no-): sigmatisation
3 ̥ 1
based on active singular forms of roots in *-h3- (= positions [1–3 C]). See
also 3sg.
• ἐκόρεσ(σ)ε ‘satiated’ (LIV 329, s.v. *k̑ erh3-);
• ?ἐλόεσ(σ)ε (> ἔλουσε) ‘washed’ (LIV 418, s.v. *leu̯ h3-, where the
form is classified as an inherited s-aorist); cf. also Table 5.4 on
pres. λοέω.
Given the different root-final laryngeal, the following item stands
apart:
• ?ὤλεσε ‘destroyed’ (LIV 298, s.v. *h3elh1-, where the factitive
meaning *‘make perish’ is thought to be borrowed from the
64
Pres. στερέω/-ομαι is an analogical i̯-present matching the s-aorist (according to the pattern
described in 8.4): similarly e.g. pres. ἐμέω ‘vomit’ : aor. ἐμεσα- to *u̯ emh1-. Eventually, στερέω in
its turn gives rise to the new s-aorist stem στερησα-.
65
Cf. Harđarson (1993a: 214).
66
See Harđarson (1993a: 214); but τρησα- is hardly based on a root aorist *ἔτρη. A root aorist (3sg.) *(h1e-)
terh̥ 1-t should have yielded thematic *ἔτερε (6.21), which did not survive in the absence of a correspond-
ing nasal present or present in *-sk̑ e/o- (these being the present types typically associated with other aorists
to *CeRH- roots). On the creation of τρησα- and similar formations, see 6.17, fn. 68.
nasal present): this is probably not a sigmatised active root aorist,
but an old s-aorist with factitive value.67
(vii) Synchronically zero-graded s-aorists like 3sg. ἐτάλασσε ‘endured’
(cf. Table 6.2, s.v. *telh2-): sigmatisation based on one half of the
active plural forms of roots in *-h2- (= positions [4bB], [5bB], [6B]).
See also 3sg.
• ἐδάμασ(σ)ε ‘overpowered, subdued’ (LIV 116–17, s.v. 2. *demh2-).
6.17 Analysis of Group (i)

Harđarson does not explore why any given aorist falls into this or that
group. Although complex, this issue certainly deserves a closer look.
Since groups (i) and (vii) are least problematic we shall deal with them
first.
The motivation behind the creation of (i) has been touched upon in
Table 6.2. We have seen there that with both *gu̯ elh1- and *telh2- the
existence of perfects with -βλη- and -τλᾱ- respectively may have played a
role.68 Moreover, it is clear that most of the long-vocalic aorists in group (i)
show (a) a restricted attestation pattern (except for ἔτλη and perhaps
ἀπέσκλη) and/or (b) an affinity with syntactic or at least semantic intran-
sitivity (except for ἔβλης; with the ingestive verb ἔβρω as well as ἐξέτρω the
subject is an experiencer, not an agent). Point (a) suggests that ἔβλω and
ἔβρω are artificial forms (again after the already Homeric perfects
μέμβλωκα and βέβρωκα); and for the rare medical term ἐκτιτρώσκω
‘miscarry’ with aor. ἐξέτρω (instead of *ἐξέτορε: cf. group (iii)), formal
influence from the pair pres. γιγνώσκω ‘recognise’ : aor. ἔγνω (Table 6.1)
may be invoked.
Point (b), meanwhile, reinforces the idea that the wish to differenti-
ate transitive and intransitive uses could exceptionally cause the analo-
gical generalisation of the plural as well as the singular stem variant of a
root aorist (cf. Table 6.2, s.v. *telh2-). Along these lines, the difficult
case of ἀπέσκλη can be explained. As Beekes and Harđarson have
67
Pace Harđarson (1993a: 223); cf. 8.10, fn. 35.
68
Note that perfect-based analogies similarly account for some later s-aorist stems. Given Hom.
κερασ(σ)α- ‘mix’, στορεσα- ‘spread out’, and τετρηνα- ‘pierce’, the synonymous later s-aorists
κρησα-, στρωσα-, and τρησα- (only the first of which also occurs once in Homer: Od. 7.164; cf. Gil
1964: 170) must be influenced by mediopassive perfects (κέκρημαι/κέκρᾱμαι, ἔστρωμαι, τέτρημαι)
or verbal adjectives (στρωτός ‘spread out’ (Hes.), τρητός ‘perforated’ (Hom.)) and inspired by
synchronically comparable patterns among the verba vocalia (e.g., τιμησα- ‘honour’: perf. med.-
pass. τετίμημαι, verbal adj. τιμητός ‘honoured, honourable’).
observed, the nasal pres. σκέλλω/-ομαι (with -λλ- < *-ln-) must owe its
full grade to an aorist with 3sg. *ἔσκελε (cf. Att. τέμνω after aor. ἔτεμε
‘cut’: 6.20);69 the zero-graded predecessor *σκάλλω/-ομαι is still indir-
ectly reflected by the s-aorist σκηλα- (< *skal-s(a)-) built to it. Now, if
the root *skelh1- had the prototypically intransitive meaning ‘dry out’
and thus featured an e-graded thematic root present *skelh1-e-to(i̯) ←
*skelh1-o(i̯) ‘is drying out’ (cf. 4.44) as well as a factitive nasal present
*skl̥ -neh1-ti (>→ *σκάλλει) ‘(tr.) dries out, makes dry’, then an actively
inflected root aorist (3sg. *(h1e-)skelh̥ 1-t, etc.) with the original meaning
‘(intr.) dried out’ might have become relatable, because of its active
inflection, also to the nasal present (where it effected the change
*σκάλλω → σκέλλω).70 The competition between the (old) intransitive
and the (new) transitive meaning was subsequently resolved by extend-
ing the plural stem variant *skl̥ h1- > σκλη- to the intransitive singular.
By contrast, the transitive root aorist did not survive (as such or in a
thematised version) because *σκάλλω already had an s-aorist (3sg.
ἔσκηλε), which did not give in to its rival (3sg. *ἔσκελε).
6.18 Analysis of Group (vii)

Group (vii) is best seen as a sub-group of (v). As pointed out in Table 6.2,
the stem ταλασ(σ)α- is not to be separated from τελασ(σ)α-; and since
forms with regular ταλα- are fairly common within the lexical system of
*telh2-, whereas forms with τελα- are marginal, τελασ(σ)α- stands a good
chance of being an archaism. Similarly, the vocalism of δαμασ(σ)α- will be
remade from *δεμασ(σ)α- because the latter had no support in other parts
of the paradigm of *demh2-, whereas δαμ(α)- was usual (pres. δάμνημι,
δαμά(ζ)ω, intr. aor. ἐδάμην, etc.). The situation with the items in group (v)
is different in this respect. There are no forms featuring *ἀλα- (*h1elh2-),
*καρα- (*k̑ erh2-), *κραμα- (*k̑ remh2-), *παλα- (*pelh2-), or *παρα- (*perh2-),
which could have affected the vocalism of ἐλασα-, κερασ(σ)α-, κρεμασ(σ)α-,
πελασ(σ)α-, and πελασ(σ)α-.
69
Beekes (1969: 237), Harđarson (1993a: 214).
70
Similar situations are observed with (i) the Homeric thematic aor. ἔτραφε ‘grew up’ (~ pres.
τρέφεται < *d hrebh-e-to(i̯)), which (starting in Il. 23.90) also acts as an aorist to the transitive
pres. τρέφω ‘rear, nurture’ (~ s-aor. ἔθρεψε), (ii) the Hom. thematic aor. ἔτραπε ‘turned’, which
can be transitive (~ s-aor. ἔτρεψε, pres. τρέπω) or intransitive (Il. 16.657 (?), Od. 10.469; ~ pres.
τρέπεται < *trep-e-to(i̯)), and (iii) the Homeric thematic aorists ἤρικε ‘burst, was shattered’ and
ἤριπε ‘fell down’ (Il. 17.295 and e.g. Il. 5.47; ~ pres. ἐρείκεται < *h1rei̯k̑ -e-to(i̯), ἐρείπεται < *h1rei̯p-
e-to(i̯)), which are used transitively in post-Homeric Greek (~ s-aor. ἤρειξε, ἤρειψε): see
further 8.8.
6.19 Inconsistencies with Roots in *-h2- and *-h3-
Once groups (i) and (vii) are dismissed as special cases, the standard
development of root aorists to *CeRH- roots must be sought in groups
(ii)–(vi).
A first important observation is that sigmatic outcomes are usual with
roots in *-h2- and *-h3-, but very marginal (if not inexistent) with roots in
*-h1-. This allows a conclusion about relative chronology. The sigmatisa-
tion of root aorists to roots in *-h2/3- (= groups (v) and (vi)) must have
happened after the thematisation of root aorists to roots in *-h1- (= group
(ii)) had bled the potential candidate list for sigmatisation. Before this
had happened, the paradigm of root aorists with *-h1- was so parallel to
those with *-h2/3- that a similar number of sigmatisations should be
expected.71 And there is a corollary to this. Once the forms with *-h3-
had undergone their *-eRo- > -oRe- metathesis (6.15), they would have
been as readily thematisable as those with *-h1-. So the fact that they
nevertheless form a substantial subgroup of the sigmatised items (group
(vi)) implies that the metathesis occurred after the root aorists with *-h1-
had been thematised.72 The sigmatisation thus merely applied to those
aorists that had synchronically awkward shapes, transforming them into
‘normal’ non-thematic aorists (i.e., 3sg. *(e-)CeRa-t, *(e-)CeRo-t → *(e-)
CeRa-s-(e)[t], *(e-)CeRo-s-(e)[t]). But this raises a crucial question.
Leaving aside the forms with *-h1-, why were those with *-h2/3- sigmatised
at all, if the strategy envisaged by Cardona and Harđarson for the creation
of thematic aorists was available? Why was the sigmatic ancestor of, say,
ἐκέρασ(σ)ε and ἐστόρεσε built if the synchronically awkward *(e-)kera-t
and *(e-)stero-t could have been discontinued by modelling a paradigm
around the 3pl. forms [*(e-)kar-ant →] *(e-)kar-ont and *(e-)star-ont
(yielding historical 3sg. †ἔκαρε and †ἔσταρε)? Or to look at the matter
from the other side: why was there anything left to be sigmatised if the
Cardona strategy had already produced its thematic results?
71
Lindeman’s (1971a) idea that forms like ἔτεμε are old s-aorists must be rejected: as such they would
have been treated exactly like other s-aorists (producing †ἐτέμεσ(σ)ε etc.).
72
By contrast, analogy with e.g. (3sg.) *(h1e-)gu̯ elh̥ 1-t, *(h1e-)selh̥ 1-t > *(e-)gu̯ el-e-t, *(e-)sel-e-t (as if to
anit roots *gu̯ el-, *sel-) will have prompted the irregular thematisation of the truly anit root aor.
*(h˙1e-)h3bhel-t ‘ought’ into ὤφελε (next to thematic ὦφλε ‘owed’ < *h1e-h3bhl-e-t; cf. LSJ ˙ 1277 and
1279, s.vv. ὀφείλω and ὀφλισκάνω). This must have happened before the remaining root aorists were
sigmatised (6.13–6.14). Not directly comparable with this are Hom. 3pl. ἀγέροντο ‘they assembled
(intr.)’ (Il. 18.245) and inf. ἀγέρεσθαι (Od. 2.385), whose e-grade is incompatible with a middle root
aorist. These may be artificial substitutes for thematic *ἄγροντο, *ἀγρέσθαι (< *h̥ 2gr-e/o-; cf. Hom.
ptcpl. ἀγρόμενος), the former of which enhanced the rhythmical parallelism with ἀγορήν in the
figura etymologica ἐς δ᾿ ἀγορὴν ἀγερόντο ‘they assembled into the assembly’. Neither ἀγερε/ο- nor
ὀφελε/ο- are plausible present stems (pace Monteil 1978: 141 n. 4).
One might try to address these questions by dating the Cardona devel-
opment after the sigmatisation. Since the formant of the s-aorist was
endowed with high transitivity (8.7–8.11), such a sigmatisation might
have been applied only to transitive root aorists. Everything that was left
behind would then have undergone the Cardona thematisation. In that
case, intr. act. πελασ(σ)α- and γελασ(σ)α- would represent isolated irre-
gularities. But such an assumption is inadvisable not just because of these
two verbs. Firstly, to build s-aorists was the productive way of forming new
aorists already in prehistoric Greek, as indicated by the aorists to newly
created denominal verbs. By the (pre-Homeric) time when active aorists
such as βροντησα- (~ pres. βροντάω ‘thunder’), θαρσησα- (~ θαρσέω ‘am
confident’), or νεμεσ(σ)ησα- (~ νεμεσ(σ)άω ‘feel resentment’) were built in
substantial numbers, any earlier incompatibility of the s-formant with
intransitive verbs can no longer have been strong. So in lieu of the actual
θανε/ο- ‘die’ to *d henh2-, an intransitive active *thenas(s)(a)- should have
been possible (→ hypothetical †ἐθένασ(σ)ε/†ἐθάνασ(σ)ε ‘died’). Secondly,
even if such an incompatibility had still existed when the sigmatisation of
root aorists in *-h2/3- took place, the problem could have been avoided by
using the middle voice to neutralise the high-transitive value of the s-
formant (cf. 8.16). Thirdly, historical πορε/ο- ‘furnish, give’ (*perh3-)
should not exist either since its transitive nature would not have prevented
a transformation into πορεσ(σ)α- in parallel with στορεσα- or κορεσ(σ)α-;
and similarly, it is not obvious why the creation of †κεμασ(σ)α-/
†καμασ(σ)α- should have been blocked at least for the transitive uses of
the aorist of κάμνω ‘work, toil’ (*k̑ emh2-).
6.20 Inconsistencies with Roots in *-h1-

Nor do the difficulties stop there, for we cannot leave out of the equation
the roots in *-h1-. If the Cardona development postdated the sigmatisa-
tion, we would not be able to blame on it the existence of βαλε/ο- ‘throw,
hit’ (*gu̯ elh1-) or ταμε/ο- ‘cut’ (*temh1-): for we have just seen that the
thematisation of root aorists to roots in *-h1- must precede the sigmatisa-
tion (6.19). So in order to account for βαλε/ο- and ταμε/ο-, we would
have to revert to the idea that the Cardona-style creation of thematic
aorists ran in parallel with the creation of the e-graded thematic aorists of
group (ii), with different roots taking different paths haphazardly.73 But
73
Alternatively, one might hold pres. βάλλω, τάμνω responsible for the vocalism of βαλε/ο-, ταμε/ο-;
but see below, and note that, even if this were done, these stems would disappear from the list of
thematic aorists built to a 3pl.
that would of course reraise the question why there was still so much
sigmatisation in the case of roots with *-h2- and *-h3-. Furthermore, it
would add to our chronological trouble. On the basis of Arc. ἔζελε vs.
‘general’ Gr. ἔβαλε, we might postulate that different dialects adopted
different thematisation strategies. By implication, these strategies should
have operated only at a stage when Greek was dialectally fragmented.
However, given such a premise, it would be striking that there is effec-
tively so little dialectal disagreement with regard to the aorist formations
under discussion.
Also, the one other case where there is dialectal disagreement, Att. τεμε/ο-
vs. Ion./Dor. ταμε/ο-, would be even more puzzling. Since no one will
argue that the creation of thematic aorists was later than the late split
between Attic and Ionic, either Att. τεμε/ο- or Ion. ταμε/ο- should repre-
sent an innovation vis-à-vis the common Attic-Ionic state of affairs. Now,
there is nothing to suggest that Att. τεμε/ο- is innovated. Its combination of
an e-grade root with thematic endings does not conform to a common aorist
pattern. On the contrary, the corresponding present Att. τέμνω must owe its
root vowel to analogical influence from the aorist (since we expect a zero
grade in such a nasal present: cf. Ion./Dor. τάμνω).74 Consequently, Ion.
ταμε/ο- should be innovated from Att.-Ion. *τεμε/ο-. Since Doric influence
on Ionic is unlikely, a dialectal borrowing is difficult to maintain. But neither
is it easy to postulate that Ion. ταμε/ο- owes its vowel grade to the present
τάμνω, for in comparable cases the direction of analogy is the inverse: apart
from Att. τέμνω, as just mentioned, compare also e.g. (Arc.) ζέλλω ‘throw’
(for βάλλω < *gu̯ l̥ -n-, after aor. ζελε/ο-; cf. Hsch. ζ 106 ζέλλειν· βάλλειν),
στόρνυμι ‘spread out’ (for expected *στάρνυμι < *str̥ -neh3-mi, after aor.
στορεσα-), κρεμάννυμι ‘hang up’ (for older κρίμνημι ←< *k̑ rm̥ -neh2-mi,
after aor. κρεμασ(σ)α-), πέρνημι ‘sell’ (for *πάρνημι < *pr̥ -neh2-mi, after aor.
περασ(σ)α-), etc. In fact, there seems to be a more general principle by
which, in the early phases of Greek, “against the characteristic pattern of
English and many other languages, the aorist rather than the present stem
regularly serves as the pivot in cases of extension and leveling”.75 Hence, one
would like to impute an oscillation between τεμε/ο- and ταμε/ο- already to
common Attic-Ionic; but why should a single dialect show contradictory
74
On τάμνω vs. τέμνω in the Greek dialects, see Forssman (1967). A full-graded nasal present is
however postulated by Strunk (1979a: 98–100).
75
Garrett (2008: 138), with further examples. Ion./Dor. *τεμε/ο- → ταμε/ο- after τάμνω is explicitly
assumed by Strunk (1970a: 121) (but not Strunk 1979a: 97–8), *δελε/ο- → βαλε/ο- after βάλλω
already by Specht (1932: 98, 100). By contrast, Cardona (1960b) even argued that both τέμνω and
τάμνω are influenced by the aorist.
directions of analogical levelling (according to groups (ii) and (iv)) in one
and the same lexeme?
6.21 A New Scenario

At this point, we may again ask if it is worth accepting all these complications
merely to defend the derivation of the zero-graded thematic aorists from root
aorists (cf. 6.9). If we abandon this dogma, the problems disappear. More
specifically, we may then postulate the following evolution:
1. Proto-Greek inherited from Proto-Indo-European both root aorists and
thematic aorists (the latter being a class to which new items could be
added wherever phonologically suitable root structures were involved).
There must have been an original functional difference, but this was
eventually lost, bringing about a situation of true competition which
continued into the period when dialectal differences were established.
2. Although especially root aorists to *CeH- roots to some extent survived
(Table 6.1), the available data reveal a widespread tendency to sigma-
tise root aorists. By contrast, there is little philological backing for a
Cardona-style thematisation of root aorists based on the 3pl.
(Table 6.2). In fact, an item like the cross-linguistically attested s-
aorist Gr. δειξα- ‘show’ ~ Lat. dīxī ‘said’ ~ OAv. 2sg. inj. dāiš ‘show!’
next to the root aorist reflected by Ved. 3sg. med. ádist a ‘showed’ (LIV
108–9, s.v. 1. *dei̯k̑ -) may suggest that the replacement˙˙of root aorists by
s-aorists already began in PIE times (cf. 8.176).
3. The same tendency to sigmatise also affected the root aorists to
*CeRH- roots (groups (v) and (vi) in 6.16), except for those (to roots
in *-h1-) that had already become thematic due to analogical changes
pivoting around the 3sg., not the 3pl. (group (ii)). Importantly, the
sigmatisation did operate on roots in *-h3-, which implies that the
metathesis *-eRo(s)- > *-oRe(s)- occurred later (6.19).
4. Meanwhile, the aorists of groups (iii) and (iv) descend from original
zero-graded thematic aorists. The prior existence of such a thematic
aorist class will also have eased the thematisation of group (ii). As for
group (iii), the implication must be that its radical o-vocalism is
76
Such a PIE starting point of the root aorist → s-aorist replacement would make Cardona’s parallel
thematisation in the individual languages even more unlikely (6.7): one replacement process would
then have to be temporarily suspended to make room for another. Despite the semantic divergence
(the common denominator being the act of ‘pointing in a direction’: cf. Brugmann 1921b: 146–7,
Chantraine 2009: 271, s.v. δικεῖν), a thematic aorist of *dei̯k̑ - survives as well, in Gr. (3sg.) ἔδικε
‘threw’ (cf. LIV 109, s.v. 2. *dei̯k̑ -, where the separation from *dei̯k̑ - ‘show’ by Tichy 1979 is rightly
questioned).
secondary, replacing a previous a-vocalism (e.g., ἔπορε for *ἔπαρε
←<77 *(h1e-)pr̥ h3-e-t). Given counterexamples (e.g., reduplicated
πεπαρε/ο- < *pe-pr̥ h3-e/o-; cf. Table 3.1, 6.16), one may not want
to ascribe this to a kind of laryngeal colouring. More likely, it is due
to interparadigmatic analogy:78 models such as aor. ἔθανε : pres.
*θνᾱ ́ (ι)σκει, perf. τέθνᾱκε, verbal adj. θνᾱτός or aor. ἔκαμε : perf.
*κέκμᾱκε, verbal adj. κμᾱτός also suggested aor. (*ἔπαρε →) ἔπορε :
perf. med.-pass. πέπρωται, aor. (*ἔμαλε →) ἔμολε : pres. *μλώσκω (>
βλώσκω), perf. μέμ(β)λωκα, and aor. (*ἔθαρε →) ἔθορε : pres.
θρώ(ι)σκω.79
5. The fact that there is a certain, though not strong, tendency for the
aorists in groups (iii) and (iv) to be intransitive may still be related to
an inherited preference for s-aorists to be transitive. This meant that
the competition between the thematic aorists and the root aorists (>
sigmatic aorists) tended to be resolved in favour of the former when
prototypically intransitive items were at stake, but in favour of the
latter when this was not the case.
6.22 Preferential Selections

Despite the last point, it is true that we are still unable to state exactly and
in each case what conditioned the survival of either (a) the zero-graded
thematic aorist or (b) the radical > sigmatic/full-graded thematic aorist.
77
In theory, *(h1e-)pr̥ h3-e-t should of course have produced *(e-)par-o-t, but in a thematic paradigm
the colouring effect of the laryngeal would have been neutralised.
78
Cf. Kuryłowicz (1956: 206–8), Cowgill (1965: 147–8), and Beekes (1988: 74–5), to be held against
Kuiper (1947: 199), Beekes (1969: 216–17, 221–7), Strunk (1970a: 110–15), Monteil (1978), or Ruijgh
(1988: 452, 457; 1997: 270–4), who assume laryngeal colouring; for discussion, see also Ruipérez
(1950: 399–405) (but analogical influence from the future seems far-fetched), Peters (1980a: 27–31 n.
19). The existence of ἔβαλε and ἔταμε speaks against explaining ἔτεμε and Arc. ἔζελε similarly (pace
Monteil 1978: 148–51). The reason why ἔταμε and ἔβαλε were not so affected may be that their *-aR-
vocalism was paralleled in the corresponding presents (τάμνω, βάλλω), whereas there were no
presents with *-aR- next to *ἔπαρε/ἔπορε, *ἔμαλε/ἔμολε, or *ἔθαρε/ἔθορε (but presents with *-Rō- at
least next to the latter two).
79
Support for this explanation comes from Hom. aor. ἔτορε, which means ‘pierced’, not
‘wounded’ (Il. 11.236; cf. 3.6, fn. 9, Peters 1980b: 349). This is odd when *terh3- means
‘wound’ (pres. τιτρώσκω), but *terh1- ‘pierce’ (cf. τέρετρον ‘drill’). However, the problem is
solved if a thematic aorist to both *terh1- and *terh3- produced (3sg.) *ἔταρε (< *(h1e-)tr̥ h1/3-
e-t, again with neutralised laryngeal colouring: cf. above, fn. 77). Since the only extant
present to *terh1- which preserves the meaning ‘pierce’, viz. τετραίνω (≠ τείρω ‘distress’),
was formally remote (and thus acquired a new s-aor. τετρηνα-: cf. 6.16 on (*)ἐτέρεσσε in
group (v)), *ἔταρε to *terh1- (~ OCS -tьre ‘rubbed’: 6.4, fn. 12) will have been misrelated to
the semantically similar, though not identical, root *terh3-. It thus obtained the o-vocalism
when all the thematic aorists to roots in *-h3- switched from *-aR- to *-oR-.
Overall, the following Homeric data80 suggest a tendency for *CeRH- roots
to prefer (a), just like *CeRT-/*CeI̯ T-81 and *CeHT- roots:82
*CeRH-:
See 6.16, groups (iii) and (iv).
*CeRT- (and *CreN-):
Med. ἀλθε/ο- ‘heal’ (LIV 262–3, s.v. *h2eldh-), ἀλφε/ο- ‘yield’ (LIV 263–4, s.v.
*h2elgu̯ h-), ἁμαρτε/ο- ‘miss’ (~ Aeol. ἀμβροτε/ο-; LIV 281, s.v. ?*h2mert-),
βραχε/ο- ‘rattle, clash’ (*gu̯ ergh- vel sim. or onomatopoetic?), δακε/ο- ‘bite’ (LIV
117–18, s.v. *denk̑ -), δραθε/ο- ‘sleep’ (LIV 121, s.v. ?*derdh-), δρακε/ο- ‘stare, look’
(LIV 122, s.v. *derk̑ -), δραμε/ο- ‘run’ (LIV 128, s.v. 1. *drem-), λαχε/ο-
‘obtain’ (*lengh-?, cf. Table 3.1), μαθε/ο- ‘learn’ (secondary root *mendh- (?); cf.
Chantraine 2009: 640, s.v. μανθάνω), παθε/ο- ‘suffer’ (cf. LIV 75, 390, s.vv.
*bhendh- and *ku̯ endh-), πραθε/ο- ‘destroy’ (LIV 77–8, s.v. *bherdh-; cf.
Table 6.2), ταφε/ο- ‘be stunned’ (ptcpl. ταφών; LIV 143, s.v. ?1. *dhembh-),
τραπε/ο- ‘turn’ (LIV 650, s.v. 2. *trep-; cf. 6.17, fn. 70), τραφε/ο- ‘grow (up)’
(LIV 153–4, s.v. *dhrebh-; cf. 6.17,
̥ fn. 70), χαδε/ο- ‘hold, contain’ (cf. LIV 194, s.v.
*ghed-, ‘presumably < *ghn̥ d with secondary nasal after the present’).
*CeI̯ T- (and *CeI̯ s-):
ἀϊε/ο- ‘hear, perceive (?)’ (LIV 288, s.v. ?*h2u̯ ei̯s-; cf. Schulze 1888: 251–5), ἀλιτε/ο-
‘offend’ (*h2lei̯(t)-; cf. Chantraine 2009: 54, 1269, s.v. ἀλείτης), ἐρικε/ο- ‘burst, be
shattered’ (LIV 504, s.v. *(h1)rei̯k̑ -; cf. 6.17, fn. 70), ἐριπε/ο- ‘fall down’ (LIV
504–5, s.v. *(h1)rei̯p-; cf. 6.17, fn. 70), ἐλυθε/ο- ‘come’ (LIV 248–9, s.v. *h1leu̯ d h-;
cf. 6.4), ἐρυγε/ο- ‘roar, belch’ (LIV 509, s.v. *(h1)reu̯ g-), (ϝ)ιδε/ο- ‘see’ (LIV
665–7, s.v. *u̯ ei̯d-; cf. 6.4), med. ἱκε/ο- ‘reach’ (LIV 522, s.v. *sei̯k-; cf. Table 6.2),
κυθε/ο- ‘hide (tr.)’ (LIV 358–9, s.v. *keu̯ d h-), λιπε/ο- ‘leave’ (LIV 406–8, s.v.
*lei̯ku̯ -), med. λιτε/ο- ‘pray, beg’ (LIV 410–11, s.v. 2. *lei̯t-), ὀλισθε/ο- ‘slip’ (LIV
307, s.v. *h3slei̯d h-, referring to Rasmussen 1992: 349 n. 21), med. πιθε/ο- ‘trust,
obey’ (LIV 71–2, s.v. *bhei̯d h-), med. πυθε/ο- ‘learn’ (LIV 82–3, s.v. *bheu̯ d h-),
80
Extracted from Risch (1974: 238–41); regarding *-r̥ - > /ar/ vs. /ro/ in ἁμαρτε/ο- ~ ἀμβροτε/ο- (*amr̥ te/o-),
cf. also Cypr. ka-te-wo-ro-ko-ne = /katéworgon/ ‘shut in’ with /or/ < *-r̥ - (LIV 686, s.v. 1. *u̯ erg̑ -).
81
Apparent exceptions with a resilient non-thematic aorist mostly involve relics (cf. Table 6.2, s.v. *sei̯k-) or
inherited s-aorists (Table 6.2, s.v. *bherd h-; cf. 6.21 on *dei̯k̑ -); but note Table 6.2, s.v. *mei̯k̑ -, and also
*i̯eu̯ g- ‘yoke’ with ζευξα-, not †ζυγε/ο-: was 3sg. *h1e-i̯ug-et > *e-hug-e > †/heu̯ ge/ replaced by the more
transparent *i̯eu̯ g(-s(a))- > /dzeu̯ k(sa)-/ because, in line with 6.29, there was no firmly established variant
of the thematic stem without augment (and hence with initial *i̯- > /dz-/ as elsewhere)?
82
Less clear is the tendency of *CeT- roots. A few relevant root-aorist forms may survive (cf. Table 6.2,
esp. s.vv. *d heg u̯ h-, *pet-) and more may lurk behind historical s-aorists (8.3), but good evidence for
zero-graded thematic aorists also exists: see Hom. (ἐνι)σπε/ο- ‘tell’ (LIV 526–7, s.v. 2. *seku̯ -; cf. Lat.
in-quit ‘said’?), (ἐπι)σπε/ο- ‘face, encounter’ (LIV 534, s.v. *sep-), σχε/ο- ‘hold’ (LIV 515–16, s.v.
*seg̑ h-; cf. 6.9), perhaps medial πτε/ο- ‘fly’ (?) (LIV 479, s.v. *peth1-; cf. Table 6.2, s.v. *pet-), and –
ambiguously – med. ἑζε/o- ‘sit down’ (LIV 513–15, s.v. *sed-; cf. Table 3.1, Table 4.1), med. (ἑ)σπε/ο-
‘follow’ (LIV 525–6, s.v. 1. *seku̯ -; cf. Table 3.1). Note that these include at least one high-frequency
item (σχε/ο-), and a second one is likely if Homeric (Attic-Ionic) ἐλθε/ο- ‘come’ is not irregularly
syncopated from ἐλυθε/ο- (Szemerényi 1964: 3–29, Rix 1970: 101, 104 n. 25; 1992: 18), but dissimilated
from ἐνθε/ο- (as still in Doric) to *h1ned h- (cf. LIV 249, s.v.).
στιχε/ο- ‘march’ (LIV 593–4, s.v. *stei̯gh-), στυγε/ο- ‘hate, detest’ (LIV 602, s.v.
*(s)teu̯ g-; cf. Table 5.5), τυχε/ο- ‘happen, chance upon’ (LIV
148–9, s.v. *d heu̯ gh-), φυγε/ο- ‘flee’ (LIV 84, s.v. 1. *bheu̯ g-); cf. also onomato-
poetic κρικε/ο- ‘creak’, κτυπε/ο- ‘crash, thunder’, μυκε/ο- ‘low, bellow’ (LSJ 995,
1003, and 1151, s.vv. κρίζω, κτυπέω, μυκάομαι), and the secondary aor. κιχε/ο-
(cf. Table 4.1, s.v. *g̑ heh1-).
*CeHT- (*Ceh2T-):
(ϝ)αδε/ο- ‘please’ (LIV 606, s.v. *su̯ eh2d-), λαβε/ο- ‘take’ (LIV 566, s.v. *sleh2gu̯ -),
λαθε/ο- ‘hide away, escape notice’ (LIV 401–2, s.v. ?*leh2d h-), λακε/ο- ‘crack,
creak, crash’ (LIV 402, s.v. ?*leh2k-); cf. also conjectural *ϝαχε/ο- ‘resound’
(Table 4.1, s.v. *(s)u̯ eh2gh-), φαγε/ο- ‘eat’ (LIV 65, s.v. *bhag-) and χανε/ο-
‘yawn’ (LIV 193, s.v. *ghan-) with root-internal *-a-, and onomatopoetic (ἀνα-)
κραγε/ο- ‘shout’, μακε/ο- ‘shriek’ (cf. Tichy 1983: 38, 40).
The preference of the *CeRT-/*CeI̯ T- roots is understandable. An active 3sg.
such as *(h1e-)lei̯ku̯ t ‘left’ with its final consonant cluster was less sustainable in
the (Proto-)Greek phonemic system than, say, a 3sg. like *(h1e-)temh̥ 1t or
*(h1e-)k̑ erh̥ 2t. But the stem invariance and inflectional regularity of the zero-
graded thematic type were also attractive for the *CeRH- roots. Here too the
root-aorist descendants therefore stood a good chance of survival only if they
either offered similar advantages, thanks to the early thematisation undergone
by roots in *-h1- (6.21), or if a sigmatic outcome was able to underscore the
prototypical transitivity of a given form. Still, the zero-graded thematic aorists
were sometimes preferred even in those circumstances: otherwise we should
not find transitive ἔπορε (not †ἐπόρεσ(σ)ε) and ἔταμε (next to ἔτεμε).
However, as Fig. 6.2 illustrates, such remaining unpredictabilities
constitute a less serious glitch in our reconstruction of prehistoric devel-
opments than the assumption that a once unitary inflectional pattern
randomly disintegrated into several different paradigms.
6.23–6.27 The Thematic Aorist in the PIE Verbal System

6.23 A Functional Query
As noted earlier (6.10), despite the theoretical and philological problems
Cardona’s theory raises, it would be wrong to replace it if a thematic aorist
which is genetically independent from the root aorist could not be situated
within the PIE aorist system as a whole. In functional terms, the most
straightforward way to do this is shown in the new scenario of Fig. 6.2,
with its merger of root aorists (→ s-aorists/full-graded thematic aorists) and
zero-graded thematic aorists. Both source types end up with a single aoristic
(aspectually perfective) function (F3) in Greek, Indo-Iranian, or other rele-
vant branches of Indo-European. In other words, F3 can be identified as core
Scenario I (Cardona → Hardarson):
- Scenario II (new):
Thematic aorists as offshoots of root aorists Thematic aorists as an independent category
Function F1: Function F1: ≠ Function F2:

RA TAØ RA
Random (formal) split

Functional merger
No functional change
F1~ F2 > F3
*CeRh1/2− *CeRh1/3− *CeRh2/3− *CeRH− *CeRh1− *CeRh2/3−
F 1: F 1: F1: F3: = F 3: F3:

TAØ TAe SA TAØ TAe or SA
Dialect-specific selection
(for individual lexemes)
Key: RA = root aorist; SA = s-aorist; TAØ = zero-graded thematic aorist; TAe = e-graded thematic aorist
Fig. 6.2. The development of aorists to *CeRH- roots: two scenarios
[perfective]. But following Kuryłowicz (2.17), we have also assumed that

the historical root aorists are aspectually shifted root imperfectives (to pro-
totypically telic roots) (3.36, 6.1). Function F2 must therefore be that of such
telic imperfectives. And that in turn means that it is most economical to
equate function F1 with F3: for in that case, the functional merger of F1 and
F2 is monocausal, due to the change in F2 alone, without much happening to
the zero-graded thematic aorists’ function F1 → F3.
However, it has also been argued (3.36) that the aspectually shifting root
imperfectives (> root aorists) are responsible for the marginalisation of the
reduplicated aorists as the oldest perfective-stem stratum. Before the F2 →
F3 change, one type associated with F1 should thus be the reduplicated
aorist. So where does that leave space for the thematic aorist?
6.24 Reduplication and *h1e-Prefixation

With this question in mind, let us reconsider the structure of the thematic
and the reduplicated aorists. The latter are formalised as *C1é-C1C-e/o-
(3.37), the former as *CC-e/o- (6.2), or *h1é-CC-e/o- when augmented. The
resemblance of *C1é-C1C-e/o- and *h1é-CC-e/o- is striking. Is it a mere
coincidence or is there more behind it?
According to the formula just repeated, PIE reduplicated aorists to
roots such as *h1em- ‘take’ and *h1ed- ‘eat’ would have featured the
stems *h1é-h1m-e/o- and *h1é-h1d-e/o-. Whether or not aorist structures
like these are indeed one source of the Latin perfects ēmī ‘took’ and
ēdī ‘ate’ (3.25), the two forms are in any case indistinguishable from
‘augmented’ thematic aorists to the same roots.
With roots such as *h2eg̑ - ‘lead’ and *h3er- ‘arise, move’, the situation is
slightly different (cf. 3.23 on Lat. ēgī ‘led’ ← *āgī). Here, laryngeal colour-
ing had to produce [*h2é-h2g̑ -e/o- >] *h2á-h2g̑ -e/o- and [*h3é-h3r-e/o- >] *h3ó-
h3r-e/o-. But whatever the exact phonetic nature of the laryngeals, these
forms are again very similar to notional ‘augmented’ thematic aorists: [*h1é-
h2g̑ -e/o- >] *h1á-h2g̑ -e/o-, [*h1é-h3r-e/o- >] *h1ó-h3r-e/o-.
Since laryngeal colouring demonstrates that there were coarticulatory effects
when laryngeals combined with adjacent vowels, it is possible that under such
circumstances the articulation point of *h1 (palatal?) was assimilated to the
following vowel, that is, in practice neutralised (e.g., *h1á-h2g̑ -e/o- */h̑ á-hg̑ -e/o-/
→ */Há-hg̑ -e/o-/).83 But even if that was not the case, as long as speakers were
aware that ‘normal’ reduplication patterns involved the vowel *-e- but that there
could be no *-e- next to *-h2/3-, it was easy to mistake the actual reduplication
syllables *h2a-h2- and *h3o-h3- for ‘underlying’ *h1e-h2/3- at a time when the
laryngeals were no longer strongly articulated: after all, *h1 was the only
laryngeal that ever occurred next to an e-vowel. For all roots with initial *H-,
*h1e- could thus be regarded as a default ‘reduplication’ syllable. And once that
was done, the spread of *h1e- as an all-purpose ‘reduplicator’ could ensue,
affecting also root-initial phonemes other than laryngeals. Of course, the
phenomenon was then no longer really reduplication. Hence, any vowel-initial
reduplicated aorist that was to be retained now called for re-reduplication (3.11).
6.25 Reduplicated Aorists to Thematic Aorists

If this84 is accepted, it has major consequences for our investigation. The
zero-graded thematic aorist can then be interpreted as the formal offshoot
83
Cases like Hitt. āššu- ‘good’ for *āsu- < *h1ós-u (Kimball 1999: 389) do not disprove this because a
change from, say, *[h̑ ósu] to *[hu̯ ósu] (= neutralised */Hós-u/) could be analogically prevented
(reversed) as long as the connection with *h1es- ‘be’ was felt. On the uncertain phonetics of the PIE
laryngeals, see now Kümmel (2007: 327–36).
84
Or indeed any other theory how *h1e- could become a default ‘reduplicator’: a typological parallel,
which points to alternative factors (e.g., articulatory easing), is seen in the partial generalisation of ἐ-
of the equally zero-graded reduplicated aorist. Here too we should
remember Kuryłowicz’s ‘Fourth Law of Analogy’ (3.34). The ‘new form’
of which the law speaks is in this case the one with generalised *h1e-, as
opposed to the ‘old form’ with reduplication syllables of different shapes;
and the ‘old form’ will only be retained in marginal (‘secondary’) func-
tions, notably to express factitivity (as argued in 3.36, though there merely
in relation to the aspectually shifted root imperfectives). Meanwhile, the
original functional remit of the thematic aorist (i.e., the F1 of 6.23) is
indeed identical to the oldest [perfective] function of the reduplicated
aorist, thereby answering the functional query raised in 6.23. In fact, the
distinctly high-transitive nature of the zero-graded thematic aorist’s
source is also able to explain why in Vedic middle thematic aorists are
still much rarer than middle root aorists.85 All in all, we may thus update
Fig. 3.1 into Fig. 6.3 and assign the zero-graded thematic aorist its proper
place in the system.
6.26 Implications for the Augment

Our identification of the zero-graded thematic aorist as a reduplicated
aorist in disguise crucially depends on the comparison of augmented the-
matic forms with unaugmented reduplicated ones. The theory therefore has
far-reaching implications also for the history of the augment. If we are
claiming that the augment *h1e- itself is a standardised version of a
reduplication syllable,86 which initially marked aspectual perfectivity
(3.4, 4.6), its use with both imperfects and aorists other than zero-graded
thematic ones has to be secondary. For example, in a root aorist such as
as a ‘reduplication’ syllable in the Greek perfect (Schwyzer 1939: 649; on the possibly (pre-)
Mycenaean beginnings of this development, see García Ramón 1990: 10–12). In any case, the
proposed development agrees with Niepokuj’s (1997: 12–64) grammaticalisation path for redupli-
cating morphemes, at the end of which “the affix has a separate identity of its own” and “no longer
can be defined in terms of modifications of the base”.
85
For statistics, see Arnold (1897: 326) (with a ratio of c. 9.1 : 1 for thematic-aorist actives : middles and
c. 2.7 : 1 for root-aorist ones); cf. Whitney (1889: 305), Kuryłowicz (1929: 221–2), Lazzeroni (1978:
138–9). Lazzeroni argues that the distribution results from the (Cardona-style) thematisation
evolving more quickly in the active voice than in the middle (with 3pl. -ata < *-n̥ to; cf. 6.26, fn.
87), but such an explanation would (at best) make sense only if there were a consistent pattern with
active thematic aorists next to middle root aorists in the same paradigms: yet, the middle aorists
corresponding to thematic active ones are regularly sigmatic (8.24). In Greek, the distribution may
be less clear, but here a proper assessment is made difficult by the fact that some media tantum
thematic-aorist stems, such as πυθε/ο-, may be neither inherited thematic aorists nor thematised
root aorists of a regular kind (cf. 10.17, fn. 36, after Hart 1990: 453–4).
86
The idea that the augment goes back to a reduplication syllable was already mooted in the 19th
century (Buttmann 1830: 312–13, improved upon by Sayce 1887); but since it was inadequately
supported (cf. Curtius 1877–80: 1.109–10, 2.170), it was later forgotten.
TRANSITIVITY
HIGH LOW
factitive general imperfectives

perfectives perfectives
(REDUPLICATED) ‘AORIST’ (TELIC) ROOT IPFV.

(3sg.) *C1é-C1C-t (3sg.) *CeC-t
Function F0+1 Function F2
functional merger
F2 > F3( = F1)
REDUPLICATED AORIST
(3sg.) *C1é-C1C-t
Function F0+1
ROOT AORIST
(3sg.) *CeC-t
Function F3( = F1)
thematisation
marginalised new
old form form
REDUPL. AORIST THEMATIC AORIST ROOT AORIST

*C1é-C1C-e-t *h1é-C1C-e-t *CeC-t
Function F0 Function F1 Function F3= F1
formal competition in F1= F3
Fig. 6.3. Systemic relationships between reduplicated, thematic, and root aorists
*h1é-steh2-t ‘stood’ (> Gr. ἔστη, Ved. ásthāt) or in a reduplicated aorist such
as *h1é-u̯ e-u̯ ku̯ -e-t ‘said’ (> Gr. ἔειπε, Ved. ávocat), the addition of *h1e-
would have to be inspired by the use of the same ‘prefix’ in items such as
*h1é-u̯ id-e-t ‘saw’ (> Gr. εἶδε, Ved. ávidat). Of course, this transfer of *h1é-
would (substantially) postdate the period when PIE ablaut was operating
(3.41): after all, there is no o-grading or zero-grading to be observed in the
unaccented e-vowels of *h1é-steh2-t or *h1é-u̯ e-u̯ ku̯ -e-t.87 However, these
ideas on the augment so starkly contrast with received wisdom that the
next chapter will have to defend them in some detail. As we shall see, they
are not only compatible with the philological evidence we have, but much
better able to account for it than what the handbooks say. For now,
though, we can only treat them as a working hypothesis. But already as
such, they turn out to be quite helpful in one or two apparently unrelated
respects.
6.27 Reduplication, Augmentation, and Laryngeal Loss

The first concerns a minor formal point. In 6.16, we have come across three
zero-graded thematic aorists to *CeRH- roots in *-h1-: βαλε/ο- ‘throw’ (3sg.
ἔβαλε), ταμε/ο- ‘cut’ (ἔταμε), and πλε/ο- ‘be(come)’ (ἔπλε/ἔπλετο).
Synchronically the odd one out is the last, in which no effect of the root-
final laryngeal is visible. Everything being equal, we should expect *h1e-
ku̯ l̥ h1-e-to to yield †ἐπάλετο, just as *h1e-gu̯ l̥ h1-e-t yielded ἔβαλε. However, it
is precisely ἔπλετο which has an exact cognate outside Greek, Arm. ełew
‘became, was’. So it looks as if the laryngeal had disappeared from *h1e-
ku̯ l̥ h1-e-to already at a pre-Proto-Greek stage. While such a loss would be
irregular with a starting point like (unaugmented) 3sg. *ku̯ l̥ h1-e-to, it
acquires good parallels when compared to the same phenomenon in the
reduplicated aorist (3.8). Just as *te-tm̥ h1-e/o- and *ke-kl̥ h1-e/o- surface as
τετμε/ο- and κεκλε/ο- in the reduplicated aorist, so *ku̯ e-ku̯ l̥ h1-e/o- must
have gone first to *ku̯ e-ku̯ l-e/o- and next – after the generalisation of *h1e- –
to *h1e-ku̯ l-e/o- (> ἐ-πλε/ο-).
To be sure, the same laryngeal loss is not observed with βαλε/ο- and
ταμε/ο-, although in principle †βλε/ο- and †τμε/ο- should match πλε/ο-.
But again, just as a reduplicated stem *πεπλε/ο- (< *pe-pl[h1]-e/o-) was
analogically restored into πεπαλε/ο- after forms with a regular zero grade
παλ- (e.g., nasal pres. πάλλω with παλλ- < *pl̥ -n-; 3.8), so *(e-)gu̯ l-e/o-,
*(e-)tm-e/o- were remade into *(e-)gu̯ l̥ -e/o-,*(e-)tm̥ -e/o- > (ἐ)βαλε/ο-,
(ἐ)ταμε/ο-. In this context it may be relevant that next to βαλε/ο-, ταμε/ο-
87
Too much has been made, since Hoffmann (1952a: 125–6), of the – only partial – correlation of Ved.
3pl. med. -ata in augmented forms vs. 3pl. med. -anta in unaugmented (injunctive) ones (e.g., akrata
‘they made’ vs. kranta; cf. Narten 1964: 24–5, Strunk 1967: 98, Gotō 2013: 90, and note the claim of
Watkins 1969: 37, 136–7, that *-n̥ to(i̯) instead of *-e/onto(i̯) is ‘the result of a late morphonological
law of vowel loss in unstressed syllables’). As Lazzeroni (1979) shows, *-ento > -anta is analogical with
active *-ent, whereas *-n̥ to > -ata is original in athematic middle paradigms, and the quicker
adoption of -anta in the injunctive merely reflects a general preference for iambic-trochaic forms
(see Meillet 1920a, with observations on -a(n)ta on pp. 202–5, and on the question of ‘secondary’
-anta also Jamison 1979, Lubotsky 1989: 100).
there are the zero-graded nasal presents βάλλω, τάμνω, whereas next to
πλε/ο- there is no †πάλλομαι, only full-graded Aeolic πέλομαι (as well as
nasal τέλλομαι with the same secondary e-grade as in Att. τέμνω and Arc.
ζέλλω: 6.20).
In short, the synchronic inconsistency becomes understandable if (and
only if) we equate the augment of (ἐ)πλε/ο- with more ‘regular’ reduplica-
tion syllables, and if we ascribe to it the same phonotactic effects as
reduplication demonstrably had on *CeRh1- roots.
6.28–6.29 The Sanskrit Class VI (tudáti) Presents

6.28 Greek ‘tudáti Presents’?
The second point which lends preliminary support to the hypothesis that the
augment is a disguised reduplication syllable, and as such a demoted perfec-
tivity marker (6.26), relates to the Sanskrit Class VI (tudáti) presents. We
have seen in 6.2 that Kuryłowicz’s derivation of the thematic aorists from
aspectually shifted imperfects to such *CC-e/o- present stems did not pay
sufficient attention to the statistical and philological observations made by
Leumann, Arnold, and Renou on the tudáti type. But although Kuryłowicz
cannot have been right in seeing a very ancient stem class behind the Class VI
verbs, their germs might still reach back beyond Proto-Indo-Iranian.
Ultimately this depends on whether a few structurally similar present
stems in Greek (and/or some other Indo-European branches, such as
Italic, Balto-Slavic, or Germanic88) are to be compared with the innovative
Indo-Iranian items. For Greek at least, both the overall rarity of such lexemes
and the fact that they do not display the distinctive telicity of the Indo-
Iranian class are not particularly favourable to this assumption,89 but a
definitive decision is difficult in cases like
88
For Italic (Latin) (Bock 2008: 32–6), see e.g. currō ‘run’ (LIV 355, s.v. 1. *kers-), luō ‘pay, discharge’ (LIV
417, s.v. *leu̯ H-; cf. Table 6.2), parcō ‘spare’ (LIV 476, s.v. *perk-), spargō ‘scatter’ (LIV 586, s.v. *spherh2g-;
cf. Ved. -sphū́ rjati ‘cracks’), suō ‘sew’ (LIV 545, s.v. *si̯eu̯ H-; cf. Lith. siuvù ‘sew’), for Balto-Slavic (Stang
1942: 30–3, 113–16) e.g. Lith. dìrbu ‘make’ (LIV 121, s.v. ?*derbh-), Lith. krušù ‘crush’ (LIV 371, s.v. *kreu̯ s-),
Lith. pisù ‘mate’ (LIV 466–7, s.v. *pei̯s-), OCS -žьrǫ ‘devour’ (LIV 211–12, s.v. *gu̯ erh3-; cf. Ved. girati
‘devours’), OCS -pьnǫ ‘stretch’ ~ Lith. pinù ‘pleat’ (LIV 578–9, s.v. *(s)penh1-), OCS tlъkǫ ‘knock, hit’
(LIV 623, s.v. ?*telk-), OCS tъkǫ ‘weave’ (LIV 640, s.v. 1. *teu̯ k-). In Germanic lexemes such as OE lūcan
‘weed’ (~ Ved. rujáti ‘breaks open’; LIV 415–16, s.v. 1. *leu̯ g-) or ON súga, OE sūcan ‘suck’ (~ OCS sъsǫ
‘suck’; LIV 539–40, s.v. *seu̯ k̑ -), the root vowel may have been analogically lengthened; but cf. also OE
cuman ‘come’ (discussed by Mailhammer 2007: 117–38). Since Hitt. šuu̯ e/a-zi ‘push’ is more likely a i̯-
present than a direct comparandum to Ved. suváti ‘impels’, OIr. im‧soí ‘turns round’ (< *suh1-e/o-, LIV
538–9, s.v. *seu̯ h1-) (cf. Melchert 1984: 16, Kloekhorst 2008: 797–8, s.v. šuu̯ e/a-zi, against Oettinger 2002:
xx, 297, 313–14), verbal *CC-é/ó- stems are probably not attested in Hittite and may not (no longer?) have
existed in Anatolian (pace Tremblay 2009: esp. 500).
89
As opposed to their genetic independence from the tudáti type: cf. 6.2, fn. 1.
• γλύφω ‘engrave’ (*glubh-e/o-; cf. Lat. glūbō ‘peel’, OHG klioban ‘cleave’
from an e-graded thematic present *gleu̯ bh-e/o-);90
• γράφω ‘incise, write’ (*gr̥ bh-e/o-; cf. OE ceorfan ‘cut, incise’ from an e-
graded thematic present *gerbh-e/o-); or
• κάρφω ‘dry up, wrinkle, wither (tr.)’ (etymologically unclear:91 perhaps
*ghr̥ bh-e/o-; cf. OCS grebǫ ‘row’ < *g(h)rebh-e/o-?).92
In other instances, a (dialectal) *CC-e/o- present has simply adopted the
vocalism of a corresponding thematic aorist (cf. 6.20 on Att. τέμνω after
τεμε/ο- etc.):
• Hom./poetic ἀίω for *ἀϝείω ‘hear’: cf. aor. ἀϊε/ο- (*h2u̯ ei̯s-);93
• Ion. (Hdt.) στίχω = Att. στείχω ‘march’: cf. aor. στιχε/ο- (*stei̯gh-);
• Dor. τράπω = Att. τρέπω ‘turn’: cf. aor. τραπε/ο- (*trep-);
• Dor. τράφω = Att. τρέφω ‘rear, nurture’: cf. aor. τραφε/ο- (*d hrebh-).
Formed in parallel with these, though without a relevant aorist, are
• Dor. στράφω (Aeol. στρόφω) = Att.-Ion. στρέφω ‘turn round’
(?*strebh-: cf. Table 5.4); and
• Dor. τράχω = Att.-Ion. τρέχω ‘run’ (*d hregh-).
Finally, no support for an already late-PIE tudáti class can come from verbs
where the use of *CC-e/o- as a present rather than aorist stem is demonstrably
secondary.94 These merely illustrate that the Indo-Iranian de-aoristic creation
of new presents (6.3, 6.29) could also (independently) happen elsewhere:
90
For this and the following item, LIV 190–1 and 187, s.vv. *gleu̯ bh- and *gerbh-, posits an ablauting
athematic root present, with generalised zero grade after the plural (and secondary thematisation).
91
Cf. Chantraine (2009: 482, s.v. κάρφω); Schwyzer (1939: 685) compares Lith. ‘skrėbiù “become dry”’ and
thus implies *(s)kr̥ bh-e/o-, but this Baltic lexeme is listed under *(s)kerb- in LIV 557. For the root *ghrebh-,
see LIV 201–2, s.v. ?*ghrebh-; the semantic development would have to be ‘dig a furrow’ > ‘wrinkle’.
92
Cf. Schwyzer (1939: 685), whose list includes some e-graded thematic presents (ἄγω ‘drive’ < *h2eg̑ -e/o-,
αἴθω ‘light up, kindle’ < *h2ei̯d h-e/o-, ἄχομαι ‘grieve’ < *h2egh-e/o- (4.44); cf. μάχομαι ‘fight’, probably
with non-ablauting *magh- (5.44)), one likely present in *-sk̑ e/o- (ἄρχω ‘begin’ < *(h2)rgh-sk̑ e/o-: cf. LIV
498, s.v. *regh-), and a few sparsely attested lexemes which may be artificial (βλάβομαι ‘hesitate, am weak’
at Il. 19.82, 19.166, σπάργω ‘wrap in’ at h. Apoll. 121, ‘γλάφω Hes. Sc. 431 for Ion. Att. γλύφω’, ‘τύκω H
[sch]., νύγω H[sch]., ὀρύχω Aratus for τεύχω [“produce”] νύσσω [“prick”] ὀρύσσω [“dig”]’). Gr.
ἄρδω ‘water’ < *(h2)u̯ r̥ d-e/o- features a root which seems extracted from perf. med. *h2e-h2u̯ r̥ s-toi̯ ‘is
watered, rained upon’ (to *h2u̯ ers-, LIV 291–2) reinterpreted as *-u̯ r̥ d-toi̯ (cf. 3pl. perf. med. ἐρράδαται),
στίλβω ‘glitter, gleam’ is etymologically obscure (Chantraine 2009: 1020–1, s.v. στίλβω), and γλίχομαι
‘cling to’ recalls *glei̯bh- in Engl. climb, Germ. kleben ‘stick to’, OCS aor. 1sg. u-glьbъ ‘was stuck’ (LIV
189–90, s.v.) but shows a different root-final consonant.
93
Cf. Schulze (1888: 251–5), but he explains ἀίω like pres. κλύω (cf. below); contrast Bader (1994: 211).
94
See Schwyzer (1939: 686), and cf. Table 4.1 (s.v. *sed-) on καθέζομαι ‘sit down’. Despite the surface
similarity, κλύω thus differs from i̯-presents like δύω ‘sink in’ (Table 6.2, s.v. *deu̯ h1-), θύω ‘sacrifice’ (cf.
Lat. suf-fiō ‘fumigate’ < *-d huh2-i̯e/o-, LIV 158, s.v. *d hu̯ eh2-), λύω ‘release’ (Table 6.2, s.v. *leu̯ H-).
• κίω ‘go’ (only at Aesch. Cho. 680) : aor. κιε/ο- (*kei̯h2-; cf. Table 6.2, s.v.
*k(u̯ )i̯eu̯ -);
• κλύω ‘hear’ (first at Hes. Op. 726) : aor. κλυε/ο- (cf. Table 6.2, s.v.
*k̑ leu̯ -);
• λίτομαι ‘pray, beg’ (first at h. Hom. 16.5; contrast Hom. λίσσομαι <
*lit-i̯e/o-) : aor. λιτε/ο- (*lei̯ t-).
6.29 The Genesis of tudáti Presents

Whether or not the creation of tudáti presents in the strict sense is exclusive
to Indo-Iranian,95 it is certainly this branch, where they are prominent,
which tells us most about their prehistory. As indicated before (6.3),
E. Leumann already suspected that the class has its roots in the thematic
aorist; and Renou noted the disproportionate frequency of augmented and
modal forms. Our theory on the origins of the thematic aorist (6.25) and the
augment (6.26) now allows us to tie these threads together and go beyond
Leumann in formulating a hypothesis as to why old aorists were imperfec-
tivised here (Fig. 6.4).96
As soon as the thematic aorists and the root aorists functionally merged
(Stage I), it became possible for the latter to adopt the perfectivity-marking
‘prefix’ *h1é- of the former (Stage II). Given the value of the prefix, this
primarily happened in contexts where the perfective value of a form was to
be emphasised. As a result, the presence or absence of *h1é- came to
correlate with marked (emphasised) vs. unmarked (neutral) perfectivity.
But once such a discrimination had caught on among the root aorists, it
could be copied into the thematic aorists themselves: though there the
means to achieve it was obviously not the addition of *h1é- to previously
‘unaugmented’ forms, but the subtraction of *h1é- from previously ‘aug-
mented’ ones (Stage III). For example, since the root aorists were regularly
accompanied by corresponding subjunctives, due to their prehistory
(4.52), new subjunctives were also needed for the thematic aorists; but in
a mood which was semantically indeterminate by definition (cf. 4.47), an
95
If it were not, so that for example some of the Balto-Slavic or Germanic verbs mentioned in 6.28, fn.
88, did belong here, this would not seriously affect the model in Fig. 6.4: Stage IV would simply have
to be reached by later Proto-Indo-European, not just Proto-Indo-Iranian. Stage III, as a precondition
for abandoning the augment (cf. below), should be late-PIE anyway.
96
E. Leumann (1895; 1897) had left this question open, and hence incurred the criticism of Lazzeroni
(1978: 132–3), after Gonda (1962: 221–4), that the telicity of the Class VI verbs ‘concerns the lexical
values . . ., but not the aspect as a grammatical category’. Once the issue is cleared up, there is no
longer any need for either a new semi-modal category (Renou 1925b: 314–16; cf. 6.3) or a derivation
in PIIr. *-á- whose ‘function cannot be determined for the time being’ (Hill 2007: 301).
emphatically perfective, augmented form would have been out of place.97
Of course, with the removal of *h1é-, the thematic aorists lost the original
accent seat; but to reaccentuate the new unaugmented variants on the
thematic vowel, where for example zero-graded thematic presents in *-i̯é/ó-
(10.33) also carried the accent, was unproblematic.
Undoubtedly, to have both marked and unmarked perfectives was in
some ways a luxury. In Balto-Slavic, where there are thematic aorists but no
augments, the ‘unnecessary’ prefixation must therefore have been aban-
doned. By contrast, in the area where we do find the augment (7.1), it
somewhat changed its remit – though not to the extent of obliterating its
functional origins, as we shall see in the next chapter.
As a further consequence of the new competition between the thematic
aorists and the incoming root aorists, for each lexeme one of the two aorist
formations was redundant. Wherever the root aorist prevailed, as often in
Indo-Iranian (6.9), the thematic aorist could in principle disappear.
Alternatively, however, it could also just be marginalised, like its older relative,
the reduplicated aorist (3.34). But unlike the latter, it was not predestined to be
pushed in the direction of high transitivity (factitivity) when it was even able to
be divested of its markedly perfective character by shedding the prefix *h1é-.
With the root aorists newly occupying the core perfective domain, such
‘redundant’ thematic aorists, whose *h1é- was now as ‘optional’ as that of the
root aorists, were therefore pushed to another margin: into the space left by the
aspectually shifted root formations.98 Thus reinterpreted as telic imperfects,
next to root aorists,99 they finally gave rise to the innovative tudáti presents as
‘primary’ endings were – hesitantly – attached where previously only ‘sec-
ondary’ endings had been in use (Stage IV).100 That such new presents are
often semantically close to other present stems to the same root, where these
survive, is a logical consequence of their being nothing but ‘deperfectivised’
representatives of the same lexical system;101 but so is the fact that very
97
Similarly, it may be doubted that thematic/reduplicated aorist optatives existed before the arrival of
root-aorist optatives. A further common context where there was no need for emphatic perfectivity
was (unmarked/unmediated) narrative: see 7.8–7.10, 7.31–7.34.
98
The marginalisation of previous perfectives as telic imperfectives was thus enabled by the same
affinity of telic eventualities with the perfective aspect that had caused the inverse shift of the telic
root formations (4.6).
99
Later on, some tudáti presents acquired new present-stem-based sa-aorists (Narten 1964: 78), but the
original situation is the one observed with e.g. rujáti ‘breaks’ (3sg. root-aor. inj. rók), or also srjáti ‘emits’
and viśáti ‘enters’ where a historical s-aorist replaces a root aorist (Narten 1964: 24–8, 243–4, ˙ 270–4).
100
The relative frequency of modal forms (cf. above) suggests that these may have been just as pivotal
for this last step as the indicative imperfect.
101
Cf. Vekerdi (1961) and Joachim (1978), passim; E. Dahl (2005: 62–70).
6.30 Conclusion 355
Thematic aorist Root aorist
Stage I (3sg.) *h1é-CC-e-t *CéC-t
‘augmentation’
Stage II (3sg.) *h1é-CC-e-t *h1é-CeC-t ~ *CéC-t
‘deaugmentation’
Stage III (3sg.) *h1é-CC-e-t ~ *CC-é-t *h1é-CeC-t ~ *CéC-t
Stage IV pres. *CC-é-ti
Fig. 6.4. The genesis of tudáti presents
occasionally a tudáti present seems to show slightly greater transitivity than a

parallel formation.102
6.30 Conclusion
6.30 Conclusion
This chapter has identified a variety of problems arising from the common
view that the Indo-European (zero-graded) thematic aorist is the offshoot
of a PIE root aorist (6.4). On the one hand, these problems concern
theoretical matters and general questions of plausibility: notably the
alleged multiple occurrence of a replacement of the 3pl. ending *-ent by
*-ont (6.6–6.7) and of ill-motivated plural → singular analogies when there
is good evidence for the analogical creation of full-graded thematic aorists
in the more usual opposite direction (6.5). On the other hand, the
102
The classic example is Ved. (Class VI) tiráti ‘brings through, transfers (sth.)’ (~ ‘makes cross (sth.)’) vs.
(Class I) tárati ‘crosses sth.’ (Vekerdi 1961: 261–2, Joachim 1987: 87–8, E. Dahl 2005: 65); tiráti may
thus be classified as an ‘applicative’ (and hence transitivity-increased) variant of tárati (Hill 2007: 299–
300). Already E. Leumann (1895: 41) observed that tiráti is only used with (sc., semantically telicising)
preverbs such as prá, whereas tárati often occurs without; but all this hardly warrants the conclusion
that tiráti is a reduplicated present haplologised under preverbation (Tichy 2004, comparing Av.
titarat̰ ‘overcame’ (4.27)). Somewhat less clear is the situation with krsáti ‘ploughs’ vs. kársati ‘pulls’
(cf. Narten 1964: 96, Gotō 1987: 112–13, E. Dahl 2005: 62–3), but an˙˙applicative tendency˙ has been
suggested here too (Hill 2007: 293–300), and in any case there is greater ‘object affectedness’ (cf. 3.35)
when something (a field) is ploughed than when something is just pulled.
philological data of Greek show that original root aorists are regularly
replaced not by zero-graded thematic aorists but by s-aorists or, in the
case of a certain type of set roots, by full-graded thematic ones (6.13–6.22).
However, an alternative ˙theory which sees in the standard thematic aorist
an aspectually shifted imperfect to a zero-graded thematic root formation
continued by the Sanskrit Class VI encounters equally serious difficulties
(6.2–6.3). It has therefore been argued instead that a genetically indepen-
dent (zero-graded) thematic aorist coexisted with the root aorist already in
(later) Proto-Indo-European, and that the daughter languages eventually
resolved this competition by selecting either one or the other in each
individual lexical system (6.9). The coexistence itself is another result of
the aspectual shift of previous root imperfectives to prototypically telic
roots into the perfective domain. There they met with the thematic aorists
qua descendants of the reduplicated aorist, in which the reduplication
syllable was standardised, in the wake of laryngeal-initial roots, as *h1e-
(the later ‘augment’) (6.23–6.26). One corollary of the subsequent spread
of *h1e- to other aorists was the (partial) deaugmentation of the thematic
type, which paved the way for the limited survival of ousted thematic
aorists as telic imperfects and hence nuclei of the Class VI (tudáti) presents
(6.29). The task of the next chapter is now to test all this by looking at it
from another angle and asking how it squares with the philology of the
augment.
chapter 7
The Augment
7.1 Introduction
7.1 The Communis Opinio
To trace the augment back to a standardised reduplication syllable (6.24)
only makes sense if this is compatible with its effective function in the earliest
texts. In most handbooks, the augment is presented as a simple past-tense
marker *(h1)e- which was attached – at first optionally, then obligatorily – to
aorist, imperfect, and pluperfect indicatives in Greek (> syllabic augment ἐ-)
and some other branches of ‘Central Indo-European’: Indo-Iranian (a-),
Armenian (e-), and Phrygian (ε-).1 Such a description fits the data of classical
Greek and classical Sanskrit, but apparently contradicts our suggestion.
In his monograph on the Greek verb Duhoux summarises the communis
opinio:
The augment is a morpheme which is prefixed to the verbal stem in the
indicative of past tenses. Its history can be understood only if one goes back
to an extremely archaic stage of the IE conjugation. . . . In this period, IE
probably had no morphological expression of tense. . . . It is thought that at
this extremely remote stage there was probably no morphological expression
of mood. . . . This leads to the reconstruction of the perfect on the one hand;
and, on the other hand, of a ‘zero tense/mood’ which was able indifferently
1
Attempts to find traces of the augment in other branches remain doubtful. See Eichner (1975: 78–9)
and Praust (2003: 140) on Hittite (but ešun ‘I was’ may continue *h1es-m̥ with Melchert 1994: 152 and
Kimball 1999: 437, or be analogical with Zinko 1998: 183–5, and Praust’s argument that a PIE
‘injunctive’ of *h1es- could not exist because its function was fulfilled by nominal sentences, as argued
for Vedic by Lazzeroni 1982b, not only depends on Hoffmann’s 1967a claims about the Vedic
injunctive’s ‘mentioning’ value (7.30) being true already for Proto-Indo-European, but also forgets
both existential *h1es- and the differences in copular use between the third and other persons);
Bammesberger (1986: 57, 143) on Germanic (but PGmc. preterital *ēt- < *ēd- can reflect reduplicated
*h1e-h1d-, as noted by Cowgill 1960: 491–3 and Schumacher 1998: 185–8); Hamp (1976a) on Baltic and
Albanian; and Praust (2003: 114), after others (e.g., Vaillant 1966: 551–2), on Slavic (but OCS impf.
bě- more likely continues *bhu̯ -ē- ← *bhu(h2)- + stative *-ē- < *-eh1-, as per Puhvel 1960: 58, than a
contamination of by- < PIE *bhuh2- and *ēs- < *(h1)e-h1es-, as per Klingenschmitt 1982: 3 n. 5 and
Rasmussen [1988] 1999: 361).
357
358 The Augment
to express what is historically rendered by the various other tenses and
moods. The perfect had its own endings, while the ‘zero tense/mood’ used
the so-called ‘secondary’ endings. . . .
Some traces of this ‘zero tense/mood’ still exist in certain IE languages,
notably Celtic and Indo-Iranian. In fact, there we find a special formation,
the injunctive. Despite what its name suggests, the injunctive did not serve
to express ‘injunctions’: depending on context, it may be endowed with the
meanings an indicative (marking past ~ actual ~ future), a subjunctive, an
optative, or an imperative would have.
For a no doubt considerable amount of time, the ‘zero tense/mood’
apparently satisfied the needs of the IE speakers. But at some point, its
indistinct nature was bound to seem problematic and the wish arose to be
able morphologically to keep apart the tenses which did or did not mark the
past. This was realised by a series of particles. One of them is the *-i which
was added in Greek to the majority of the old ‘secondary’ endings in order to
constitute the so-called ‘primary’ endings. The value of this *-i was to
present the verbal action as non-past.
Another particle is the augment. Its function appears to have been
explicitly to characterise as past the old forms of the ‘zero tense/mood’ to
which it was added.2
As we shall see, this account heavily relies on Hoffmann’s study on the use
of Vedic ‘injunctives’ (i.e., unaugmented imperfects and aorists).3 That
Hoffmann paid little attention to the other major witness for the interplay
of augmented and unaugmented forms, Homeric Greek, is understand-
able: for his was meant to be ‘a synchronic functional investigation’.
However, a balanced diachronic presentation must also look at the
Greek material. And if Indo-Europeanists had listened attentively to
Homeric scholars, they would have noticed long before Hoffmann’s time
that the traditional story of the augment as a simple past-tense particle has
too many cracks to be acceptable. Our reconsideration of the augment
question must therefore start from a review of the Homeric situation.
7.2–7.10 The Augment in Homer

7.2 Wackernagel’s Position
Even specialist publications often limit themselves to the observation that
the Homeric augment is ‘optional’. In contrast to the situation in classical
2
Duhoux (2000: 91–2) (translated).
3
Hoffmann (1967a). Although coined for the modal uses of such forms (Brugman 1880a: 2),
‘injunctive’ is today a morphological rather than modal/semantic term (cf. Hoffmann 1967a: 27–8,
Lazzeroni 1977: 5–6).
Greek, not every aorist or imperfect indicative features the prefix.
Moreover, it is generally stressed that this ‘optionality’ gave the epic
singer a certain flexibility in adapting verbal forms to his metre.4 This is
by no means wrong, and at first sight it seems to fit neatly into a wider
picture. By using unaugmented past-tense forms, the poet would sim-
ply have preserved a more archaic stage of the language, before the
augment became compulsory. Such was the view of Wackernagel, who
stated that ‘in Old Indic, the Rigveda and the oldest related poetic
literature also shows a completely random use of augmentation, as in
Homer, whereas early prose and classical Sanskrit apply the augment as
consistently as the Greeks do in unmetrical speech’; and he therefore
concluded that the omission of the augment constitutes an ‘archaism of
poetic practice . . ., which was sometimes also metrically convenient’.5
To be sure, due to the decipherment of Mycenaean, where non-
augmentation is regular (7.20), the reference to a non-augmenting
poetical register may call for a little adjustment, but the archaism
argument itself is not affected by this.
7.3 Wortumfang
Having said that, Wackernagel himself did concede two factors which
constrain the ‘optionality’ of the Homeric augment. One of them concerns
the ‘gnomic aorist’ and thus relates to the function of augmented forms;
together with other functional tendencies, it will be considered in 7.8. The
other belongs to the formal plane, which will occupy us first (7.3–7.7). It is
connected with Wackernagel’s own earlier observations on ‘word body and
word form’:6
(i) ‘As a rule, preterites never appear unaugmented in Homer if, without
the augment, a short-vocalic monosyllable would arise. Thus, next to
εἶχε there is ἔχε, but next to ἔσχε (ten times, without the compounds)
ἔσχες (once) ἔσχον (3 times) there is no *σχέ, *σχές, *σχόν. Similarly,
there is πέλε(ν) (11 times) but only ἔπλε M 44, although this loses some
of its significance by the fact that the augment is consistently used in
the middle ἔπλετο (40 times) ἔπλεο ἔπλευ (6 times) next to πέλοντο
(4 times). Similarly ἔκτα (7 times) and ἔκταν 3pl. (2 times).
4
Cf. e.g. Palmer (1962: 117), Untermann (1987: 29–30), Wachter (2000: 97–8).
5
Wackernagel (1943: 2–4).
6
Wackernagel (1906: esp. 147–54), with the following quotation; cf. Strunk (1987a: 327–8). In addition
to Wackernagel’s parallels, note also that the Mandarin Chinese perfective marker -le (cf. 7.15) is
virtually compulsory with monosyllabic, as opposed to polysyllabic, activity verbs (Chu 1998: 74).
360 The Augment
Divergently only . . . στάν and φάν, whose occurrence is conditioned
by the corresponding long-vocalic singular forms. Or it may perhaps
better be said that there was an absolute aversion to monosyllabicity
only in the case of a final short vowel, and that ἔσχον, ἔκταν were
influenced by ἔσχε, ἔκτα (just as ἔπλετο was influenced by ἔπλε).’
Wackernagel goes on to note that a less absolute, but similar
tendency is seen with long-vocalic past-tense forms (e.g., always aor.
ἔγνως ‘you recognised’, ἔσβη ‘(fire) went out’, ἔστης ‘you stood’,
ἔτλην ‘I endured’, etc.): their unaugmented counterparts (e.g., στῆ
‘stood’, φῆ ‘said’, etc.) occur mainly at the beginning of lines and
sentences. Furthermore, he observes that in the Rig Veda too a con-
siderable number of preterital forms that would be monosyllabic when
unaugmented are attested only with the augment, and that another
even bigger group, though occurring freely without the augment in
non-preterital functions of the injunctive, strongly prefers the aug-
ment whenever the corresponding unaugmented (i.e., injunctive)
form would act as a preterite: ‘If the Vedic use is to be summarised in
raw statistics, then 70 monosyllables with preterital meaning are aug-
mented in 495 instances, and 38 in 136 instances are unaugmented. . . .
Unless one can prove that elsewhere too augmentation is three or four
times as common as non-augmentation when the meaning is preterital,
one will have to admit that in Vedic there was also a certain aversion to
preterital monosyllables.’
The last point is less strong than Wackernagel’s wording suggests.
According to the statistics of Avery, in the Rig Veda 659 non-presentic and
non-modal injunctives contrast with 3259 augmented imperfects and aorists,
producing a ratio of 1 : 4.9. This is even more augment-friendly than
Wackernagel’s statistics for the preterital monosyllables.7 It does not, how-
ever, diminish the interest of his Greek data. Wackernagel himself mentions
the partial parallel of classical Armenian, where the distribution of augmented
vs. non-augmented preterital forms largely obeys a typologically similar
7
The greater augment-friendliness of Avery’s ratio is even statistically significant (p = 0.002). As
acknowledged by Avery (1885: 329–30), the classification of individual forms as ‘non-presentic’ or
‘non-modal’ can depend on one’s interpretation of specific passages; but Avery is probably right “that
the difference of opinion will not be so great as to prevent substantial agreement in the results”. Also
complicating is the fact that, just as augmented aorists typically refer to a near past (Avery’s ‘aoristic’
function) (7.29), so he attributes 92 of his 659 non-presentic and non-modal injunctives to an
‘aoristic’ “past near at hand”. Since he does not at the same time say how many of the 1194 augmented
aorists are classified as having near-past meaning, the ratio mentioned in the text might be skewed.
However, in order to avoid this problem one may concentrate on the ratio of preterital present-stem
injunctives (346) vs. augmented imperfects (2065) alone; and here the resulting 1 : 6.0 is even clearer.
rule: the augment is used when, without it, a preterital form beginning with a
single consonant would be monosyllabic (7.24); and he compares the
situation in both Middle Indic (where monosyllables have a compulsory
augment, whereas non-augmentation spreads among the longer forms)
and later Greek (where, inter alia, the long pluperfects increasingly shun
the augment).
But how is this preference of (at least Greek) monosyllables to be
interpreted diachronically? For those who, like Wackernagel, think that
the augment was an independent element secondarily attached to preterital
verb forms, it must mean that the repudiation of short forms was so strong
that it not only obliterated any trace of, say, 3sg. *σχέ ‘held’ and *πλέ ‘was,
became’ (as well as theoretically conceivable remedial variants thereof, with
paragogic -ν and thus no final short vowel: *σχέν, *πλέν), but that it even
analogically eradicated plurals and middles like *σχόν, *πλέτο. Given the
frequency of Homeric ἔπλετο, which makes any profound influence from
the active unlikely, this would at least be surprising. If, on the other hand,
the augment started off as an integral part of the zero-graded thematic
aorists, it would be less curious that an (analogical) subtraction of the
augment (6.29) was prevented whenever the resulting word body would
have been too short. Of the three lexemes that display Wackernagel’s
tendency most clearly, two are zero-graded thematic aorists (ἔσχε, ἔπλε-
(το): 6.16, 6.22, fn. 82) and the third (ἔκτα) is the superficially remodelled
offshoot of a root aorist whose 3sg. *ἔκτεν closely resembled the thematic
type (Table 6.2, s.v. *tk̑ en-). Also, it may be recalled from 6.27 that the root
of ἔπλε(το) (~ Arm. ełew) has ‘irregularly’ lost its laryngeal; but in a
hypothetical ‘regular’ †πάλε(το) < *ku̯ l̥ h1-e/o- no problem of insufficient
length would have arisen in the first place.
7.4 Augmentation in Compound Verbs

Another formal tendency of Homeric augmentation had been studied even
earlier:
(ii) Verb forms with preverb are much more often augmented than forms
without preverb. In order to appreciate this properly, one must of course
distinguish between (a) compound forms in which the presence or
absence of the augment makes no difference in metrical terms (e.g.,
aor. κατέθηκε ~ κατάθηκε ‘put down’) and (b) compound forms in
which the augment is metrically relevant (e.g., impf. σύναγον ~
συνῆγον ‘they brought together’). For group (a), Dottin found a ratio
of 32.2 : 1 in favour of the augment (1029 forms with, 32 without
362 The Augment
augment).8 This may at least in part represent a normalisation of the
text,9 although the manuscript tradition is largely unanimous on
the point and although Aristarchus, who certainly played a role in
the constitution of the text as we have it, appears to have been rather
augment-critical in other respects.10 However, a somewhat less one-
sided but still clear enough picture results for group (b), where
Dottin’s ratio is 2.9 : 1 in favour of the augment (382 : 131 forms).
This must be compared to a corresponding ratio of approximately
0.5 : 1 for metrically certain augmented : unaugmented verbal forms
in the Homeric epics overall.11
This second trend remains unexplained as long as one regards the
augment as an earlier past-tense marker, or indeed as any other element
that is unrelated to actional/aspectual semantics. But if the augment
started off as an aspectual marker, the matter appears in a new light.
Preverbation typically correlates with increased objective boundedness/
telicity, and compound verbs therefore have a particular affinity with the
perfective aspect (cf. 4.6). By implication, the addition of a marked
perfectiviser impacts less on a compound verb than on a simplex one
since the relevant eventuality is bounded anyway. Now, it is a universal
principle – Kuryłowicz’s ‘First Law of Analogy’ – that in such cases of
‘redundancy’ speakers do not limit themselves to the use of one or the
other of two concurrent markers, but prefer double marking: ‘A bipartite
morpheme tends to assimilate to itself an isofunctional morpheme
8
Dottin (1894). Both here and with the following ratios, the divergence from a random distribution of
augments is again significant (p < 0.001 in each case).
9
Not just because forms like σύναγον (and also forms with apocopated preverb: e.g., κάλλιπε ‘left
behind’) are possible, but perhaps also because forms with tmesis tend to be unaugmented (Drewitt
1912: 104–5). If the augmentation of compound verbs is related to their boundedness/telicity
(cf. below), it may be relevant that this semantic feature was not lexicalised to the same degree as
long as the preverb was still separate.
10
See M. Schmidt (1854); cf. Bottin (1969: 69–70, 88).
11
The latter ratio is calculated on the basis of the figures in Drewitt (1912) for metrically certain
augmented vs. unaugmented aorists and imperfects in “narrative proper (similes and gnomes
omitted)” on the one hand and “speeches” on the other, covering together almost all of the Iliad
and Odyssey. Drewitt counts 2837 (73.2%) metrically certain unaugmented vs. 1041 (26.8%) metri-
cally certain augmented aorists in his “narrative” category, and 817 (49.1%) vs. 846 (50.9%) in the
“speeches”. For the imperfects, the corresponding figures are 1710 (78.5%) vs. 467 (21.5%) in
“narrative” and 635 (64.3%) vs. 353 (35.7%) in “speeches” (giving a total of 5999 (68.9%) metrically
certain unaugmented vs. 2707 (31.1%) metrically certain augmented forms). The need to concentrate
here and in the following statistics on metrically certain cases alone is underlined by Platt (1891:
211–13): there seems to have been a – probably early – tendency to introduce ‘additional’ augments,
as shown for instance by lines in which “the MSS. give the augment where Aristarchus rejected it” or
cases where “the augment is given so as to spoil the weak caesura in the third foot”.
consisting only of one of the two elements, i.e., the compound mor-
pheme replaces the simple morpheme.’12 Thus, there is a rationale behind
the statistically remarkable joint occurrence of augments and preverbs in
Homer.
7.5 Augmentation and Aorist Types

Along the same lines, we can make sense of a third formal point:
(iii) Although his corpus was admittedly small (Iliad 11, with a total of
some 300 metrically unambiguous forms), Blumenthal observed that
the ratio of augmentation : non-augmentation is greater in the case
of s-aorists (1 : 1.4) than strong aorists (1 : 2.8).13 The latter are closely
comparable with imperfects in this respect (1 : 2.6). Blumenthal also
found that in his limited sample duals tend to be most definitely
unaugmented (1 : 6.0), and this replicates Bottin’s more comprehen-
sive statistics for the dual (1 : 8.5 for the metrically certain duals in the
entire Iliad and Odyssey).14
Blumenthal proposed to explain the divergence between different stem
types with the fact that “[t]he sigmatic aorist, though widely diffused, is a
relatively late IE. formation” whose full development might have been
“roughly contemporaneous with that of the early stages of the attachment
of the augment”.15 But even if we grant that the impressive productivity of
the s-aorist is indeed a late phenomenon (cf. 8.3–8.5), it is illogical to
assume that the creation of new aspect stems should at the same time have
led to a greater willingness to add an innovated tense marker. The need to
mark pastness would not have been more pressing among new aorists than
among old ones, all the more since, as Blumenthal himself notices,16 it
12
Kuryłowicz (1949: 20).
13
Blumenthal (1974); only the figures for the strong aorists (27 : 76) and imperfects (28 : 73), but not
those for the s-aorist (37 : 50), significantly diverge from a random distribution of augments (p <
0.001 vs. p = 0.198), but the difference of proportions between s-aorists on the one hand and strong
aorists and imperfects on the other is also significant (p = 0.013): so s-aorists do seem to be more
augmented than strong aorists. Demonstrably unrepresentative are Blumenthal’s (1974: 75–6)
figures for the pluperfect (8 augmented : 4 unaugmented forms), on which he also wanted to
build a chronological argument. According to Bottin (1969: 124–9), when the metrically ambiguous
cases are discarded, merely 21.5% (44) of the remaining 205 pluperfects in the Iliad and 22.0% (31) of
the 172 pluperfects in the Odyssey are augmented.
14
Bottin (1969: 90–6); here, only Bottin’s figures (14 : 119) are statistically significant (p < 0.001).
15
Blumenthal (1974: 75).
16
Cf. Blumenthal (1974: 72, 75). Note that his claims about greater augment frequency among Vedic
imperfects than among Vedic aorists are misleading. They are based on the raw statistics in Whitney
(1889: 221) and therefore fail to look at non-modal and non-presentic injunctives alone, although
only these are of relevance here. Using again Avery’s (1885) Rig Veda statistics, it is indeed the case
364 The Augment
should if anything have been most pressing among imperfects: in the
1pl./2pl. impf. at least, the formal differentiation from the present
entirely depends on the use of the augment.
Meanwhile, the s-aorists did differ from the strong aorists in a crucial
respect. Since the stem formant *-s- overtly marked the perfectivity of the
ancestor of, say, δεῖξε ‘showed’, the presence or absence of a second overt
perfectiviser was of little pragmatic consequence. Thus, if Blumenthal’s
statistics are reliable,17 we may have here another, earlier instance of
‘redundant’ double marking being preferred to single marking (7.4). By
contrast, the perfectivity of e.g. λίπε ‘left’ or βῆ ‘went’ was expressly
marked, and thus enhanced, only with the augment (6.29). So, the aug-
ment bore a greater functional load there, and its addition or omission was
hence to be handled more carefully.
Finally, the suggestion that there could be an inverse correspon-
dence between the situation with the s-aorists and that with the duals
is hard to defend. It is true that there is no obvious connection between
that 70.4% of all the imperfect and present-injunctive forms taken together are augmented (i.e., are
imperfects and not present injunctives), whereas only 51.2% of all the aorist and aorist-injunctive
forms are. However, of the 1138 aorist injunctives only 25.3% (288) are non-modal and non-
presentic, whereas of the 870 present-stem injunctives 41.4% (360) are (and this difference between
the proportions is significant: p < 0.001). Also, the ratio of (unaugmented) preterital present
injunctives (346) : (augmented) imperfects (2065) is 1 : 6.0 (cf. 7.3, fn. 7), and this must be compared
to a (significantly different: p < 0.001) ratio of 1 : 15.5 for (unaugmented) near-past aorist injunctives
(77) : (augmented) aorists (1194) since the (augmented) imperfect subsequently takes on the (mainly
narrative) functions of preterital injunctives (from either present or aorist stems), whereas the
(augmented) aorist is used primarily for resultative constatations, as in the English present perfect,
or expresses the near past, but does not act as a simple narrative preterite (cf. 7.29). If anything,
preteritally used aorist injunctives (211) should therefore be added to the preterital present injunc-
tives for statistical purposes. In other words, the lower overall augmentation of the aorist stems is
merely due to augmented aorists being functionally more restricted in comparison with aorist
injunctives than augmented imperfects are in comparison with present injunctives; and the real
significance of all the figures lies in the fact that augmentation peaks in the (resultative and near-
past) core uses of the Vedic aorist rather than in the (narrative/preterital) core uses of the Vedic
imperfect where a past-tense marker should be naturally at home: see further 7.35–7.37.
17
The Vedic evidence at least seems compatible with them. From the statistics of Avery (1885: 361) it
appears that, among the unaugmented non-presentic/non-modal aorist injunctives, only 18.1% (52)
belong to the s-aorist system and 81.9% (236) to other types of aorists, whereas the figures of Avery
(1872–80: 319) show that forms belonging to the s-aorist system constitute c. 25% of all the aorist
forms in the Rig Veda; the divergence of a ratio 52 : 236 from an expected frequency of 0.25 is
significant (p = 0.006). Cf. also Lazzeroni (1977: 15–16, 23) on the greater reluctance of Vedic s-aorist
stems to occur in (the less productive functions of) the injunctive, viz. as ‘general presents’ or with
past reference (7.28). The data of Bartolotta (2009) could be read in a similar fashion, even if one
does not accept her idea that the distribution of (non-)augmented forms in Homer and Vedic harks
back to the earliest stages of Proto-Indo-European and is determined by root (not: stem!) (a)telicity
so that prototypically atelic roots prefer present to aorist injunctives, but prototypically telic roots
aorist to present ones; since old s-aorists characteristically belong with atelic roots, this too implies
that s-aorist injunctives are rarer than root-aorist and thematic-aorist ones.
aspectual marking and the dual number, and it is also true that duals
belong to a relatively old layer of Homeric Greek. However, whatever one
thinks about the s-aorists, this dual layer is certainly not older than the
linguistic layer to which the strong aorists and imperfects belong. The
extreme behaviour of the duals even when compared to the strong aorists
and imperfects therefore calls for a different – and not purely formal –
explanation (7.8).
7.6 Augmentation and Iteratives in -σκε/ο-

Less ambiguous is the following principle:
(iv) The many Homeric past iteratives with suffix -σκε/ο- are almost
without exception unaugmented (leaving aside the special case of
impf. ἔφασκε ‘said’ to lexicalised φάσκω). Significantly, the text of
Herodotus shows this to be true even in later Ionic, at a time when
the augment has otherwise become ‘compulsory’.18
Since these are forms that occur only in the past-tense indicative,
Ruipérez argued that they omit a past-tense marker in order to avoid
redundancy.19 After what has been said in 7.4–7.5 on ‘redundant’
marking, it should be clear that this is implausible. Also, other aorist
and imperfect indicatives too are by and large confined to the expres-
sion of pastness, but that does not affect their more positive attitude
towards augmentation.
In a different vein, Bottin has highlighted that the -σκε/ο- forms mostly
occur in third-person narrative and might therefore obey the general
tendencies on (non-)augmentation observed there (7.7–7.8).20 However,
the persistence of the feature in post-Homeric times raises doubts on
whether this is an exclusive reason. Even if Homeric narrative is generally
unaugmented, the same is not true in Herodotus’ time. Given the strin-
gency of the rule, it thus looks as if there were a deeper incompatibility of
such forms with suffixed -σκε/ο- and the augment. Their iteratival func-
tion21 intimates that the suffix, which can be attached to both aorist
stems (e.g., δόσκε ‘(s)he would give’, σπείσασκε ‘(s)he would libate’) and
imperfect stems (e.g., θέλγεσκε ‘(s)he would charm’, ναίεσκε ‘(s)he would
18
See Chantraine (1958: 482), Bottin (1969: 116–24), Bakker (2001: 9 = 2005: 122), and on the type also
8.37, 8.43. The special status of (ἐ)φασκε/ο- as a substitute for imperfective (ἐ)φη- is discussed by
Jacquinod (1990).
19 20
Ruipérez (1982: 160–1). Bottin (1969: 117–18).
21
Cf. Chantraine (1958: 318–25), Giacalone Ramat (1967: 115–18).
366 The Augment
dwell’),22 acts as an imperfectiviser; and this inference acquires a deeper
diachronic dimension when we remember that *-sk̑ e/o- > -ške/a- is also, next
to -šš(a)- and -anna/i-, one of three suffixes optionally used to mark
imperfective aspect explicitly in Hittite.23 While it is difficult to see what
should make such a distinctive imperfectivity marker incompatible with a
past-tense signal, it stands to reason that an imperfectivising element does
not co-occur with the augment if the latter originated as an equally
distinctive perfectivity marker.
7.7 ‘Drewitt’s Rule’

Finally, there is a fifth augmentation tendency that appears to be formally
determined, although there are again deeper functional reasons behind it:
(v) According to ‘Drewitt’s Rule’, the combination of an unaugmented form
+ δέ or other conjunctive particle (type νόησε δέ ‘and (s)he noticed’) is
much more common in epic than that of an augmented form + δέ (type
ἐκάλυψε δέ ‘and (s)he hid’): “in the whole narrative of the Iliad there are
only sixteen sure examples of δέ standing after the syllabically augmented
aorist. After the unaugmented syllabic aorist, δέ is normal; in the Iliad
without B2 etc. (narrative) there are 280 certain instances (also twenty-
nine τε, eight γάρ, and six good examples of ῥα). The difference in the
figures is conclusive. We may be sure that the principle really existed, and
that it was in many cases a check to the growth of the scansional syllabic.
For instance, there could be no more natural use than an amphibrach +
δέ (e.g. ἔθηκε δέ) placed after the weak caesura; and we shall hardly think
it a mere chance that such a scansion of the augmented aorist is absolutely
unknown in the narrative of the Iliad.”24
22
Schwyzer (1939: 711). Mutatis mutandis, a Homeric aorist-based form like δόσκε is thus comparable
to a perfective imperfect in Bulgarian, which “typically carries habitual meaning” (Comrie 1976a:
120; cf. Scatton 1984: 323, Lindstedt 1985: 189–91). The terminology is confusing here because in
Bulgarian (as in other Slavic languages) the labels perfective/imperfective are attached to – on the
perfective side, typically preverbated (4.6) – stems, whereas the intrinsically aspectual categories
imperfect/aorist are determined by suffixation (endings). In other words, a Bulgarian ‘perfective
imperfect’ such as napišeše ‘(s)he would write down’ is to be analysed as [‘perfective’ (~ prototypically
telic) stem napiš(a)-] + [imperfective marking -(e)še], just as Gr. δόσκε can be analysed as [perfective
(~ root aorist) stem δο-] + [imperfective marking -σκε]. (Vice versa, a Bulgarian ‘imperfective aorist’
(e.g., pisax ‘I wrote’), being an aorist of an ‘imperfective’ (~ prototypically atelic) stem, should
correspond to a ‘perfective/perfectivised imperfect’ in Greek: see 7.17.)
23
Bechtel (1936), Melchert (1998), Hoffner and Melchert (2002; 2008: 317–23); cf. 2.12, and see further
8.37–8.42.
24
Drewitt (1912: 104). Further to this, Bottin (1969: 107–10) shows that metrically guaranteed
counterexamples such as ἐκάλυψε δέ are conditioned by the wish to maintain formulaic slots
(e.g., Il. 3.380–1 τὸν δ᾿ ἐξήρπαξ᾿ Ἀφροδίτη | ῥεῖα μάλ᾿ ὥς τε θεός, ἐκάλυψε δ᾿ ἄρ᾿ ἠέρι πολλῇ ‘him
Aphrodite snatched away easily, being a goddess, and she covered him in thick air’ like Il. 21.597
Drewitt himself saw this as a consequence of the augment’s prehistory:
“δέ normally stands second in its clause; and so, if the syllabic augment
was still consciously regarded as what it really is – viz. an adverb in
composition – we should expect to see a great unwillingness to place δέ
after a tense thus augmented.”25 However, as Bottin rightly observed, such
an interpretation entirely depends on the theory of the augment being an
independent element to begin with;26 it cannot corroborate that theory in
its turn. On the contrary, we should wonder why there is no archaic layer of
epic language in which the alleged original situation survives: independent
adverb/‘augment’ + δέ + unaugmented verb (e.g., *ἒ δὲ θῆκε); and also,
since the transition from, say, *ἀπὸ δὲ βάλλει with tmesis to ἀποβάλλει δέ
without was evidently possible, why the hypothetical *ἒ δὲ θῆκε did not
equally give rise to an actual ἔθηκε δέ above all else. So the reasons for
‘Drewitt’s Rule’ are better sought elsewhere.
One possibility would be to invoke the principle of ‘conjunction reduc-
tion’, as described by Kiparsky also with reference to Homeric augmenta-
tion.27 According to this principle, in a conjoined series of forms which
should be marked identically for categories like tense or mood, the relevant
marker only appears in the first form, but its scope extends over the entire
string. Thus, one might assume that because the νόησε δέ type presupposes a
previous parallel verb, the augment is omitted as it has already occurred.
Compare for example the sequence ἔφαν – πάλλεν – ὄρουσεν in Il. 3.324–5:
ὣς ἄρ᾿ ἔφαν, πάλλεν δὲ μέγας κορυθαίολος Ἕκτωρ
ἂψ ὁρόων· Πάριος δὲ θοῶς ἐκ κλῆρος ὄρουσεν.
So they spoke, and great Hector with the glancing helmet shook [the cap],
looking back; and Paris’ lot quickly jumped out.
However, it is easy to come up with counterexamples where the initial
verb itself is unaugmented – too easy, in fact, to make this a plausible
explanation of ‘Drewitt’s Rule’:
ὣς φάτο, μείδησεν δὲ θεὰ λευκώλενος Ἥρη (Il. 1.595)
So he spoke, and Hera the white-armed goddess smiled
ὣς Ἕκτωρ ἀγόρευ᾿, ἐπὶ δὲ Τρῶες κελάδησαν.
ἀλλά μιν ἐξήρπαξε, κάλυψε δ᾿ ἄρ᾿ ἠέρι πολλῇ ‘but he snatched him away and covered him in
thick air’).
25
Drewitt (1912: 104). 26 Bottin (1969: 100).
27
Kiparsky (1968), followed by H. B. Rosén (1973: 318–20); for criticism, see also Bakker (1999: 55–6,
60–2). As De Angelis (1999: 472–6) observes, diachronically one might rather speak of ‘conjunction
addition’ if a string of forms jointly adopted a single additional marker at its start or end.
368 The Augment
οἱ δ᾿ ἵππους μὲν λῦσαν ὑπὸ ζυγοῦ ἱδρώοντας,
δῆσαν δ᾿ ἱμάντεσσι παρ᾿ ἅρμασιν οἷσιν ἕκαστος (Il. 8.542–4)
So Hector spoke, and the Trojans applauded; they released the sweating
horses from under the yoke, and tied them with their reins, each to his
own chariot.
At best, one could argue that the rule originated in pertinent contexts where
an augmented verb preceded. But why should it have been generalised
from there? Effectively, it rather looks as if there were some intrinsic reason
why combinations of a past-tense form + δέ so regularly occur without
augment. And here an observation of Bottin’s is crucial.28 Such combina-
tions are far more common in narrative than in non-narrative passages
(speeches), and even when they occur in the latter, it is regularly in
narrative micro-environments. ‘Drewitt’s Rule’ is thus inseparable from
the preference for non-augmented pasts in Homeric narrative, one of a
number of functional tendencies to which we now turn.
7.8 Functional Tendencies

The issue of augmentation in narrative vs. non-narrative sections of epic
poetry (cf. (x) below) must be considered in tandem with other functional
factors determining the presence or absence of the augment. Below, these
are first presented in a purely descriptive manner. The subsequent discus-
sion will then refer to all of them jointly (7.9–7.10).
(vi) It has already been mentioned (7.3) that the so-called ‘gnomic
aorist’ shows a special behaviour with regard to augmentation. As
Platt observed, “[t]he general rule is that the gnomic aorist in old
Epic poetry takes the augment. Exceptions are so few as to be
practically non-existent.”29 Importantly, this holds not only for
the aorist in gnomes in the strict sense (e.g., Hes. Op. 218 παθὼν
δέ τε νήπιος ἔγνω ‘the stupid learns by suffering’), but also for
(timeless) aorists in similes, which alternate with general presents.
For example, aor. ἐβιήσατο and ἐξήλασσαν appear next to pres.
κείρει and τύπτουσιν in Il. 11.558–62:30
ὡς δ᾿ ὅτ᾿ ὄνος παρ᾿ ἄρουραν ἰὼν ἐβιήσατο παῖδας
νωθής, ᾧ δὴ πολλὰ περὶ ῥόπαλ᾿ ἀμφὶς ἐάγη,
κείρει τ᾿ εἰσελθὼν βαθὺ λήϊον· οἳ δέ τε παῖδες
28
Bottin (1969: 102, 110–11).
29
Platt (1891: 217). See also 7.16, fn. 80, on the aorist in performative contexts.
30
For numerous other examples, see Meltzer (1904/5: 242–71).
τύπτουσιν ῥοπάλοισι, βίη δέ τε νηπίη αὐτῶν,
σπουδῇ τ᾿ ἐξήλασσαν, ἐπεί τ᾿ ἐκορέσσατο φορβῆς
As when a donkey strolling over a field forces his will on some children,
obstinately, one on whom many sticks are broken all around, and he
enters and ravages the deep crop of corn: and the children beat him with
sticks, but their strength is feeble, and only with difficulty they drive him
out, after he has taken his fill of food.
According to Bakker, aorists in similes have a metrically certain
augment in 60.2% of the Homeric instances (62×), whereas the
absence of the augment can be ascertained only in 5.8% (6×).
Similarly, Platt gives the following figures for aorists in gnomes
and similes in the Odyssey (and almost identical ones for large parts
of the Iliad): “Augmented forms, 36; apparent exceptions [sc., where
the text can easily be altered], 2; real exceptions, 1; compounds of
ἧκα, 3; total, 42”.31
(vii) Another interesting feature was also noticed by Platt, for whom the
“perfect aorist” is “the aorist used where we in English use a perfect”:
“the rule upon the whole is that the perfect aorist takes the augment”.32
Platt admits that such a semantic classification of forms can be a matter
of interpretation, but writes: “I have done my best to be impartial, and
whenever doubtful have been content to abide by Butcher and Lang,
and I make the figures for the Odyssey, α–ψ, 180 augmented against 66
unaugmented perfect aorists, about 3 to 1. For ω they are 12 to 5. These
figures do not include the perfect aorist after εἰ. In the Achilleid [i.e.,
what Platt in accordance with the analytical school of his day took to
be the oldest parts of the Iliad, comprising approximately half of the
entire epic] the proportion is about 63 to 16, i.e. 4 to 1.” Further to this,
in a polemic against Drewitt, who had accepted Platt’s view, Shewan
still had to concede that “on a rough count for Α–Μ and α–μ . . . the
proportions of unaugmented to augmented forms in aorists which
seem to me to be of the present-reference variety work out at about 1 to
2.2 and 1 to 2.3, respectively”.33 These more conservative figures still
contrast starkly with the overall augmentation of the aorist. According
31
Bakker (2001: 8 = 2005: 121), Platt (1891: 218–19); with p < 0.001, Bakker’s figures are significantly
different from a random distribution of augments.
32
Platt (1891: 221–6).
33
Shewan (1912: 403), responding to Drewitt (1912); unlike Platt, Shewan does not give raw figures, but
those of Platt and Bakker (cf. below) are, except in the case of Platt’s count for Odyssey 24, statistically
incompatible with assuming random augmentation (p < 0.001 in each case).
370 The Augment
to Bakker’s counts, in the Iliad only 25.5% of all aorists metrically
require the augment, whereas 44.9% reject it (so that the ratio of
metrically certain unaugmented to augmented aorists is approximately
1.8 : 1).34 Also, if one concentrates on the clearest cases alone, where the
presence of a temporal adverb νῦν ‘(just) now’ leaves little room for
interpretative disagreement, the relevant ratio is still 1 : 2.1 according to
Shewan, 1 : 3.1 according to Drewitt, and 1 : 3.3 according to Bottin.35 A
typical instance is seen in the following Iliadic pair of verses, where
Diomedes angrily calls after Hector:
ἐξ αὖ νῦν ἔφυγες θάνατον, κύον· ἦ τέ τοι ἄγχι
ἦλθε κακόν· νῦν αὖτέ σ᾿ ἐρύσατο Φοῖβος Ἀπόλλων (Il. 11.362–3)
“Now you have escaped death once again, you dog, and harm has come
very close to you indeed; now again Phoebus Apollo has saved you.”
(viii) More recently, Bakker has pointed out that “aorists in negative
contexts tend to disfavor the augment, both in narrative (whether
told by the narrator or by the characters) and in discourse. An
example from the latter is:
ὦ γέρον οὔ πω τόν γε κύνες φάγον οὐδ᾿ οἰωνοί, (Il. 24.411)
‘Aged sir, neither have any dogs eaten him, nor have the birds.’
In negated contexts the statistics for negated verbs in characters’
speech are almost the reverse of those for characters’ speech in
general”: 22.2% of verbs under negation require the augment, but
42.9% rule it out.36 On the opposite figures for “characters’ speech
in general”, see (x) below.
(ix) Following Drewitt, Bakker has also studied the practice of augmen-
tation in the (largely formulaic) introductions of direct speech.
Once again there is no absolute rule, and it is clear that for instance
ὣς φάτο and ὣς ἔφατ᾿ serve different formulaic environments: both
fill the same metrical slot, but one is applicable when the following
word starts with a consonant and the other when a vowel is in play.
34
Bakker (2001: 8 = 2005: 121).
35
Shewan (1912: 403), Drewitt (1913: 351), Bottin (1969: 136); the raw figures given by each of them
(Shewan 22 : 46, Drewitt 15 : 46, Bottin 18 : 59) are again significant (p = 0.005 for Shewan, p < 0.001
for Drewitt and Bottin). The following example is taken from Bakker (2001: 6 = 2005: 119).
36
Bakker (2001: 13–14 = 2005: 126–7); cf. Bakker (1999: 56, 64) and Mumm (2004: 151–2). With p =
0.059, the absolute figures given by Bakker (14 augmented, 27 unaugmented) are only just
insufficient to disprove random augmentation.
However, it remains remarkable that 45.0% of verb forms in Iliadic
speech introductions metrically require the augment, whereas only
16.7% rule it out.37 This must again be contrasted with the opposite
tendency in ‘normal’ narrative passages (cf. (x) below).
(x) As first highlighted by K. Koch, narrative passages in epic and
passages consisting of character speech substantially differ with
regard to augmentation. In response to Koch’s raw figures, Platt
pointed out that a precise quantification is made difficult by the
need to decide how to deal with narrative passages inserted into
character speech.38 In Platt’s view, the difference ultimately results
from “perfect aorists” (cf. (vii)) most naturally occurring in char-
acter speech. But although this is an important consideration, it
would be unwise to conflate (vii) and (x) entirely. This is because
the tendency is observable not only with the “perfect aorist”, but
also – though less markedly – with the ‘normal’ preterital aorist
and even the imperfect (without there being a ‘present-reference’
imperfect). Platt himself admits “that there is some difference
between the imperfects in speech and those in narrative, but
what it is I am utterly unable at present to discover”.39 At the
same time, he is no doubt right that “the difference is a difference
of meaning, it is not simply the being in a speech that causes it”,
even if Drewitt subsequently voiced the latter opinion; for
according to Drewitt, it all boils down to compositional layering,
with the speeches representing a later building block of epic
than the narrative parts.40 Nowadays, few would subscribe
to such an unabashedly analytical approach, not least because
“[a]ugmentation is identical in speech-narrative and narrative
outside speeches”.41
On the basis of the statistics compiled by Drewitt for the Iliad,
and again looking only at metrically certain cases, it appears that
in “narrative proper (similes and gnomes omitted)” 26.2% of all
37
Bakker (2001: 9 = 2005: 122), with 167 vs. 62 items respectively speaking against random augmenta-
tion (p < 0.001); cf. also Drewitt (1912: 110–11) and Lehnert (2012: 210).
38
Koch (1868), Platt (1891: 222–4).
39
Platt (1891: 230); cf. Drewitt (1912: 114) on the preterital aorist.
40
Drewitt (1912: 116–18), followed by Beck (1919).
41
Shewan (1912: 402). Drewitt (1912: 117) had tried to counter the objection by arguing that, for later
poets, in the absence of “mimetic passages in old work . . . there were no speech-models to fix the
type as it was fixed for narrative proper”. As for augmentation in narrative, Drewitt (1912: passim,
esp. 104–11) held it to be “purely scansional” (i.e., employed metri causa).
372 The Augment
aorists (702 out of 2680) and 21.8% of all imperfects (330 out of 1513)
are augmented, whereas in the speeches this is true of 49.8% of the
aorists (405 out of 813) and 29.2% of the imperfects (68 out of 233).42
Finally, we may briefly return to the frequent non-augmentation
of Homeric duals (7.5). This falls into place when we realise that
an overwhelming majority of duals occurs in narrative. Of the 98
metrically certain forms in the Iliad tabulated by Bottin, 85 (86.7%)
are unaugmented and only 13 (13.3%) are augmented;43 just 6 of the
former and 1 of the latter are placed in speeches (where several of
them may nevertheless be said to be ‘narrative’: cf. above). If we
subtract these, so that only unambiguous duals in unquestionably
narrative passages remain, the augmentation rate is 13.2%. This is
still lower than the corresponding figure for all narrative aorists
and imperfects, but it no longer represents an extreme outlier. A
divergence of this order is indeed explainable as due to the duals
representing a morphological archaism in Homeric Greek, and
hence being less affected by the gradual spread of augmentation
in general.
7.9 Histoire, discours, and the Augment

The statistical observations presented in 7.3–7.8 help to objectivise
augment usage in Homer. Without them, and looking at individual
passages only, it is almost always possible to ascribe the presence or
absence of augments to metrical factors or the like. However, if these
were the only determinants,44 no more general trends should be visible.
The crucial task is therefore macroscopically to account for the tenden-
cies noted.
In recent times, point (x) in particular has been commented upon in
Homeric scholarship. In an incisive article, Basset analysed it by reference
42
Cf. Drewitt (1912: 46, 113–16); the difference is significant for both aorists (p < 0.001) and imperfects
(p = 0.016). See also 7.4, fn. 11, and the similar figures of Bakker (2001: 8 = 2005: 121) (32.5%, or 1045
out of 3213, metrically certain augmented aorists in “narrative”, but 49.8%, or 428 out of 860, in
“characters’ speech”; the divergence from Drewitt is attributable above all to Drewitt’s slightly
restricted corpus).
43
Bottin (1969: 94–6).
44
As maintained by Lazzeroni (1977: 24–5) and De Angelis (2000/1 [2004]: esp. 73), in the wake of
Bottin (1969) who aimed at correlating augmentation and stylistic layering of epic and therefore,
among other things, played down the functional-semantic points (vi) and (vii) in 7.8 (e.g., by
claiming that the augment was consistently used in similes and gnomes merely in order to artificially
differentiate these from narrative passages; contrast Shipp 1972: 120, for whom the augment
frequency is one of several ‘late’ features in similes, although the typical ‘simile aorist’ virtually
disappears from post-Homeric Greek).
to Benveniste’s pragmatic differentiation of histoire and discours as two
different systems of utterance.45 A past-tense account belonging to histoire
(récit historique) is described by Benveniste as ‘the presentation of the facts
that happened at a certain moment in time, without any intervention of
the speaker in the report’: ‘strictly speaking, there is not even a narrator
anymore. The events are put down as they came about, according to how
they appear on the horizon of the story. Nobody speaks here; the events
seem to narrate themselves.’ In the category discours, by contrast, where
past-tense referencing is of course equally possible, we can locate
every utterance that presupposes a speaker and a listener, and with the
former the intention of influencing the other in some way. In the first
place, this encompasses the variety of oral speeches of every kind and level,
ranging from trivial conversations to the most ornate oration. But it also
refers to the mass of written texts which reproduce oral speeches or borrow
their style and aims: . . . all the genres where someone addresses someone,
presents himself as a speaker, and organises what he says within the category
of person.
This divide, Benveniste stressed, manifests itself also on the grammatical
level. Most obviously, first- and second-person forms of the verb are used
freely in discours, whereas in histoire we typically find the third person only.
But differences in tense usage equally exist. In discours, ‘all the tenses are
possible, except for one, the aorist [i.e., the French passé simple], which is
nowadays banned from this plane of utterance while being the typical form
of histoire’. Where discours refers to the past (and does not use the imper-
fect, which is shared by both systems), it uses the ‘perfect’ (i.e., the passé
composé).
Now, Basset not only realised that the distinction of ‘(pure) narrative’ vs.
‘character speech’ in Homer can be mapped onto Benveniste’s histoire/
discours dichotomy. He also saw that just as French differentiates between
the two when it comes to tense selection, so the Homeric difference in
augmentation may have something to do with it. Concretely, augmented
past tenses are a prerogative of discours (so that an augmented aorist broadly
corresponds to a French passé composé), whereas unaugmented past tenses
characterise histoire (so that an unaugmented aorist matches a French passé
simple). Basset thereby accounted not only for point (x), but at least for (vi)
and (vii) as well. What the augmentation does is combine, ‘in the past of
speech, a reference to the past (past events) and a reference to the present
45
Basset (1989), based on Benveniste (1966: 237–50) (with the following quotations on pp. 239, 241,
242, and 242–3).
374 The Augment
(current centre of vision)’.46 In other words, the augment highlights, so to
speak, that there is an ‘actual’ (or ‘speaker-referenced’) perspective.
With (vii), this is obvious as it is a defining feature of the ‘present-
reference/perfect aorist’ to focus on the present ‘result’ of the past eventuality.
In this ‘(object-)resultative’ role, the Homeric augmented aorist is thus a
functional precursor of the ‘resultative perfect’ of classical Greek (5.14). As for
(vi), Basset argues that the gnomic aorists too are ‘discourse pasts’. ‘One can
account for them by saying that they are based on an experience acquired at
the moment of speech, even if, from the Greek point of view, one distin-
guishes the gnomic aorist from the aorist of experience . . . An experiential fact
is a fact whose truth is actual, but whose manifestation is not.’47
Furthermore, Basset distinguishes a ‘discourse imperfect’ (“imparfait de
discours”, indicating that the eventuality described is no longer true/valid
at the moment of speaking, as in French Pierre, qui était malade cet hiver, est
maintenant bien remis) and a ‘narrative imperfect’ (“imparfait de récit”,
indicating merely that the eventuality described was true/valid at the
moment defined by the narrative, as in Il rendit visite à Pierre, qui était
malade).48 On this basis, one may draw in point (iv) as well. The Homeric
past iteratives are typical instances of the latter kind since their suffix -σκε/ο-
implies that ‘the process or its repetition lasts beyond the moment where it is
observed’, ‘beyond a past centre of vision’.49 By contrast, when Homer
occasionally does introduce augmented forms into narrative passages, the
effect is that he ‘does not content himself with narrating the scene, but lets
it be seen . . . The situation of speech becomes the centre of vision.’50
So, the alternation of augmented vs. unaugmented forms may not be
captured by an iron grammatical rule, but neither is it merely a meaningless
metrical tool. The ability of narrative ‘centres of vision’ to shift is put
into service, either for purposes of narrative strategy or – as need not be
denied – to meet metrical demands.
7.10 Bakker’s ‘Immediacy’

Basset’s insights were elaborated upon by Bakker, who suggested as an all-
encompassing formula that “immediacy in time and space is the pertinent
factor in the use of the augment in its original function”.51
46
Basset (1989: 13); cf. Bakker (2005: 106), who ascribes non-augmented storytelling to “a source that is
different from, and larger than, the consciousness of the present speaker”. On Bakker’s ideas,
see 7.10.
47
Basset (1989: 13), with reference to the aorist classification in Humbert (1960: 145–6).
48 49
Basset (1989: 10), here following Le Guern (1986: 26–9). Basset (1989: 13).
50 51
Basset (1989: 15). Bakker (2001: 14–15 = 2005: 127).
In addition to what Basset had already seen, Bakker also addressed
tendencies (viii) and (ix). As for (viii), “[t]he assertion that an event did
not occur is . . . not a context that is favorable to the speaker’s pointing to
that event, nor to the morphology of deixis”.52 However, Bakker specifies
that sometimes negated augment forms are nevertheless appropriate, as in
the following verses where “Zeus is saying that he has never been so much
stricken with desire as he is now: the non-event has occurred in the past and
is contrasted with the very positive and concrete occurrence of eros in the
present”:
οὐ γάρ πώ ποτέ μ᾿ ὧδε θεᾶς ἔρος οὐδὲ γυναικὸς
θυμὸν ἐνὶ στήθεσσι περιπροχυθεὶς ἐδάμασσεν (Il. 14.315–16)
“For never before has love for a goddess or woman swept away and
overpowered the mind in my breast in this [present] way.”
Somewhat less satisfactory is Bakker’s treatment of (ix). He merely
notes that “the predominance of augment in speech introductions and
in speeches themselves is a sign of this deictic function” (sc., of
“marking an event as ‘near’ with respect to the speaker’s present and
immediate situation”).53 For the speeches themselves this is under-
standable and concurs with Basset’s views. But why should the speech
introductions be aligned with the speeches, rather than with the rest
of the narrative?
The key probably lies in the special status of direct speeches within
epic (or any other) narrative. By inserting a speech, qua mimetic ele-
ment, a narrator interrupts the (non-mimetic) narrative flow. So,
whereas the narrator’s existence is virtually forgotten in ‘normal’ narra-
tive, his hand becomes visible as soon as a speech is inserted. The
listeners know that what is made to look like a verbatim report is –
under normal circumstances – just the rhetorical creation of the narra-
tor; and they also know that no character speech would be inserted into
the narrative frame unless it were deemed to be of special importance. A
narrator who wants to insert a speech therefore has two options. He can
either maintain the impression of unmediated narrative until the last
moment, when the speech itself starts. Or he can interrupt the narrative
flow a little earlier, grammatically ‘acknowledge’ his own intervention,
and thus enhance the significance of the following ‘quoted’ words. In
English, a common tool to achieve such an effect is to switch to the
52 53
Bakker (2001: 16 = 2005: 129). Bakker (2001: 15 = 2005: 128).
376 The Augment
historical present, a tense which is clearly designed to convey the type of
immediacy Bakker has in mind.54 Compare the following passage from
the first book of the Iliad:
ἔνθ᾿ ἄλλοι μὲν πάντες ἐπευφήμησαν Ἀχαιοὶ
αἰδεῖσθαί θ᾿ ἱερῆα καὶ ἀγλαὰ δέχθαι ἄποινα·
ἀλλ᾿ οὐκ Ἀτρεΐδῃ Ἀγαμέμνονι ἥνδανε θυμῷ,
ἀλλὰ κακῶς ἀφίει, κρατερὸν δ᾿ ἐπὶ μῦθον ἔτελλε·
μή σε, γέρον, κοίλῃσιν ἐγὼ παρὰ νηυσὶ κιχείω (Il. 1.22–6)
Thereupon, all the other Achaeans endorsed this, to honour the priest and
accept the noble ransom. To the Atreid Agamemnon, however, it was no
agreeable solution, but he dismissed him badly; and he tells him in no
uncertain terms: “Let me never chance upon you again near the hollow ships,
old man.”
Just as one could easily use an English past tense here (‘he told him’), so
it would be grammatical to replace (ἐπὶ) ἔτελλε by an unaugmented
imperfect; but the narrative effect would be slightly altered. So, although
there is an underlying connection between the two, the preference for
augmented speech-introduction verbs has to be kept separate from the
preferential augmentation in the speeches themselves. While the latter is
due to the intrinsic speaker focus of any non-narrative discourse, the
former is one of the narrative tools of the epic poet.
7.11–7.14 Theories on the Origin of the Augment

7.11 The Handbook Doctrine
Given their non-comparative interests, it is natural that neither Basset
and Bakker nor any of the earlier Homeric scholars cited in the previous
section were much concerned with the Indo-Europeanist question
where the augment comes from. The closest Bakker gets to the issue is
by suggesting that the “verbal augment originally was a deictic suffix
marking an event as ‘near’ with respect to the speaker’s present and
immediate situation”.55
54
Significantly, the rise of the historical present in Ancient Greek is a post-Homeric phenomenon
which mirrors the demise of ‘optional’ augmentation: on this nexus, see Willi (2017), with critical
discussion of stylistic explanations for the absence of historical presents in Homer (Schlegel [1798]
1962: 50, Stahl 1907: 91, Koller 1951: 88, Rijksbaron 2002: 25, etc.).
55
Bakker (2001: 15 = 2005: 127); this is taken up by Pagniello (2007: 116–22), who stresses the
‘focalising’ value of the augment but does not substantiate his claim that the past iteratives are
intrinsically ‘non-focal’.
Vice versa, Indo-European scholarship has turned a blind eye on the
Homeric data. As stated before (7.1), most handbooks treat the augment as
a past-tense marker and many speak more specifically of an originally
independent temporal-deictic particle meaning something like ‘(back)
then’.56 That such a view fails to explain the formal tendencies of
Homeric augmentation has already been underlined (7.3–7.7). However,
the real death blow comes from the functional tendencies (7.8). Platt was
the first to state this plainly: “It will also be noticed that this preference for
the augment has nothing to do with past time. For the only known cases in
which the poets seem to have cared whether they added the augment or not
are the gnomic and perfect aorists, and they are just those uses of the aorist
which rather refer to present time.”57 Similarly, there is no reason why past-
tense marking and negation should be less compatible than past-tense
marking and affirmation. But most serious is of course the rarity of the
augment in narrative, one of the prime habitats of past-tense forms. Hence,
even if one were willing to overlook that there is no independent evidence
to back a PIE temporal particle *h1e, the handbook doctrine would be
inacceptable.
7.12 Watkins’s Sentence Connector

The same must be said about one rather different take on the matter.
According to Watkins, the augment is “a sentence connective used with
injunctive forms . . . in the function of continuous narration”, i.e. more
or less ‘(and) then’.58 The only support for this is the Luwian sentence
connector a-, which may (but need not) go back to PIE *h1e-. However, if
Watkins’s theory were true, we should obviously expect the augment to
be most common in continuous narrative, precisely where it is not at
home; nor would any of the other functional tendencies make much
sense.
56
Cf., after Bopp (1833: 786–7) and others, e.g. Brugmann (1913–16: 11) (‘presumably a temporal
adverb’: ‘if the basic meaning of *ē was “there, then”, it is possible that this adverb was identical with
the preposition *ē’), Erhart (1989: 74), Rix (1992: 226) (‘previously’), Adrados, Bernabé, and
Mendoza (1996: 188) (‘no doubt an adverb of time’), Szemerényi (1996: 297) (“its meaning was
perhaps ‘really’ or ‘formerly, once’ or local, ‘there’ or both together ‘illic et tunc’”), Tichy (2000: 118)
(‘particle *é (or possibly *h1é) “then”’), Meier-Brügger (2002: 183) (‘presumably an adverb in the
sense of “then”’), Beekes (2011: 252) (“in origin an independent particle that meant something like
‘then, at that time’”); differently, but no more convincingly, Back (1991: 299) (augmentation for
‘simultaneity in the non-present’, and therefore initially tied to imperfectivity).
57
Platt (1891: 225); at least for the gnomic aorist, the problem is also acknowledged by Kiparsky (1968:
39 n. 6).
58
Watkins (1963: 15).
378 The Augment
7.13 An Emphatic Particle?
Another alternative to the conventional view, first mooted by Bréal, has
been to see in the augment an ‘emphatic’ particle and connect it with Gr.
ἦ ‘indeed’ and Ved. ā́ ‘indeed, certainly’, from PIE *(h1)ē.59 Along these
lines, Strunk posited a ‘free adverb’ *é meaning ‘then indeed’ (“damals
tatsächlich”), which would have been lengthened into *ē when not
attached to a neighbouring element (such as a verb form) and whose
second semantic component ‘indeed’ would have survived alone in the
Greek and Vedic particles.60
To some extent, Strunk’s idea is still tied to the erroneous assumption
that pastness (‘then’) must be the essential semantic feature of the
augment – and this although neither Gr. ἦ nor Ved. ā́ feature primarily
in past contexts. If anything, they seem to occur more readily in con-
junction with present-tense verbs. Moreover, Strunk’s lengthening
hypothesis is weakened by the observation that ἦ is long also in ἠδέ
‘and’ (< ἦ + δέ), despite being attached to another element. And ἠδέ is
revealing in another respect as well. If the augment did have the same origin
as ἦ, we should not expect Drewitt’s pattern of unaugmented verb + δέ
(7.7), but rather narrative units composed of ἠδέ + unaugmented verb.
Only the first of these obstacles could be avoided if Strunk’s ‘then’
component were abandoned. In that case, one might argue that what was
and still is an emphatic discourse particle when positioned independently,
acquired a resultative value in combination with verbal forms, and via that
route eventually turned into a past-tense marker.61 However, even then it
would be advisable to start from the long *(h1 )ē ‘indeed’ to which Gr. ἦ and
Ved. ā́ point; and that in turn would presuppose a curious shortening in
the combination with a following (unaccented!) verb. Furthermore, just as
59
Bréal (1900: 279); cf. Cowgill (1963a: 108). Contrast Dunkel (2004c: 120–1; 2014: 2.254) with
resultative *es, but the alleged resegmentation *es-C- → *e-sC- is unmotivated.
60
Strunk (1994b: 276–7). Note that the (occasional) long-vowel augment ἠ-, especially before *u̯ -, is
unlikely to be old (despite Wackernagel 1885: 276; cf. Rix 1992: 227–8, with e.g. Hom. ἠείδης ‘you
knew’ vs. Skt. a-ved-am ‘I knew’, both from *u̯ ei̯d- ‘see’). Whether it is analogical with forms with
*h1u̯ - (e.g., aor. ἔᾱσα ‘let’: cf. LIV 254, s.v. *h1u̯ eh2-, and also Wyatt 1972: 74) or borrowed from the
imperfect of εἶμι ‘go’ (Berg 1977: 252–5), it must be kept apart from the augment ἠ- of βούλομαι
‘prefer, want’, μέλλω ‘am about to’, δύναμαι ‘am able to’ after ἠθελ- to (ἐ)θέλω ‘am ready to, want’
(cf. Debrunner 1954b, and on (ἐ)θέλω also 7.16, fn. 80).
61
This is the line (implicitly) taken by Mumm (2004: 155), who tries to combine the ideas of Bakker
(7.10) and Hoffmann (1967a) (7.30): ‘What is to be newly asserted or specifically affirmed is
expressed with the augment; what is old and known, or merely introduced in support and in
passing, or what immediately follows the main affirmation together with sequential δὲ, or what is
taken to be uncontroversial in dialogue and therefore stands at the back in terms of affirmation, is
unaugmented’; cf. also Lehnert (2012). But why should such ‘affirmation’ be restricted to imperfects
and aorists?
emphasis can hardly be expected to be biased in favour of compound verbs
(7.4) and s-aorists (7.5), or against past iteratives in -σκε/ο- (7.6), so it
would also still be obscure why gnomic aorists must have the augment
when (e.g.) ‘gnomic’ presents (general presents in gnomes and similes)
never have it (7.8). Inconvenient too is the fact that Ved. ā́ , when used as
an emphatic particle, is postpositive:62 even if this were a syntactic
innovation compared to the usual sentence-initial positioning of Gr. ἦ,
it would be odd that there are no traces of parallel postpositive augmen-
tation in Indo-Iranian (and, vice versa, that augmented forms in Greek
show no preference for sentence-initial positioning).
7.14 Intermediate Summary

Taking stock, we must conclude that theories which seek to explain the
augment as an original past-tense marker or sentence connective are inade-
quate on both the formal and the semantic levels. In comparison, a modified
version of Bréal’s and Strunk’s particle theory is more promising since a
semantic curriculum [emphatic] → [resultative] → [anterior/past] is
conceivable for the presumed compound forms. Here the remaining ques-
tions relate more to formal than to functional issues. Why is there no
independent evidence for a PIE particle *(h1 )e,63 or if Gr. ἦ ~ Ved. ā́ were
to be connected, how do we explain the divergent vowel quantity as well as
inconcinnities with regard to syntactic positioning? But above all: Why is
augmentation compatible with perfectives and imperfectives in the past, but
only with perfectives in the present (in the gnomic aorist)? Should emphasis
which is blind to aspect in one tense not be blind to it in the other as well?
At the same time, we may summarise what the historical data tell us:
1. There is no evidence for the augment ever having been used indepen-
dently.64 Although this does not by itself falsify the particle theories, it
62
Cf. Dunkel (1982: 89).
63
Strunk’s (1994b: 278–9) connection with ‘deictic’ ἐ- in (ἐ)κεῖνος ‘that one’ presupposes the unsus-
tainable ‘distant deictic’ part of his augment definition (“damals”); but cf. already Platt (1891: 217),
Hermann (1943: 638).
64
A spurious argument is sometimes construed from two facts of Greek accentuation (Wackernagel
1877: 469–70, Hermann 1914: 10, Lejeune 1972: 330 n. 1): (i) in verbal compounds the accent cannot
move further back than the last vowel of the last preverb (e.g., ipv. aor. ἀπόδος ‘give back!’, not
†ἄποδος although the ‘Law of Limitation’ should allow this); (ii) the accent never moves further
back than the augment (e.g., κατέσχον ‘I obtained’, not †κάτεσχον). From this it no more follows
that the augment is a (last) preverb than it follows from, say, the accentuation of inf. aor. παιδεῦσαι
‘educate’ (not †παίδευσαι) that παι- is a preverb. All this evidence really proves is that augment
accentuation is a resilient feature, which may not be powerful enough to license pre-proparoxytone
accentuation (e.g., †ἔπαιδευσα for ἐπαίδευσα ‘I educated’), but which is powerful enough to
prevent complete barytonesis within the Law of Limitation. To what extent this is due to the
380 The Augment
weakens them considerably when similar phenomena are compared.
For example, spatial adverbs turning into Greek preverbs do eventually
become (more or less) inseparable from the verbal forms they modify,
but Homeric tmesis still amply attests their earlier independence.
Similarly, temporal (?) *nu became a semantically empty preverb in
Old Irish (no-), but this development, which must have originated
in contexts where *nu was used as an independent sentence-initial
particle,65 not only failed to bar enclitics from the position between the
new preverb and the verbal form itself but even led to *nu > no-
becoming a clitic host.
2. Although the augment cannot have been a past-tense signal to begin
with, its original function must have been such that there was a
natural evolutionary path towards its marking past tense in classical
Greek and classical Sanskrit. If not the first, then at least an inter-
mediate step towards this result is likely to be seen in the resultative
value of the augmented aorist. On the typological dimension of this,
see 7.35.
3. The fact that the augment clusters in discours but not histoire suggests
that augmentation is sensitive to pragmatic factors. Before the aug-
ment became grammaticalised as a compulsory past-tense marker in
aorist and imperfect indicatives, speakers were apparently able to
convey different nuances by using augmented or unaugmented
forms. In that sense, augmentation was governed by ‘subjective’ dis-
course strategies as much as by ‘objective’ grammatical rules.
4. The freedom in using (omitting) the augment was seriously curtailed,
however, when it came to the expression of (object-)resultative state-
ments on the one hand and timeless gnomic ones on the other. The
latter in particular are remarkable because the perfective (aorist) forms
involved are distinctly non-past.66 By implication, they must be purely
inherent ‘strength’ of augment accentuation, and not just conditioned by some more general rule
(‘the syllable immediately preceding the verbal root is accented’, Kuryłowicz 1964b: 4) or by how
rarely the accent could in theory move back beyond the augment (and hence a certain columnarisa-
tion), is impossible to say. Building upon Probert (2012: esp. 178), one might even wonder whether
the inherited accent on the augment did not contribute to recessive accentuation becoming
established in the verbal paradigm in the first place.
65
Cf. Watkins (1963: 15).
66
This also speaks against the idea of West (1989: 137), Euler (1995: 139–40), and De Angelis (2000/1
[2004]: 78) that the gnomic aorists were augmented mechanically when Greek lost the general
injunctive (7.28); in that case, it would have been more natural to substitute general presents rather
than past-referencing augmented aorists (nor should we expect such consistency in introducing the
‘new’ forms).
aspectual, and this suggests a deeper connection between augmenta-
tion and perfectivity.
7.15–7.19 Homeric Augmentation and Perfectivity

7.15 Reassessing the Data
In 7.4–7.6 we have seen that our theory whereby the augment descends
from a (reduplicating) perfective marker67 is able to explain several
formal tendencies of Homeric augmentation. An equally positive result
is reached when we look at the other facts that have just been sum-
marised (7.14):
ad 1. If the augment originated as a reduplication syllable, the insepar-
ability of augment and verb form is logical. Clitics also do not
intervene between reduplication syllables and verbal roots in the
perfect or the reduplicated present and aorist.
ad 2. That perfective-aspect forms have an affinity with past tense is well-
known. According to Dahl’s prototype definition, a perfective verb
“will typically denote a single event, seen as an unanalysed whole,
with a well-defined result or end-state, located in the past”.68 This is
because viewing an eventuality in its entirety, as the perfective
aspect does (1.9, 4.4), is easiest when it is past (or at any rate non-
present). Under most circumstances, a form marked out as perfec-
tive but unspecified with regard to tense will therefore be assigned a
default past reading. For a perfective marker to be reinterpreted as a
past-tense signal when a verbal system becomes increasingly tensed
is therefore unsurprising.
ad 3. As discussed earlier (4.4, 4.6, with fn. 16 on aspect as ‘subjective’
Aktionsart), choice of aspect is largely a ‘subjective’ matter, by
which speakers can manipulate the way in which they present
things. This corresponds to what we have found to be the case
with augmentation. For both aspect choice and augmentation
there are established conventions, but these may be disregarded
for discourse-strategic purposes.
In this connection it might perhaps be queried why, according
to our model, it is not the markedly (= augmented) perfective
67
For an early statement to this effect, see Hirt (1928: 171) (but Hirt’s reference to W. Scherer 1878: 350
is misleading): ‘a verbal prefix . . . whose meaning was bleached so much already in Indo-European
that it only served to designate perfectivisation, as prefixes often do’.
68
Ö. Dahl (1985: 78); cf. also e.g. Comrie (1976a: 71–3), Bybee and Dahl (1989: 83–4).
382 The Augment
pasts that constitute the default option in Homeric past-tense
narrative (see (x) in 7.8). Here we must bear in mind that if
there are languages in which basic narrative even defaults to
imperfectives,69 we can hardly take exception to the narrative
use of perfectives which are merely devoid of an old perfective
signal because this element has been reserved for a marked
subset of perfective usages (esp. (vi) and (vii) in 7.8; cf. 6.29).
Also, since most of the unaugmented aorists which form the
backbone of Homeric narrative are by definition telic (this
being the reason for their becoming perfective in the first
place: cf. 4.36, 6.29), their use in narrative is directly compar-
able with that of the derivational (preverbated) perfectives in a
language like Russian (4.6). But as we are dealing with the
presence or absence of a non-derivational perfective marker, a
comparison with Mandarin Chinese may be even more telling.
There the perfective particle -le is also ‘optional’ in narrative,
but it is preferentially employed to mark ‘peak events’.70 The
latter feature is reminiscent of Bakker’s ‘immediacy’ marking
through augmentation (7.10). Moreover, there seems to be a
more general cross-linguistic tendency to use unmarked verb
forms in narrative contexts.71
ad 4. As for the ‘deeper connection’ between augmentation and perfec-
tivity, this is a banal corollary of the augment being an original
perfectivity marker. In aspect languages, marked perfective forms
often serve as (object-)resultatives (cf. (vii) in 7.8). Again this is
unsurprising because perfectivity implies ‘completeness’. To
highlight such completeness is pragmatically most sensible if it
is of relevance to the moment of speaking, notably in view of the
result associated with the complete(d) eventuality. In Russian,
for example, someone who enters a chilly room and wants to
know who is responsible for the cold temperature may only use
69
See for example classical Hebrew with its narrative waw-imperfect (whether or not this was a
“literary prestige device”, Gzella 2012b: 102), the use of forms without perfectivising -le in Mandarin
Chinese narrative (cf. below), the relative freedom with which Czech (unlike Russian) uses
imperfective aspect forms in narrative (Stunová 1993: 107–29), or also the generalisation of the
imperfect, not the aorist, as narrative tense in classical Sanskrit. Even in Greek, narrative (non-
background) uses of the imperfect, though more exceptional, are not unknown, and Bakker’s
(1997b) discussion of this ‘mimetic mode’ of narrative is suggestive when one asks why it is not the
narrative imperfect that was lost in classical Sanskrit (though other factors were also at work:
see 7.37).
70
Chu (1998: 67–71). 71 Ö. Dahl (1985: 113).
the perfective past otkryl in Kto otkryl okna? ‘Who (has) opened
the windows?’ if the windows are still open. If they are closed, the
imperfective variant otkryval has to be used because in the
given context72 the perfective one would trigger a resultative
interpretation.
The augmented gnomic aorist and aorist of similes (7.8, (vi))
equally find partial73 parallels in Slavic. As noted in 5.29, in
Bulgarian, which has a more thorough aspectual system than
Russian, the perfective present “may be used with habitual mean-
ing, or rather is one of the possible means of expressing habitual-
ity, where the habituality involved is that of a situation which
would in itself, as a single instance, be treated as perfective . . .
The sense is . . . that this is what happens whenever a certain set of
circumstances holds.”74 This description is directly transferable to
the Greek aorist in similes.75 Moreover, even in Russian where the
perfective present is normally assigned future reference, there are
similar non-actual present uses of it (e.g., On vsegda najdet vyxod
‘He always finds a way out’); and proverbial sayings in particular
often select this perfective rather than the (general) imperfective
present (e.g., Bumaga vse sterpit ‘Paper endures everything’).76
The conceptual difference between a ‘general’ imperfective pre-
sent and a ‘generic’ perfective one lies in the fact that the latter
conveys that something is true outside time, concentrating on the
propositional content alone, whereas the former conveys that it is
true at any time, and does not therefore altogether abstract from
temporality.
72
Which belongs to Benvenistian discours; in histoire, no resultative reading would follow from, say,
Ivan otkryl okna ‘John opened the windows’. Cf. also the remarks by Dahl and Hedin (2000: 393–4)
on the incompatibility of a resultative reading with most temporal specifications. Vice versa, in
discours the use of an imperfective past does not preclude the (continued) existence of a result (cf. e.g.
Borik 2006: 203, on examples like Ja uže delal ėto upraznenie ‘I have already done this exercise’,
where the English present perfect is preferred in translation because of the adverb already); there is
just no focus on it.
73
‘Partial’ because in Slavic perfectivity is a feature of the lexical stem (7.6, fn. 22); but functionally the
Slavic perfective presents still match the synchronically irregular augmented non-past aorists of
Greek.
74
Comrie (1976a: 69–70); cf. Scatton (1984: 321), Lindstedt (1985: 191–4).
75
Pace Ruipérez (1982: 189–98), it is therefore not the case that ‘the general aorist is fundamentally
neutral in terms of aspect’. Kühner and Gerth (1898–1904: 1.161) more correctly observe that ‘aorists
and presents here coexist in such a way that the aorist reports the momentary events compared as
something that really happened, whereas the present describes those actions and situations which are
presented as evolving and taking time’ (cf. also McKay 1988: esp. 194–6).
76
Cf. Isačenko (1968: 284), Forsyth (1970: 173–9).
384 The Augment
Note, finally, that the preference for unaugmented forms in
negative contexts may also be seen in this light (7.8, (viii)). In the
Slavic languages, there is a well-known bias for imperfective forms
under negation. Presumably this is because with a perfective verb
the scope of the negation is taken to cover only the result, but not
the process leading to the result.77 However, although this has been
thought to translate into a universal tendency – supported also by
languages which not just disprefer but exclude the combination of
perfectives with negation – , it has been suggested more recently
that what may really be at stake is formal markedness, not aspect as
such.78 If this were the case, the point would be less relevant for our
purposes since the augmented forms are the formally marked ones
on any account.
7.16 Unaugmented Modal Forms

Having reached this point, we must envisage possible objections to our
theory. These primarily concern (i) the lack of augmentation in non-
indicative moods,79 and (ii) the de facto occurrence of augmented imper-
fects already in Homer.
Point (i) is fairly straightforward and has been partially addressed
before (6.29). Leaving aside the ‘timeless’ aorist in gnomes and similes,
whose unexpected augmentation is relevant to our discussion precisely
because it can hardly be anything other than an archaism,80 to claim
that the augment originated as a perfectivity marker does not mean to
deny that it was eventually restricted to verbs with past reference. Such a
77
Cf. Rappaport (1985: 214–16).
78
Thus Miestamo and van der Auwera (2011), opposing M. A. Schmid (1980); cf. also Hopper and
Thompson (1980: 276–7) on the correlation between high transitivity and affirmation vs. low
transitivity and negation (3.35).
79
For an isolated late (and clearly secondary) exception, see Meisterhans and Schwyzer (1900: 173–4).
80
Another possible fossil is Gr. ἐθέλω ‘wish’, whose relation with θέλω ‘wish’ remains obscure,
especially if Hsch. φ 105 φαλίζει· θέλει belongs to the same root and thus excludes *h1- (against
LIV 246, s.v. *h1g u̯ hel-). While one cannot disprove the traditional ad hoc explanation of θέλω
through a ‘colloquial’ aphaeresis of an otherwise unknown ‘prefix’ (Debrunner 1954a, Frisk 1960–
72: 1.447–8 and Chantraine 2009: 300–1, both s.v. ἐθέλω; on the alleged prefix, Schwyzer and
Debrunner 1950: 491), to suspect an origin of ἐθέλω in performative – and therefore formally
perfectivised – uses of θέλω with added *h1e- > ἐ- is equally conceivable in view of the verb’s
voluntative semantics. On non-past perfectives in performative contexts, see 5.31, and for Ancient
Greek cf. also Moorhouse (1982: 195) and Colvin (2010) on the so-called ‘tragic’ or ‘instantaneous’
aorist (type ἐπῄνεσα ‘I (herewith) agree’); to judge by Il. 14.95 = 17.173 ὠνοσάμην ‘I (herewith)
scorn’, this non-past aorist too required an augment in Homeric Greek.
restriction is the necessary intermediate step towards the augment being
reinterpreted as a past-tense marker and hence becoming compulsory
with past-tense indicatives within the history of both Greek and Indo-
Iranian. Now, the non-indicative forms (subjunctives, optatives,
imperatives; also infinitives) not only disfavoured extra perfectivity
marking at the outset (6.29), they also did not on the whole have past
reference later on. So when the reinterpretation of the augment from
perfective to past-tense marker began, there was no reason to modify
the initial situation wherein the non-indicative moods took no
augment.81
7.17 Augmented and Perfective Imperfects

Of somewhat wider interest is point (ii) about the augmented imper-
fects. Unlike the past iteratives in -σκε/ο- (7.6), these are not marked
imperfectives, but they still belong to the imperfective domain. In
7.5, it was noted that, if the augment had been a past-tense marker to
begin with, it should be at least as frequent (if not more frequent)
among imperfects than among aorists. By contrast, if our assumption
is correct, we might expect the imperfect to lag behind the aorist in
terms of augmentation. This expectation is borne out by Drewitt’s
Homeric statistics (7.4, fn. 11). Looking again only at the metrically
certain forms, in “narrative proper” 26.8% of the aorists but only
21.5% of the imperfects are augmented, and in the “speeches” a
similar gap between 50.9% of the aorists and 35.7% of the imperfects
is seen.82
But we should not just focus on raw figures. We must also ask by what
route augmentation may have entered the imperfect. As long as the augment
was not yet an exclusive past-tense marker, its compatibility with various
kinds of imperfects could have varied just as much as its compatibility with
81
Neither the Old Indic conditional mood (formally an imperfect to the future: e.g., adāsyam ‘I would
give, would have given’) nor the Greek augmented imperfect/aorist used as irrealis (with modal ἄν:
ἐδίδουν/ἔδωκα ἄν ‘I would give, I would have given’) contradict this: they merely exemplify the
cross-linguistic connection between irrealis modality and past imperfectives (James 1982, Fleischman
1995).
82
With p < 0.001, the difference between aorists and imperfects is significant both in narrative and in
speeches. Cf. also 7.8, point (x), where the numbers refer to the Iliad alone, and 7.5, fn. 16, on the
more complex Vedic data. If the gap is wider in the Homeric speeches, it must be remembered that
there is no ‘resultative’ imperfect to match the ‘resultative’ aorist; so the situation in “narrative
proper” is less skewed. The conclusion that imperfect augmentation may be secondary was already
drawn by Drewitt (1912: 49–50).
386 The Augment
different kinds of aorists. More concretely, we should assume that an
augmented imperfect was, to begin with, a ‘perfective (or: perfectivised)
imperfect’. In the comprehensive aspectual system of Modern Bulgarian,
such a phenomenon indeed exists: the Bulgarian ‘imperfective aorist’ is
an aspectually perfective form of an imperfective – i.e., prototypically
atelic – stem.83 Since subjective boundedness is here superimposed on
objective unboundedness, the Bulgarian imperfective aorist is characteristi-
cally used for eventualities of some duration whose result/outcome is con-
sidered less relevant than their occurrence, but which are nevertheless viewed
or presented by the speaker as a complete whole (e.g., pisax dva časa ‘I wrote
for two hours’).84 By contrast, it would not be appropriate to use a Bulgarian
imperfective aorist in environments where either (a) a background is set, in
front of which another eventuality takes place (cf. was living in When John
was living in Paris, he became fluent in French: to focus here on the complete-
ness of the ‘living’ eventuality would blur the picture and potentially trigger
an unwanted sequential reading like ‘When/After John had lived in Paris, he
became fluent in French’) or (b) the emphasis is on the habituality of some
behaviour in the past (as in She would go to the cinema every Monday: the
habitual repetition is crucial, not the question if the behaviour has changed
in the meantime).85
7.18 Homeric Illustrations

In Homer, the use of augmented imperfects often conforms with the above
conceptual frame. The following three passages exemplify this:
τὸν δ᾿ ἠμείβετ᾿ ἔπειτα ἄναξ ἀνδρῶν Ἀγαμέμνων·
φεῦγε μάλ᾿ . . . (Il. 1.172–3)
To him, then, Agamemnon the lord of men replied: “Do run off . . .”
Whenever augmented imperfects like ἠμείβετο introduce direct speech,
the speech is not only lifted out of the surrounding narrative flow (7.10),
but thanks to the imperfective aspect stem it is also ‘framed’: the use of
the ‘open-ended’ imperfect underlines that ἠμείβετο has scope over the
83
Cf. 7.6, fn. 22, on the confusing terminology; Comrie (1976a: 32).
84
See Scatton (1984: 321–2) and Lindstedt (1985: 175–82), and cf. Bertinetto and Delfitto (2000: 207–8)
on similar possibilities in Spanish, but not Italian (e.g., Span. María estuvo bailando durante dos
horas ‘Mary danced for two hours’, involving a progressive periphrasis with a perfective auxiliary).
Compare also 7.9 on the French “imparfait de discours” for an eventuality that is no longer true/
valid at the moment of speaking.
85
Cf. 7.9 on the French “imparfait de récit”.
entire quotation. Although subsumed into a single notion, and hence
perfectivised (→ augmented), the eventuality has to be conceived of as
an extended durative one at the same time.
ἧος ὁ τὸν πεδίοιο διώκετο πυροφόροιο,
τρέψας πὰρ ποταμὸν βαθυδινήεντα Σκάμανδρον,
...
τόφρ᾿ ἄλλοι Τρῶες πεφοβημένοι ἦλθον ὁμίλῳ
ἀσπάσιοι προτὶ ἄστυ (Il. 21.602–7)
While he [Achilleus] was chasing him [sc., Apollo, in the guise of Agenor]
across the wheat-bearing plain, having turned him towards the deep-
whirling river Scamander . . ., all the other Trojans, frightened, were glad to
reach their city in a throng.
Achilleus’ chasing his opponent provides the background for the Trojans’
panic withdrawal inside the city-walls (cf. (a) in 7.17).
πὰρ δὲ ζωστὴρ κεῖτο παναίολος, ᾧ ῥ᾿ ὁ γεραιὸς
ζώννυθ᾿, ὅτ᾿ ἐς πόλεμον φθισήνορα θωρήσσοιτο
λαὸν ἄγων . . . (Il. 10.77–9)
Next to him the colourful belt was lying with which the old man would gird
himself whenever he put on his armour to lead his army into men-wasting
war.
Like the past-habitual optative θωρήσσοιτο in the following subordinate
clause, the unaugmented imperfect ζώννυτο conveys the habituality asso-
ciated with Nestor’s girding (cf. (b) in 7.17).
However, not all instances of imperfect augmentation fit equally well. A
typical counterexample is seen in Nestor’s account of how Menelaos
returned home:
ἔνθα διατμήξας τὰς μὲν Κρήτῃ ἐπέλασσεν,
ἧχι Κύδωνες ἔναιον Ἰαρδάνου ἀμφὶ ῥέεθρα. (Od. 3.291–2)
Then, dividing up [his ships], he let the one group approach Crete, where
the Cydonians were living around the streams of the Iardanos.
There is no reason for the speaker to bound the Cydonians’ habitual and
durative dwelling and thus to treat it as anything other than a background
against which the narrative action takes place; undoubtedly the Cydonians
still live in the same place while he is speaking. Hence, it must be conceded
that augmented imperfects are no longer confined to their presumed
original habitat. Moreover, even a statistical verification is impossible
since it is very often difficult to decide which function a given imperfect
388 The Augment
form has. Consider, for example, the imperfect ἠλᾶτο which occurs a little
later in the same speech of Nestor:
ὣς ὁ μὲν ἔνθα πολὺν βίοτον καὶ χρυσὸν ἀγείρων
ἠλᾶτο ξὺν νηυσὶ κατ᾿ ἀλλοθρόους ἀνθρώπους·
τόφρα δὲ ταῦτ᾿ Αἴγισθος ἐμήσατο οἴκοθι λυγρά (Od. 3.301–3)
Thus, he [sc., Menelaos] travelled/was travelling with his ships among
foreign-speaking people, amassing much wealth and gold. In the meantime,
Aegisthus at home conceived a dire plan.
Here we might take ἠλᾶτο to set the background for Aegisthus’ dealings at
home (and therefore to contain another ‘unjustified’ augment); but we
might also read it as an imperfect that summarises into one extended whole
all the previously narrated travels of Menelaos (in which case the augment
would tie in with our claims).
7.19 Typological Support

While there is thus no philological proof, the theory that the first aug-
mented imperfects were of a ‘perfective’ (complexive/summative) kind is at
least typologically plausible. Imperfective verb forms which are used like
the background-setting διώκετο in the second example of 7.18 are some-
times referred to as ‘focalised progressives’ because they express “the notion
of an event viewed as going on at a single point in time, here called
‘focalization point’”: “the focalization point does not exhaustively localize
the event; it simply indicates a point in time overlapping the progressive
event, while the actual duration of the latter remains indeterminate”.86
Such focalised progressives are to be distinguished from ‘durative progres-
sives’, which “are evaluated relative to a larger interval of time”. As an
example of the latter, Bertinetto, Ebert, and de Groot cite Finn. Viime
tiistaina Nina oli pitämässä esitelmän Helsingissä ‘Last Tuesday, Nina gave
(lit., was keeping) a talk in Helsinki’:87 again, a bounded event of extended
internal duration. For our purposes, the importance of this differentiation
of two types of progressives lies in the cross-linguistic tendency for durative
progressives to become focalised progressives, and subsequently general
imperfectives, rather than vice versa.88 That is, if augmented vs. unaug-
mented imperfects were at some point distinguished by their ability to
fulfil a specific sub-function of past imperfectivity, it is indeed best to
assume that the gradually spreading augmented variant started out as a
86
Bertinetto, Ebert, and de Groot (2000: 527). 87 Bertinetto, Ebert, and de Groot (2000: 529).
88
Bertinetto (1995), Bertinetto, Ebert, and de Groot (2000: 538–41); cf. 4.3 on the ‘prog imperfective
drift’.
durative progressive – just as it should if we want to insert it into a wider
picture of augmentation (7.15).
7.20–7.22 The Augment in Mycenaean

7.20 General Situation
So far, we have almost exclusively looked at the use of the augment in
Homer. No other evidence shows as clearly as this that conventional views
about the origins of the augment need to be revised. However, it would be
wrong to defend an alternative theory if in order to do so we had to disregard
what other sources of data tell us. In the second part of this chapter, we shall
therefore turn to the augment in Phrygian (7.23), Armenian (7.24), Iranian
(7.25–7.27), and above all Vedic (7.28–7.37). But before we leave Greek, the
situation in Mycenaean also deserves some comment.
In Mycenaean, augmented forms are exceedingly rare. Most likely
augmented are 3sg. aor. a-pe-do-ke = /ap-e-dōke/ (> ἀπέδωκε) ‘gave/
handed out, paid (?)’ (PY Fr 1184.1) and a-pe-e-ke = /ap-e-hēke/ (>
ἀφέηκε) ‘released (?)’ (PY An 724).89 Yet, these are exceptional when
compared to much more frequent unaugmented forms like a-pu-do-ke =
/apu-dōke/ ‘gave/handed out, paid’, do-ke = /dōke/ ‘gave’, qi-ri-ja-to =
/ku̯ ri(i̯ )ato/ ‘bought’, te-ke = /thēke/ ‘put’, wi-de = /wide/ ‘saw’, etc.90
Clearly we cannot account for this situation by reference to Benveniste’s
histoire vs. discours dichotomy (7.9). The Mycenaean texts with their
administrative content have nothing to do with unaugmented
Benvenistian histoire. But neither does the general non-augmentation in
Mycenaean directly support the idea that the augment descends from a
simple past-tense marker. The unaugmented Mycenaean forms just cited
all have past reference as well.
7.21 Earlier Explanations

In the literature, the Mycenaean facts have been variously explained. Still
embracing Wackernagel’s idea that the omission of the augment constitutes
an ‘archaism of poetic practice’ (7.2), some have wondered if the Mycenaean
scribes were borrowing a stylistic feature from poetic Greek.91 This seems
89
Cf. Aura Jorro (1985–93: 1.76), s.vv. a-pe-do-ke, a-pe-e-ke, Bartoněk (2003: 337), Waanders
(2012: 566).
90
For a list of Mycenaean past-tense indicatives, see Bartoněk (2003: 325–7), Waanders (2012: 565–7).
Myc. e-e-to (PY An 607) remains unclear, but an augmented middle aorist of ἵημι cannot be
excluded (cf. Aura Jorro 1985–93: 1.203–4, s.v. e-e-si; Hajnal 1990).
91
Hoenigswald (1964: 181), Palmer (1965: 329).
390 The Augment
unlikely, particularly in a period when poetry, being exclusively oral, did not
share the communicative medium of administration. Others have rather
thought of a more narrowly sociolinguistic dimension, with the educated
palace administrators, unlike ordinary people, (still) using unaugmented
forms at a time of linguistic change.92 Since augmentation indisputably
spread over time into domains where it had not been available before, and
since such a spread – like most linguistic spreads – is likely to have progressed
among some people more quickly than among others, such a supposition,
though unprovable, is not in itself unreasonable; but it fails to take into
account the functionally determined distribution patterns of augmentation
in epic Greek (7.8). As long as there was still a pragmatic distinction
between, say, augmented ‘resultative’ aorists and unaugmented non-
resultative ones, even the most educated or most conservative speakers
should only have omitted the augment in non-resultative forms. So even if
we do resort to a sociolinguistic explanation, we must not forget the func-
tional aspects that are recoverable from Homeric Greek.
Methodologically more adequate is the function-based approach of
Panagl, who seeks to relate the Mycenaean situation to Hoffmann’s claims
about the use of injunctive forms in Vedic Sanskrit (7.30):
After all, the injunctive or memorative, which is particularly well
known from Vedic, is originally a mood of mentioning (“Modus der
Erwähnung”) . . . and is therefore well-suited from a textological point
of view . . . for the language of administration with its regular procedures.
The sporadic forms with augment would thus not be linguistic innovations,
but an accidental slip into narrative style.93
One problem with this is that Hoffmann’s conclusions may not be reliable
(7.31–7.37). But even if they were, it would not make much sense to
compare Mycenaean augmented forms with augmented narrative forms
in Vedic when within Greek itself Homeric narrative is clearly unaugmen-
ted. Recognising the latter difficulty and taking into account Bakker’s work
on Homer (7.10), Mumm therefore proposes to replace Panagl’s ‘slip into
narrative style’ by a ‘slip into subjective modality’.94 Because ‘subjective
modality’ here stands for the speaker’s ‘insistence on the validity or
92
Peters (1986: 312), Duhoux (1987: 167–72); cf. also Hajnal (1990: 55), Milani and Iodice (2010: 306–
8). We cannot even be sure that Mycenaean scribes/administrators were more ‘educated’ than
sword-makers or unguent-boilers.
93
Panagl (1999: 2.491) (translated), inspired by Hoffmann (1967a).
94
Mumm (2004: 156); cf. Joseph (2003: 102), for whom the unaugmented forms are non-witnessed
evidentials.
importance of a statement’, this appropriately falls under Benveniste’s
discours category with its organising locuteur (7.9) and it thus constitutes
a crucial improvement on Panagl’s view. However, it still overlooks that
in Homer we are often dealing with more than just stylistic nuances,
especially when it comes to the augmented aorist with its frequent
resultative value.
7.22 Implicational Neutrality

In reality, the (object-)resultative nature of many early augmented aorists
may be the very reason why unaugmented forms dominate in the Mycenaean
data. Let us consider a typical administrative record (PY Un 267):
o-do-ke a-ko-so-ta
tu-we-ta a-re-pa-zo-o
tu-we-a a-re-pa-te [[ze-so-me]]
ze-so-me-no [[ko]]
ko-ri-a2-da-na arom 6
ku-pa-ro2 arom 6 *157 1̣ 6
ka+po 2 t 5 vin 20 mel 2
lana 2 *131b 2
What/As A(r)xotas gave to Thyestas the unguent-boiler, spices for unguent to
be boiled: coriander – 720 l.; cyperus – 720 l.; ? – 16 (?) units; fruits – 300 l.;
wine – 720 l.; honey – 72 l.; wool – 6 kg.; ? – 72 l.
Given the resultative implicatures of the augmented aorist, using */e-dōke/
‘has given’ instead of -do-ke /dōke/ (δῶκε) ‘gave’ could have been under-
stood to mean that Thyestas still has the spices and other items handed out
by Arxotas. But what is to be recorded in a text like this is merely that the
goods were transferred to Thyestas, no matter what the unguent-boiler
subsequently did with them (presumably boil unguents).95 Thus, just as in
narrative contexts the unaugmented aorist is the pragmatically neutral
default option for an epic singer, so it is here for the record-keeper. Yet,
this is not a neutrality of subjective stance, as Mumm argues, but a factual
neutrality, or avoidance of misleading implicatures.96 And the rare
95
Contrast Schmitt’s (1967a: 66–7) interpretation of the unaugmented Mycenaean forms as ‘con-
stative/resultative injunctives’ (followed by García Ramón 2012a: 441–8); this depends on another
problematic claim of Hoffmann’s (1967a), whereby Vedic occasionally features constative-
resultative injunctives (7.34).
96
One may compare the ‘simple denotative’ use of Slavic imperfectives when a past eventuality is
completed but the result is no longer valid or at any rate irrelevant: cf. Comrie (1976a: 113), Ö. Dahl
(1985: 75–6), and Bertinetto and Delfitto (2000: 215–16). As an example, Bertinetto and Delfitto cite
ipfv. rešal in Russ. Ty možeš ob’’jasnit’ mne ėtu zadaču? – Poprobuju. Kogda-to davno ja rešal ee ‘Can
you explain to me this problem? – I’ll try. Some time ago I solved it’.
392 The Augment
appearance of forms with augment is not so much a stylistic slip as
an indication that the augment was beginning to lose its restricted func-
tionality already in Mycenaean times, first perhaps in preverbated forms
like a-pe-do-ke and a-pe-e-ke, in agreement with the Homeric data on
compound verbs (7.4). As long as we acknowledge the differences of
communicative purpose, Homeric and Mycenaean augmentation do not
then contradict each other.97
7.23–7.27 The Augment in Phrygian, Armenian, and Iranian

7.23 Phrygian
Outside Greek, the augment is securely attested in Phrygian, Armenian, and
Indo-Iranian (cf. 7.1). Due to the scarcity and elusiveness of the material,
very little can be said about its use in Phrygian. It seems clear that the
dedication verb edaes, which is attested more than once in Old Phrygian, is
an augmented form, possibly to the root *d heh1- ‘put’, although the further
analysis – for instance as an s-aorist or s-preterite98 – is difficult; and since
Neo-Phrygian εσταες resembles edaes, a corresponding interpretation, based
on *steh2- ‘stand’, is also plausible there (i.e., ‘set up’?; cf. OPhryg. estat and
perhaps edat as root aorists?). Furthermore, eneparkes/ενεπαρκες ‘inscribed’
vel sim. (?) may represent a preverbated past-tense form with the augment
intervening between the preverb en- and the root park- as in Greek. Next to
these, however, unaugmented past-tense forms may also be hidden in the
material;99 and even if this were not the case, the forms cited could still not
tell us, for example, whether the augment was typical only of resultatives or
applied to any verb with past-tense reference.
7.24 Armenian
In classical Armenian, whose textual tradition starts much later than that of
any other branch with the augment, the rules for its use are fundamentally
different from what we observe in Greek or Indo-Iranian (though cf. 7.3):
‘the augment is taken by those verbal forms with an initial consonant
which would be monosyllabic without that addition’.100 Since both other
97
Neglecting these differences leads Duhoux and Dachy (1992) and Duhoux (1993) to the unsustain-
able conclusion that aspect was only in its infancy in Mycenaean (cf. 2.13, fn. 30).
98
Thus Gorbachov (2005) and Sowa (2007: 77–81), to be held against (e.g.) the bold ideas of Dunkel
(2004: 125–6). For a helpful discussion of the Phrygian verbal system, see now Sowa (2007), and for
general surveys also Diakonoff and Neroznak (1985: 22–34) (with problematic views on edaes etc.),
Orel (1997: 398–401).
99
Cf. Orel (1997: 399–400), Sowa (2007: 78, 82–4).
100
Meillet (1922a: 97); cf. Klingenschmitt (1982: 31).
persons and the 3sg. impf. have a fuller ending, this principle mostly
restricts the augment to the 3sg. aorist (e.g., 3sg. aor. eber ‘carried’ <
impf. *h1e-bher-e-t, e-lik‘ ‘left’ < *h1e-liku̯ -e-t, ed ‘put’ < *h1e-d heh1-t; but
also e.g. 1sg. aor. e-k-i ‘I came’, to *gu̯ eh2- > Arm. *ka-). However, having
thus become a device to mechanically extend over-short word-bodies, the
Armenian augment also occasionally occurs in non-indicative moods and
non-finite forms (e.g., aor. ipv. 2sg. ek ‘come!’, whence also 2pl. ekayk‘
‘come!’; 1sg. aor. subj. ekic‘, etc.; ptcpl. ekeal).101
Because all this is patently secondary, it does not elucidate the early history
of the augment with which we are concerned. Of greater interest are a small
number of irregularly unaugmented verb forms recently discussed by
Lamberterie. In principle, these could represent archaisms. As Lamberterie
observes,
the irregularity which is constituted by the lack of the augment seems
to have been favoured by a particular syntactic or morphological
environment.
(a) Syntactic conditioning: (1) transfer of the verb to the beginning of a
phrase, with a relatively great frequency of the order VOS; (2) exis-
tence of verbal groups; (3) verbal form placed after an interrogative
pronoun or a negation.
(b) Morphological conditioning. Of the eight verbs affected, three
have a weak aorist (lac‘-, kac‘-, keac‘-) and five a strong aorist, and
among the latter two have the same final consonant as a weak
aorist (harc‘-, c‘oyc‘-). Among the remaining three, one, barj- ‘lift’,
is a special case since the absence of the augment is tied to the
existence of the phrase barj- i ver. Thus, there are only two verbs
where the augment rule is not observed in a monosyllabic aorist
stem ending in a consonant other than -c‘-, namely t‘oł- ‘leave’
and har- ‘hit’. This is very little if one remembers that this
category, though certainly restricted in number, contains some
of the most common verbs of the language.102
It has to be said that Lamberterie’s total of 12 irregularly unaugmented
forms is small103 and that the syntactic tendencies identified by him are
faint. (a1), for example, is effectively based on a single occurrence of
101
Cf. Schmitt (1981: 153–4), Lamberterie (2005–7: 33–4).
102
Lamberterie (2005–7: 45) (translated).
103
Only three of these are unaugmented in all three Bible manuscripts considered (E, M, Z); but since
it is more likely that scribes inadvertently regularised the text, the others too remain significant.
394 The Augment
sentence-initial barj i ver ‘he lifted up’ (John 6.5), and Lamberterie himself
is inclined to see here a morphological reason for the lack of augment:
‘[E]verything looks as if the postverb i ver had the same effect as a preverb,
namely to remove from the verbal stem its monosyllabic character.’104
Similarly, (a3), which is reminiscent of point (viii) in 7.8, is based on a
single negated passage (Mark 12.20 ow (e)t‘oł ‘he did not leave’, with
unaugmented t‘oł also occurring in an affirmative sentence at Matthew
8.15) together with an identical question attested twice (Matthew 3.7 =
Luke 3.7, o c‘oyc‘ ‘Who showed?’). Thus, the only truly suggestive feature is
the morphological one (b). Commenting on this, Lamberterie notes that,
just as PIE *-sk̑ e/o- is certainly involved in the strong aorists harc‘- and
c‘oyc‘-, so it presumably underlies the weak aorist suffix -c‘-.105 Hence, the
survival of a few unaugmented items specifically among forms with this
suffix might well be related to the avoidance of the augment among the
Homeric past iteratives in *-sk̑ e/o- (7.6).
7.25 Old Persian

Within the Iranian branch, Old Persian and Avestan diverge in
how they deal with the augment. Old Persian broadly conforms with
classical Greek and classical Sanskrit: unaugmented indicative forms
with past-tense reference no longer exist (as opposed to prohibitive
injunctives after mā).106 In fact, the augment has so clearly become a
past-tense marker that it is also applied to present optatives used in
past iterative contexts (e.g., avājaniyā ‘he would kill’, to ava-jan-, in
DB I 51, 52).107
7.26 Augmented Aorists in Avestan

Avestan, by contrast, abandons the augment. Augmented aorist and
imperfect forms are already rare in Old Avestan, and the former disappear
104
Lamberterie (2005–7: 38). In the second passage illustrating (a1), harc‘ ‘questioned’ follows ew ‘and’
(Mark 15.2) and is therefore neither truly initial nor relatable to ‘Drewitt’s Rule’ (pace Lamberterie
2005–7: 52–3, with n. 50); if anything, the VOS word order may be a conditioning factor, but no
such effect seems to exist in Greek.
105
Lamberterie (2005–7: 51), after e.g. Meillet (1936: 115), Negri (1976: 239–41) (but *-sk̑ e/o- is not
‘preterital’ per se), Schmitt (1981: 145), K. H. Schmidt (1985: 227); contrast Klingenschmitt (1982:
286–7) and, with reservations, Clackson (1994: 82–3). As Lamberterie points out, the above
explanation implies ‘that the aorist stems harc‘- and c‘oyc‘-, which synchronically have the same
structure as the weak aorists, could be drawn into their orbit’. Otherwise, nothing should speak
against the augmentation of formations in *-sk̑ e/o- that are not marked imperfectives, but regular
present stems (e.g., *pr̥ (k̑ )-sk̑ e/o- > harc‘-; cf. Ved. prccháti ‘asks’, Lat. poscō ‘demand’, etc.).
106
On the problematic 3sg. impf. avahr[da] ‘abandoned’ ˙ in DB II 94, see Schmitt (1967b: 64–5); even if
the supplement were correct, a scribal ˙ error (<a-v-h-r-d> for intended <a-v-a-h-r-d>) would be likely.
107
Cf. Hoffmann (1976d: 613–19), with parallels from Young Avestan; Skjaervø (1985: 220).
completely in Younger Avestan (where unaugmented aorist injunctives –
used preteritally, like present injunctives – are also only relics108).
Importantly, though, all the Old Avestan augmented aorists listed by
Kellens109 allow an interpretation as ‘resultative/present-reference’ aorists
(cf. e.g. Y. 45.8 nū . . . viiādarǝsǝm ‘I have just now seen’ (Humbach)).110
They are thus in line with one of the core functions of augmented aorists in
Homer (7.8). Since present-stem forms, whether augmented or unaug-
mented/injunctival, never acquire a similar resultative value, the disap-
pearance of such augmented aorists is probably unrelated to the general loss
of aspectuality and the replacement of aorist stems by present stems in the
history of Avestan, but rather due to the perfect becoming the main
resultative category (i.e., the sequence of forms used in resultative state-
ments is not aorist indicative → aorist injunctive → imperfect injunctive,
but aorist indicative → perfect indicative). The question then arises
whether in the prehistory of Avestan the augment was ever a general past-
tense marker at all. In order to assess this, we must look at the augmented
imperfects.
7.27 Augmented Imperfects in Avestan

Kellens’s discussion of augmented imperfect forms also brings up some
remarkable coincidences with the situation in Homer. Leaving aside the
special case of ah- ‘be’ and i- ‘go’ (PIE *h1es- and *h1ei̯-), which do not
seem to occur in the injunctive anywhere in Indo-Iranian,111 Kellens
identifies four domains where augmented imperfects occasionally
surface:112
1. In Yasna 19–21, which comment on the sacred prayers of Yasna 27.13–
15, the augmented imperfect is more common than the injunctive, and
the latter is restricted to conventional introductory phrases: ‘one
would like to think that the augment was a special feature of the
108
See Kellens (1984: 245–6, 382–3). 109 Kellens and Pirart (1990: 79).
110
The translations of Kellens and Pirart (1988) and Humbach (1991) reflect this, except that Humbach
(1991: 188) renders acistā in Y. 51.11 with ‘recognised’ rather than ‘has recognised’ (“a décidé” in
Kellens and Pirart 1988: 183) and that both Kellens and Pirart (1988: 137) and Humbach (1991: 148)
render auuaocāmā in Y. 38.5 with a performative present (‘we address’, “nous disons”).
111
Cf. Hoffmann (1954: 45–8), Kellens (1984: 85–6). The reason for this may again be sought in
Wackernagel’s Wortumfang principle (7.3): in this respect, e.g. PIIr. 3sg. *ās(t), *āi̯t (< *h1e-h1es-t,
*h1e-h1ei̯-t) and 3pl. *āsan(t), *āi̯an(t) (< *h1e-h1s-ent, *h1e-h1i̯-ent) were preferable to 3sg. *as(t), *ai̯t
(< *h1es-t, *h1ei̯-t) and 3pl. *san(t), *i̯an(t) (< *h1s-ent, *h1i̯-ent).
112
Kellens (1984: 244–9), with the quotations on pp. 247 and 248.
396 The Augment
language of the liturgical school that . . . gave the Avesta its Sāyana’. If
this is so, and if we witness here a ‘dialectal’ feature of some sort, ˙all we
can say is that the dialect in question extended the use of the augment
in line with what happened in Old Persian and elsewhere. By contrast,
we do not learn anything about more specific – and hence more
revealing – functional tendencies concerning the use and/or retention
of augmented forms in those parts of Avestan that generally aban-
doned augmentation.
2. ‘The imperfect is attested in independent clauses with declarative verbs
introducing direct speech’. Since this only happens in late passages
involving exchanges with the evil daevas, Kellens suggests that ‘when
the point was to make the demons speak or to speak to them, the
redactors of a certain part of the Avesta (V 18 and 19, to be precise, as
the rest merely quotes) chose to imitate their language, thereby attest-
ing that the archetypal religious enemy spoke a dialect with augment.
In this case, the augment has no functional value but an essentially
stylistic one: it forms part of a dialectal parody.’ However, it is
noteworthy that the augmented forms occur in the speech introduc-
tions, not in the demons’ speeches themselves, nor are they restricted
to demonic speech introductions (cf. e.g. V. 18.30 sraošo . . . drujim
apǝrǝsat̰ ‘Sraoša . . . asked Deceit’). The matter therefore rather recalls
the frequent augmentation in Homeric speech introductions (point
(ix) in 7.8). Following the discussion of this feature in 7.10 and 7.18,
we may suppose that some Avestan composers equally retained an old
device of narrative highlighting when the mimesis of a significant
speech ‘interrupted’ the orderly sequence of their presentation.
3. In some cases, the augmented imperfect occurs next to a present
injunctive; it then expresses anteriority (e.g., Yt 5.68 tąm yazata
jāmāspō yat̰ spāδǝm pairi.auuaēnat̰ durāt̰ aiiantǝm ‘Jāmāspa sacri-
ficed to him when he had looked at the army ˙ from afar (as it
was) coming’). Here, the augment appears to underline the
completion of the previous eventuality, as befits a perfective
marker. Earlier on, this would no doubt have been one function
of the augmented aorist (as in Vedic Sanskrit and classical
Greek113), but after the disappearance of the aorist, the imperfect
stepped into the gap.
113
Cf., respectively, Delbrück (1888: 578–9; 1897: 283–4), Thieme (1929: 7–9), Gonda (1962: 93–102),
Hoffmann (1967a: 157–60), Euler (1990: 133–5), Tichy (1997: 599–601), and E. Dahl (2010: 275–9)
for Vedic (7.29), and Kühner and Gerth (1898–1904: 1.169), Schwyzer and Debrunner (1950:
299–300), Euler (1990: 141–2), and Rijksbaron (2002: 20) for Greek.
4. In two passages (of Yt 19 and Y. 9), ‘the imperfect seems to express
the recent past’. As we shall see (7.35), forms used to refer to recent-
past eventualities typically develop out of resultative ones. Had the
augmented aorist survived in later Avestan, this would therefore
have been another part of its remit. Moreover, the passages adduced
also allow a resultative reading (cf. Yt 19.57 nōit̰ tat̰ xvarǝnō pairi.
abaom yat̰ asti airiianąm dax́iiunąm with Kellens’s translation “je ne
me suis pas emparé du xvarǝnah des pays aryens” (‘I have not taken
hold of the xvareǝnah of the Aryan lands’)). In view of the attested
use of the augmented aorist in Old Avestan (7.26), it is then not
surprising to find augmented imperfects with a similar value at a
time when present-stem forms (imperfects/injunctives) generally
supersede their aoristic counterparts.
If we take into account these distributional characteristics, we have no
reason to believe that the augment could ever (optionally) be attached to
any kind of past-tense form in the (pre)history of Avestan. The remaining
relics rather suggest that, when augmented forms were still freely avail-
able, their function by and large conformed with what the Homeric data
indicate for the (pre)history of Greek. In a more limited way, they thus
lend further credibility to the view that the augment started life as a
perfectivity marker. While the objections raised in 7.11–7.12 against the
augment descending from either a past-tense marker or a narrative
connector could also be based on the Avestan evidence, our ‘aspectual’
approach is not inconvenienced by it.
7.28–7.37 The Augment in Vedic

7.28 Functions of the Vedic Injunctive
The correspondences between Homeric and Avestan augmentation gain in
significance as we turn to Vedic Sanskrit. A priori, we should now expect the
Vedic situation to be broadly in line with the historical developments we have
been able to infer so far. If it were not, the only straightforward conclusion
would be that Vedic has innovated. But fortunately Vedic augmentation
turns out to be as well-behaved as it should be. The only complication is
that Hoffmann’s classic treatment of the Vedic injunctive has seriously
obscured this.114
114
Hoffmann (1967a).
398 The Augment
The Vedic injunctive is found in three main functions.115 Firstly, it
features in prohibitive sentences after mā́ (e.g., RV 10.108.9 mā́ púnar gāh
‘don’t go back!’ with aor. inj., AV 10.1.26 mā́ tisthah ‘don’t stand/remain ˙
˙˙ ˙
(any longer)’ with pres. inj.). Hoffmann has shown that in this environ-
ment the aorist injunctive acts as a ‘preventive’ (‘do not start doing X!’),
and the present injunctive as an ‘inhibitive’ (‘stop doing X!’).116 This
distribution suggests that something like an aspectual difference between
aorist and present stems was still felt. The prohibitive injunctive is the
only type of injunctive whose numbers do not substantially fall in the
post-Rig-Vedic period.117
Secondly, as first noted by Avery,118 the injunctive serves to make
general statements whose validity is not restricted to the present (or
past/future). In this function, it is similar to, and used interchangeably
with, a ‘normal’ present indicative. Unlike the latter, however, the
injunctive cannot refer to an actual present (‘is X-ing [now]’). In the
Rig Veda, such general injunctives (of both present and aorist stems119) are
frequent in the ‘description of general properties and activities of divinities’
(e.g., RV 6.30.2 divé-dive sū́ ryo darśató bhūt ‘day after day, the sun becomes
visible’ with aor. inj., RV 2.21.4 índrah suyajñá usásah svàr janat ‘Indra of the
good sacrifices generates the dawns ˙and the sun’ ˙ with
˙ pres. inj.).120 In this
connection, Hoffmann uses the slightly imprecise term ‘extratemporal’
(“außerzeitlich”). In line with the remarks in 7.15, such descriptions are better
not thought of as really taken out of time, as by a gnomic statement, but as valid
at all times (‘überzeitlich’);121 though of course, since what is ‘generally’ true is
also ‘generically’ true, the factual value of ‘omnitemporal’ and ‘extratemporal’
statements coincides. While common in the Rig Veda, the general injunctive
115
Cf. Tichy (2002: 191). Renou (1928: 75–8) and Hoffmann (1967a: 236–64) have substantially
restricted the domain of ‘modal’ injunctives outside prohibitive sentences, where it will be inherited
(W. Thomas 1975). Many forms traditionally classified as modal injunctives are either no injunctives
at all or show the injunctive in one of its other functions (notably as a general present, also with
relevance to the future). The injunctive in lieu of an imperative mostly steps in when an aorist
imperative is missing or poorly attested.
116
Hoffmann (1967a: 43–106).
117
Cf. Avery (1884: 331), Hoffmann (1967a: 35), Lazzeroni (1977: 9–10). 118 Avery (1884: 330).
119
On the whole, present injunctives are used for durative eventualities (‘activities’ and ‘accomplish-
ments’ according to Vendler 1957), aorist injunctives for non-durative ones (Vendler’s ‘achieve-
ments’). In practice, the stem selection may at times determine the durative/non-durative lexical
value rather than vice versa: see e.g. RV 1.100.8 só andhé cit támasi jyótir vidat ‘he [sc., Indra] finds
light even in the blind darkness’, where the aor. inj. vidat is best interpreted as an ‘achievement’,
although vindáti ‘finds’ can also refer to an ‘accomplishment’ (cf. Hoffmann 1967a: 271–2).
120
Hoffmann (1967a: 119, cf. 135); cf. already Avery (1884: 330).
121
Avery (1884: 330) speaks of the “statement of general facts unrestricted as to time”.
has all but disappeared already in the Atharva Veda: Avery counted 368 RV vs.
26 AV examples.122
Thirdly, injunctive forms also often occur with – at least apparent – past
reference.123 Again, this usage dies out after the Rig-Vedic period, with just 14
relevant examples in the Atharva Veda against 567 in the Rig Veda. Since it is
only in this past-tense domain that augmented forms take over later on, the
question how the ‘preterital’ injunctives functionally relate to augmented
aorists/imperfects in the Rig Veda is key to our understanding of the pre-
history of the augment.
7.29 Hoffmann on the Vedic Augment

After noting that the presence or absence of an augment cannot always be
ascertained for phonetic reasons, that the selection of augmented or
unaugmented forms may sometimes respond to metrical needs, and that
his investigation will therefore concentrate on passages that show reason-
able consistency, Hoffmann begins his discussion of the ‘preterital’ injunc-
tive with some general observations on the use of augmented past-tense
forms in Vedic:124
1. ‘The imperfect is the proper tense of narrative, of historical report; it
refers to the more remote (non-actual, historical) past. It has no
connection with the present of the speaker but rather stresses the
temporal distance from the present.’
2. By contrast with the imperfect, the aorist indicative is used for the
immediate, actual past (e.g., RV 5.75.9 ábhūd usā́ rúśatpaśur ‘Dawn
with the shining cows has (just) appeared’).125 ˙Like the use of the
imperfect for the more remote past, this is continued in Vedic prose.
3. Closely related to the preceding point is the use of the aorist indicative
in (often result-oriented126) ‘constatations’ (e.g., RV 8.48.3 ápāma
sómam amrt́ ā abhūma ‘we have drunk soma, we have become
immortal’):˙127 ‘The constative use of the aorist indicative can be
122
Avery (1884: 361).
123
See Hoffmann (1967a: 145–235); the statistics are again taken from Avery (1884: 361).
124
Hoffmann (1967a: 151–60); on the overlap of injunctives and indicatives, see also Lazzeroni (1977:
14–15).
125
Cf. Delbrück (1888: 280–1, 285–6; 1897: 278–81), Gonda (1962: 75–7), E. Dahl (2010: 264–9).
126
Although ‘constatations’ do not have to be resultative, ‘constative’ usages border on resultative ones
because they also connect with the present by indicating “that a given situation has held at least
once during some time in the past leading up to the present” (Comrie 1976a: 58, who uses the term
‘experiential’ rather than ‘constative’). Many languages do not systematically distinguish the two
types (Comrie 1976a: 59).
127
Cf. Delbrück (1897: 281–3), Gonda (1962: 67–8), E. Dahl (2010: 282–6).
400 The Augment
ascertained only when the matter referred to belongs to the more
remote past. In the case of current matters, it is usually up to the
interpreter whether he wants to see in the aorist indicative a temporal
reference or a constatation.’ A special case is constituted by the
combination with jyók, referring to an action that has lasted from
the remote past until the present moment (e.g., RV 2.30.10 jyóg
abhūvann ánudhūpitāso ‘they have been smoked out for a long time’).
4. In subordinate clauses, the aorist indicative often expresses anteriority
(cf. 7.27; e.g., RV 7.98.5 yadéd ádevīr ásahist a māyā́ | áthābhavat
kévalah sómo asya ‘when he had overcome the˙˙godless powers, Soma
became˙ his exclusively’).
Since augmented forms thus always refer to a past, and since prohibitive
and general injunctives do not refer to a past, Hoffmann concludes ‘that
the augment specifically refers to the past’ (“dass das Augment eben die
Vergangenheit bezeichnet”).128 In logical terms, this is problematic. Firstly,
Hoffmann himself acknowledges that anterior aorist indicatives can refer
to a relative rather than absolute past, especially when they occur in the
antecedent of a sentence with a general injunctive (e.g., RV 7.3.2 próthad
áśvo ná yávase ’visyán | yadā́ maháh sam váranād vy ásthāt ‘[Agni] snorts like
a horse on the ˙ pasture, desirous,˙ when
˙ it has stepped out of the big
enclosure’). Hence, the Vedic material itself suggests that what is at
stake is not so much speaker-oriented, ‘absolute’ pastness, but rather
‘completedness’. Secondly, even if this were dismissed as a special case,
all one could really say on the basis of the above evidence is that the
augment is (synchronically) restricted to forms with past-tense reference.
However, in a system where there are also unaugmented past-tense forms,
it is then a bit of a leap to claim that the augment must be – even just
synchronically – a past-tense marker.
7.30 Hoffmann’s ‘Memorative’

The next question is therefore this: To what extent are there truly
preterital, narrative, or more generally past-referencing injunctives?
Traditionally, the existence of such injunctives had never been ques-
tioned,129 and it would of course square well with the general tendency
128
Hoffmann (1967a: 160); similarly Hoffmann (1970: 28).
129
See e.g. Avery (1884: 330–1), Renou (1928: 65, 72–5) (‘a present of unstable character, susceptible of
taking on modal or narrative nuances under contextual pressure’) and (1952: 368–9), or more
recently E. Dahl (2010: 249–51); cf. also Kuryłowicz (1927a: 166–7) on Avestan.
for unmarked verb forms to be used in narrative contexts (7.15). According
to Hoffmann, however, things have to be seen differently:
Since the imperfect is defined as the tense of narration, it has been auto-
matically assumed that the same function also holds for the present injunc-
tive. However, the fact alone that the present injunctive can also be general
shows that the two grammatical categories are not universally exchangeable.
Thus, the present injunctive cannot, like the imperfect, refer to the past as
such.130
Because he takes an exclusively synchronic stance, here too
Hoffmann’s reasoning is flawed. As he says, the general injunctive is
comparable with a (general) present indicative. So in this function an
injunctive like janat ‘generates’ (as in RV 2.21.4, quoted in 7.28) competes
with pres. janati. Similarly, if there were a narrative injunctive janat
‘generated’, it would compete with the impf. ajanat. In comparison
with both janat-i and a-janat, janat is the more basic verb form.
Virtually everybody therefore agrees that injunctives are the nuclei of
their verbal paradigms, to which – presumably in a diachronic process –
either the ‘primary’ *-i (which must have been confined to actual presents
at first:131 cf. 10.18) or the augment *h1e- could be secondarily added.132
But if this is so, one cannot argue that just because janat may be used as a
general present, it must not also be able to function as a narrative past just
as much as the imperfect does. We are then simply dealing with a relic
category inherited from a proto-language period in which *-i and *h1e-
were not yet regularly added throughout the domain they occupy in
130
Hoffmann (1967a: 160) (translated).
131
This is suggested not only by the restriction of present-stem injunctives to general as opposed to
actual presents (7.28; cf. Strunk 1968: 292–3; 1992: 37–40, Risch 1985: 406, Erhart 1989: 27; contrast
Safarewicz 1974: 52–3), or by the putative reconstruction of a deictic *i meaning ‘here and now’ (cf.
Müller 1860: 12; 1871: 210, Thurneysen 1885: 173, Watkins 1963: 48; 1969: 45–6, Brandenstein 1967:
18, Strunk 1968: 291–2; 1994a: 276–8, Seebold 1971: 189, Rix 1986: 9, Dunkel 2014: 2.357), but also by
the ‘prog imperfective drift’ (4.3, 7.19) and the fact that in Old Avestan present stems tend to occur
only in either the present indicative or the present injunctive (Kellens and Pirart 1990: 71–2): the
former when the eventuality is durative, and hence compatible with progressivity, the latter when it
is punctative, and hence compatible only with general imperfectivity/habituality. On remnants of
general-present injunctives in early Greek, see West (1989: 135–6). Velten’s (1931) attempt to explain
the contrast between ‘primary’ and ‘secondary’ endings as aspectual rather than temporal in origin is
unconvincing.
132
Cf. 2.6, and see e.g. Thurneysen (1885: 173–4), Kuryłowicz (1964a: 130–1), Hoffmann (1970: 35–6),
Lazzeroni (1977: 4–5, 27–9; 1980: 30–1); contra Mańczak (1969). For Gonda (1956: 37), the
injunctive is thus the hallmark of a ‘primitive’ mindset, but of course the lack of tense among a
language’s verbal categories does not by itself make a system more primitive (even in a non-
evaluative sense) when it is otherwise complex.
402 The Augment
Stage I (early PIE) INJUNCTIVE
F1 F2 F3 F4
↓ ↓ ↓
Stage II (later PIE to PRESENT IN *-i INJUNCTIVE AUGMENTED PAST

early Vedic)
F1 F2 F3 F4
Fig. 7.1. A model of the injunctive as a functionally recessive type
historical times. Hence, just as general injunctives still survive in Vedic,

although they are under pressure from the present indicatives which
extend their functional range, so preterital or ‘past narrative’ injunctives
might equally still survive, while already being sidelined by the newer
narrative imperfects. Figure 7.1 illustrates this, showing how the earliest
injunctive will have encompassed a wide variety of (sub-)functions (Stage
I), only some of which survived into Vedic, whereas others were taken on
by morphologically innovated forms (Stage II).
While it is possible in such a constellation to describe the function of the
injunctive at Stage II in a negative way (‘the injunctive is used wherever the
new forms for F1 and F4 have not (yet) taken over’), any positive definition
which is not merely additive (‘the injunctive is used for both F2 and F3’) is
doomed to fail. And that is where Hoffmann goes astray.133 In his search for
the greatest common denominator of the prohibitive injunctive after mā́ ,
the general injunctive in omnitemporal statements, and the injunctive
traditionally regarded as ‘(past) narrative’, he claims that a positive
‘noeme’ “Erwähnung” (‘mentioning’) can be detected:
An injunctive form mentions a verbal action in its aspect with an
indication of person and voice. The injunctive as such (i.e., in opposi-
tion to the indicative, imperative, subjunctive, optative) designates the
distinctively relevant noeme of mentioning. Thus, the main function of
the injunctive is mentioning, and an appropriate term would therefore
be memorative.134
133
Cf. Michelini (1985); see also the criticism expressed by Ferrari (1969), Durante (1976: 26),
Kuryłowicz (1977: 107–8), and Pooth (2009a: 383–6). Kammenhuber (1985: 444–7) and Tichy
(2002: 192) accept Hoffmann’s views as an adequate description for Vedic, but reject a functionally
comparable PIE injunctive category.
134
Hoffmann (1967a: 279) (translated); cf. also Hoffmann (1970: 34–5).
7.31 The Injunctive Paradox
What is most remarkable about Hoffmann’s ‘noeme of mentioning’ is that
the indicative should be excluded from it. Although it means to recast
things in a negative mould again, it may be easiest to clarify this by equating
‘mentioning’ with something like ‘absence of affirmation/assertion’.135
Whether the value of general injunctives is adequately captured in this
way must be left open. To be sure, any addressee of, say, RV 6.30.2 divé-dive
sū́ ryo darśató bhūt already knows that ‘day after day, the sun becomes
visible’. In that sense, it may indeed be sufficient to mention the matter,
without positively asserting it. However, the very fact that the singer
enunciates such a truism might also endow the utterance with affirmative
force.
More seriously, though, Hoffmann’s analysis also depends on the way
in which he interprets those injunctives that had previously been
regarded as ‘(past) narrative’ ones. First of all, he stresses the difficulty
of identifying distinctly narrative passages in the hymnic genre: ‘In the
Vedic hymn literature the majority of propositions consists of single
sentences.’136 However, he sees a noteworthy exception in RV 10.129
about the creation of the world, ‘and here the imperfect occurs as in
Vedic prose’. That in itself proves very little, of course, especially given
the presumably late composition date of this hymn. What Hoffmann’s
argument really requires is that there be no truly narrative passages in
which the injunctive dominates. And in order to defend this, Hoffmann
has to dismiss a whole host of injunctival sections, mainly137 with mytho-
logical content:
The R̥ gveda almost exclusively offers the loose enumeration of frequently
unconnected mythological facts without logical order. The purpose of
such ‘mythological’ enumerations is not to inform the listener, to whom
something new would be communicated (‘reported’), but the mytholo-
gical facts are referred to, in line with the liturgical purpose, in order
to praise the divinity and show him/her that his/her deeds are
remembered.138
135
Cf. Mumm (1995) (‘non-report’ or ‘verbal definiteness’), De Angelis (1999: 468) (‘enunciative’),
Praust (2003: 121) (“non-modal, . . . non-tense and non-reporting”).
136
Hoffmann (1967a: 161).
137
But not exclusively: see Hoffmann (1967a: 161, 168–9) on RV 7.18.5–20, which narrates (or,
according to Hoffmann, ‘describes’) a historical battle.
138
Hoffmann (1967a: 162–3) (translated).
404 The Augment
In the same context, Hoffmann draws a distinction between ‘reporting
narrative’ (“berichtende Erzählung”) on the one hand and ‘mentioning
description’ (“erwähnende Beschreibung”) on the other:
Reporting narrative is characterised by the progress of the action with a
logical ordering of the individual propositions. By contrast, ‘mentioning
description’ (e.g., of a mythical scene) shows no course of action. As in the
description of a picture, the speaker pauses while looking at a scene, and he
‘mentions’ arbitrarily selected and arbitrarily ordered facts that seem rele-
vant to him.
Had Hoffmann designed his study in a more comparative manner, he
could not have failed to notice at this point what we may call the ‘injunc-
tive paradox’. In Homer, pure narrative (histoire) is unaugmented
(7.8–7.9). In Vedic, according to Hoffmann, the opposite is true.
And whereas Homeric discours tends to be augmented, Vedic passages
are said to be unaugmented when the singer, far from being invisible,
selects and ‘mentions’ (i.e., presupposes by reference to a pool of knowl-
edge shared with the audience).
How can this be? That the Homeric evidence might be misleading is out
of the question. To identify narrative stretches in Homer is much easier
than in the Vedic hymns, and no one has ever maintained that basic
narrative passages, providing ‘new’ information, tend to be augmented in
Homer;139 nor has the comparison with Avestan given us any reason to
suspect far-reaching innovations on the Homeric side (7.26–7.27). So,
either Vedic has turned upside down the augmentation system it inherited,
via Proto-Indo-Iranian, from Proto-Indo-European – or else, more simply,
Hoffmann’s way of reading the Vedic data is wrong.
7.32 On (Re-)reading the Vedic Injunctive

It goes without saying that a scholar of Hoffmann’s calibre would not have
presented a theory that is intrinsically inconsistent. We must not expect to
be able to take the texts discussed by Hoffmann and to prove that they must
mean something other than what he took them to mean. However, as
Hoffmann himself states – referring to mythical information, but the
principle is a more general one – , any speaker can present identical things
139
Since the injunctive is quite healthy in the Rig Veda, the fact that overall unaugmented past-tense
forms are proportionally much less common there than in Homer may also have something to do
with the generic difference between hymnic and (quintessentially narrative) epic poetry: cf. 7.3–7.4
with statistics.
in different ways: ‘One and the same mythical fact he can “report” as past,
merely “mention” as having happened (without placing it in time),
constate or, if need be, also characterise as a state reached or as a result.’140
Consequently, there is much interpretative leeway in assessing the mean-
ing not just of individual sentences, but of entire passages.141 Were it not
so, no scholar before Hoffmann could have believed in a narrative
injunctive. So our task is not to demonstrate that Hoffmann’s readings
are text-internally impossible, but to demonstrate that there are other
ways of reading and interpreting the same texts in an equally, if not more,
convincing manner, but with the added benefit that these alternative
readings avoid the ‘injunctive paradox’ (7.31). Since Hoffmann goes
through a considerable number of passages, his steps cannot all be
retraced. However, the points he makes are recurrent ones and any
counter-observations are as transferable as his original claims. In our
reconsideration, we shall therefore focus on three passages that are given
particular prominence by Hoffmann himself as he discusses them, respec-
tively, first overall (RV 5.32.1, 6.27.4–5142) and first among a handful of more
lengthy samples (RV 1.62.2–5).
7.33 Vedic Illustrations

Hoffmann’s first example comes from a hymn addressed to Indra as
liberator of the waters:
ádardar útsam ásrjo ví khā́ ni
˙
tvám arnavā́ n badbadhānā ́ ṁ aramnāh
˙ indra párvatam ví yád váh
mahā́ ntam ˙ ˙
srjó ví dhā́ rā áva dānavám han (RV ˙5.32.1)
˙
˙ ˙
You split (impf. ádardar) the well, you released (impf. ásrjo) the sources; you
calmed down (impf. aramnāh) the oppressed floods. When ˙ you, Indra, (had)
˙ ˙
opened up (aor. inj. ví váh) the great mountain, you released (pres. inj. srjó)
˙ (pres. inj. áva han) the Dānava.
the streams, you struck away ˙
According to Hoffmann,
the first part of the verse names the facts in the mode of a reporting narrative:
‘You split the well, you released the sources. You calmed down the oppressed
floods.’ In the following two pādas, some of the same facts are repeated in
140
Hoffmann (1967a: 162).
141
For some examples of how much translations can diverge, see Gonda (1956: 38) and Michelini (1985:
57–8).
142
Cf. on these also Ferrari (1969: 231–2), whose (re-)readings are similar to those suggested below.
406 The Augment
other words: ‘When you open the great mountain, you release the streams.
You strike away the Dānava.’ Thus, the poet sticks to the scene he has
previously ‘reported’, but now he ‘describes’ it.143
The first point to be stressed is that Hoffmann does not rule out the
possibility of myth being ‘narrated’. Even in his view, it is not the case
that knowledge of a myth is always taken for granted (or presented as if
taken for granted). Meanwhile, it remains unclear in what way the second
part of the stanza is more ‘descriptive’ than ‘narrative’. If váh and srjáh
‘repeat’ the information of ádardah and ásrjah, this is not ˙so for han. ˙ ˙
˙ ˙ ˙
Moreover, the conjunction yád ‘when, after’ seems odd in a ‘description’,
as Hoffmann’s German translation with the awkward present “öffnest”
(‘you open’) shows. A conjunction for ‘when, after’ would also be out of
place in the description of a painting.
So how else can the text be read? The first two lines with the augmented
imperfects ádardar, ásrjah, aramnāh form part of the singer’s discours, as is
natural at the beginning˙ ˙ of a hymn.
˙ ˙ They are at the same time praise for
Indra and a kind of ‘title’ for the following unaugmented mini-narrative.
As argued before on augmented imperfects (7.17–7.18), the augment
indicates that the eventualities referred to are viewed in their entirety
(from the outside), not from a viewpoint within the unfolding story; but
the fact that imperfective stems are used signals that the splitting of the well
and the release of the sources are nevertheless internally complex or
prolonged actions. Such forms thus convey the same message as an
English title like ‘(How) Indra split(s) the rock and released/releases the
sources’: that some detail is to follow, but that this is the essence of it all.144
It is true that in the next two lines there is not really much more detail
(apart from the striking away of the Dānava), but this is merely because
extended narrative is not the main focus of most Vedic hymns. Given the
yád-clause, it is nevertheless clear that there is a change from discours to an
albeit brief stretch in histoire mode, a mythical story en miniature.
143
144
In a similar way, augmented imperfects may ‘sum up’ the key issue or result of a preceding narrative
when the speaker returns from histoire to discours. See e.g. RV 4.3.11: rténā́ drim vy àsan bhidántah |
sám áṅgiraso navanta góbhih | śunám nárah pári sadann usā́ sam | āvíh˙ svàr abhavaj
˙ ˙
jāté agnáu ‘with
Ṛta they threw apart (aor.˙inj. vy àsan)
˙ ˙ rock,
the ˙ splitting˙ it, together
˙ with the cows the Aṅgiras
shouted hurrah (pres. inj. navanta), for prosperity the men sat down (aor. inj. sadann) around
Dawn: [thus] the light became (impf. abhavaj) manifest as Agni was born’. By contrast, ˙ Hoffmann
(1967a: 209) stretches his own theory when he says that ‘pāda d concludes the mythical picture and
in a sense “reports”, with the imperfect abhavat, the final success of the activities narrated’ – as if
abhavat was showing a ‘progress of the action in a logical order’ or ‘informing the listener, to whom
something new is communicated’ (cf. 7.31).
Identical, and in some ways even more evident, is the situation in RV
6.27.4–5:
etát tyát ta indriyám aceti
yénā́ vadhīr varáśikhasya śésah
˙ māt
vájrasya yát te níhatasya śús ˙
˙
svanā́ c cid indra paramó dadā́ ra
vádhīd índro varáśikhasya śéso
’bhyāvartíne cāyamānā́ ya śíks˙ an
vrcī́vato yád dhariyūpī ́yāyām˙ hán
˙ ́ rve árdhe bhiyásāparo dárt
˙
pū ́
[4] Thus, that Indra-hood of yours has appeared (aor. aceti), by
which you have slain (aor. ávadhīr) the offspring of Varaśikha, when
by the very roaring and noise of your cudgel being struck down,
o Indra, even the most distant one has dispersed (perf. dadā́ ra):
[5] Indra slew (aor. inj. vádhīd) the offspring of Varaśikha, aiding
Abhyāvartin Cāyamāna, after he struck (pres. inj. hán) the Vrcīvants
˙
in the front half (of the army) at Hariyūpīyā and the back (half)
dispersed (aor. inj. dárt) out of fear.
Here too it is by no means clear that ‘verse 5 further elaborates on the
event referred to in verse 4, by explaining and describing it’.145 Once again,
Hoffmann’s rendering of the yád-clause in stanza 5 is awkward (“Es tötet . . .
Indra des Varaśikha Brut . . ., als er . . . die Vr̥ cīvants im vorderen Heeresteil
schlägt . . ., der hintere (Heeresteil) aus Furcht sich zerprengt” (‘Indra slays
the offspring of V., when he strikes the V. in the front part of the army, the
back (part of the army) disperses out of fear’)): one may more naturally
assume a sequence by which Indra first struck the front part of the Vrcīvant
army, so that the back half then dispersed and Indra finished off the ˙leaders
themselves. And while Hoffmann rightly says that stanza 4 contains a
‘constatation’ of Indra’s exploit (hence the rendering of the aorist indica-
tives by English present perfects), there is no reason why stanza 5 should
not be treated as a ‘normal’ narrative passage or ‘reporting narrative’.
Effectively, stanza 5 provides the necessary myth-historical information
for any listener who might not otherwise be able to identify the episode
alluded to in stanza 4. But in this case the change from discours to histoire
is even more visible than in RV 5.32.1 because stanza 5 no longer addresses
145
Hoffmann (1967a: 164).
408 The Augment
Indra directly, as would be the default option in a hymn.146 Instead, it
tells of Indra in the third person. Moreover, the spatio-temporal specifi-
city of the events related also disproves the idea that injunctives in myths
owe their existence to a myth, unlike historical events, being somehow
conceived of as recurrent.147 In this respect, the perceived ‘historicity’ of
Indra’s slaying of Varaśikha’s offspring is no different from, say, the
‘historicity’ of the world’s creation in RV 10.129 or the historical Battle
of the Ten Kings in RV 7.18. Were it not so, the ‘constative’ aorist in
stanza 4 (esp. yénā́ vadhīr varáśikhasya śésah ‘by which you have slain the
offspring of Varaśikha’) would also be out ˙ ˙ of place.
Finally, let us tackle RV 1.62.2–5, one of Hoffmann’s key witnesses for
the alleged ‘non-narrative’ use of unaugmented forms in extended mythical
passages. According to the myth referred to here, the ancestors of the Vedic
priests, the Aṅgiras, were assisted by the god Indra together with his dog
Saramā and his helper Brhaspati in their search for a group of cows stolen
˙
by the demonic Panis. These cows, and with them divine Dawn (Usas),
were hidden away by ˙ the Panis inside the rock Vala: ˙
˙
prá vo mahé máhi námo bharadhvam
āṅgūsyàm śavasānā́ ya sā́ ma
yénā˙nah˙ pū́ rve pitárah padajñā́
árcanto˙áṅgiraso gā́ ávindan
˙
índrasyā́ ṅ girasām cest áu

˙ ˙˙ dhāsím
vidát sarámā tánayāya
́
brhaspátir bhinád ádrim vidád gā́ h
˙ usríyābhir vāvaśanta
sám ˙ nárah ˙
˙
sá sust úbhā sá stubhā́ saptá vípraih
˙˙ ādrim svaryò návagvaih ˙
svarén ́
saran˙yúbhih ˙ phaligám indra˙śakra
valám ˙ ráven ˙ a daraya dáśagvaih
˙ ˙ ˙
grnānó áṅgirobhir dasma ví var
˙˙ásā sū́ ryena góbhir ándhah
us
ví˙ bhū́ myā˙aprathaya indra˙ sā́ nu
divó rája úparam astabhāyah.
˙
[2] To the Great one pay your great homage, the song-like hymn to the
Powerful one, with which our ancestors, the trace-knowing Aṅgiras,
146
The overall hymnic form thus explains why, in texts like our first example (RV 5.32.1), the second
person is not excluded from narrative. Bakker (2001: 13 and cf. 11–12 = 2005: 126 and 124–5) observes
similar ‘intrusions’ in Homer when the temporal conjunction ἐπεί ‘when, after’ is combined with
an unaugmented 2sg. aor. (e.g., ἐπεὶ ἴδες ‘when you saw’) in Homeric direct speech.
147
As maintained by Gonda (1956: 39–41) and Hoffmann (1967a: 161, 197–8).
chanting, found the cows! [3] When Indra and the Aṅgiras were searching,
Saramā found food for her offspring. Brhaspati split the rock, he discovered
the cows. Together with the cows, the ˙men shouted in triumph. [4] With
good-lauding, with lauding tune, together with the seven singers, the
Navagvas, o celestial one, you crushed the rock, together with the Saranyus
˙
the Phaliga, o powerful Indra, with shouting the Vala, together with the
Daśagvas. [5] Praised by the Aṅgiras, o master, you uncovered the dark, as
well as the Dawn, the Sun, the cows. You spread out the back of the earth, o
Indra; you propped up the nether realm of the sky.
Analysing this, Hoffmann finds that,
in line with the function of this augment tense, the imperfect ávindan in the
attributive relative clause of verse 2 refers to the non-actual past. It starkly
contrasts with the present of the singer (: prá bharadvam ‘recite!’). In the
depiction of the Vala myth, the injunctives vidát, bhinát, vidát, vāvaśanta,
darayah, and ví var then follow. The sentences with the imperfects
˙
aprathayah and astabhāyah in verse 5 no longer have anything to do with
˙
the Vala myth ... ˙
Now, a look at the injunctive sentences of verses 3–5 shows that the Vala
myth is not at all narrated or reported there. Individual facts of the myth are
mentioned in a loose sequence. The main motif, the splitting or opening of
the rock, is even repeated three times (bhinát in 3, darayah in 4, ví var in 5),
˙
and it is moreover ascribed to two different people. The theme which was set
by the imperfect ávindan in verse 2 is elaborated upon without a narrative-
reporting element, in that something like a scenery is presented and
described to the mental eye of the listener.148
In response, we may first note that, if there really were a ‘mood of
mentioning’, there could be few contexts more suitable for a ‘mentioning’
form than the relative clause of stanza 2. This clause does not ‘narrate’, but
references a well-known mythical event through which the singers’ hymn is
aetiologised. Within Hoffmann’s scheme, the augmented imperfect
ávindan is therefore unmotivated, and his justification of it as denoting
the non-actual/non-recent past pointlessly projects back into early Vedic
synchrony the core functionality of the imperfect of classical Sanskrit. At
best, this explains why the form is imperfect ávindat, not aorist ávidat, but
it has no bearing on the real issue: why it is augmented (imperfect) ávindat,
not unaugmented (present injunctive) vindat.
Turning to the following injunctives, Hoffmann’s reading is even more
obviously arbitrary. The only ‘proof’ that stanzas 3–5 ‘mention’ but do not
148
410 The Augment
‘narrate’ the Vala myth lies in the claim that the central motif is ‘repeated’
and attributed to two different people. We are not told why the latter
feature should be less odd in a ‘mentioning description’ than in a ‘reporting
narrative’. A priori, one might rather expect more consistency when well-
established facts are recalled. But the fundamental problem is Hoffmann’s
failure to see that there simply is no repetition or inconsistency. In reality,
the myth is narrated in perfect logical sequencing.
As before, the imperfect ávindan of stanza 2 functions like a title. It
announces the theme of the following story, while still forming part of the
hymnic discours surrounding it (‘How the Aṅgiras found the cows’). Once
the scene is thus set, mythical histoire begins. The first important step
towards the recovery of the cows is the dog Saramā’s finding food for her
young (vidát). This is more significant than it may look, for the food in
question was – as the primary audience would have known – the milk spilled
like a trace by the cows as they were being abducted. Following this lead, the
search party arrives at the rock and infers that the cows must be inside. The
next crucial piece of action is therefore Brhaspati’s splitting the rock (bhinát),
resulting in a crack through which ˙the cows are discovered (vidát).
Unsurprisingly, everybody is pleased: both the cows inside the rock and the
men outside shout in applause (vāvaśanta). However, a crack is not sufficient
to let the cows walk out. Powerful Indra himself now has to intervene, crush
the rock (darayah), and thereby uncover the darkness behind (ví var). With
this, the happy ˙end is reached, the hymn returns to discours, and other –
unrelated – feats of Indra’s are acknowledged (aprathayah, astabhāyah).
˙ ˙
7.34 Vedic and Early Greek Augmentation
As demonstrated by the preceding case studies, which could be multiplied,149
the distribution of injunctives vs. augmented aorists/imperfects in the Rig-
Vedic hymns often produces a neater picture if it is approached in a Homeric
manner and if a past-referencing narrative injunctive is reinstated. Just as the
‘prohibitive’ injunctive after mā́ is context-sensitive in that it owes its prohi-
bitival force to the particle, so the ‘narrative’ injunctive of course requires an
appropriate, pragmatically narrative environment; but such a requirement no
149
Note for example Hoffmann’s (1967a: 184) observation that ‘a series of injunctives is often
introduced by a sentence such as “you have performed the following deed”’ (e.g., RV 4.30.8–21,
with a discours announcement in the perfect cakártha preceding a histoire-like (mini-)account of
Indra’s exploits mainly in the injunctive) or his finding that injunctives are particularly rare in
dialogue hymns (Hoffmann 1967a: 169): this is hardly because ‘the representation of dialogue forces
the poet to express himself precisely and hence to use neatly tenses and moods’ (why should there be
less temporal/modal ‘precision’ in non-dialogic hymns?), but because – again as in Homer – direct
speech is typical discours.
more undermines the reality of the narrative injunctive than the requirement
that mā́ be present undermines that of the prohibitive injunctive.
At the same time, the recognition that the basic augmentation principles
of Vedic and early Greek are parallel also dispenses us from positing, with
Hoffmann, a ‘constative’ aorist injunctive next to the unquestionably
‘constative’ aorist indicative of Vedic (7.29).150 In all the cases allegedly
illustrating this usage, a non-resultative but nevertheless past-referencing
interpretation is acceptable. A sentence like RV 2.4.3,
agním devā́ so mā́ nusīsu viksú
˙ dhuh ksesyánto
priyám ˙ ˙ ná mitrám
˙
˙ ˙ ˙˙
need not mean ‘The gods have established Agni among the human races as
a friend, like settlers (establish) a contract’ (“Den Agni haben die Götter
unter die menschlichen Stämme als Freund (priyám) gesetzt, wie (Leute),
die (friedlich) siedeln wollen, einen Freundschaftsvertrag (schließen)”),
when ‘The gods established Agni . . . ’ also yields good sense. The situation
here is reminiscent of what we saw in Mycenaean (7.22): the use of the
injunctive does not exclude that Agni is still the friend of humankind, but it
eschews the explicitly ‘constative’/resultative nuance the augmented aorist
ádhuh would have.
˙
7.35 The ‘Aoristic Drift’
In addition to these philological reservations, typological ones weaken
Hoffmann’s position further. According to a well-known and cross-
linguistically observable development labelled ‘aoristic drift’ in a recent
discussion by Squartini and Bertinetto,151 forms that initially have perfect-
like semantics often undergo a series of changes by which they gradually
acquire purely preterital (‘aoristic’) values. Going beyond what has already
been said on this in 5.24, the details of the transition from ‘resultativity’ to
purely preterital ‘temporality’ are instructive at this point.
If we transfer the terminology used in Fig. 5.4 to the stages identified by
Squartini and Bertinetto,152 we may first distinguish
• a ‘stative’ Stage I (“current states, possibly connected to past situations”),
• a ‘comprehensive’ Stage II (where reference is made “to a durative or
iterative situation, starting in the past and continuing up to the Speech
Time”),
150
Hoffmann (1967a: 214–19). 151 Squartini and Bertinetto (2000).
152
And others before them: Squartini and Bertinetto (2000: 406) mainly refer to Harris (1982), but cf.
also e.g. Bybee, Perkins, and Pagliuca (1994: 68–9, 81–7).
412 The Augment
• a ‘resultative’ Stage III (where the perceived ‘current relevance’ of a past
action is often crucial), and
• a ‘purely temporal’ or ‘anterior’ Stage IV (where the form in question
can be used as a general ‘aoristic’ preterite, for instance in past-tense
narrative).
Thus, whereas classical Latin habeō factum ‘I have something that is
made’ has not yet left Stage I, its modern Italian offshoot, the passato
prossimo (ho fatto), has already reached Stage IV in the spoken varieties of
northern Italy where the purely preterital passato remoto (feci < Lat. perf.
fēcī) has fallen out of use; standard Italian, by contrast, is only at Stage III,
because the passato remoto still survives.
Now, as Squartini and Bertinetto observe, at Stage III the temporal
distance from speech time is of great importance.153 In some Romance
languages (like Catalan), the descendant of the Latin habēre construction is
less widely available than in others (like Italian) since its use is restricted to
hodiernal or other recent-past contexts.154 Hence, in the transition from
Stage III to Stage IV the requirement of actual ‘resultativity’ seems to be first
relaxed when recent-past eventualities are involved. A comparison of modern
English with modern German supports this conclusion. In many southern
varieties of German, the haben perfect (e.g., ich habe gemacht) has reached
Stage IV, occasionally – as in Swiss German – replacing the preterite entirely;
but even in the northern varieties there is no longer any thorough incompat-
ibility of the haben perfect with temporal specifications of all kinds. In
English, by contrast, there is (still) a “general constraint against combining
the Perfect with a specification of time”, which only “does not hold when the
time specification is the adverb recently or one of its close synonyms”.155
In other words, the ‘aoristic drift’ predicts a grammaticalisation cline of
the following kind, with “a gradual reduction of the presentness of the
relevant forms, which finally become purely past”:156
[RESULTATIVE] > [RECENT PAST] > [GENERAL (INCL. NARRATIVE) PRETERITE]
153
Squartini and Bertinetto (2000: esp. 414–17); cf. Ö. Dahl (1985: 136), Bybee, Perkins, and Pagliuca
(1994: 101–2), Lindstedt (2000: 373–4).
154
That a similar situation once obtained in Italian too is shown by the terms passato prossimo and
passato remoto. See also Squartini and Bertinetto (2000: 417) on the French passé composé having first
ousted the passé simple “in contexts referring to situations close to the Speech Time”, and note that
“we find in the Port-Royal grammar (Lancelot [and] Arnauld 1660: [103–4]) a clear statement to the
effect that the categories passé composé and passé simple differed in that the former was used as a
hodiernal past and the latter as pre-hodiernal” (Ö. Dahl 1985: 125).
155
Comrie (1976a: 60); cf. Ö. Dahl (1985: 137–8) on how English and Swedish differ in this respect.
156
Comrie (1976a: 61).
7.36 Counter-Evidence from the History of Sanskrit?
Against this background, the Old Indic material deserves a closer look.
Leaving aside for a moment the injunctive question, it is generally recog-
nised that already in Vedic the (augmented) aorist is used for the recent
past and the imperfect for the remote past (cf. 7.29). That is, an earlier
system with a dominant aspectual dichotomy is being transformed into
one where temporal distance is paramount.157 Since Hoffmann regards the
augment as a marker of pastness, for him this situation must have come
about in such a way that in pre-Vedic times the (augmented) aorist – qua
perfective past, opposed to the imperfective imperfect – was still indifferent
to temporal distance, but that it was secondarily restricted to the recent past
when aspectuality was lost.158 We would thus end up with the opposite of the
sequence posited in 7.35:
[GENERAL (INCL. NARRATIVE) PRETERITE] > [RECENT PAST] (AND [RESULTATIVE])
The problem with this is not only that it contradicts the ‘aoristic drift’,
but also that it is odd within the Sanskrit system itself. In its recent-past
function, the Vedic aorist to some extent competed with the perfect, which
also “often expresses a single action that has been completed in the recent
past”.159 So, if there was a drive to distinguish different degrees of temporal
distance while abandoning aspectuality, it should have been more natural
to assign the recent past to the perfect and, given the affinity of perfectivity
with pastness (7.15), to favour the aorist (at the expense of the imperfect) in
the remote past. In actual fact, though, the aorist was so firmly rooted in
the recent-past domain that it even dislocated the perfect from there,
turning it into a more or less redundant (weak) competitor of the imperfect
in the classical language.160
157
Cf. e.g. Delbrück (1876: 86–8, 90), Macdonell (1916: 345–6), Hoffmann (1967a: 277), Tichy (1997).
158
Similarly Tichy (1997: 603–6) and E. Dahl (2010: 93–8, 186–92, 288–9; 2013b).
159
Macdonell (1916: 343); in other places, however, ‘a perfect . . . referring to an old and general fact
contrasts with an aorist which indicates a recent and specific fact’ (Renou 1925a: 30; cf. Mumm 2002
on the aorist’s narrower focus).
160
See Delbrück (1876: 132) and Whitney (1889: 295–6), and cf. Renou (1925a: 40–82) already for
Vedic. To claim that the aorist here “take[s] on features of the perfect” (Drinka 1998: 123) is
chronologically wrong. Whitney notes that “[a]ccording to the Hindu grammarians, the perfect is
used in the narration of facts not witnessed by the narrator”, although “there is no evidence of its
being either exclusively or distinctively so employed at any period” (cf. Renou 1925a: 82–9 on the
avoidance of the Vedic perfect ‘where one expects a first person within a past narrative’, Job 1994,
E. Dahl 2010: 368–72). Such an additional ‘evidential’ nuance of the perfect makes sense from a
typological point of view: according to Lindstedt (2000: 375), for instance, “[i]n several languages of
the Black Sea area, a resultative or perfect has been the main diachronic source of the indirective
[i.e., the category ‘expressing that the speaker has not witnessed the situation he or she is speaking
414 The Augment
7.37 The ‘Aoristic Drift’ in Old Indic Diachrony
The obstacles disappear if we reject the idea that the augment marked
pastness tout court in Vedic or pre-Vedic Sanskrit. According to the theory
sketched in 6.29, the augment first spread beyond its original habitat, the
thematic aorist, in contexts of marked (emphasised) perfectivity. These
should have included (a) resultative statements, in which the complete(d)-
ness of the eventuality is semantically essential (→ augmented aorist), but
probably also already (b) statements referring to extended past eventualities
which were explicitly viewed as a whole despite their extension (→ aug-
mented imperfect: cf. 7.17). In preterital narrative, by contrast, there was
no need for marked – as opposed to neutral – perfectives (next to imper-
fects, according to the usual complementarity of perfectives and imperfec-
tives in narrative). In early Proto-Indo-Iranian, the situation will thus have
been as shown in Stage I of Fig. 7.2.161
Subsequently, but still in Proto-Indo-Iranian, speakers began to lose
their feel for the aspectual opposition between perfective and imperfective
forms. As a consequence, the functions of aorist and present injunctives
merged (Stage II),162 except that preventive and inhibitive prohibitions
continued to be kept apart (7.28).
Next, the restriction of the augment to distinctly perfective environments
was lost. At Stage III, therefore, the augment was no longer excluded from
preterital contexts but turned into the general past-tense marker it is in the
classical language. In theory, because there was already an augmented aorist
and an augmented imperfect, the aor. inj. ~ pres. inj. pair of Stage II could
now have been modernised into an aor. ind. ~ impf. ind. one. However, not
only was it unnecessary after the loss of aspect to continue, and update by
augmentation, both elements of the pair: there was also a functional reason for
substituting only the augmented imperfect to the (preterital) present injunc-
tive, while discontinuing the (preterital) aorist injunctive. Whereas the seman-
tic scope of the augmented imperfect was generally preterital anyway, this was
about’]. We can assume that the inferential meaning forms the semantic link here. Drawing
inferences from the visible results of a non-witnessed event is a natural extension of resultativity.”
161
Stage I leaves it open (‘?’) if the aorist indicative had already entered the recent-past domain, or if lack
of augmentation was still the norm there. Note that the imperfect indicative does not appear in Stages
I and II of the diagram because it began to fulfil a role represented in the aoristic drift only at Stage III.
162
Hoffmann (1967a: 269–75) detects remnants of the original aspect opposition (a fairly long survival
of which is also argued for by Gonda 1962 and E. Dahl 2010, against e.g. Tichy 1997), but concedes
‘that the difference between [the present injunctive and the aorist injunctive] had become largely
meaningless’; cf. 7.28, fn. 119, and note García Ramón’s (2012b) similar conclusions on the
subjunctive and optative. On the whole, it seems that present injunctives supersede aorist ones,
but not vice versa. This makes sense if we later find present indicatives and augmented imperfects in
the non-prohibitive domains of the injunctive.
7.38 Conclusion 415
Aoristic drift: [RESULTATIVE] > [RECENT PAST] > [GENERAL (INCL. NARRATIVE) PRETERITE]
Stage I AOR. IND. ? AOR. INJ. (pfv.) ≠ PRES. INJ. (ipfv.)
gradual loss of aspect distinctions
Stage II AOR. IND. AOR. IND. AOR. INJ. ~ PRES. INJ.
generalised past-tense
augmentation
Stage III AOR. IND. AOR. IND. IMPF. IND.
Fig. 7.2. Old Indic verbal categories and the ‘aoristic drift’
not the case with the augmented aorist, which had hitherto been restricted to
present-focusing resultativity and the recent past. But all this then means that
the temporal-distance system of classical Sanskrit was never preceded by one in
which the aorist indicative (as opposed to the aorist injunctive) was regularly163
used as a general narrative preterite. What the Old Indic evidence suggests is
not a typologically irregular inversion of the ‘aoristic drift’, but merely the
interruption164 of the ‘aoristic drift’ at the [recent past] step.
7.38 Conclusion
7.38 Conclusion
In the last chapter, it was suggested that the augment originated from a
formally standardised reduplication syllable, and that it therefore initially
marked aspectual perfectivity. The aim of this chapter has now been to
evaluate whether such a theory finds support in the philological data. To this
end, we first looked at a number of formal and functional tendencies of
augment use in Homer (7.2–7.8) and we reviewed the interpretation of this
evidence in recent scholarship (7.9–7.10). Against this background, tradi-
tional explanations of the augment as a prehistorical past-tense marker
or narrative connector have turned out to be unsustainable, and we have
163
If there are “occasionally” counterexamples in Vedic (E. Dahl 2013b: 269, 278), this does not
invalidate the principle since their occurrence (as a ‘recent’ feature) is predictable from the ‘aoristic
drift’; for the inverse model (7.36) to work well, there should be many of them (as an archaism).
164
‘Interruption’ is the right term only when we look at nothing but (classical) Sanskrit. The drift would
predict that the recent-past aorist in the later history of Old Indic extend further and sideline the
remote-past imperfect. This does happen in the Middle Indo-Aryan period when, in Pali, the preterite
largely continues the earlier aorist, not imperfect, indicative (Mayrhofer 1951: 153; cf. Job 1994: 59).
416 The Augment
seen that there is also no satisfactory way of deriving the augment from a
previously free-standing particle of any kind (7.11–7.14). By contrast, all
the statistical observations on Homeric past and non-past (‘gnomic’)
augmentation make sense if an aspectual approach is chosen (7.15).
While it is true that historically the augment is not restricted to perfec-
tive forms, its occurrence also in the imperfect can be accounted for if
the Greek augmented imperfect was, at the outset, typologically com-
parable to perfective/perfectivised imperfect forms in other aspectually
organised languages (7.17–7.19).
Following on from this, the second part of the chapter has explored how
the Homeric evidence compares with that of other languages featuring the
augment. While the usual lack of augmentation in Mycenaean finds an
explanation in the wish to avoid resultative implicatures (7.20–7.22), the
situation in Armenian (7.24) and Avestan (7.26–7.27) is of particular
interest. In both languages augmentation has been standardised to a
considerable extent, but marginal irregularities replicate some of the pecu-
liar features of augmentation in Homer. These homologies are most
revealing in the case of Avestan because Hoffmann’s treatment of the
Vedic injunctive presents certain aspects of augmentation in that language
as diametrically opposed to their correlates in Homer (7.29–7.31). Because
of this paradox, a careful reconsideration of the Vedic material was called
for, and it was shown that Hoffmann’s ‘memorative’ function of the Vedic
injunctive is not only methodologically ill-supported, but also reliant on a
series of idiosyncratic textual interpretations (7.32–7.34). In reality, the
hymnic material suggests that the core domains of early augmentation are
identical in Vedic Sanskrit and Homeric Greek: resultative and recent-past
forms that establish a link with the speaker’s present are augmented, but
past-tense narrative remains unaugmented. This conclusion is corrobo-
rated by the transformation of the past-tense system of Vedic into that of
classical Sanskrit, where temporal distance is crucial. As typological paral-
lels demonstrate, the limitation of the augmented aorist to the recent past
befits an earlier resultative formation, but not a perfective past whose scope
had previously been generally preterital (7.35–7.37).
Overall, then, the philology of the augment ties in well with the form–
function model from which we set out. Yet, even with this addition the map
of relationships between the various PIE perfective stem formations remains
incomplete in one important respect (Fig. 6.3). With the s-aorist, the most
frequent and most productive of all the perfective types in historical Greek is
still missing from it. To remedy this will be the task of the next chapter.
chapter 8
The s-Aorist
8.1 Introduction
8.1 A Mysterious Type
The sigmatic or s-aorist of Indo-European is something of a mystery. On the
one hand, it is the most productive aorist formation in Greek, Indo-Iranian,
and Slavic, and at least in Latin and Celtic, if not also Tocharian (8.30), it
equally played an important role in the constitution of the historical preterite
paradigms.1 This dominance, which comes at the expense of other aorist
types, suggests that, if there was a prehistoric chain of aorist formations
superseding each other as envisaged by Kuryłowicz, the s-aorist should
represent its last element (2.18). And indeed, the s-aorist has been widely
regarded as a latecomer in the verbal system of Proto-Indo-European.2
On the other hand, not only are there further major branches of Indo-
European without preterital s-types despite close geographical and/or
genetic links to the branches named above (Baltic, Germanic), but it is
also difficult to produce formal equations which encompass material from
the Western (Latin, Celtic) as well as Central (Graeco-Aryan, Slavic) areas.
Ever since Meillet’s seminal article on the s-aorist, the following two have
been cited as the most reliable ones we have:3
• *dēĭ ̯k̑ -s- ‘show’ (LIV 108–9):
Gr. aor. δειξα- ‘show’, Lat. 1sg. perf. dīxī ‘said’, OAv. 2sg. aor. inj. dāiš ‘show!’
• *u̯ ēğ ̑ h-s- ‘drive, convey’ (LIV 661–2):
1
On Armenian, whose weak aorist in -c‘- probably does not continue the s-aorist, see Drinka (1995a:
126–7) and the literature in 7.24, fn. 105.
2
Hermann (1927: 222) is an early exception: for him the s-aorist is ‘the complexive formation among
durative verbs’ in Proto-Indo-European, but not ‘young’ as such. More recently, Dunkel (1997: 39–
41) has questioned the dogma.
3
Meillet (1908: 85–6); cf. e.g. Drinka (1995a: 69, 137, 142), Meiser (2003: 107). In addition, note *h3reg̑ -
‘stretch out, straighten’ with Gr. ὀρεξα-, Lat. rēxī, Toch. B reksa (Table 8.1).
417
418 The s-Aorist
Gr. 3sg. aor. (Cypr.) ἔϝεξε ‘brought’, Lat. 1sg. perf. vēxī ‘drove, conveyed’, Ved.
3sg. aor. ávāt ‘has driven, conveyed’, YAv. 3sg. aor. subj. (uz-)uuažat̰ ‘will bring
˙ aor. otъ-věsta se ‘they sailed away’4
out’, CSl. 3du.
Yet, in view of the widespread productivity of the s-aorist it is not even clear
that these two must have a common PIE starting point. If we recognise, for
example, that Latin had a productive type of long-vowel perfects (e.g., vēnī
‘came’; 3.25), but that for some reason such perfects were avoided with roots
in *-gh- > -h-, it becomes possible to interpret Lat. vēxī as a replacement for
an unviable *vēhī next to pres. vehō (cf. e.g. perf. lēgī ‘read’ : pres. legō); and
similarly, if the distinctive vowel length of a putative Proto-Latin long-vowel
perfect *dēi̯k-ai̯ was due to be lost through the Latin equivalent of Osthoff’s
Law, the best way to retain a marked perfect5 here would have been to
transform *dēi̯k-ai̯ > *dei̯ k-ai̯ into *dei̯k-s-ai̯ > dīxī. These assumptions would
still presuppose the existence of some s-aorist models within Proto-Italic/
Latin, but they would remove the Western evidence from the two equations
given. And if one were so inclined, one could easily produce similar
explanations to jeopardise the probative value of, say, Gr. δειξα- and ἔϝεξε.
So, the lexical data allow us to reduce to virtually zero the place we assign
to the s-aorist in Proto-Indo-European. But at the same time the morpho-
logical evidence indicates that it would be unwise to do so. We do need a
strong enough germ for the individual languages’ s-aorists/preterites to
have sprung from. Leaving aside for the moment the question what their
systemic function might have been, it is almost inconceivable that there
were really only one or two ‘proto-s-aorist’ paradigms in later Proto-Indo-
European, but that these then triggered an independent series of spreads
throughout the family. In other words, what we really want is a reasonably
healthy and well-developed PIE s-aorist which, like a revolutionary cell,
lurks in the shadow until its time for action has come. To bring some light
into that shadow is the task of the present chapter.
8.2–8.11 The Greek s-Aorist

8.2 The Creation of an Alphathematic Paradigm
We shall begin our investigation with a short survey of the development
and spread of the s-aorist in prehistoric Greek. Here one fundamental
4
On the Church Slavonic form, see Kølln (1961: 265–6), Matthiassen (1969: 205–6), C. Koch (1990:
1.289, 2.552 n. 242), and Ackermann (2014: 67–8); OCS 1sg. aor. věsъ ‘led’, which used to be cited in
this context (e.g., by Meillet 1908: 86, with hesitation), rather belongs to *u̯ ed h- with pres. vedǫ ‘lead’
(Watkins 1962a: 41, Ackermann 2014: 68–9).
5
Short of reverting to a reduplicated one, as in Umbr. 3sg. fut. perf. dersicust ‘will have said’ < *di-dik-.
innovation was the creation of an ‘alphathematic’ paradigm. That the PIE
s-aorist has to be reconstructed as an athematic type is clear from compara-
tive evidence, which includes its continued athematicity in Indo-Iranian
(8.24–8.27) and its peculiar fate in Celtic (8.21); within Greek, it is
supported by the observation that the oldest s-aorist subjunctives feature
a short thematic vowel in accordance with the principle that subjunctives
to athematic stems were originally characterised by simple thematisation
(1.7, 4.48). Also, while there is some uncertainty about the precise ablaut
pattern of the PIE s-aorist, there can be no doubt that the (accented) root
was in either the full or the lengthened grade throughout the paradigm
(8.46–8.48). Hence, we must ask how PIE active paradigms like the
following turned into the historically attested Greek pattern:
PIE Greek
1sg. *dēĭ ̯k̑ -s-m̥ (ἔ-)δειξ-α
2sg. *dēĭ ̯k̑ -s-s (ἔ-)δειξ-ας
3sg. *dēĭ ̯k̑ -s-t (ἔ-)δειξ-ε
1pl. *dēĭ ̯k̑ -s-me (ἐ-)δείξ-αμεν
2pl. *dēĭ ̯k̑ -s-te (ἐ-)δείξ-ατε
3pl. *dēĭ ̯k̑ -s-n̥ t (ἔ-)δειξ-αν
Although the intermediate stages can only be guessed, the 1sg. must have
been instrumental in the alphathematisation: for *dēĭ ̯k̑ -s-m̥ regularly
yielded -δειξ-α.6 Similarly, it may be that the consonant cluster in 1pl.
*dēĭ ̯ k̑ -s-me was simplified by vocalising the initial consonant of the ending,
i.e. *dēĭ ̯k̑ -s-m̥ e > -δειξαμε(ν).7 In the 3pl., *dēĭ ̯k̑ -s-n̥ t > *-δειξα would be
expected, but the recharacterisation of this after other 3pl. endings with -ν <
*-nt is unremarkable too. Not only did a pair 1pl. -αμεν : 3pl. -αν perfectly
match thematic 1pl. -ομεν : 3pl. -ον, but 3pl. -αν probably already existed
in prevocalic sandhi as the direct outcome of *dēĭ ̯k̑ -s-n̥ t > *dei̯k-s-n̥ .8
As for the remainder of the paradigm, second-person forms are often
susceptible to analogical influence from either the third or the first person.9
Since in our case the original third person singular was unsustainable itself
(cf. below), the creation of 2sg. -δειξ-ας and 2pl. -δείξ-ατε after 1sg. -δειξ-α
and 1pl. -δείξ-αμεν is unsurprising. This probably happened before the 3sg.
6
On the entire evolution, cf. Risch (1956), Berg (1977: 233–9) (who unnecessarily extracts the aorist’s
3sg. -e from the pluperfect; cf. 5.13, fn. 47), Kimball (1991: 149–50).
7
But in view of Myc. acc. pl. a3-ka-sa-ma /aiksmans/ (> αἰχμάς ‘spears’), this may only have happened
under analogical influence from the 1sg., not by regular sound change.
8
Pace Risch (1982: 327–8), -αν thus need not be extracted from 3pl. forms to roots in *-h2- (i.e.,
*-h̥ 2-nt). On PIE *-s-n̥ t in the s-aorist, see also Meillet (1905/6: 48–50).
9
Cf. Bybee (2007: 59).
420 The s-Aorist
was redone, both because there was pressure to redifferentiate (PGr.) 2sg.
*dēĭ ̯k̑ -s-s > *dei̯k-s and 3sg. *dēĭ ̯k̑ -s-t > *dei̯k-s (with loss of final *-t) only as
long as the 3sg. was still *dei̯k-s and because, if 3sg. *dei̯ k-s-e[t] had already
existed when the 2sg. was updated, an equally ‘thematic’ †dei̯k-s-es might
have resulted.
Finally, the 3sg. must have acquired its ending -ε from some other
paradigm. Two possible sources suggest themselves, without necessarily
excluding each other: the thematic aorist (with -ε < *-et) and the perfect
(with -ε < *-e). Given the identical function of the different aorist cate-
gories, the former may look more likely at first sight. However, despite the
usual influentiality of third-person forms in intraparadigmatic analogy
(3.24, 6.5), no other thematic s-aorist forms (1sg. †-δειξ-ον, 2sg. †-δειξ-ες)
are found. If, as seems plausible, the strict maintenance of the s-aorist’s
alphathematic inflection owes anything to the parallel existence of a super-
ficially similar perfect, the argument that perfects and aorists are function-
ally too dissimilar to influence each other’s forms weakens considerably.
So, from a paradigm-internal perspective it is quite plausible that the
perfect with its 1sg. -α (< *-h2e) : 3sg. -ε (< *-e) donated the 3sg. -ε to the
s-aorist, just as the s-aorist conversely donated the 2sg. -ας to the perfect
(1.6).10
Some confirmation for this interaction between the s-aorist and perfect
inflections comes from the fact that the ν ephelkystikon (or ‘paragogic’ -ν)
in 3sg. -ε(ν) was at first attached only to their third-singular forms, but not
to the thematic 3sg. -ε < *-et.11 Moreover, if the 3sg. -ε had been that of the
thematic conjugation, one might expect the corresponding middle form
to have followed suit and end in †-σετο, not -σατο. As it is, items like 3sg.
med. *dei̯k̑ -s-to (> †(ἔ)δεικτο) were probably regularised into *dei̯k-sa-to
(> (ἐ)δείξατο) already when the active 3sg. was still *dei̯k-s. Although there
10
Cf. already Brugman (1878: 161–2).
11
See Sommer (1907: 31–5) and Hämmig (2013: 164–8). This disproves Kuryłowicz’s (1972) idea that
the (verbal) ν ephelkystikon is related to the loss of *-t and positively suggests that its origin be sought
within the perfect or s-aorist (and κ-aorist) paradigm. According to the classic theory of Schulze
(1897: 902 n. 6), which is unduly complicated by Hämmig, the starting point was the reinterpreta-
tion of *3pl. ἦεν ‘they were’ (< *h1e-h1s-ent) as 3sg. ‘he/she was’ in Attic-Ionic, producing a new 3sg.
in -εν next to a 1sg. in -α (ἦα < *h1e-h1es-m̥ ). However, this explanation may confuse cause and effect
as such a reinterpretation would hardly have occurred if 3sg. -ε(ν) forms had not already existed in
other paradigms with 1sg. -α. Instead, 1sg. *-m̥ will (regularly) have developed into */-an/ in
prevocalic vs. */-a/ in preconsonantal positions, exactly like 3pl. *-n̥ t > *-n̥ (cf. above), and this
pairing was then replicated in the corresponding 3sg. with (inherited) */-e/ vs. (innovated, and
initially prevocalic) */-en/; in the 3sg., the parallelism survived, whereas in the 1sg./3pl. it was given
up both because prevocalic /-a/ was less prone to elision than /-e/ and because /-a/ vs. /-an/ could
more profitably be functionalised as a 1sg. vs. 3pl. opposition (Willi 2014b: 210).
was of course no middle perfect with 3sg. /-ato/ either, at least there was
also no temptation to change *dei̯k-sa-to into †dei̯k-se-to if the general
trend was to align the paradigm with the perfect rather than the thematic
aorist.
Elsewhere, the middle behaves as expected, with alphathematic forms first
developing in the 1sg./1pl. as in the active voice (PGr. *dei̯k-s-mān, *dei̯ k-s-
metha >→ -δειξ-άμην, -δειξ-άμεθα), with the 2sg./2pl. adjusting to these
(PGr. *dei̯k-s-so, *dei̯k-s-sthu̯ e > *dei̯k-so, *dei̯khthu̯ e → *dei̯k-sa-so, *dei̯k-sa-
sthu̯ e > -δείξω, -δείξασθε), and with the remodelled 3pl. also matching its
active counterpart (PGr. *dei̯k-s-n̥ to > *dei̯k-s-ato → -δείξαντο).
8.3 Root Aorists to s-Aorists

The evolution sketched in 8.2 implies that the constitution of the alphathe-
matic paradigm postdates the change *-m̥ > -α. Interestingly, though, the
inherited root aorists did not normally yield alphathematic paradigms.
Since there is no reason why they should not have done so, had they still
existed when this happened among the s-aorists, we may suppose that they
had already been replaced by other aorist types at that point.12 In 6.11, we
have seen that, generally speaking, those root aorists survived best which
had no 1sg. in -α < *-m̥ but one in -ν < *-m (following a long vowel). The
others tended to be replaced by s-aorists (6.14, 6.21).13
In the case of root aorists to roots in a final stop, such as *peh2g̑ - ‘fasten,
stick fast’ (cf. Table 6.2) or i̯eu̯ g- ‘yoke’ (cf. 6.22, fn. 81), it is easy to make
out a motive for the substitution. Once final stops were lost in prehistoric
Greek, the pivotal 3sg. forms threatened to become lexically unrecogni-
sable (*peh2g̑ -t, *i̯eu̯ g-t > *pā, *i̯eu̯ ). With an added s-morpheme, however,
*pāg-s[-t] > *pāks, *i̯eu̯ g-s[-t] > *i̯eu̯ ks produced word-final clusters that
preserved the root-final velar (whose underlying voicedness was as readily
recoverable as in the verbal adj. *pāk-tó- > πηκτός or in the later s-aorists
ἔπηξε, ἔζευξε). Similarly, roots in a labial or dental stop ended up with
acceptable sigmatic 3sg. forms (structural *Cep-s, *Cet-s), whereas *-p-t
12
Save for 1sg. ἔχεα ‘I poured’, if this continues *(h1e-)g̑ heu̯ -m̥ (but see Table 6.2), and the special case
of 1sg. ἔθηκα ‘I put’, ἕηκα ‘I sent forth’ (6.12).
13
Of the exceptions mentioned in 6.14, the case of *pet- is most interesting. 3sg. *pet-t > *pes-t > *pes
(next to 1sg. *pet-m̥ ) must have been thematised into *pes-e[t] (whence 1sg. *pes-om), in analogy with
the thematic aorists, before *-e was added to the s-aorist 3sg. (the crucial difference being that *pes was
both endingless and unsuffixed). By contrast, the middle root-aorist 3sg. *g u̯ hed h-to ‘asked, prayed’
(for unviable *g u̯ hd h-to) > PGr. *k u̯ hes-to required no intervention (as it did have an ending) and was
remade only later into sigmatic *θέσσατο (inf. θέσσασθαι; cf. LIV 217, s.v. *g u̯ hed h-, whose old s-
aorist next to an old i̯-present is thus redundant: compare Table 6.2, s.v. *nes-, on *nas-to →
νάσσατο).
422 The s-Aorist
and *-t-t14 had to disappear (→ structural †Ce). We may therefore assume
that the sigmatisation of root aorists started among roots like these, even
if it later affected a much wider range of root types.
Exactly how many Greek s-aorists have such a root-aorist pedigree is
difficult to tell. One might argue that wherever a corresponding root aorist
is attested in another branch of Indo-European, a Greek s-aorist must be based
on a root aorist. But if we admit the existence of PIE s-aorists as a largely
‘invisible’ category existing next to the root aorists (8.1), how can we ever safely
exclude a PIE s-aorist origin for any individual s-aorist in such a constellation?
A case in point is *dei̯k̑ - ‘show’ with its fairly strong evidence for an already PIE
s-aorist (8.1): nevertheless, there is in Vedic a 3sg. med. ádista ‘has shown’,
whose radical vocalism is that of a true root aorist, not of ˙˙ an s-aorist in
15
disguise. Or if we take *ten- ‘stretch’, with its Vedic root aorist 3sg. átan
‘has stretched out’, how will this suffice to rule out a PIE s-aorist stem *tēn̆ s-
behind Gr. τεινα-, especially when Vedic also knows s-aorist forms such as 3sg.
átān (< *-tēn-s-t)?16
8.4 i̯-Presents and s-Aorists

Whatever our judgment on cases like these, the fact that the Greek root
aorists did disappear meant that quite often characterised presents newly
paired with s-aorists instead. One frequent pattern arising in this way is that
of a i̯-present next to an s-aorist.
Since the formation of denominal i̯-presents, which are found through-
out the Indo-European world, must have been common already in the
proto-language (cf. 5.38, 10.36) and since the best way to endow such
denominal verbs with perfective stems was to replace their imperfective i̯-
suffix with a discrete perfective suffix in the same position, a i̯-present ~ s-
aorist correspondence was no absolute novelty. There are good reasons to
believe, for instance, that denominal verbs in *-eh2-i̯ e/o- > *-ā-i̯e/o- could
obtain aorists in *-eh2-s- > *-ā-s- already in the proto-language.17 But the
14
To the extent that *-t-t could have been restituted from *-t/d-t > *-s-t: cf. fn. 13 on *pet-.
15
Cf. Narten (1964: 140–1).
16
Cf. Narten (1964: 20, 127–8); she sees in the s-aorist a ‘transformation for the sake of clarity’.
17
Close parallels to the relationship between denominal pres. τιμάω and aor. τιμησα- etc. (cf. below)
are found at least in Slavic, Celtic, and Italic: see e.g. OCS 1sg. pres. dělajǫ ‘make, do’ : 1sg. aor.
dělaxъ (< *dēlā-i̯e/o- : *dēlā-s-), OIr. 3sg. pres. móraid ‘magnifies’ : 3sg. pret. mórais (< *mōrā-i̯e/o- :
*mōrā-s-), Lat. 1sg. pres. dōnō ‘give’ : Venetic 3sg. pret./perf. donasto (*dōnā-i̯e/o- : *dōnā-s-). Cf.
also 8.36 on *-eh1-i̯e/o- : *-eh1-s-.
degree to which Greek has regularised the principle among its denominal
verbs is remarkable:18
• pres. -άζω (< *-ad-i̯e/o-, *-ag-i̯e/o-) : aor. -ασ(σ)α- (< *-ad-sa-), -αξα- (<
*-ag-sa-); e.g.
ἁρπάζω ‘snatch away’ (< *harpag-i̯e/o-), aor. ἁρπαξα- (cf. ἅρπαξ ‘robber’)
δικάζω ‘judge’ (< *dik-ad/g-i̯e/o-), aor. δικασ(σ)α- (cf. δίκη ‘order, justice’)
• pres. -αίνω (< *-an-i̯e/o-) : aor. -ηνα- (< *-an-sa-, with compensatory
lengthening); e.g.
σημαίνω ‘show by a sign, indicate’ (< *sām-an-i̯e/o-), aor. σημηνα- (cf. σῆμα ‘sign’)
χαλεπαίνω ‘am angry’ (< *khalep-an-i̯e/o-), χαλεπηνα- (cf. χαλεπός ‘harsh, cruel’)
• pres. -αίρω (< *-ar-i̯e/o-) : aor. -ηρα- (< *-ar-sa-, with compensatory
lengthening); e.g.
καθαίρω ‘purify’ (< *kathar-i̯e/o-), aor. καθηρα- (cf. καθαρός ‘pure’)
τεκμαίρομαι ‘ordain, conjecture’ (< *tekmar-i̯e/o-), aor. τεκμηρα- (cf. τέκμαρ
‘sign, token’)
• pres. -άω (< *-ā-i̯e/o-) : aor. -ησα- (< *-ā-sa-); e.g.
τελευτάω ‘accomplish’ (< *teleu̯ tā-i̯e/o-), aor. τελευτησα- (cf. τελευτή
‘accomplishment’)
τιμάω ‘honour’ (< *tīmā-i̯e/o-), aor. τιμησα- (cf. τιμή ‘honour’)
• pres. -είω (< *-es-i̯e/o-) : aor. -εσ(σ)α- (< *-es-sa-; cf. 5.44); e.g.
νεικείω ‘quarrel’ (< *nei̯kes-i̯e/o-), aor. νεικεσ(σ)α- (cf. νεῖκος ‘quarrel’)
τελείω ‘fulfil, accomplish’ (< *teles-i̯e/o-), aor. τελεσ(σ)α- (cf. τέλος ‘completion’)
• pres. -εύω (analogical for *-είω < *-eu̯ -i̯e/o-) : aor. -ευσα- (< *-eu̯ -sa-); e.g.
ἀγορεύω ‘speak in the assembly’ (< *agor-eu̯ -i̯e/o-), aor. ἀγορευσα- (cf. ἀγορά
‘assembly’)
βασιλεύω ‘rule’ (< *g u̯ asileu̯ -i̯e/o-), aor. βασιλευσα- (cf. βασιλεύς ‘king’)
• pres. -έω (< *-e-i̯e/o-) : aor. -ησα- (< *-ē-sa-, analogical for *-e-sa-: cf.
5.44); e.g.
ἀριθμέω ‘count’ (< *arithme-i̯e/o-), aor. ἀριθμησα- (cf. ἀριθμός ‘number’)
φιλέω ‘love’ (< *phile-i̯e/o-), aor. φιλησα- (cf. φίλος ‘friend’)
18
Cf. Schwyzer (1939: 722–37) and Risch (1974: 279–341), with more material; because not all the
suffixes are equally old, only the immediate pre-forms of the suffixes are given (e.g., *-an-i̯e/o-, not
*-n̥ -i̯e/o-).
424 The s-Aorist
• pres. -ίζω (< *-id-i̯e/o-, *-ig-i̯e/o-) : aor. -ισ(σ)α- (< *-id-sa-), -ιξα- (< *-ig-
sa-); e.g.
ἐλπίζω ‘hope’ (< *elpid-i̯e/o-), aor. ἐλπισα- (cf. ἐλπίς ‘hope’)
μαστίζω ‘whip, flog’ (< *mastig-i̯e/o-), aor. μαστιξα- (cf. μάστιξ ‘whip’)
• pres. -λλω (< *-l-i̯e/o-) : aor. -λα- (< *-l-sa-, with compensatory length-
ening); e.g.
ἀγγέλλω ‘report’ (< *angel-i̯e/o-), aor. ἀγγειλα- (cf. ἄγγελος ‘messenger’)
ποικίλλω ‘embroider’ (< *poikil-i̯e/o-), aor. ποικιλα- (cf. ποικίλος ‘many-
coloured’)
• pres. -σσω (Att. -ττω) (< *-k(h)-i̯e/o-, *-t(h)-i̯ e/o-) : aor. -ξα- (< *-k(h)-sa-),
-σ(σ)α- (< *-t(h)-sa-); e.g.
κορύσσω ‘equip’ (< *koruth-i̯e/o-), aor. κορυσσα- (cf. κόρυς ‘helmet’)
φυλάσσω ‘watch, guard’ (< *phulak-i̯e/o-), aor. φυλαξα- (cf. φύλαξ ‘guardian’)
• pres. -ῡ ́ νω (< *-un-i̯e/o-) : aor. -ῡνα- (< *-un-sa-, with compensatory
lengthening); e.g.
αἰσχύνω ‘dishonour’ (< *aiskh-un-i̯e/o-), aor. αἰσχυνα- (cf. αἰσχρός
‘dishonouring’)
θαρσύνω ‘embolden’ (< *tharsun-i̯e/o-), aor. θαρσυνα- (cf. θάρσυνος ‘bold,
confident’)
The commoner such i̯-present : s-aorist pairs became, the easier it was to get rid
of unwanted root aorists next to primary (‘deverbal’) i̯-presents. All one had to
do was again to substitute the imperfective stem’s i̯-suffix with the s-suffix.
However, in such cases the reduced (as opposed to full) vowel grade of the
s-aorist often gives away its relative recency because the oldest layer of i̯ -
presents had a zero-grade root (10.33: e.g., pres. νίζω ‘wash’ < *nigu̯ -i̯e/o- :
aor. νιψα- < *nigu̯ -s(a)-, replacing root aor. *nei̯gu̯ -/*nigu̯ -?). Only exception-
ally, where a full-graded i̯-present was required for phonotactic reasons,
secondary s-aorists of this kind cannot be told apart from old ones (e.g., Gr.
σκέπτομαι < *skepi̯omai̯ ← *speki̯omai̯, Lat. speciō, Ved. páśyati ‘look at’ <
*spek̑ -i̯e/o- for †spk̑ -i̯e/o- : s-aor. Gr. σκεψα-, Lat. spexī; Gr. πέσσω ‘ripen,
cook’, Ved. pácyate ‘ripens’ < *peku̯ -i̯e/o- for †pku̯ -i̯e/o- : s-aor. Gr. πεψα-).19
Vice versa, whenever we come across a full-graded i̯-present which is
not phonotactically justifiable, we may suspect that it has taken the place
of an older present-stem formation in order to match an accompanying
s-aorist. In particular, since there is a substantial number of such
19
Cf. LIV 575–6, s.v. *spek̑ -, and LIV 468, s.v. 1. *pek u̯ -; 10.33.
‘irregular’ i̯-presents to roots in a liquid or nasal and a relative scarcity of
thematic root presents to such roots, it seems likely that the former have
ousted the latter:20 for with other roots, the pairing of thematic root
presents and s-aorists is standard (8.5). If, for example, there is pres. τείνω
< *ten-i̯e/o- next to aor. τεινα- < *tēn̆ -s(a)-, this may conceal a previous stem
correspondence between pres. *ten-e/o- (cf. Gr. τένων ‘sinew’ as an old
participle?) and aor. *tēn̆ -s(a)-.21
8.5 Root Presents and s-Aorists

Leaving aside these special cases, the reason why root presents – whether
thematic or not – regularly occur next to s-aorists has already been given in
4.49: where the imperfective stem was ‘unmarked’, its perfective counter-
part had to be marked (cf. 2.6). And since perfectivising reduplication was
past its prime in later Proto-Indo-European, after both unreduplicated
perfectives and reduplicated imperfectives had come into being, any alter-
native perfectiviser was welcome.
The selective list in Table 8.1 illustrates this state of affairs. Its focus lies on
the Homeric evidence,22 but some non-Greek material is also included. It is
clear that not all the s-aorists cited are old. For example, the active s-aorist
stems τευξα- ‘prepare, make’, πεισα- ‘convince’, θεινα- (< *θενσα-) ‘strike’
replace (or, in the last case, semantically restrict) the reduplicated aorists
τετυκε/ο-, πεπιθε/ο-, and πεφνε/ο- (cf. Table 3.1, 3.14). In the case of ἀξα-
for ἀγαγε/ο-, it was only the high frequency of the older form that prevented
the same process. However, since the co-occurrence of (mainly thematic) root
20
Cf. Specht (1939: 209–13), revising Specht (1932: 101).
21
Or between a nasal present (cf. Gr. τανύω, Ved. tanóti ‘stretch’: Table 4.2) and the s-aorist; but
nominal τένων has to be accommodated and a (root-)aorist participle (Frisk 1960–72: 2.864, s.v.
τείνω) accounts for it less well than a present participle. That later Proto-Indo-European should
have known both a nasal present and a thematic root present is not in itself problematic, and many
other roots independently support the thematic root present → i̯-present scenario: cf. e.g. (*)θένω →
θείνω (Table 3.1, s.v. *g u̯ hen-), with roots in a liquid ἀγείρω ‘assemble’ (*h2ger-i̯e/o- : aor. ἀγειρα- <
*h2gē̆ r-s-), ἀείρω ‘lift’ (*h2u̯ er-i̯e/o- : aor. ἀειρα-/(ἀ)ερσα- < *h2u̯ ē̆r-s-; cf. Table 6.2), ἐγείρω ‘awaken’
(*h1ger-i̯e/o- : aor. ἐγειρα- < *h1gē̆ r-s-), σπείρω ‘sow’ (*sper-i̯e/o- : aor. σπειρα- < *spē̆ r-s-), or στέλλω
‘furnish, dispatch’ (*stel-i̯e/o- : aor. στειλα- < *stē̆ l-s-), and even with a root in a stop κλέπτω ‘steal’
(*klep-i̯e/o- : aor. κλεψα- < *klēp̆ -s-; cf. LIV 363–4, s.v. *klep-, on the thematic root present *klep-e/o-
in Goth. hlifan ‘steal’, Lat. clepō ‘steal’ ~ perf. clepsī). By contrast, with ῥέζω ‘do, act’ (*u̯ reg̑ -i̯e/o- : aor.
ῥεξα- < *u̯ rē̆g̑ -s-, to *u̯ erg̑ - in ‘State II’ perhaps due to the s-suffix: cf. LIV 686–7, s.v. *u̯ erg̑ -) and ἔρδω
‘do’ < */u̯ erzdō/ (*u̯ erg̑ -i̯e/o- : aor. ἐρξα- < *u̯ ē̆ rg̑ -s-), the ousted present stem appears to have been a i̯-
present of the regular kind: see Myc. (3sg.) wo-ze = /u̯ ordzei̯ /, Goth. waurkjan ‘work’, YAv. vǝrǝziieiti
‘does, makes’ < *u̯ r̥ g̑ -i̯e/o-, and cf. also Table 6.2, s.v. *tk̑ en-, on καίνω → κτείνω.
22
Based on Risch (1974: 263–9); not included is the pair pres. χέω ‘pour’ : s-aor. (?) ἔχεα, where the
background of the present stem is unclear (Table 6.2), as well as θέλγω ‘enchant’, εἴκω ‘give way’,
νεύω ‘nod’, μήδομαι ‘plan’, λήγω ‘abate, cease’, (ἀπο)τμήγω ‘cut off’, and σεύω/σεύομαι ‘chase/
rush’, on which see fn. 23.
Table 8.1. Thematic/athematic root present ~ s-aorist pairs in Greek
Root Thematic/athematic root present s-aorist
*bhei̯d- ‘split’ (LIV 70–1) Gr. φείδομαι ‘spare, save (< *split off Gr. ἐφεισάμην ‘spared, saved’, Ved. abhaitsam ‘I have
from sth.)’, Goth. beitan ‘bite’ split’ (*bhēĭ ̯ d-s-)
(*bhei̯d-e/o-)
*bhei̯d h- ‘trust’ (LIV 71–2) Gr. πείθομαι ‘obey’ (and act. πείθω Gr. ἔπεισα ‘convinced’ (*bhēĭ ̯ d h-s-)
‘convince’), Lat. fīdō ‘trust’, Goth.
beidan ‘wait’ (?) (*bhei̯ d h-e/o-)
*bher- ‘carry, bring’ (LIV 76–7) Gr. φέρω, Lat. ferō, Ved. bhárati, Arm. Ved. abhār ‘has brought’, OIr. birt/-bert ‘carried’
berem, OIr. -beir, etc., all ‘carry, bring’ (*bhēr̆ -s-: possibly independent creations, cf. Narten
(*bher-e/o-) 1964: 183, Watkins 1962a: 171, McCone 1991a: 67–8;
note the suppletion with Gr. ἐνεγκε/ο- (Table 3.1, s.v.
*h1nek̑ -))
*bherd h- ‘ravage, destroy’ (LIV 77–8) Gr. πέρθω ‘ravage, destroy’ Gr. ἔπερσα ‘ravaged, destroyed’ (*bhēr̆ d h-s-; cf.
(*bherd h-e/o-) Table 6.2)
*dei̯k̑ - ‘show’ (LIV 108–9) Lat. dīcō ‘say’, Osc. inf. deíkum ‘say’, Gr. ἔδειξα ‘showed’, Lat. dīxī ‘said’, OAv. 2sg. inj. dāiš
Goth. (ga-)teihan ‘indicate’ (*dei̯ k̑ -e/o-) ‘show!’ (*dēĭ ̯k̑ -s-; cf. 8.1)
*dek̑ - ‘receive, perceive’ (LIV 109–12) Gr. δέχομαι/δέκομαι ‘receive’ (*dek̑ -e/o-; Gr. ἐδέξατο (and δέκτο?: Table 6.2), Myc. de-ka-sa-to
cf. Table 6.2, also on athematic 3pl. (*dēk̆ ̑ -s-)
δέχαται etc.)
*dem- ‘build’ (cf. LIV 114–16, s.v. 1. Gr. δέμω ‘build’, Goth. (ga-)timan ‘fit’; ̆ -s-; cf. Toch. B tsemtsa
Gr. ἔδειμα ‘built’ (*dēm
*demh2-, but see Nikolaev 2010) also HLuw. dama- ‘build’ (?, cf. 4.39, fn. ‘increased’ with analogical ts-, Hackstein 1995: 139–40)
151) (*dem-e/o-)
*der- ‘rip off/apart’ (LIV 119–21) Gr. δέρω ‘flay’, Goth. (ga-)tairan ‘rip Gr. ἔδειρα ‘flayed’, Ved. subj. dársat ‘will break apart
apart’, Lith. derù ‘flay’, OCS derǫ ‘rip, (tr./intr.)’ (*dēr̆ -s-) ˙
flay’, Alb. djerr ‘destroys’ (*der-e/o-)
*d heh2g- ‘sharpen, whet’ (LIV 140) Gr. θήγω ‘sharpen, whet’ (*d heh2g-e/o-) Gr. ἔθηξα ‘sharpened’ (*d hēh̆ 2g-s-)
*d heu̯ gh- ‘hit upon, succeed, be useful’ Gr. τεύχω ‘prepare, make’ (*d heu̯ gh-e/o-; Gr. ἔτευξα ‘prepared, made’ (*d hēŭ ̯ gh-s-)
(vel sim.) (LIV 148–9) cf. Table 3.1)
*d hghu̯ eng- ‘make/utter a sound’ (?) Gr. φθέγγομαι ‘utter a sound [of people Gr. ἐφθεγξάμην ‘uttered’ (*d hghu̯ ēn̆ g-s-)
(cf. Durante 1950: 247) and animals]’, OCS zvęgǫ ‘tell’
(*d hghu̯ eng-e/o-)
*d hrebh- ‘grow’ (vel sim.) (LIV 153–4) Gr. τρέφω ‘rear, nurture’, τρέφομαι Gr. ἔθρεψα ‘reared, nurtured’ (*d hrēb̆ h-s-)
‘grow’ (*d hrebh-e/o-)
*d hregh- ‘run, pull (?)’ (LIV 154) Gr. τρέχω ‘run’ (*d hregh-e/o-; cf. Lat. Gr. ἔθρεξα ‘ran’ (*d hrēğ h-s-; cf. Lat. trāxī?)
trahō ‘pull’ and Goth. -dragan ‘carry’
with LIV 154, s.v. *d hregh-?)
*g u̯ hen- ‘strike, kill’ (LIV 218–19) Hitt. kuenzi, Ved. hánti, YAv. jainti, all Gr. ἔθεινα ‘struck’ (*g u̯ hēn̆ -s-)
‘strikes, kills’ (*g u̯ hen-); Lith. genù,˙ OCS
ženǫ ‘drive’, Gr. θείνω ← (*)θένω ‘strike’
(?) (cf. Table 3.1) (*g u̯ hen-e/o-)
*h1eu̯ g u̯ h- ‘vow, pronounce’ (cf. LIV 253, Gr. εὔχομαι ‘vow, pray’, Myc. 3sg. e-u- Gr. ηὔξατο ‘vowed, prayed’ (*h1ēŭ ̯ g u̯ h-s-; cf. Table 6.2
s.v. *h1u̯ eg u̯ h-) ke-to (*h1eu̯ g u̯ h-e/o-), Ved. 3pl. óhate, on εὖκτο)
OAv. 3sg. inj. aogǝdā ‘pronounced’ (<
3sg. *h1eu̯ g u̯ h-to, for *h1eu̯ g u̯ h-o?)
*h1eu̯ s- ‘singe, burn’ (LIV 245) Gr. εὕω ‘singe’, Ved. ósati ‘burns (tr.)’, Gr. εὗσα ‘singed’, Lat. ussī (← *ūsī) ‘burned, singed’
Lat. ūrō ‘burn, singe’ (*h ˙ eu̯ s-e/o-) (*h1ēŭ ̯ s-s-)
1
Table 8.1. (cont.)
*h1lengh- ‘state under oath’ (LIV 247) Gr. ἐλέγχω ‘put to shame, accuse, Gr. ἤλεγξα ‘accused, questioned’ (*h1lēn̆ gh-s-)
question’ (*h1lengh-e/o-), Hitt. li(n)kzi,
3pl. linkanzi ‘swear’ (< *h1lengh-)
*h1rei̯d- ‘prop up, support’ (LIV 502, s.v. Gr. ἐρείδω ‘prop up’, ἐρείδομαι ‘lean Gr. ἤρεισα ‘propped up’, ἠρεισάμην ‘leaned upon’
?*(h1)rei̯d-) upon’ (*h1rei̯d-e/o-) (*h1rēĭ ̯d-s-)
*h1reu̯ d h- ‘redden’ (cf. LIV 508–9, s.v. 1. Gr. ἐρεύθω ‘redden, make red’, ON Gr. ἤρευσα ‘reddened, made red’ (*h1rēŭ ̯ d h-s-)
*(h1)reu̯ d h-) rjóđa ‘redden’ (*h1reu̯ d h-e/o-)
*h1u̯ erg̑ - ‘shut in’ (cf. LIV 686, s.v. 1. Gr. (ἐ)έργω, εἴργω ‘shut in’ Gr. εἶρξα ‘shut in’ (*h1u̯ ēr̆ g̑ -s-)
*u̯ erg̑ -) (*h1u̯ erg̑ -e/o-)
*h2eg̑ - ‘drive’ (LIV 255–6) Gr. ἄγω, Lat. agō, Ved. ájati, YAv. OIr. -acht ‘drove’ (*h2ēğ -s-); cf. also later Gr. ἦξα ‘led’
azaiti, OIr. -aig, all ‘drive’ (*h2eg̑ -e/o-) (independent creation replacing ἀγαγε/ο-; cf.
Table 3.1)
*h2lei̯-bh- ‘besmear, anoint’ (cf. LIV 277– Gr. ἀλείφω ‘besmear, anoint’ Gr. ἤλειψα ‘besmeared, anointed’ (*h2lēĭ ̯bh-s-)
8, s.v. *h2lei̯ H-) (*h2lei̯ bh-e/o-)
*h2leu̯ - ‘shun’ (LIV 278) Gr. ἀλέομαι ‘avoid, shun’ (*h2leu̯ -e/o-) Gr. ἠλε(υ)άμην ‘avoided, shunned’ (*h2lēŭ ̯ -s-; for the
phonology cf. Table 6.2, s.v. *g̑ heu̯ -)
*h2mei̯g u̯ - (?) ‘exchange’ (LIV 279; but Gr. ἀμείβω ‘exchange’ (*h2mei̯g u̯ -e/o-) Gr. ἤμειψα ‘exchanged’ (*h2mēĭ ̯g u̯ -s-)
see Wachter 2001: 121–2)
*h2merd- ‘harm’ (LIV 280) Gr. ἀμέρδω ‘bereave’, OE smeortan Gr. ἤμερσα ‘bereaved’ (*h2mēr̆ d-s-)
‘hurt’ (with secondary s-) (*h2merd-e/o-)
*h2reh1g- ‘look after, help’ (LIV 284) Gr. ἀρήγω ‘help’ (*h2reh1g-e/o-) Gr. ἤρηξα ‘helped’ (*h2rēh̆ 1g-s-)
*h2u̯ ei̯d- ‘sing’ (LIV 288) Gr. ἀείδω ‘sing’ (*h2u̯ ei̯d-e/o-) Gr. ᾖσα ‘sang’ (*h2u̯ ēĭ ̯d-s-)
*h3reg̑ - ‘stretch out, straighten’ (LIV Gr. ὀρέγω ‘stretch out’, Lat. regō ‘direct’, Gr. ὤρεξα ‘stretched out’, Lat. rēxī ‘directed’, OIr.
304–5) OIr. (at‧)raig ‘rises’ (cf. McCone 1991b: (at‧)recht ‘rose’, Toch. B reksa ‘covered’ (*h3rēğ ̑ -s-)
8), Goth. rikan ‘heap up’ (*h3reg̑ -e/o-)
*h3u̯ ei̯g- ‘open’ (LIV 308) Gr. (ἀν)οίγω ‘open’ (*h3u̯ ei̯g-e/o-) Gr. (ἀν)έῳξα ‘opened’ (*h3u̯ ēĭ g-s-)
*i̯es- ‘boil’ (LIV 312–13) Gr. ζέω ‘boil (tr./intr.), OHG jesan Gr. ἔζεσ(σ)α ‘boiled (tr./intr.)’ (*i̯ēs̆ -s-)
‘ferment’, Toch. B yastär ‘excites’
(*i̯es-e/o-) ˙
*leg̑ - ‘collect, count’ (LIV 397) Gr. λέγω ‘collect, count, say’, Lat. legō Gr. ἔλεξα ‘collected’ (*lēğ ̑ -s-)
‘collect, read’, Alb. (mb-)ledh ‘collects,
harvests’ (*leg̑ -e/o-)
*leh2d h- ‘hide’ (LIV 401–2) Gr. λήθω ‘hide’ (*leh2d h-e/o-) Gr. (ἐπ)έλησα ‘caused to forget’ (*lēh̆ 2d h-s-)
[*lei̯b- ‘pour’?] (cf. LIV 405–6, s.v. 2. Gr. λείβω ‘pour out, libate’ (*lei̯b-e/o-?) Gr. ἔλειψα ‘poured out’ (*lēĭ b-s-?)
*lei̯ H-: ‘Perhaps with β from
homonymous εἴβω’)
?*membh- ‘blame, censure’ Gr. μέμφομαι ‘blame, censure’ ̆ bh-s-)
Gr. ἐμεμψάμην ‘blamed, censured’ (*mēm
(*membh-e/o-?)
*men- ‘stay, wait’ (LIV 437) Gr. μένω (*men-e/o-; cf. Table 4.1) Gr. ἔμεινα ‘stayed, waited’, Lat. mānsī ‘stayed’
(independent creation (?), with -ā- for -ē- after pres.
maneō, cf. Table 4.1) (*mēn̆ -s-)
*nei̯H- ‘lead, direct’ (LIV 450–1) Ved. náyati, YAv. naiieiti ‘leads’, also Ved. anait ‘has led’, OAv. 3sg. subj. naēšat̰ ‘will lead’
Hitt. 3pl. nēanzi ‘they direct’ (?, cf. 4.39, (and cf. Hitt. 3sg. pret. naiš ‘directed’) (*nēĭ ̯H-s-)
fn. 151) (*neiH-e/o-)
*nem- ‘distribute (< *bend [towards]?)’ Gr. νέμω ‘distribute’, Goth. niman Gr. ἔνειμα ‘distributed’, Ved. (abhi) anān ‘has bent
(LIV 453, joining 1. *nem- and 2. *nem-) ‘take’, med. Gr. νέμομαι ‘graze, inhabit’, towards’, Toch. B 3pl. pret. nemar-neś ‘bent towards
Ved. námate ‘bends, inclines (intr.)’ him’ (*nēm̆ -s-)
(*nem-e/o-)
Table 8.1. (cont.)
*pek̑ (t)- ‘card (wool), comb’ (cf. LIV Gr. πέκω ‘comb, shear’, Lith. pešù Gr. ἔπεξα ‘combed, sheared’, Lat. pexī ‘combed’
467, s.v. 1. *pek̑ -) ‘pluck’ (and cf. Lat. pectō ‘comb’, OHG (*pēk̆ ̑ (t)-s-)
fehtan ‘fight’) (*pek̑ (t)-e/o-)
*pek u̯ - ‘ripen, cook’ (LIV 468) Ved. 3pl. pácanti ‘they cook’, YAv. Gr. ἔπεψα ‘ripened, cooked’ (cf. 8.4), Ved. 3sg. subj.
-pacaiti ‘cooks’, Lat. coquō, OCS pekǫ páksat ‘will cook’ (cf. Narten 1964: 38), Lat. coxī
‘cook’, Alb. pjek ‘bakes’ (*pek u̯ -e/o-) ˙
‘cooked’ (*pēk̆ u̯ -s-)
?*pemp- ‘escort, send’ (cf. 4.25, fn. 105) Gr. πέμπω ‘escort, send’ (*pemp-e/o-) Gr. ἔπεμψα ‘escorted, sent’ (*pēm ̆ p-s-)
*plek̑ (t)- ‘plait’ (cf. LIV 486, s.v. *plek̑ -) Gr. πλέκω ‘plait’ (and cf. Lat. plectō, Gr. ἔπλεξα ‘plaited’, Lat. plexī ‘plaited’ (< *plēk̆ ̑ (t)-s-)
OHG flehtan, OCS pletǫ , all ‘plait’)
(*plek̑ (t)-e/o-)
*pneu̯ h1- ‘become conscious, breathe’ Gr. πνέω ‘breathe’ (*pneu̯ h1-e/o-; cf. Gr. ἔπνευσα ‘breathed’ (*pnēŭ ̯ [h1]-s-)
(cf. LIV 489, s.v. *pneu̯ H-) Table 6.2)
*pseu̯ d- ‘lie’ (?) (cf. Chantraine 2009: Gr. ψεύδομαι ‘lie’ (*pseu̯ d-e/o-) Gr. ἐψευσάμην ‘lied’ (*psēŭ ̯ d-s-)
1241–2, s.v. ψεύδομαι)
*serp- ‘crawl’ (LIV 536) Gr. ἕρπω ‘move slowly’, Ved. sárpati Gr. (late) ἧρψα ‘walked’, Lat. serpsī ‘crawled’
‘crawls’, Lat. serpō ‘crawl’ (*serp-e/o-) (independent creations) (*sēr̆ p-s-)
*spend- ‘libate’ (LIV 577–8) Gr. σπένδω ‘libate’, Osc. 3sg. ipv. Gr. ἔσπεισα ‘libated’, Lat. spōnsī ‘vowed’
spentud ‘shall promise’ (*spend-e/o-) (independent creation, to spondeō ‘vow’) (*spēn̆ d-s-)
*speu̯ d- ‘urge on, hasten’ (LIV 581) Gr. σπεύδω ‘urge on (tr.), hasten (intr.)’ Gr. ἔσπευσα ‘urged on, hastened’ (*spēŭ ̯ d-s-)
(*speu̯ d-e/o-)
*stebh- ‘hem in’ (?) (cf. LIV 588–9, s.v., Gr. στέφω ‘put round, crown’ Gr. ἔστεψα ‘put round, crowned’ (*stēb̆ h-s-)
with Lith. stabý ti ‘hem in’ < (*stebh-e/o-)
?*stobh-éi̯ e/o-)
*(s)teg- ‘cover’ (LIV 589) Gr. στέγω ‘cover’, Lat. tegō ‘cover’ Gr. ἔστεξα ‘covered’, Lat. tēxī ‘covered’ (*(s)tēğ -s-)
(*(s)teg-e/o-)
*stei̯gh- ‘mount, march’ (LIV 593–4) Gr. στείχω ‘go, march’, OIr. tíagu ‘go’, Gr. ἔστειξα ‘went, marched’ (in Od. 4.277
Goth. steigan ‘mount’ (*stei̯ gh-e/o-) περίστειξας), OIr. 3pl. subj. -tíasat ‘they shall go’
(*stēĭ ̯gh-s-)
?*strebh- ‘turn round/about’ (LIV 603; cf. Gr. στρέφω/στρέφομαι ‘turn around Gr. ἔστρεψα ‘turned around (tr.)’ (*strēb̆ h-s-)
Table 5.4) (tr./intr.)’ (*strebh-e/o-)
*teh2k- ‘melt’ (LIV 617; cf. 8.39) Gr. τήκω ‘melt (tr.)’, τήκομαι ‘melt Gr. ἔτηξα ‘melted (tr.)’ (*tēh̆ 2k-s-)
(intr.)’ (*teh2k-e/o-)
*terp- ‘be(come) satiated’ (LIV 636) Gr. τέρπω ‘delight’, τέρπομαι ‘enjoy’, Gr. ἔτερψα ‘delighted’ (*tēr̆ p-s-)
OPr. en-terpo ‘is useful’ (*terp-e/o-)
*trep- ‘turn’ (LIV 650; cf. Table 5.4) Gr. τρέπω/τρέπομαι ‘turn (tr./intr.)’, Gr. ἔτρεψα ‘turned (tr.)’ (*trēp̆ -s-)
Skt. trapate ‘is ashamed’ (*trep-e/o-)
*tres- ‘tremble’ (LIV 650–1) Gr. τρέω ‘flee from fear, fear’, Ved. Gr. ἔτρεσ(σ)α ‘fled from fear, feared’ (*trēs̆ -s-; cf.
trásati ‘trembles’ (*tres-e/o-) remade Ved. 2sg. inj. (mā́ ) trāsīs ‘do not tremble’)
˙
*u̯ eg̑ h- ‘drive, convey’ (LIV 661–2) Gr. (Pamphylian) ϝεχέτω ‘shall bring’, Gr. (Cypr.) 3sg. ἔϝεξε ‘brought’, Ved. ávāt ‘has driven’,
Ved. váhati, YAv. vazaiti ‘flows, drives’, ˙ vēxī
YAv. subj. (uz-)uuažat̰ ‘will bring out’, Lat.
Lat. vehō, Lith. vežù, OCS vezǫ ‘drive, ‘drove, conveyed’, CSl. otъ-věsta se ‘they sailed away’
convey’, ON vega ‘move’ (*u̯ eg̑ h-e/o-) (*u̯ ēğ ̑ h-s-; cf. 8.1)
*u̯ ei̯d- ‘see’ (LIV 665–7) Gr. εἴδομαι ‘look like, resemble’, OAv. Gr. 3sg. εἴσατο ‘resembled’, OAv. 2pl. med. ipv. fra-
2pl. med. ipv. vaēdōdūm ‘see, perceive!’ uuōizdūm ‘perceive!’ (*u̯ ēĭ ̯d-s-)
(?), OIr. (ad‧)fiadat ‘they tell (< *see by
inspiration?)’ (*u̯ ei̯d-e/o-)
432 The s-Aorist
presents and s-aorists is deeply entrenched not only in Greek – where it
explains the occasional creation of secondary thematic root presents – ,23 but
replicated elsewhere,24 its PIE ancestry is firmly backed by the data.
8.6 Alternative Patterns

Obviously, root presents did not have to pair with s-aorists. As just mentioned
(8.5), there are cases where a reduplicated aorist appears instead of, or before,
an s-aorist (cf. again pres. ἄγω : aor. ἀγαγε/ο-); and the same point can be
made for certain thematic aorists. To be sure, we must not postulate for any
given root the PIE coexistence of an athematic root present with an equally
athematic root aorist; and even the combination of a thematic root present
with a root aorist was inherently unstable (4.49–4.52). But even if the
athematic root presents had been the only real source for the thematic ones
(contrary to 4.34–4.44; cf. 4.45), both root-present types could still have
tolerated either reduplicated or simple thematic aorists next to them. Thus,
there is nothing awkward about the Homeric pairs in Table 8.2, which depart
from the pattern in Table 8.1.
23
Note at least the following: (i) θέλγω ‘enchant’ (aor. ἔθελξα) is traditionally connected with Lith.
̃ ‘look at’, ‘by reference to the evil eye’ (Chantraine 2009: 410, s.v. θέλγω, after Saussure 1894:
žvelgti
443 n. 1; hesitantly Frisk 1960–72: 1.659, s.v. θέλγω, LIV 170, s.v. ?*g̑ (h)u̯ elg(u̯ )h-). Here the (already
ancient) comparison with the Τελχῖνες as “spiteful sorcerers” (LSJ 1774, s.v. Τελχίς) suggests
radical *g̑ hu̯ elgh- > *thelkh-, whence τελχ- by Grassmann’s Law, but *θελκ-σα- in the s-aorist;
since the present is not †τέλχω, it must be backformed to the aorist. – (ii) εἴκω ‘give way,
yield’ (aor. εἶξα) is matched by OE wīcan ‘give way’ (cf. LIV 667–8, s.v. *u̯ ei̯g-) and may thus
owe its voiceless stop to the aorist (*u̯ ēĭ ̯g-s- > *u̯ ei̯k-s-; cf. Frisk 1960–72: 1.454, s.v. εἴκω). –
(iii) νεύω ‘nod’ (aor. ἔνευσα) and σεύω/σεύομαι ‘move, rush’ (aor. ἔσσευα/ἐσσευάμην) appear
to be remade from *νέω < *neu̯ -e/o- (~ Lat. (ad-)nuō ‘assent’), (*)σέω/σέομαι < *k(u̯ )i̯eu̯ -e/o- (~
Ved. cyávate; cf. Table 5.4, Table 6.2) after aor. *neu̯ -s(a)- (García Ramón 1993 [1994]: 61, LIV
455–6, s.v. *neu̯ -), *k(u̯ )i̯eu̯ -s(a)-, even if νευσα- itself was later influenced by the present (since
it is not †ἔνε(υ)α, like ‘Aeolic’ ἔσσευα or ἔχε(υ)α to *g̑ heu̯ -; Table 6.2). – (iv) μήδομαι ‘plan’
(aor. ἐμήσατο) no doubt belongs with *med- ‘measure, look after’ (cf. μέδω/μέδομαι ‘rule,
provide for’, Lat. medeor ‘heal, cure’, etc.; LIV 423, s.v. 1. *med-, 5.46, fn. 181). Instead of
positing a thematised ‘acrostatic’ present (Meier-Brügger 1992b: 242), which should still
feature μεδ- in the middle, it is best to extract μηδ(ε/ο)- from s-aoristic *mēd-s(a)- with
generalised *-ē- (Dunkel 2010: 19 n. 3; 8.47). – (v) λήγω ‘abate, cease’ (aor. ἔλ(λ)ηξα) can
be similarly related to *sleg- ‘slacken’ of λαγγάζω ‘slacken’ (with *sl̥ -n-g-), Lat. langueō ‘am
slack’ (LIV 565, s.v. *sleg-), via aoristic *slēg-s(a)-; no separate *sleh1g- is needed (LIV 565, s.v.
*sleh1g-, after Joseph 1982, Nyman 1985). – (vi) (ἀπο)τμήγω ‘cut off’ (aor. (ἀπ)έτμηξα) belongs
with *temh1- ‘cut’ (LIV 625, s.v.; cf. Table 3.1, 6.16, 6.20) but implies a pattern by which
(archaic) s-aorists show the root in ‘State II’ (cf. 8.4, fn. 21, on *u̯ rēğ ̑ -s-); epic *tmēh̆ 1-s- >
*τμησ(σ)α- was then remade into τμηξα- after -ασ(σ)α-/-αξα- and -ισ(σ)α-/-ιξα- (8.4, Risch
1974: 296) and finally gave rise to pres. τμηγε/ο-. – Cf. also Table 6.2, s.v. *g̑ heu̯ -, on pres.
*χείω → χέω/χεύω (?).
24
See the entries for *bher-, *dei̯k̑ -, *h1eu̯ s-, *h2eg̑ -, *h3reg̑ -, *nei̯H-, *nem-, *pek u̯ -, *u̯ eg̑ h-, *(s)teg-, *u̯ ei̯d-,
with Indo-Iranian, Celtic, Italic, and Slavic material; cf. Kølln (1961: 263–7), Gotō (1987: 63), Meiser
(2003: 117–18).
Table 8.2. Thematic root present ~ non-sigmatic aorist pairs in Greek
Root Thematic root present Non-sigmatic aorist
*b eu̯ g- ‘flee’ (LIV 84)

h
Gr. φεύγω ‘flee’ (*b eu̯ g-e/o-)
h
Gr. ἔφυγον ‘fled’ (*bhug-e/o-) (6.22)
*derk̑ - ‘look, stare’ (LIV 122) Gr. δέρκομαι ‘look, see’ (*derk̑ -e/o-) Gr. ἔδρακον ‘looked, saw’ (*dr̥ k̑ -e/o-) (6.9, 6.22)
*d hrebh- ‘grow’ (LIV 153–4) Gr. τρέφω ‘rear, nurture’, τρέφομαι ‘grow’ Gr. ἔτραφον ‘grew up, reared, nurtured’
(*d hrebh-e/o-) (*d hr̥ bh-e/o-) (6.17, fn. 70, 6.22)
*h1rei̯k̑ - ‘shatter, rend’ (LIV 504) Gr. ἐρείκω ‘shatter, rend’, ἐρείκομαι ‘burst’, MW Gr. ἤρικον ‘burst, was shattered’ (*h1rik̑ -e/o-) (6.17,
rwyg- ‘rend’ (*h1rei̯k̑ -e/o-) fn. 70, 6.22)
*h2eg̑ - ‘drive’ (LIV 255–6) Gr. ἄγω ‘lead, drive’, Ved. ájati, YAv. azaiti Gr. ἤγαγον ‘led, drove’ (*h̥ 2g̑ -h̥ 2g̑ -e/o-) (Table 3.1)
‘drives’, Arm. acem, Lat. agō ‘lead’, OIr. -aig
‘drives’, ON aka ‘drive’, Toch. B āśäm . ‘leads’
(*h2eg̑ -e/o-)
*kelh1- ‘call’ (cf. LIV 361–2) Gr. κέλομαι ‘exhort, command’ (*kelh1-e/o-) Gr. ἐκεκλόμην ‘exhorted, commanded, invoked’
(*ke-kl(h1)-e/o-) (Table 3.1)
*k u̯ elh1- ‘turn’ (LIV 386–8) Gr. πέλομαι (and πέλω) ‘am, become’, Ved. Gr. 3sg. ἔπλετο (and ἔπλε) ‘became, was’, Arm. ełew
cárati, OAv. caraitī ‘moves, goes about’, Lat. colō ‘became, was’, Alb. cleh ‘became’ (*k u̯ l(h1)-e/o-)
‘look after, cultivate (< *go about?)’, Alb. sjell ‘turn (6.16, 6.27)
(tr.), bring, carry’ (*k u̯ elh1-e/o-; Table 5.4)
*lei̯k u̯ - ‘leave’ (LIV 406–8) Gr. λείπω ‘leave’, Goth. leiƕan ‘lend’ (*lei̯k u̯ -e/o-) Gr. ἔλιπον ‘left’, Arm. elik‘ ‘left’ (*lik u̯ -e/o-)
(6.4, 6.22)
*pet- ‘fly, fall’ (cf. LIV 477–9) Gr. πέτομαι ‘fly’, Ved. pátati ‘flies’, YAv. pataiti Gr. ἐπτάμην/ἐπτόμην ‘flew’ (*pt(-e/o)-) (Table 6.2)
‘flies, hurries’, Lat. petō ‘hurry’, MW ehed- ‘fly’
(*pet-e/o-; Table 4.1)
Table 8.2. (cont.)
Root Thematic root present Non-sigmatic aorist
*seg̑ h- ‘hold, master’ (LIV 515–16) Gr. ἔχω ‘have, hold’, Ved. sáhate ‘overpowers’ Gr. ἔσχον ‘had, held’ (*sg̑ h-e/o-) (6.9, 6.22, fn. 82)
(*seg̑ h-e/o-; Table 4.1)
*sek u̯ - ‘follow’ (LIV 525–6) Gr. ἕπομαι ‘follow’, Ved. sácate ‘accompanies’, Gr. ἑσπόμην ‘followed’ (*se-sk u̯ -e/o- or *sk u̯ -e/o-)
OAv. hacaitē ‘follows’, Lat. sequor ‘follow’, Goth. (Table 3.1)
saiƕan ‘see’ (?), Lith. sekù ‘follow’ (*sek u̯ -e/o-)
*trep- ‘turn’ (LIV 650) Gr. τρέπω ‘turn (tr.)’, τρέπομαι ‘turn (intr.)’, Skt. Gr. ἔτραπον ‘turned (tr./intr.)’ (*tr̥ p-e/o-) (6.17, fn.
med. trapate ‘is ashamed’ (*trep-e/o-; Table 5.4) 70, 6.22)
8.7 The s-Aorist and High Transitivity: Theoretical Considerations
Most of the non-sigmatic aorists in Table 8.2 were resilient enough not to give
in to the pressure from the s-aorist. Nevertheless, if we order the two patterns
chronologically, the one with the s-aorist (8.5) has to be younger than the one
without (8.6). There are no instances where a reduplicated or thematic aorist
supersedes an s-aorist. So we may broadly distinguish two phases:
Phase I: thematic root pres. ~ redupl. aor. *C1e-C1C-e/o-/
*CeC-e/o- thematic aor. *h1e-CC-e/o-
Phase II: thematic root pres. ~ ̆ -s-
s-aorist *CēC
*CeC-e/o-
The set-up in Phase I aligns with our claim that the reduplicated aorist is
the oldest perfective type of Indo-European (3.36) and that the thematic
aorist is its regularised offshoot (6.25).
Phase II, meanwhile, raises a new question. If reduplication was the
original marker of PIE perfectivity, the s-formant will have acquired the
same value only secondarily. As with the root aorist, this does not imply
that the s-aorist must be a young formation per se, only that its role as a
perfective type is (relatively) young. But if it was their prototypically telic
use that caused the shift of the later root aorists into the perfective domain
(3.1, 3.36), the later s-aorists too must have been predestined in some way to
become perfective.25 From a theoretical point of view we should therefore
predict that, before becoming a perfectiviser in the strict sense, the s-
formant had already been telicising or increasing the (semantic) transitivity
(3.35) of the basis to which it was added. So is there any practical evidence
to back this idea? Can we assert that a proto-form such as 3sg. *CēC ̆ -s-t was
semantically more transitive than a corresponding 3sg. *CeC-t?
If the answer were affirmative, this might even help us to understand the
‘invisible’ existence of the s-aorist in the proto-language (8.1). If we assume
that, in principle, any non-sigmatic *CeC-t could have a *CēC ̆ -s-t compa-
nion, but that there was a structural need only for *CēC ̆ -s-t forms to
prototypically atelic roots (i.e., those that were surfacing in root presents)
since with other roots the non-sigmatic *CeC-t forms were already proto-
typically telic without the extra marker, the s-type could have been well-
established in later Proto-Indo-European as the kind of (partial) systemic
redundancy which the standard methods of reconstruction find notor-
iously difficult to deal with.
25
Cf. Kuryłowicz (1956: 32–3; 1964a: 104 n. 7, 110), who speaks of “the old imperfect of a terminative
present formation in -s-”; cf. 2.18.
436 The s-Aorist
8.8 Functional Differentiation among Aorist Types
One way to prove that the source formation of the s-aorist was indeed
characterised by high transitivity would be to demonstrate that the s-
aorist itself is (potentially) more transitive than other aorist types.
Obviously, this can only be done where an s-aorist and another aorist
coexist with some functional differentiation. In this respect, certain
Greek data are revealing.
Looking at *d hrebh- (τρέφω/-ομαι), *h1rei̯k̑ - (ἐρείκω/-ομαι), and *trep-
(τρέπω/-ομαι) in Table 8.2, we may note that in Homer their active
thematic aorists are occasionally attested with intransitive meaning, so as
to correspond to middle presents (cf. 6.17, fn. 70). However, the same
active aorist forms are also used transitively ((δι)ερικε/ο-,26 τραφε/ο-,
τραπε/ο-). Only in these transitive usages are the three thematic stems
replaced by active s-aorists (ἐρειξα-, θρεψα-, τρεψα-), also from Homer
onwards. Intransitive ἔτραφον, by contrast, is superseded by ἐτράφην (with
the intransitive/passive aorist suffix -η-: 1.10), and intransitive ἔτραπον by
the middles ἐτραπόμην or ἐτρεψάμην. At the same time, the middle
s-aorists ἐθρεψάμην, ἐτρεψάμην may remain transitive, but express self-
benefactivity (‘rear/turn for oneself’).
This situation is best explained in the following way. Whatever one’s
views on the prehistory of the thematic aorist, there is nothing to suggest
that it originally had a particular affinity with intransitivity.27 If it did
develop something like that in Greek, this is precisely due to its co-
occurrence with the s-aorist (cf. 6.21). By contrast, the thematic root
presents’ leaning towards middle inflection reflects their prehistory
(4.44). So when the ancestor of, say, med. τρέπομαι ‘turn (intr.)’ came
into being, it could be paired with a formally active, but transitivity-
indifferent, thematic aorist (→ pres. τρέπομαι : aor. ἔτραπον). However,
this equilibrium was upset as soon as the oppositional active ancestor of
τρέπω ‘turn (tr.)’ was also created. At that point the active thematic aorist
was more readily relatable to act. τρέπω than to med. τρέπομαι (→ pres.
τρέπω : aor. ἔτραπον). The necessary differentiation in the aorist could
now be achieved by (a) replacing intransitive ἔτραπον (e.g., with a middle
26
Rare transitive (δι)ερικε/ο- is only attested in post-Homeric Greek; but so is sigmatic ἐρειξα-, and the
Indic Class VI present (med.) riśáte, liśáte ‘rips off (tr.)’ also presupposes a transitive thematic aorist
(*h1rik̑ -e/o-; cf. LIV 504, s.v. *(h1)rei̯k̑ -).
27
Cf. 6.25, where the rarity of medial thematic aorists in Vedic is noted. Against Wagner (1950: 64–5),
the roots of aorists like ἔσχον ‘held’ or εἶδον ‘saw’ are not ‘distinctly medial’ and the occasional
coordination of Greek thematic aorists with nasal presents also does not reveal a ‘medial meaning’ of
the thematic aorist when in Greek (unlike Slavic) the nasal presents themselves are everything but
‘medial-intransitive’.
form), (b) replacing transitive ἔτραπον (e.g., with an s-aorist), or (c) a
combination of both. To choose (c) was uneconomical but not unreason-
able. A priori, the frequency of the thematic root present ~ s-aorist pattern
(8.5) might have favoured (b), but because the thematic aorist was not
typically intransitive, opting for (b) alone would still have left the anomaly
of having a middle present with an active aorist. To avoid this, (c) was ideal.
Significantly, though, intr. ἔτραπον (to pres. τρέπομαι) was not always
replaced with a middle s-aorist (ἐτρεψάμην), for all the regularity this would
have produced next to transitive pres. τρέπω : aor. ἔτρεψα. So, not only was
the s-aorist ‘more transitive’ than the thematic aorist in the sense that ἔτρεψα
replaced only transitive ἔτραπον,28 but even its middle voice appears to have
been ‘too transitive’ to be used without hesitation as a substitute of intransi-
tive ἔτραπον.29 Instead, the aorist saw the institution of a perhaps useful,
but certainly not necessary30 tripartite division of labour between three
variants: one transitive active (ἔτρεψα ‘turned (tr.)’), one transitive (self-
benefactive) middle (ἐτρεψάμην ‘turned (tr.) for myself’), and one intransi-
tive middle (ἐτραπόμην or ἐτρεψάμην ‘turned (intr.)’).
8.9 Factitive s-Aorists

The development just described is reminiscent of what happened to certain
root aorists. In Table 6.2 and 6.17, we have seen how, unusually, the root
aorist’s plural stem variant analogically spread into the singular in the
paradigms of *deu̯ h1- ‘submerge’ (?), *g u̯ elh1- ‘throw’, *skelh1- ‘dry out’,
and *telh2- ‘lift’ in order to formally differentiate a transitive and an
intransitive type.
Root aorists to *CeH- roots offered less scope for such differentiation by
paradigm split. Nevertheless, some of them were affected by the same
trend. With these, the old intransitive (but active) root aorist remained
unaltered, but it was given a new transitive – effectively: factitive – counter-
part. The formant used for this purpose was that of the s-aorist. The
28
This is not to say that s-aorists are never transitivity-indifferent: see e.g. act. εἰξα- ‘give way, yield
(intr.)’ (~ pres. εἴκω ←< *u̯ ei̯g-e/o-; cf. 8.5, fn. 23), ζεσσα- ‘boil (tr./intr.)’ (~ pres. ζέω < *i̯es-e/o-),
σπευσα- ‘urge on (tr.), hasten (intr.)’ (~ pres. σπεύδω < *speu̯ d-e/o-), τρεσσα- ‘flee from fear’ (~ pres.
τρέω < *tres-e/o-). In these cases, however, the meaning of the active s-aorist mirrors that of the active
present without there being another aorist; that is, the s-aorist is simply the default type (cf. Gil
1964: 173).
29
Thus, just as the aorists in -θη- “cluster around the prototypical patient, the sigmatic middle aorists
are oriented towards the other extreme: the prototypical agent” (Allan 2003: 176; cf. Magni 2008:
216–21).
30
See pres. τρέπομαι, which not only covers the entire middle range, but the passive as well (~ aor.
τραπη-, later τραφθη-/τρεφθη-).
438 The s-Aorist
creation of these new factitive aorists is thus another indication of the high-
transitive nature of the sigmatic type; for if the inherited s-aorist had been
low-transitive, or even just transitivity-indifferent, the mere attachment of
its *-s- to a root-aorist stem would hardly have sufficed to factitivise it.31 It is
true that the model of intr. aor. ἔστη : factitive aor. ἔστησα next to intr.
pres. ἵσταμαι ‘(take a) stand’ : factitive ἵστημι ‘set up’ may have helped to
promote the emerging pattern. But even if this verb had been the exclusive
source,32 the factitivising *-s- could not have arisen if the s-formant had not
already been associated with high transitivity.
Once established alongside intransitive – or in the case of γνω- (*g̑ neh3-)
at least non-agentive – active root aorists to *CeH- roots,33 factitive s-aorist
variants were sometimes also built to aorists which were either no root
aorists at all (βιω- → βιωσα-) or whose historical shape resulted from
morphological restructuring in root aorists belonging to other types of
roots (δῡ-, πῑ- → δῡσα-, πῑσα-34) (Table 8.3).
31
Pace Gil (1964: 168–72), who assumes a random functionalisation of an initially neutral formant; cf.
Adrados (1971; 1974: esp. 2.699–703; 1981b), who sees in *-s- a ‘mere formant without any value of its
own’ (8.53, fn. 229) and even turns this vagueness into a matter of principle (Adrados 1974: 1.73–6;
1985).
32
As argued by M. Leumann (1953: 206 n. 2), against Kretschmer (1947: 9) who had seen an
inheritance in the Greek s-aorist’s factitive potential. Leumann does not explain why, when med.
ἵσταμαι took the place of ‘act. *ἵστᾱμι “I step, I take a stand”’, allegedly under the influence of perf.
ἕστηκα ‘stand’ (cf. ὄλωλα : ὄλλυμαι), the active root aorist should not also have been replaced by a
middle one (†ἐστάμην : cf. ὠλόμην).
33
Included in Table 8.3 is *dreh2-, on the assumption that δράω ‘execute, perform’ is backformed to
aor. δρᾱσα- (after e.g. τιμάω ‘honour’ : aor. τιμᾱσα-): this new etymology fits a verb which
‘expresses the notion of “acting” . . ., with the specification of the responsibility taken rather than
that of the realisation of an action, often contrasting with πάσχω’ (Chantraine 2009: 284, s.v.
δρᾱ ́ ω). Lith. darý ti ‘do, make’, though traditionally compared (Schwyzer 1939: 675, Frisk 1960–72:
1.416–17, s.v. δρᾱ ́ ω), is better kept apart (cf. Fraenkel 1962–5: 1.83, s.v. darý ti, Beekes 2010: 1.353, s.v.
δρᾱ ́ ω), and pres. δραίνω, whose single Homeric occurrence is probably intransitive (Il. 10.96 εἴ τι
δραίνεις ‘if you are somehow restless/active’), may similarly be based on aor. (*)ἔδρᾱν (cf. βαίνω :
ἔβᾱν). – If 3sg. aor. med. (ἀπ)όνητο ‘enjoyed’ (*h3neh2-) and πλῆτο ‘became full’ (*pleh1-) were
substitutes of intransitive active root aorists, aor. act. ὀνησα- ‘benefit’ (*h3neh2-) and πλησα- ‘fill’
might also be factitive s-aorists, but they can just as well be sigmatised versions of transitive root
aorists (Table 6.1; cf. even intransitive root aor. *pleh3- → s-aor. *plōs(a)- > πλωσα- ‘sail’). On similar
uncertainties with other types of roots, see 8.10, with fn. 35.
34
The problems posed by *peh3(i̯)- need not detain us. Traces of a root aorist with 3sg. *(h1e-)peh3-t (>
Ved. ápāt ‘has drunk’) survive in 2sg. ipv. πῶ(θι) (Etym. Magn. 698.52) and in the aorist-based Aeol.
pres. πώνω ‘drink’ (= Att.-Ion. πίνω), but 2sg. ipv. πῖθι < *pih3-d hi < *ph3i-d hi (by laryngeal
metathesis: Winter 1965b: 192, Mayrhofer 1986: 175) is based on the i̯-enlarged root version (on
whose uncertain origins see Mayrhofer 1986: 174–5, Willi 2014a: 219–20). Perhaps the root aorist’s
singular stem *peh3i- > *poi̯- merged with unenlarged *peh3- > *pō- and specialised in transitive
usages, whereas the plural stem *ph3i- > *pih3- > *pī- took on the intransitive/absolute functions of
this ingestive verb (Socrates drank vs. Socrates drank the wine); each dialect would then have
generalised one or the other (cf. M. Leumann 1957: 77–8, who assumes sg. *pō- : pl. *pī- without
any semantic differentiation).
Table 8.3. Factitive s-aorists in Greek
Long-vocalic root
Root aorist (3sg.) Factitive s-aorist
*bhu̯ eh2- (?) ‘be, become’ ἔφῡ ‘became, grew’ φῡσα- ‘make grow,
(LIV 98–101) (Table 6.1) produce’
*deu̯ h1- ‘submerge, drench’ ἔδῡ ‘plunged, sank’ δῡσα- ‘make sink,
(cf. LIV 129–30, s.v. *du̯ eH-) (Table 6.3) plunge in’
*dreh2- ‘run’ (LIV 590–2) (ἀπ)έδρᾱ ‘ran (away)’ δρᾱσα- ‘(*make run >)
execute, perform’ (cf.
Engl. to run sth.)
*g̑ neh3- ‘recognise’ (LIV ἀνέγνω ‘knew, recognised, (Ion.) ἀναγνωσα-
168–70) acknowledged’ (Table 6.1) ‘(*make acknowledge >)
induce (to do)’
*g u̯ eh2- ‘go’ (LIV 205) ἔβη ‘went’ (Table 6.1) βησα- ‘make go’
*g u̯ ei̯h3- ‘live’ (cf. LIV ἐβίω ‘survived’ 2sg. med. ἐβιώσαο ‘you
215–16, s.v. *g u̯ i̯eh3-) (< *-g u̯ ih3-eh1-: Table 6.2) made survive’ (Od.
8.468; contrast later intr.
βιωσα- for βιω-)
*peh3(i̯)- ‘drink’ (LIV 462–3) 2sg. ipv. πῖθι ‘drink!’ πῑσα- ‘make drink’
(< *pih3-d hi)
*steh2- ‘stand’ (LIV 590–2) ἔστη ‘stood’ (Table 6.1) στησα- ‘make stand,
set up’
8.10 Supporting Evidence

Elsewhere, it is often more difficult to pin down the factitivity of an s-aorist.
In principle, we can of course treat θρεψα- ‘rear’ or τρεψα- ‘turn (tr.)’ as
factitive companions of τραφη- ‘grοw up’ and med. τραπε/ο- ‘turn (intr.)’
(8.8). However, since the active presents τρέφω ‘rear’, τρέπω ‘turn (tr.)’
show the same factitivity as the s-aorists, it is less clear here that we must
ascribe the factitive nuance to the s-formant.35
A better case could be made if the active present in a present/aorist pair
of this kind were itself semantically less transitive than the active s-aorist. At
first sight, this seems to apply to Hom. λήθω (~ λανθάνω) ‘escape notice’
35
Even if the presents were themselves oppositional (‘factitive’) actives to begin with: cf. 4.41–4.42,
4.44; Meillet (1908: 93–4). Likewise, it is difficult to prove that the ‘factitivity’ of active s-aorists
pairing with root-aorist/thematic-aorist middles is due to the s-element, not the active voice: cf. 8.9,
fn. 33 (ὀνησα-, πλησα-), and from the evidence in Schwyzer (1939: 755–6) also φθ(ε)ισα- ‘make
perish’ (~ root aor. ἔφθιτο: Table 6.2, s.v. *d hg u̯ hei̯-, Wackernagel 1907a: 544, Sommer 1909: 60–1),
ὀλεσα- ‘destroy’ (~ root aor. ὠλόμην: 6.16), ἑσα- ‘make sit down’ (~ thematic aor. ἑζόμην ‘sat down’).
Aor. στυξα- ‘make detested’ (Od. 11.502 στύξαιμι) is probably an artificial one-off creation next to
thematic aor. ἔστυγον ‘detested’ (6.22).
440 The s-Aorist
next to ἐπέλησα ‘made forget’; but then, the Homeric present which
directly correlates in meaning with ἐπέλησα is not λήθω, but medial
ἐπιλήθομαι ‘forget’, and the relationship between aor. ἐπέλησα and pres.
ἐπιλήθομαι/aor. (ἐπ)ελαθόμην ‘forgot’ is comparable with that between
aor. ἔτρεψα and pres. τρέπομαι/aor. ἐτραπόμην. Even so, it would be
wrong to deny that the factitive value is tied to the s-formant since a
factitive present ἐπιλήθω ‘make forget’ is only attested very late and a
factitive thematic aorist †ἐπέλαθον not at all. By the same reasoning, we
may ascribe the factitivity of the innovated middle (!) s-aorist ἐγεινάμην
‘begot, brought forth’ (< *‘made come into existence’; cf. ἐγενόμην ‘came
into existence’) to the s-element as there is no trace of an equally factitive
non-sigmatic aorist.36
8.11 Reduplicated Aorists to s-Aorists

In the light of all this, it is natural that the Greek s-aorist not only
encroached upon the territory of former thematic and root aorists (6.14,
6.21, 8.3, 8.8), but also upon that of the factitive reduplicated aorists.
One or two examples have been referred to in 8.5 (πεπιθε/ο- → πεισα-,
τετυκε/ο- → τευξα-) and more can be gathered from the data in
Table 3.1.37 To conclude from such equivalences and replacements that
the Greek s-aorist was factitive by definition would of course be as wrong as
to assume this for the reduplicated aorist. The parallelism of the two types
simply results from the fact that any high-transitive formant is able to
acquire a secondary specialisation in the factitive domain.38 Had the s-
aorist ever been superseded in its turn by another aorist type, it might well
have shared the fate of the reduplicated aorist and stayed alive only in the
factitive domain (cf. 3.36). As it is, it merely expanded there; but it seems
fair to surmise that it would not have done this any more than the root or
thematic aorists did if its inherent semantic transitivity had not been higher
than theirs.
36
Cf. Schwyzer (1939: 756); that γεινα- < *gen-s(a)- is recent is shown by its derivation from *gen-, not
*gene- < *genh1-.
37
See ἀκαχε/ο- → ἀκαχησα- ‘worry, trouble’ (*h2egh-), ἀλαλκε/ο- → ἀλεξ(ησ)α- ‘ward off’ (*h2lek-/
*h2elk-), ἀραρε/ο- → ἀρσα- ‘fit’ (*h2er-), λέλαθε/ο- → (ἐπι)λησα- ‘make forget’ (*leh2d h-), ὀρορε/ο-
→ ὀρσα- ‘raise’ (*h3er-), πεφιδε/ο- → φεισα- ‘spare, save’ (*bhei̯d-), πεφραδε/ο- → φρασ(σ)α- ‘point
out’ (*bherd-).
38
But of course this is not a necessary development. For example, Indo-Iranian secondary s-aorist
subjunctive forms to two of the *CeH- roots discussed in Table 8.3 are not factitive: OAv. stā̊ ŋhat̰ ‘shall
stand/step’ < *steh2-s-e-t (Narten 1964: 281, Kellens 1984: 367), Ved. drāsat ‘shall run’ < *dreh2-s-e-t
(Narten 1964: 149).
8.12–8.19 The Greek s-Future
8.12 The Aorist-Subjunctive Theory
Before turning to the s-aorist in other languages, we have to complement
our exploration of the Greek data with a look at the Greek future.
Although the theory remains controversial, it has long been suspected
that the future, which also features a stem in *-s-, might be related to the
s-aorist. In what follows we shall not only endorse this view, but try to show
how it explains a prominent morphosyntactic anomaly of the Greek future.
Indirectly, we shall thus be able to corroborate the above claims on the
high-transitive nature of the s-formant.39
As stated in 1.13, virtually all Greek verbs form their future with a
suffix *-se/o-. Where the root or stem ends in an obstruent or vowel/
diphthong, no other segment appears to be involved (e.g., δείξω ‘I will
show’ < *dei̯k̑ -se/o-, θήσω ‘I will put’ < *d heh1-se/o-). By contrast, with roots
in a resonant the evidence points to *-ese/o-, allowing a reconstruction
*-h1se/o- (e.g., μενῶ ‘I will remain’ < μενέω < *men-ese/o- < *men-h1se/o-).
Especially (but not only) in West Greek, this type in -εε/ο- analogically
spreads, so as to produce a secondary future in -σεε/ο- (e.g., δείξω → Dor.
δειξέω; cf. Hom. ἐσσεῖται ~ ἔσσεται ‘will be’, Att. πλευσούμεθα ~
πλευσόμεθα ‘we will sail’).40
In the diachronic interpretation of these facts, two main schools can be
distinguished.41 According to one, the Greek future in *-se/o- simply
continues the inherited s-aorist subjunctive.42 As such it may have a close
parallel in Italic (8.20). The classical Greek s-aorist subjunctive is of course
long-vocalic, but since short-vocalic s-aorist subjunctives still exist in
Homer (1.7, 4.46), this difference is insubstantial. Moreover, we know
39
The following section retraces, with minor modifications, the argument of Willi (2011b).
40
Cf. Meillet (1924b: 100), Schwyzer (1939: 785–6), Chantraine (1958: 252), G. Schmidt (1986: 49–50),
Rix (1992: 224), Zinzi (2014); to posit a compound suffix *-se-i̯e/o- (Schwyzer 1939: 787; cf.
Lindeman 1965: 50–1) is pointless. In Att. πεσοῦμαι ‘will fall’, the use of -εε/ο- removes the anomaly
of having a fut. *πέσομαι < *pet-s-e/o- next to an identical thematic aorist stem πεσε/ο- (Table 6.2).
41
Separate from both is Pedersen’s (1921: 24–5) view that an already PIE future *CC-es-mi was
thematised and changed its root-vowel grade; the objections to the desiderative theory apply here
a fortiori (8.13). Reconciling this and the aorist-subjunctive theory, Kuiper (1934: 286–304) then
derived the future from the subjunctive of an s-present with ablauting suffix (as still posited by
Kortlandt 2008, de Vaan 2011: 29–34).
42
See the literature in Schwyzer (1939: 787 n. 1), and more recently Pariente (1963; 1965), McCone
(1991a: 142–5), Szemerényi (1996: 285–8), Duhoux (2000: 443). Apparent *CeC-se/o- parallels in
Celtic (e.g., OIr. seiss ‘will sit’ < *sed-se/o-?) are questioned by McCone (1991a: 174), who accounts for
them with a late-PIE change *C1i-C1T-se/o- → *C1iT-se/o-. According to Watkins (1969: 126), a PIE
formation in *-se/o- split into both the Greek future and (via reinterpretation) the s-aorist sub-
junctive; but the aspectual neutrality of the future (Tichy 2006: 311–12) can also be referred to the
indeterminate original value of the subjunctive in general (4.47).
442 The s-Aorist
that futures easily arise from subjunctives. This is the rule in Latin, in
Homeric Greek even the non-sigmatic subjunctive is often used like a
future, and in Avestan and Vedic too the subjunctive commonly conveys
futurity. In the absence of a formally distinct future, the same will also have
been one function of the PIE subjunctive.43
As for the suffix variant *-h1se/o- > *-ese/o-, the aorist-subjunctive theory
takes this to be extracted from set roots in *-L/Nh1- (e.g., *temh1-se/o- ‘will
cut’ > τεμέω/τεμῶ) and transferred ˙ to anit roots in *-L/N-. With anit roots
in *-N- at least, the modification was ˙able to prevent the conflation
44 ˙ of
present stems in *-i̯e/o- and future stems in *-se/o- (e.g., fut. τενῶ/τενέω <
*ten-ehe/o- ‘will stretch’ instead of *ten-se/o- > *ten-he/o- > *tēn-e/o- ~ pres.
*ten-i̯e/o- > tēn-e/o- = τείνω).45 That the spread of *-ese/o- or *-ehe/o-
happened fairly late – though in pre-Mycenaean times (cf. fut. ptcpl. de-
me-o-te /demehontes/ ‘(people who are) about to build’ < *dem-ehe/o- to
*dem-; cf. Table 8.1) – is suggested by the fact that Homer and later poets
still attest forms like Od. 19.507 θερσόμενος < *g u̯ her-se/o- (to pres. θέρομαι
‘be(come) warm(ed)’) where an original *-Ls- sequence is preserved.46
Against the aorist-subjunctive theory, it has been pointed out that future
and aorist stems not rarely diverge, and that there are even cases where the
e-graded root is attested only in the future (e.g., fut. ἐλεύσομαι ‘will come’ ≠
aor. ἐλυθε/ο-, pres. ἔρχομαι; πείσομαι ‘will suffer’ < *phenth-se/o- ≠ aor.
παθε/ο-, pres. πάσχω).47 However, the future suffix *-se/o- may have
become autonomous after it had originated in the subjunctive of the
s-aorists. ‘Isolated’ e-grade forms, like ἐλεύσομαι, could then be the result
of straightforward analogy with similar lexemes where other e-graded items
did exist (e.g., fut. ἐλεύσομαι : aor. ἐλυθε/ο- = fut. πεύσομαι ‘will learn’ :
aor. πυθε/ο-, pres. πεύθομαι).48
43
On Latin futures from subjunctives, see M. Leumann (1977: 573, 577), Sihler (1995: 557–8), Weiss
(2009: 414–15), and Willi (2012c: 258–62), on futuric subjunctives in Homer Chantraine (1953: 206–
10), Hahn (1953: esp. 78–82), and Willmott (2007: esp. 54–81), on Avestan Kellens (1984: esp. 267),
on Vedic Delbrück (1888: 313; 1897: 242–50) and Renou (1952: 369–70), and on Proto-Indo-
European Gonda (1956: esp. 68–86). In the light of 4.45–4.47, Gonda is right to reject a derivation
of the PIE subjunctive from a temporal future (Hahn 1953; cf. already Walter 1923).
44
On the slightly different evolution of *-Ls- and *-Ns-, see Wackernagel (1888: 124–37); his formula-
tion of the conditions under which *-VLs- was (at first) preserved remains preferable to the revision
by Miller (1976).
45
Note that the aorist stem remained distinct (aor. *ten-sa- > *ten-ha- > tēna- (τεινα-) ≠ pres. *ten-i̯e/o-
> tēne/o- (τεινε/ο-)); only in the 3sg., the aorist and imperfect coalesced as well (ἔτεινε).
46
Cf. Chantraine (1958: 449; 1961: 249–50); contrast the post-classical restitution of s-futures in cases
like καλέω/καλῶ ‘will call’ → καλέσω.
47
Schwyzer (1939: 787), Rix (1992: 225), Sihler (1995: 556).
48
Cf. Rasmussen (1985: 396–7 n. 36). Some other futures are unquestionably aorist-based (e.g., aor.
θανε/ο- → fut. θανοῦμαι ‘will die’; Pariente 1963: 56), but these are secondary under any theory.
8.13 The Desiderative Theory
The shortcomings of the second theory are more fundamental. According
to its proponents,49 the Greek future descends from a PIE ‘desiderative’,
formed with a suffix *-se/o- or *-h1se/o-. The variant with *-h1se/o-, which is
designed to account for futures like τενέω (to *ten-) and putatively backed
by the reduplicated Indo-Iranian desideratives in *-Hse/o-,50 may be
discarded instantly. Not only does it require, for futures like δείξω <
*dei̯ k̑ -se/o-, a – presumably already PIE – loss of *-h1- between stop and
*-s- which is at least not obvious,51 but it also overlooks both the Homeric
futures in -Ls- (8.12) and the synchronically irregular and therefore no
doubt old future χέω ‘will pour’: χέω can be derived from *kheu̯ -se/o-,
but not from *kheu̯ -ese/o- (cf. 8.19). In fact, *-h1- is dispensable as part
of the suffix also in the closest comparandum of the Indo-Iranian desi-
deratives, the Old Irish reduplicated (and hence often long-vowel) future
of the type -géna ‘will wound’ (< *g u̯ hi-g u̯ hn-H̥ -se/o-, to *g u̯ hen- ‘strike’): for
the spread to anit roots of a set-root-based variant of the suffix here mirrors
what happens in˙the a-subjunctive,
˙ 52
no matter if this process already began
53
in the proto-language.
Turning to the alternative reconstruction with *-se/o-, the desiderative
theory entails that Proto-Indo-European possessed a distinct verbal cate-
gory which just happened (a) to be formally identical with a well-formed
s-aorist subjunctive and (b) to show a remarkable functional overlap with
the subjunctive as both it and the subjunctive could express futurity.54 If
we add to this (c) the observation that the Greek futures acquire modal
49
See, after Franke (1861), e.g. Magnien (1912: 2.285–300), Thurneysen (1920: 113–14), Meillet (1924b:
98–9), Schwyzer (1939: 787), Chantraine (1961: 246–7), Rix (1992: 225), Sihler (1995: 556), Tichy
(2006: 311–18).
50
Good evidence for *-se/o- is here found only after stops (e.g., dí-drk-sa- ‘want to see’ < *di-dr̥ k̑ -se/o-;
˙ ˙
. -sa- ‘want to go’ < *k̑ u-k̑ lu-Hse/o-, *g i-g m̥ -Hse/o-). In post-
u̯ u̯
contrast śú-śrū-sa- ‘want to hear’, jí-gām
˙ -isa- (< *-Hse/o-) spreads further (jí-gam-i-sa- for jí-gām-sa-, etc.; Macdonell 1916:
Rig-Vedic times, .
198, Heenen 2006:˙ 33). ˙
51
Cf. Cowgill (1963: 261–2; 1965: 171), responding to Puhvel (1953: 455; 1960: 41–52). According to
Rasmussen (1997b: 255 n. 6), “a word-internal sequence of stop + *h1 produces a unit aspirate and
does not syllabify the laryngeal”. The reconstruction of a desiderative suffix containing schwa was
already proposed by Schulze (1904), followed by Meillet (1908/9c: 337–8) and Thurneysen (1920:
143–4); cf. Kuiper (1934: 296–301), Cowgill (1963: 257–9), and Erhart (1989: 69, 82–3).
52
See Rix (1977: 151–4) and McCone (1991a: esp. 158–63).
53 u̯ h u̯ h
Cf. Rix (1977: 147) on OIr. -géna ~ Ved. jí-ghām . -sa- ‘will strike’ < *g i-g n-H-se/o-. Referring to
Kuryłowicz (1956: 252), Cowgill (1963: 261) objects that “[o]nly the falling together of CeRH-e- and
CeR-e- as CeR-e- made possible a reanalysis of CeRH-s- as CeR-Hs-”; but since *-h1- was particularly
weak (cf. 3.8), it is conceivable that at least *CeRh1-e- and *CeR-e- already merged in later Proto-
Indo-European, when *CeRh1-s- and *CeR-s- were still distinct. Note that it is specifically *-h1- which
is generalised in the Greek -εε/ο- future (8.12).
54
Cf. G. Schmidt (1986: 53). With *-h1se/o-, the formal ‘near-identity’ would still be curious.
444 The s-Aorist
(optative) forms only very late, which makes sense if they were themselves
modal in origin but not if they were old desideratives,55 and (d) the fact that
a truly desiderative value is missing from all finite non-first-person forms
(while in the first person expectation and intention naturally coincide), the
artificiality of the construct becomes undeniable. A Greek form like 3sg.
fut. δείξει simply means ‘will show ~ is about to show/is expected to show’,
not ‘wants to show’.56 It thus differs from an Old Indic desiderative like
jíghām.sati ‘wants to slay’. But when not even a direct formal correspondent
of jíghām.sati, the Old Irish future -géna, is actually ‘desiderative’, it is
wrong-headed to extract a PIE desiderative category from this material.
Instead, the Indo-Iranian desideratives will represent a branch-specific
innovation, which was made possible by the availability of other futuroid
types (in the subjunctive and elsewhere: 8.23) and caused by the ambiguity
of first-person forms57 with regard to expectation vs. intention.
8.14 Assessment
If we apply Occam’s Razor, all we are really entitled to reconstruct on the
basis of the evidence cited is a PIE s-aorist subjunctive which could be used,
like other subjunctives, for statements referring to the future. At some
point, its stem *CeC-s-e/o- was reanalysed as root + ‘future’ suffix *-se/o-,
55
The Old Indic desiderative “is conjugated . . . in both voices, in all the modes (including, in the older
language, the subjunctive), and with participles and imperfect” (Whitney 1889: 374). On the Greek
future optative, see Duhoux (2000: 453–4). Note also Hom. fut. + ἄν/κε(ν) and the use of both
futures and subjunctives in conditional clauses, after verba curandi, and in deliberative contexts
(Duhoux 2000: 456–9).
56
Chantraine (1961: 247) claims that ‘one can sometimes discern the originally desiderative value of the
future’, but only supports this with one passage featuring a 1sg. (Il. 1.29 τὴν δ᾿ ἐγὼ οὐ λύσω ‘her I will
not release’) and another with a participle (Il. 1.12 ἦλθε λυσόμενος θύγατρα ‘he came to get his
daughter released’). As with the first person, there are pragmatic reasons why a predicative future
participle commonly implies (something like) a desire: someone whose doing X (ἦλθε ‘came’) raises
the expectation that Y may be achieved (λυσόμενος ‘as someone about to release’) will often also
intend to achieve Y. Similarly, the ‘desiderative’ character of Gr. βούλομαι ‘wish, want’ (Dor.
δήλομαι) (< *g u̯ e/ol-se/o-: 8.15, fn. 63) or Lat. vīsō ‘go and look at/visit’ (< *u̯ ei̯d-se/o-) and quaesō
‘request’ (←< *k u̯ ei̯(s)-se/o-) tends to be overstated (cf. Pariente 1963: 68–9): with βούλομαι and
quaesō the desiderativity is due to the root semantics, not the suffix (cf. non-sigmatic Hom. βόλομαι
< *g u̯ ol-e/o- = βούλομαι), and with vīsō the frequency of ipv. vīse! ‘go and have a look!’ in the oldest
texts is noteworthy as this form excludes a ‘desiderative’ reading (pace Bock 2008: 67–8, 428; cf.
†‘want to have a look!’). None of these verbs is thus categorially different from non-desiderative
s-presents (cf. 3.2, 8.35, fn. 165).
57
As well as participles: cf. fn. 56 and note the frequency of desiderative participles in Vedic
(Macdonell 1916: 198). As is expected of an innovation, the desiderative spreads over time: “not
one third of the whole number of roots (about a hundred) noted as having a desiderative conjuga-
tion in Veda and Brāhmana have such in RV” (Whitney 1889: 372; cf. Arnold 1897: 333–5, Heenen
2006: 4). According to˙ Renou ˙ (1952: 296), the general value in Vedic is still ‘that of an action which
the agent wishes to do, or which he will do (future); the nuance is sometimes indistinct or weakly
marked’ (italics added).
and *-se/o- began to lead an independent life. This we may infer not only
from Greek (and Italic: 8.20), but also from Indo-Iranian and Celtic; for
the reduplicated *Cí-CC-(H)se/o- type that gave rise to the Indo-Iranian
desiderative and the Old Irish future (8.13) can represent a trivial analogical
innovation – of some antiquity, to be sure, but still younger than its Greek/
Italic counterpart.58 As soon as simple thematic presents (*CeC-e/o-), both
with and without s-aorist (8.5–8.6), regularly co-occurred with sigmatic
futures (*CeC-se/o-), reduplicated thematic presents too could acquire
corresponding futures (*Cí-CC-e/o- : *Cí-CC-se/o-). In comparison with
the morphologically simpler Greek solution this had the added advantage
that futures (> futures/desideratives) and s-aorist subjunctives could then
be more clearly distinguished by generalising *Cí-CC-se/o- in the former
and restricting *CeC-se/o- to the latter function.
8.15 Greek Middle Futures as Support for the Desiderative Theory?

Although it has mainly been backed with the comparative evidence discussed
above, the desiderative theory has also sometimes been thought to offer an
explanation for a well-known peculiarity of the Greek future: the tendency
to inflect in the middle voice even when the corresponding present and aorist
stems are active (e.g., pres./aor. ᾄδω/ᾖσα ‘sing’ ~ fut. ᾄσομαι, pres./aor.
βαίνω/ἔβην ‘go’ ~ fut. βήσομαι, pres./aor. θνῄσκω/ἔθανον ‘die’ ~ fut.
θανοῦμαι, pres./aor. πάσχω/ἔπαθον ‘suffer’ ~ fut. πείσομαι, pres./aor.
τυγχάνω/ἔτυχον ‘hit upon, obtain’ ~ fut. τεύξομαι, pres./aor. φεύγω/
ἔφυγον ‘flee’ ~ fut. φεύξομαι, etc.).59 Thus, according to Rijksbaron,
[t]he suffix -σε/σο- of these middle futures originally had a desiderative
value (cp. English will). Being desiderative, these forms had a preference for
middle endings, to emphasize the involvement of the subject in the state of
affairs. When these desideratives entered into the verbal system, expressing
future time, they were associated with middle-passive present forms. This,
in turn, gave rise to active futures for the corresponding active present
forms, but only with those verbs where a meaningful opposition between
active and middle-passive voice was possible. In all other cases, the middle
futures were connected with active present forms.60
58
M. Leumann (1952: 45) even assumes independent parallel creations; but see Emeneau (1958:
410–12).
59
See Kühner and Blass (1890–2: 2.244) and Rijksbaron (2002: 156) with further examples, Duhoux
(2000: 124) with statistics: ‘45% (146 ex.) of the futures (all moods) of the sample of [Chanet 1984]
are mediopassive – compare the present (21%), the aorist (19%), and the perfect (38%); the overall
average of the mediopassives is 23.2%’.
60
Rijksbaron (2002: 156), based on advice by C. J. Ruijgh, but essentially following Meillet
(1922d: 67).
446 The s-Aorist
That the middle acts as a kind of default voice in the future of at least early
and classical Greek is not implausible (cf. 8.16). What is more problematic
is the assumption that the establishment of such a default voice has any-
thing to do with a presumed desiderative origin of the tense. Both internal
and comparative data speak against this.
Firstly, it is certainly true that the Greek middle is often used in an
‘indirect-reflexive’ manner, where “the Agent has a special interest in the
state of affairs in which he is involved; frequently he is the Beneficiary of
that state of affairs”.61 But Rijksbaron himself notes that “verbs which
express a state of affairs from which, normally speaking, only the Agent
benefits do not form an indirect-reflexive middle-passive”. Since this
would typically be the case with a desiderative, the desiderative suffix
alone should be sufficient to indicate the ‘involvement’ of the subject.
And indeed, just as the suffix -(θ)η- combines with active endings while
conveying the subject’s ‘involvement’ in the intransitive/passive aorist, so
does the actual desiderative suffix -σειε/ο- (Hom. ὀψείοντες ‘wishing to
see’, Att. δρασείω ‘feel the urge to do’, etc.; cf. 8.23, fn. 106).
Secondly, outside Greek the picture is essentially the same. While endorsing
the desiderative theory, Sihler has to admit that “in the RV, which likewise
cannibalized the old desiderative for a paradigmatic future, future middles are
downright rare. Middles are more evident in the desiderative formation itself,
though fewer than half of the desiderative verb forms are middle.”62 Hence,
since neither the Old Indic desiderative/future nor the Old Irish future in *-se/o-
are preferentially medial, the Greek situation would have to be a language-
specific novelty, instituted at a time when either (a) the desiderative meaning
was still paramount or (b) the futuric function had already prevailed.
To bolster (a), one might perhaps point to the desiderative/voluntative
verbs βούλομαι/Dor. δήλομαι ‘prefer, wish, want’, ἔλπομαι ‘hope’, and
(ἐ)έλδομαι ‘wish, long’, which are media tantum. However, their partial
synonyms ἐθέλω ‘want, am ready to’, ἐλπίζω ‘hope’, and Dor. λῶ ‘want’
are actives, and the middle inflection of the first three can in any case be
ascribed to the medial inclination of thematic root presents (4.44) just as
readily as to their lexical semantics.63 Moreover, the voluntative
61
Rijksbaron (2002: 147); Bakker (1994) and Allan (2003) speak of ‘(subject-)affectedness’, but the
basic idea is the same.
62
Sihler (1995: 556); cf. Meillet (1922d: 66–7). According to the statistics of Arnold (1897: 335), 82.3%
of all desiderative forms in the Rig Veda are active (cf. also Heenen 2006: 17–18).
63
In Att.-Ion. βούλομαι, *g u̯ else/o- (> Dor. δήλομαι/δείλομαι) is remodelled into *g u̯ olse/o- after the
perfect (προ)βέβουλα ‘prefer, wish’ (Table 5.2; *g u̯ é-g u̯ ols-a > βέβουλα is regular with Wackernagel
1888: 127, pace Ruijgh 1970: 315–16). On βούλομαι as potentially containing an s-enlarged root,
cf. 8.13, fn. 56; but a lexicalised s-aorist subjunctive is also conceivable (Meillet 1895: 328, Fraenkel
subjunctive no more prompts middle inflection than the desideratives
mentioned above. So there is really no support at all for a desiderative →
middle voice nexus within Greek.64 Nor does this surprise if we remem-
ber that, according to the Transitivity Hypothesis (3.35), volitionality
correlates with high transitivity, whereas the middle voice encodes low
transitivity.65
Option (b), meanwhile, does not lead very far either. If it were true that,
with Duhoux, the future ‘expresses a state of mind of the verbal subject,
expectation, and is therefore particularly centred on its personal sphere’,66
this would immediately raise the unanswerable question ‘why the subjunc-
tive, which also expresses expectation, does not seem to show a particular
bias for the mediopassive’.67 And it may be added again that futures and
subjunctives in other Indo-European languages show no pertinent tenden-
cies either.68
8.16 A Morphological Hypothesis

Given the failure of the purely semantic approach, the issue of the middle
futures may have to be tackled from a morphological angle.69 In 8.8–8.10,
1949: 156–7, Frisk 1960–72: 1.259, s.v., Chantraine 2009: 181, s.v.). To posit a nasal present to a root
*g u̯ elh3- unnecessarily complicates things (LIV 208–9, s.v. ?*g u̯ elh3-, after Peters 1986: 310–11; cf.
Szemerényi 1966a: 42–50, Slings 1975, Beekes 2010: 1.231, s.v.). Semantically, Allan (2003: 236–42)
finds that the subject of βούλομαι is “psychologically involved to a greater extent than in complying
to someone’s request (ἐθέλω)” (cf. Rödiger 1917), but he also shows that in Homer ἐθέλω is still
volitional (‘desire’, not just ‘am ready to’).
64
Cf. Pariente (1963: 60), Plénat (1974: 172–3); but Plénat’s own idea that the middle voice reflects a
non-agentive deep-structure subject is no more adequate (cf. agentive ᾄσομαι ‘will sing’, φεύξομαι
‘will flee’, etc.).
65
Even if Bakker (1994: 29) were right that “volitionality as the sole transitivity feature of an event (i.e.
when agency and causation are absent) involves affectedness”, this might at best explain the middle
inflection of “objective intransitive 1-participant events” (e.g., θανοῦμαι ‘will die’, πεσοῦμαι ‘will
fall’), but not of transitive and/or agentive verbs where volitionality is not the “sole transitivity
feature” (e.g., λήψομαι ‘will take’ ~ pres. λαμβάνω); also, many verbs of the former group do not
typically have volitional subjects (‘die’, ‘fall’, etc.).
66
Duhoux (2000: 453); cf. Kühner and Gerth (1898–1904: 1.102–3), Gonda (1960: 60–3), Pariente
(1963: 94), and in a similar spirit Magni (1995) (middle voice generalised from epistemically used
future ‘statives’), Hewson and Bubeník (1997: 40), Lühr (2012: 220–2) (middle voice signalling
reduced control over future eventualities).
67
Duhoux (2000: 453) claims that at least the old short-vowel subjunctives are often medial; but since
most of them are also sigmatic (Chantraine 1958: 454), this reveals nothing about the subjunctive in
general.
68
On the contrary, “[s]ome Vedic futures, the stem of which . . . ends in . . . *-(ǝ1)si̯e/o-, for no
functional reason have active conjugation despite the fact that the present is exclusively middle”
(Hollifield 1981: 171).
69
Cf. already Thurneysen (1920: 146–8) and Meillet (1924b: 98–9), who thought that a nucleus of
deponential futures/desideratives influenced the rest, but only supported this with the pair Gr.
ὄψομαι ‘will see’ ~ Ved. ī́ksate ‘looks at’ (whose meaning is no longer desiderative); cf. similarly
˙
448 The s-Aorist
we have studied the high-transitive, and sometimes factitive, behaviour of
the Greek s-aorist. If we now build on this and accept that the Greek future
has an aoristic background, our morphosyntactic problem finds a simple
solution.
Before a specific future category was created, the expression of futurity
was one task of the subjunctive (8.12). A perfective 3sg. ‘future’ of *steh2-
‘(take a) stand’ would thus have been *steh2-e-t(i), and one of *dei̯k̑ - ‘show’
*dei̯k̑ -s-e-t(i), using the subjunctive of a root aorist and s-aorist respectively.
Later on, following the emancipation of the future marker *-se/o- (8.14), a
differentiation between futures and aorist subjunctives became possible in
paradigms with a non-sigmatic aorist (e.g., fut. *steh2-se/o- : aor. subj.
*steh2-e/o-). Elsewhere, this had to wait until the analogical expansion of
long-vowel subjunctives to s-aorists enabled the same move.70
All this would have been unproblematic, had the suffix been transitivity-
neutral. With high-transitive *-s(e/o)-, however, a difficulty arose when it
was added to prototypically low-transitive roots/stems. If, for example, the
s-aorist to *steh2- > *stā- was factitive because of the s-suffix (8.9), the same
factitive value should have attached to the new future stem *stā-se/o-,
although this was meant to provide a future to intransitive *stā- (with
3sg. aor. *(e-)stā-t). In order to amend this situation, the transitivity-
enhancing force of the s-suffix had to be neutralised. And this could be
achieved most easily by replacing the active inflection with a middle one
(e.g., intr. 3sg. *stā-se-toi̯ > στήσεται ‘will stand’ vs. factitive *stā-se-ti >
στήσει ‘will set up’).71
Since the transitivising effect of the s-suffix must still have been felt when
such middle futures were built, every low-transitive/intransitive stem lack-
ing an active s-aorist required a middle future, whether or not it was
medially inflected in the other tenses. Even the late mediopassive futures
in -(θ)ήσομαι (1.13) follow this rule. Although based on the corresponding
actively inflected aorists in -(θ)ην, -(θ)ης, -(θ)η (with subj. -(θ)ῶ, -(θ)ῇς,
-(θ)ῇ, etc.), the presence of the -(θ)η- suffix was not on its own sufficient to
Hollifield (1981: 181–2), after Magnien (1912: 2.290). For a closer precedent to what is proposed here,
see Marguliés (1930: 228–34).
70
The retention of short-vowel s-subjunctives in Homer (1.7) suggests a late date. The creation of
similar ‘imperfect subjunctives’ in *-sē- in Italic may then be an independent innovation (e.g., Lat.
foret, Osc. fusíd ‘would be’ < *bhu[H]-sē-t(i): see, with divergences in the detail, Thurneysen 1884:
275, Sommer 1914: 524, M. Leumann 1977: 576, Jasanoff 1991b, Meiser 1993c, Rix 2003b: 5–7, Hill
2004: 121–33; contra Christol 2005).
71
That medialisation can be used to reduce valency (cf. Risselada 1987) does not of course mean that
every middle must be explained like this: Allan’s (2003: 53–6) criticism of the notion is therefore too
strong.
maintain low transitivity when -σε/ο- was added.72 Only with prototypi-
cally transitive roots/stems the creation of active futures in *-se/o- was
unobjectionable; though even with these there was no real need to inflect
actively because a combination of transitivising *-s- and detransitivising
middle endings was transitivity-neutral. Accordingly, it was the middle,
not the active, future in *-se/o- that was set to spread by default. The only
place where active futures in *-se/o- were truly safe was paradigms in which
they were supported by active s-aorists: here it would have been perverse to
replace old active (aorist subjunctives >) futures by new middle ones.
8.17 Data Check

Like any hypothesis, ours depends on its ability to cope with the more
problematic data. In the present case, these are the transitive verbs with
middle futures. They fall into two groups.73 The first consists of verbs that
are freely used in transitive and intransitive contexts (e.g., ᾄδω/ᾄσομαι
‘sing (of)’, ἀκούω/ἀκούσομαι ‘hear, listen (to)’, κλαίω/κλαύσομαι ‘weep
(for)’). In view of the intransitive uses, and because a transitivity-
neutral middle future did not exclude the transitive ones, these lexemes
were good candidates for the application of the default middle inflec-
tion. If at some later point forms like ἀκούσω or ἀείσω also appeared,
this is because the inherent transitivity of the s-suffix was no longer
perceived then, and the wish to have parallel voice forms in all tenses
therefore prevailed.74
The second group contains prototypically transitive verbs, but only if
they did not have an old sigmatic aorist. Consequently, they also had no
old s-aorist subjunctive which ‘automatically’ turned into a future. Here
too, then, the default future, with its middle inflection, was applied (e.g.,
pres./aor./fut. γιγνώσκω/ἔγνων/γνώσομαι ‘recognise’, λαμβάνω/ἔλαβον/
λήψομαι ‘take’, λαγχάνω/ἔλαχον/λήξομαι ‘obtain by lot’, τίκτω/ἔτεκον/
τέξομαι ‘engender, bring forth’).
72
In West Greek, active forms were secondarily introduced (Buck 1955: 117). Cf. also Chantraine (1958:
441) on ‘late’ middle futures to denominal verbs in Homer (e.g., Il. 18.467 θαυμάσσεται ‘will
admire’ to act. θαυμάζω).
73
Cf. again the lists in Kühner and Blass (1890–2: 2.244) and Rijksbaron (2002: 156).
74
Active s-aorists of such verbs are encountered earlier (ἄεισα/ᾔεισα, ἤκουσα, ἔκλαυσα), suggesting
that the restriction of s-aorists to transitive contexts was relaxed before and that the entire evolution
was sequenced as follows: (i) act. *-s(a)- in transitive aor.; (ii) act. *-se/o- in transitive fut. (next to s-
aor.); (iii) med. *-se/o- in intransitive and (by default) new transitive fut. (next to non-sigmatic aor.);
(iv) act. *-s(a)- in new intransitive aor. (next to act. pres.); (v) act. *-se/o- in new intransitive fut. (next
to act. pres./aor.).
450 The s-Aorist
8.18 Asigmatic Middle Futures: πῑ ́ ομαι
Finally, we have to counter one obvious objection to our hypothesis. With
ἔδομαι ‘will eat’, πίομαι ‘will drink’, and Hom. βε(ί)ομαι ‘will live’ there
appears to be a small group of subjunctive-based futures without the s-suffix
which are nevertheless inflected medially. How is that possible if the medial
preference of the Greek future is conditioned by the presence of *-se/o-, not
by the semantics of desideratives, futures, or subjunctives in general?
A simple justification would be that ἔδομαι etc. were analogically med-
ialised because the default version of the more common s-future was
inflected like this. After all, the three verbs referred to were or could be
used as intransitives. However, the real reason probably lies elsewhere. To
discover it, we must look separately at the three items, starting with πίομαι.
Both in the s-aorist and in the future, intervocalic *-s- which had been
lost via *-h- > -Ø- was often restituted. Since *-s- was secure in stems like
aor./fut. δειξα-/δειξε/ο- ‘show’, where it occurred after a stop, it could be
analogically reintroduced elsewhere when the sound change had run its
course and new intervocalic sibilants had developed from other sources
(cf. e.g. aor./fut. τιμησα-/τιμησε/ο- ‘honour’).75 However, this reintroduc-
tion was less thorough in the future than in the aorist. It is not seen in the
future in *-ese/o- > -εε/ο- (τενῶ/τενέω, etc.: 8.12) and it is also absent from a
few Homeric futures in -ύω (e.g., ἐρύω ‘will pull’),76 a number of set-root
futures in (*-h2se/o- >) -αε/ο- (e.g., Att. κρεμῶ, 3sg. κρεμᾷ ‘will hang˙ up’),
and the classical future in -ιῶ of the verbs in -ίζω (e.g., νομιῶ ‘will think’).
As Wackernagel recognised, the latter owe their accentuation to influence
from the -εε/ο- type, but ultimately go back to futures in -ιε/ο- that were
formed to aorists in -ισα- (< *-id-s(a)-, 8.4) by analogy with the future in
-αε/ο- next to aor. -ασα- (*-h2-s(a)-).77
The reason why *-s- was not restituted in these futures can only be
guessed.78 With the spread of the future in *-ese/o- to all roots in a nasal and
75
According to Risch (1956; 1987: 333), who dates the *-s- > *-h- change to a time before the s-aorist was
fully alphathematic, there was only intraparadigmatic ‘restitution’ of *-s- in the aorist (e.g., 1sg. *(e-)
kale-s-m̥ ‘called’ > *(e-)kale-h-a → *(e-)kale-s-a, after 3sg. *(e-)kale-s[t]). However, since *-s- > *-h- is
presupposed by e.g. aor. ἔχευε/ἔχεε < *(e-)kheu̯ -s-e (Table 6.2), this is doubtful (cf. the hesitation in
Risch 1956: 131 n. 14). Mycenaean and Homeric Greek seem to agree on the treatment of the *-s- in
the future and aorist (Lejeune 1965: 5–7).
76
Cf. Schwyzer (1939: 780–1), Hauri (1975: 181–3); similarly perhaps δήω ‘will find’ (cf. LIV 103, s.v. ?2.
*deh1-, Table 4.1), but Schwyzer (1939: 780) and Chantraine (1958: 452) treat this as a present with
future meaning (cf. εἶμι ‘will go’).
77
Wackernagel (1893); on κρεμάω/κρεμῶ etc., whose future was copied by verbs in -άζω, see also
Schwyzer (1939: 784–5), Hauri (1975: 162–74). In later Greek, -ιῶ was again replaced by -ίσω
(Schwyzer 1939: 785).
78
Hauri (1975: 196–7) thinks of a semantic rationale (‘verbs with non-durative Aktionsart are in need of
a clear present morpheme . . ., but if necessary can do without a clear future morpheme’), but aorists
should then no more require a distinct marker than futures.
liquid, the ratio of stems with a future in *-s- > *-h- to stems with one in
(phonologically retained) *-s- was greater than the corresponding ratio in
the aorist where original *-Ls- was initially preserved (8.12) and many roots
in *-N/L- did not have an s-aorist anyway. Thus, *-h- (in e.g. *ten-ehe/o-
‘will stretch’) may have been perceived as no less ‘legitimate’ a future
marker than *-s- (in e.g. *dei̯k-se/o- ‘will show’).
But whatever the reason, the fact itself cannot be disputed. And it then
follows that there is nothing to prove that πίομαι is a middle future without
s-suffix. In fact, if it were really based on a subjunctive to the root aorist
*ἔπῑν (8.9, fn. 34), its long -ῑ- would not be justified (*-pih3-e/o- > -πῐε/ο-;
cf. thematic aor. πῐε/ο-). But if πίομαι continues sigmatic *pih3-se/o- > *pī-
se/o- > *pī(h)e/o- and simply has not restituted *-s- any more than, for
example, the phonologically similar futures in -ιε/ο- have, it is
unexceptional.
8.19 βε(ί)ομαι and ἔδομαι

If πῑ ́ομαι turns out to be a regular s-future, what about βε(ί)ομαι and ἔδομαι?
The former belongs to the root *g u̯ ei̯h3- ‘live’.79 Phonologically, nothing
speaks against an analysis as subj. *gu̯ ei̯h3-e/o- >→ βεε/ο- in this case (with
analogical β- for *δ- after forms with *g u̯ - > β- before *-i-); for -ει- in Il.
22.431 βείομαι can be ascribed to metrical lengthening.80 However, it is
awkward that there is no trace of a corresponding root-present indicative.
Greek, like other Indo-European languages, instead attests a u̯ -present.81
Moreover, a sigmatic interpretation is feasible here too.82 After the disap-
pearance of the laryngeals, the root of this verb was (zero-graded) *g u̯ i- in all
forms of the aorist stem βι-ω- (< *g u̯ i[h3]-eh1-: Table 6.2). On this basis, a
normal (full-graded) s-future *g u̯ ei̯-se/o- could be built. How a sequence
*-Vi̯sV- developed in Greek is subject to debate, but it seems most natural to
assume that the same changes would have happened here as in the structu-
rally identical future *g̑ heu̯ -se/o- (to *g̑ heu̯ - ‘pour’).83 The latter first yielded
79
The material in LIV 215–16, s.v. *g u̯ i̯eh3-, contains no real evidence for *g u̯ i̯eh3- if one accepts, with
Francis (1970: 276–84) and Normier (1977: 182 n. 26, 184 n. 30), that Gr. ζώω ‘live’ can continue
*g u̯ ih3-u̯ e/o- (~ Ved. jīv́ ati, Lat. vīvō ‘live’, etc.; cf. also Willi 2014a: 220 n. 19).
80
Cf. Schwyzer (1939: 780), Chantraine (1958: 452–3), Rix (2003a: 368). Lindeman (1964: 102–8)
suggests a thematic root present pro futuro.
81
See fn. 79. Apart from fut. βέομαι, LIV 215, s.v. *g u̯ i̯eh3-, only lists ‘?[Arm. keam “live”’ as evidence for
a root present (cf. Harđarson 1993a: 210), but accepts that this may continue, with Barton (1990–1: 45
n. 58), either *g u̯ ih3-i̯e/o- or a ‘remake of *g u̯ ih3- > *ki- with the productive suffix -a-’.
82
Cf. already Thurneysen (1920: 147), but (*g u̯ ei̯h3-se/o- →) *g u̯ ei̯-h̥ 1se/o- > *g u̯ ei̯-ese/o- > *g u̯ eehe/o- >→
*bēhe/o- = βειε/ο- is problematic since analogy would rather have led to †βεοῦμαι.
83
For the treatment of *-Vu̯ sV-, see Kiparsky (1967b: 623–9). Kiparsky (1967b: 630) refrains from
postulating the same for *-Vi̯sV-, but items like σείω ‘shake’ (< *tu̯ ei̯s-e/o-; cf. Skt. tvesati ‘agitates’) are
˙
452 The s-Aorist
*kheu̯ he/o-, then underwent metathesis into *khehu̯ e/o- > *khēu̯ e/o- (but Aeol.
*kheu̯ u̯ e/o-), and finally, after the loss of *-u̯ -, ended up as (non-Aeolic)
*khēe/o- > khee/o- (with prevocalic shortening) = fut. χέω ‘will pour’ (cf.
Table 6.2 on the s-aorist). Accordingly, we may posit *gu̯ ei̯-se/o- > *gu̯ ei̯he/o-
> *gu̯ ehi̯e/o- > *gu̯ ēi̯e/o- (but Aeol. *gu̯ ei̯i̯e/o-) > *gu̯ ēe/o- > *gu̯ ee/o- = fut. βέομαι.
In this way we do not even have to ascribe βείομαι to metrical lengthening
since the form with -ει- is regular within the Aeolic layer of Homeric diction.84
We are now left with only ἔδομαι. But here too appearances may be
deceptive. A regular future *h1ed-se/o- (to *h1ed- ‘eat’) would have
turned into *esse/o- > *ese/o- (*ἔσομαι), but such a result would have
been doubly inconvenient. Firstly, except in the 3sg. where εἰμί ‘am’
features the irregular 3sg. fut. ἔσται (4.46, fn. 164) next to regular
Hom. ἔσσεται < *h1es-se/o-, the future paradigms of ‘be’ and ‘eat’ would
have become indistinguishable. Secondly, the only trace left of the root
would have been /e-/, less even than /he-/ of expected fut. *(καθ)έσομαι
to pres. (καθ)έζομαι ‘sit down’ (root *sed-), which actually appears as
καθεδοῦμαι with analogical -εε/ο- in order to preserve morphological
transparency. If *ἔσομαι was not similarly replaced by †ἐδεε/ο-
(†ἐδοῦμαι), but merely reacquired the root-final stop in lieu of *-σ-,
this was probably because the adjustment already happened before
-εε/ο- had begun to spread into post-obstruental positions. So, fut.
ἔδομαι for *ἔσομαι is not the subjunctive of an athematic root present
(cf. inf. ἔδμεναι ‘to eat’ vs. thematic ἔδω ‘eat’), but again nothing but
the normalised successor of an s-future, inflected medially like so many
other specimens of the type.
8.20–8.23 s-Aorists in Italic, Celtic, Slavic, and Baltic

8.20 Italic
Summing up the preceding sections on the Greek s-aorist and future, we
may assert that both theoretical (8.7) and philological considerations
suggest that the PIE s-aorist formant was associated with high transitivity.
However, a sceptic might still object that the material of a single language is
no stronger counter-evidence than e.g. γεύομαι ‘taste’ (< *g̑ eu̯ s-e/o-) is for *-Vu̯ sV- (contrast regular
δέομαι/Aeol. δεύομαι ‘need, require’ < *deu̯ s-e/o-): here too analogy with forms preserving σει-
(including s-aor. σεισα- with restored *-s-) may have caused the remake of *σέω. Fut. κείσομαι ‘will
lie’ is analogical in any case (cf. pres. κεῖμαι), and fut. τείσω ‘will pay’, though different from pres.
τίνω, was supported by aor. τεισα- (< *k u̯ ei̯-s(a)-). In the paradigm of *g u̯ eih3-, nothing backed βει(σ)-.
84
Cf. fut. (?) ἀλεύεται (Od. 14.400), fut. ptcpl. ἀλευόμενος (read by Aristarchus at Il. 5.444) as likely
Aeolicisms from *h2leu̯ -se/o-, to pres. ἀλέομαι ‘avoid, shun’ (4.44): Schwyzer (1939: 780), Chantraine
(1958: 369, 456–7).
not probative. Before we can really trust it, we must check if the evidence of
other languages agrees with it, or at least does not contradict it.85 In order
to do so, we shall now tour the other branches of Indo-European where
meaningful information about the s-aorist or relevant related formations
can be gathered. The aim is not to trace the specific history of these
formations in each of them, but merely to sift the material with a view to
the transitivity issue.
We shall start in the West, with Italic. Here the PIE s-aorist is most
directly reflected in a sizable group of Latin s-perfects. Although these are
not matched by an established s-perfect in Sabellic,86 the existence of a
healthy s-aorist in Proto-Italic is also intimated by the Oscan and Umbrian
future, which is suffixed with *-s(e/o)- and thus comparable with the
Greek future (e.g., Umbr. eest ‘will go’ < *h1ei̯-s(e)-t, ferest ‘will bring’ <
*bhere-s(e)-t based on pres. fere/o-). In Latin, archaic forms like faxō (< *d hak-
se/o-) ‘will do, will have done’ belong to the same formation, whose modal
origin – as an aorist subjunctive – is confirmed by the parallelism with the
subjunctive (< optative) type faxim (< *d hak-s-ī-, with *-ī- < opt. *-ih1-).87
In the perfect system itself, Latin by-forms such as 2sg. putāstī ‘you
thought’, dīxtī ‘you said’, or 3pl. dōnārunt ‘they gave’ allow an s-aoristic
explanation (*putā-s-tai̯ /*dei̯k-s-tai̯, *dōnā-s-ont), but an analogical genesis
85
As argued by Watkins (1962a) (cf. 8.24); Perel’muter (1977: 128–35) seeks to explain how the Greek
situation could have arisen secondarily. Contrast the (mainly Greek-based) views of Hermann (1943:
641–2) and Kretschmer (1947: 9).
86
Umbr. 3sg. fut. perf. sesust ‘will have sat down’, Osc. 3sg. perf. úpsed ‘made’, and related forms are
exceptional, but an analysis of their stems as *sed-s-, *ōp-s- seems unavoidable (Rix 1993b,
Untermann 2000: 803, s.v. úpsannúm, Meiser 2003: 127–8; cf. 8.47, fn. 205). In Venetic, donasto
‘gave’ (8.4, fn. 17) and vhagsto ‘made’ point to an s-aorist (cf. Lejeune 1974: 82, Euler 1993: 101–3,
Prosdocimi and Marinetti 1993: 311–14, de Melo 2007b: 12–17).
87
On these and similar forms, see Euler (1992: 31–4), Szemerényi (1996: 285), de Melo (2007a: esp.
306–14; 2007b). In Oscan and Umbrian, the future has been integrated into the present-stem
system, but this difference is overrated by Meiser (1993c: esp. 178); cf. also Sommer (1914: 524, 584–
5), Buck (1928: 169), M. Leumann (1977: 573, 621). Proponents of a PIE ‘desiderative’ (8.13) of course
see that formation or its subjunctive behind the Italic futures too (e.g., Pedersen 1921: 22–7,
Benveniste 1922, Puhvel 1960: 50, Meiser 1993c; 1998: 182–3, Rix 2003b: 4–5, Weiss 2009: 419–
20), but the arguments are no stronger than for the Greek s-future (see de Melo 2007b: 4–9). Despite
Benediktsson (1960: 230–1), and pace e.g. G. Schmidt (1986: 35), Jasanoff (1978a: 104–5), Kortlandt
(1997: 135), and Hill (2004: 115–46), the ‘athematic’ inflection of the Sabellic future may find an
explanation in the syncopation rules posited by Buck (1928: 59–60); the parallel with Lat. faxō is too
significant to be given up lightly. On the related ‘imperfect subjunctive’ in *-sē-, see 8.16, fn. 70.
Somehow, the s-aorist formant is no doubt also involved in the -is-/-er- suffix of the Latin future
perfect, pluperfect, and perfect/pluperfect subjunctive, and in the identical element in Lat. 2sg./pl.
perf. -is-tī, -is-tis, 3pl. perf. -ĕr-unt (cf. Brugman 1880b: 26–57, Meillet 1908: 99–100; 1933, Pedersen
1921: 12–22, Untermann 1968: 170–1, Narten 1973, M. Leumann 1977: 608–9, Jasanoff 1987b,
Xodorkovskaja 1993, Prosdocimi and Marinetti 1993: 319–22; differently Rix 1992).
454 The s-Aorist
cannot be ruled out either.88 If we therefore leave them aside, the Latin s-
perfect is restricted to primary bases in a stop (incl. *-gh- > -h-), nasal, or -s-
(e.g., scrīpsī ‘wrote’, dīxī ‘said’, vēxī ‘conveyed’, mīsī ‘sent’ with *-bs-, *-k̑ s-,
*-g̑ hs-, *-ss- < *-ts-; mānsī ‘stayed’ with *-ns-; ussī ‘burned’ with *-ss-). It is
not, however, compulsory for such bases (cf. e.g. lēgī ‘collected’, tetigī
‘touched’, vēnī ‘came’). Since the reduplicated perfect in combination
with its long-vocalic offshoot (3.25) encompasses a wider range of base
types, including the ones covered by the s-perfect, it is the latter which
seems to be systemically redundant. But we must not conclude from this
that it had its own well-defined functional realm. Its use was rather
determined by practical considerations. Insofar as a segmental tense signal
may be more distinctive than mere vowel length, rēxī ‘directed’ was better
marked than lēgī. Also, for most verbs that do take the s-perfect, this perfect
is standard, not just optional, and it is even possible with reasonable
certainty to predict whether a given lexeme will resort to it.89 Hence, it is
exceptional to find Latin perfect-stem pairs matching the aorist-stem pairs
that proved helpful in demonstrating the Greek s-aorist’s high transitivity
(8.8–8.9).
One such pair is that of (occasional) parsī next to (regular) pepercī, to
parcō ‘spare’. But this too is irrelevant for our purposes. Because the Latin
reduplicated perfect at least to a considerable extent harks back to the PIE
perfect (cf. 3.23–3.24), we can interpret the parsī/pepercī parallelism as a
reflex of the earlier Proto-Italic competition between perfects and aorists,
not between two kinds of aorists one of which might be more transitive
than the other.90 Similarly, when the compounds of emō ‘take, buy’ have
an s-perfect (dēmpsī ‘took away’, sūmpsī ‘took up’ ≠ ēmī ‘took, bought’), this
is not due to their semantics – for instance in the sense that the preverb
would increase the base verb’s transitivity (cf. 4.6) – , but to the wish to
(re)differentiate the present and perfect stems.91 In other words, the Italic
data neither support nor contradict the Greek evidence.
88
Cf. Sommer (1914: 562–4), M. Leumann (1977: 601–2), G. Schmidt (1985: 88–90), Meiser (1998: 207;
2003: 134–5), de Melo (2007c); forms like audīvistī > audīstī would have been the model.
89
See Drinka (1995a: 66–8): the s-perfects “arise when no other perfect is suitable” (esp. depending on
whether root-initial reduplication was acceptable: cf. M. Leumann 1977: 586, Drinka 1995a: 56–7).
Much of their spread is therefore secondary (Meillet 1908: 95–8, Drinka 1995a: 70–5).
90
Cf. Meiser (1998: 208–9; 2003: 184); this need not mean that parsī itself is an old s-aorist. As
M. Leumann (1977: 605) stresses, individual linguistic systems probably used only either parsī or
pepercī.
91
See M. Leumann (1977: 591). For lēgī (pres. legō ‘collect, read’) vs. intellēxī, neglēxī (pres. intellegō
‘understand’, neglegō ‘neglect’), this explanation does not work, so that Meiser (1998: 208–9; 2003:
110, 208) again thinks of an old perfect vs. aorist stem difference and Bock (2008: 281–5) operates
8.21 Celtic
Equally uninformative is the situation in Celtic, whose s-aorist inheritance
has been studied in detail by Watkins.92 Watkins identified s-aorist des-
cendants in three areas:
(i) in the s-subjunctive, which is formed in Old Irish “only by strong verbs
whose root or verbal stem ends in a dental or guttural stop or spirant, or
(in the present and preterite) in nn”,93 whereas the a-subjunctive is used
elsewhere (e.g., gess- to ind. guidid ‘prays’, *gu̯ hedh-; téss- to ind. téit
‘goes’, *stei̯gh-; but bera- to ind. beirid ‘bears, carries’, *bher-);
(ii) in the s-preterite, which productively forms preterites to weak verbs
in Old Irish and has become even more widespread in Early Welsh
(as well as Middle Irish), largely ousting the strong (reduplicated or
unreduplicated) preterites (e.g., OIr. 1sg./3sg. conjunct -léicius/-léic
‘left’ to *lei̯k u̯ -);
(iii) in the t-preterite, which is attested in Old Irish among the “strong verbs
in -l and -r, and some in -m and -g”94 (e.g., bert- in 1sg./3sg. conjunct
-biurt/-bert ‘bore, carried’ to *bher-; 3sg. conjunct -acht ‘drove’ to *h2eg̑ -).
The s-subjunctive (i) may immediately be thought of as the offshoot of a PIE
s-aorist subjunctive. However, the Celtic s-subjunctive is athematic, not
thematic as an old subjunctive should be.95 To account for this, Watkins
proposed to see in it a stranded s-aorist indicative which acquired a new
modal value when inherited perfect forms replaced it in its primary non-
modal domain. A priori, such a scenario is not very likely, both because the
modalisation is unmotivated and because there is no reason why a
previous a-subjunctive should have been given up for the new s-subjunctive
in a limited group of verbs. When all other verbs continued to have an a-
subjunctive, it would have been easier completely to abandon the ‘displaced’
s-aorist. It therefore seems better to follow McCone according to whom the
s-subjunctive was secondarily athematised by analogy with the s-preterite
with two separate roots. More simply, Drinka (1995a: 50, cf. 68) assumes that “[w]hen compounds
develop new meanings . . . they are all the more likely to acquire a new, productive s-perfect”.
92
Watkins (1962a: 107–80).
93
Thurneysen (1946: 380); cf. Watkins (1962a: 128–31), also on s-subjunctive relics in Brittonic.
94
Thurneysen (1946: 416); cf. Watkins (1962a: 162–5), also on the Brittonic t-preterites (e.g., MW
cymerth ‘took’ from *bher-).
95
Already Thurneysen (1885: 174) had therefore thought of (modally used) injunctives. Cf.
Thurneysen (1946: 391) and Kortlandt (1984; 1997: 134–5), and contrast the ‘prospective’ or acrostatic
s-present readings by Rasmussen (1985: 387–90) and Jasanoff (1988a: 233–4) respectively. When
Thurneysen (1946: 391) alternatively invokes “influence of the s-preterite”, this foreshadows the
position of McCone (1991a) (cf. below).
456 The s-Aorist
(which is formed to another set of bases).96 Moreover, if the s-subjunctive
thus does descend from an s-aorist subjunctive, this concurs with Rix’s
insight that the marker of the Celtic a-subjunctive continues *-ase- <
*-H̥ se-. The s-subjunctive and the a-subjunctive are then derived from a
single source: s-aorist subjunctives, to anit and set roots respectively, which
were generalised among different kinds of˙ bases.97 ˙
Turning to the s-preterite (ii), the notion that this continues an s-aorist is
old and uncontroversial. A comparatively minor formal problem lies in the
preservation of intervocalic *-s-, which points to a prior geminate (e.g., 1sg.
-léicius with -ius < *-i-ss-ū). Since ‘expressive gemination’ provides no
satisfactory justification, Watkins here adopted Thurneysen’s suggestion
that *-ss arose from *-s-t in the 3sg. and was extended from there through-
out the paradigm (1sg. *-i-ss-ū for *-i-s-ū, etc.).98
Finally, in relating the t-preterite (iii) to the Indo-European s-aorist,
Watkins again had a forerunner; but whereas H. Zimmer had derived
forms like 3sg. act. -bert from medial *bher-s-to, only Watkins saw that the
real starting-point must have been active *bhēr̆ -s-t. This regularly yielded
-bēr̆ t, and the rest of the paradigm was again analogically built after the 3sg.
(e.g., 1sg. *bēr̆ -s-ū → *bēr̆ -t-ū).99 In this way, we can account for the
restriction of the t-preterite to bases in -r, -l, -m (and, by a secondary
development, -g), a feature that had been left unexplained as long as a root-
aorist ancestry had been sought.
All in all, it is obvious that the s-aorist played a major role in Celtic too.
However, in this branch it is even clearer than in Italic that it is root or base
shapes, not semantic (transitivity-related) factors, that determine if and
where we encounter s-aorist descendants.100
96
McCone (1991a: esp. 71–80), highlighting two likely thematic s-subjunctives in Celtiberian (ambi-
tiseti, kabiđeti; cf. Wodtko 2000: 22–4, 144–5, s.vv., with literature).
97
See McCone (1991a: 85–113), after Rix (1977: 151–3) for whom a PIE desiderative was at stake. An
alleged “disinclination of TERH-roots to form s-aorists” (Jasanoff 1994a: 207–8) is supported by
neither Vedic (with its is-aorist) nor Greek.
98
Watkins (1962a: 177–8),˙ following Thurneysen (1946: 417) against Vendryes (1925b: 389).
99
Watkins (1962a: 156–74; 1962b); cf. H. Zimmer (1890: 198–217) and now Schumacher (2004: 61–6).
For the root-aorist account, see e.g. Thurneysen (1946: 422), who had already noted the pivotal role
of the 3sg. (Thurneysen 1904: esp. 118). Even less concincing is the idea of Drinka (1995a: 130–4),
after Wagner (1961: 9–12) and Campanile (1965), that the t-preterite arose from a reinterpretation of
passive verbal adjectives in *-to- as active 3sg. forms (e.g., -acht *‘was driven’ → ‘drove’); but it is
possible that “[t]he rise of the t-preterit was . . . supported by the t-participle in the passive preterit”
(Kortlandt 1997: 135).
100
Meillet’s (1908: 94) claim that ‘among the deponents of the strong type, the preterite in -s- is less
rare’ (sc., than among the active strong verbs) is not supported by the list of sporadic s-preterites to
strong verbs in Thurneysen (1946: 416).
8.22 Slavic
In Slavic, both the s-aorist (with -ch-/-s- < *-s-) and the thematic aorist gained
ground at the expense of the root aorist, and it is the s-aorist which provides
the aorist to secondary, denominal or deverbative, present stems.101 The root
aorist unambiguously102 survives only in a few paradigms and even there
only in 2sg./3sg. forms. Its absorption into the s-aorist was facilitated by the
fact that in the 3sg. (and 2sg.) the loss of final consonants produced similar
forms (cf. e.g. OCS root-aorist 3sg. da ‘gave’ < *dā-t < *deh3-t ~ s-aor. děla
‘made’ < *-ā-s-t). Despite this overlap, the weakness of the root aorist was
such that there was no inverse influence: 2sg./3sg. forms of primary s-aorists
to consonant-final roots were not retained and treated as new ‘root aorists’, as
might have been possible, but substituted by thematic forms which probably
originated in the old imperfect (a shift enabled by the creation of new
imperfects suffixed with -ach-) (e.g., OCS 3sg. aor. vede ‘led’ < impf.
*u̯ edh-e-t replacing *vě < *u̯ ēd-s-t; cf. 1sg. aor. věsъ < *u̯ ēd-s-om ← *u̯ ēd-s-m̥ ,
but never †věchъ, despite 1sg. dachъ ~ 3sg. da, etc.). Such thematic 2sg./3sg.
forms are also the only ones to resist the subsequent further spread, in
historical times, of the ‘sigmatic’ type into the territory of the thematic aorist:
instead of e.g. OCS 1sg. padъ ‘fell’, a new padochъ was then created (and
similarly 1sg. vedochъ for věsъ, next to 2sg./3sg. vede).
Once again, these data reveal very little about the early prehistory of the
s-aorist and its transitivity status. Even the curious pairing of 3sg. aor. da <
*dā-t and by ‘was, became’ < *bū-t (< *bhuh2-t) on the one hand with dastъ
< *dā-s-t and bystъ < *bū-s-t on the other (both with restituted *-t → -tъ)
offers no clue: since there is no detectable semantic difference, all these
pairs may possibly103 tell us is that the early sigmatisation of root aorists was
able to affect the 2sg./3sg. as well as the other persons. When we look at the
coexistence of s-aorists and thematic aorists, however, it may at least be
noted that it is the latter, not the former, that have become productive in
the intransitive domain.104
101
See Stang (1942: 63–81), Vaillant (1966: 47–50), Arumaa (1985: 302–7), Leskien (1990: 131–3, 140–2,
144–5, 150–1, 154, 168) (also on the distribution of the sigmatised thematic forms in -ochъ etc.),
Aitzetmüller (1991: 182–8), Ackermann (2014: 234).
102
The evidence adduced by Ackermann (2009: 2–4; 2011: 19; cf. 2014: 24–55) contains little that looks
like a canonical root aorist, whether thematised or not. On zero-graded thematic aorists, cf. 6.7.
103
But for dastъ influence from 3sg. pres. dastъ (cf. Table 4.1) can also be invoked (Leskien 1990: 168,
Aitzetmüller 1991: 187; cf. jastъ ‘(pres.) eats, (aor.) ate’): in that case, or if dastъ were an original
imperfect (Stang 1942: 70–1), its -s- would not be an old *-s- at all, and bystъ might be purely
analogical.
104
Stang (1942: 63–4), Kølln (1961: 269, 283–4); cf. also Kølln (1961: 266) reconstructing a period of
Proto-Slavic when ‘all the e/o-verbs with a sigmatic aorist were transitive’.
458 The s-Aorist
8.23 Baltic
Unlike Slavic, Baltic has given up the s-aorist. As in Greek and Italic (8.20),
there is an unreduplicated future whose suffix contains *-s-, but in this case
*-se/o- – and thus a connection with the s-aorist subjunctive – is unlikely.105
Most forms (such as Lith. 1sg. dúosiu ‘I will give’, 1pl. dúosime) allow a
direct comparison with the Indo-Iranian future in *-si̯é/ó- (Ved. 3sg. dā-syá-
ti ‘will give’);106 only the apparently athematic third person does not (Lith.
duõs ‘will give’ < *dō-s-t?). While it is not attractive to separate this from the
other persons and treat it as the lone survivor of an s-aorist injunctive
turned future,107 one may be even more hesitant to question the neat Indo-
Iranian link for the rest of the paradigm.108 Therefore, and because its
existence elsewhere is undeniable in any case,109 we shall briefly look at the
futuroid type in *-si̯e/o- at this point.
That *-i̯e/o- is one of the most common imperfective (present-stem)
formants throughout Indo-European is uncontroversial (cf. 1.11, 8.4,
10.32). A formation in *-s-i̯e/o- thus permits an analysis as an s-aorist-
based secondary imperfective. The specialisation of such a type as a future
would not be surprising. For one thing, the use of imperfective presents as
105
Pace García Castillero (1999: 216–18), who suggests a secondary athematisation of 3sg. *-set > *-st.
106
Thus e.g. Pedersen (1921: 9), Arntz (1933: 25–6), M. Leumann (1952: 47), Porzig (1954: 88, 164),
Thumb and Hauschild (1959: 326), Hill (2004: 100–15). Even if W. P. Schmid (1963: 34–41) were
right that the future in *-si̯é/ó- was colloquial in Vedic, it would not follow that it must be unrelated
to the Baltic type (W. P. Schmid 1963: 47–59). While it is pointless to look for *-si̯e/o- behind any
Greek future (pace Curtius 1877–80: 2.321–2, Osthoff 1879: 42–4, Hirt 1928: 175; cf. Brugmann
1913–16: 385 only for the fut. ptcpl.), *-si̯e/o- may lurk behind the Greek desideratives in -σειε/ο-
(Hom. ptcpl. ὀψείοντες ‘wishing to see’, Att. δρασείω ‘feel the urge to do’, etc.; cf. 8.15, Schwyzer
1939: 789). With obstruent-final roots, such a formation would have become indistinguishable
from the future (e.g., *dei̯k̑ -si̯e/o- > δειξε/ο-; contrast Hom. ptcpl. (κακ)κείοντες ‘wishing to lie
down’ < *k̑ ei̯-si̯e/o-, not haplologised *κει(σ)είοντες with Schulze 1892: 246 n. 3), triggering a remake
by analogy with resonant-final roots (e.g., *men(e)-si̯e/o > *μενειε/ο-). The creation of desideratives
in -σειε/ο- would then be similar to that of ‘Doric’ futures in -σεε/ο- (8.12; cf. Lindeman 1965: 47–
51, Hollifield 1981: esp. 167–70, and G. Schmidt 1986: 50–1, against Wackernagel 1887: 144–5 and
Brugmann 1914 with periphrastic theories, Pisani 1943/4: 538–9 with a link to the ‘Aeolic’ optative,
and Taillardat 1967: 10–11 with a suffix *-s-ei̯i̯-e/o-).
107
With J. Schmidt (1889: 425–6) and Specht (1922: 31); others have again thought of an athematic
‘desiderative’ (Stang 1942: 203–4; 1966: 397–9, Erhart 1989: 130), an acrostatic s-present (Jasanoff
1978a: 103–9; 1988a: 233–4), an athematic s-subjunctive (Kortlandt 1984; cf. W. P. Schmid 1963: 47–
59), a ‘prospective’ (Rasmussen 1985; but cf. Rasmussen 1997b: 258–9), or a PIE ablauting s-future
(Hill 2004: 152–4). Reflexive 3sg./pl. forms such as duõsi-s, or busi-gu ‘will they be?’ = bùs ‘will be’
with affixed particle, are no longer thought to reflect a stage with *-si̯e- also in the 3sg. (as per Pisani
1931, Fraenkel 1950: 97, Senn 1966: 234).
108
By assuming that a full athematic paradigm was remodelled after a 3pl. in *-s-n̥ ti > *-sinti: see
Schmalstieg (1958), Endzelīns (1971: 234), Jasanoff (1978a: 105–7), Villanueva Svensson (2010:
219–20).
109
Apart from Indo-Iranian and the uncertain Greek material (fn. 106), Continental Celtic too
probably attests ‘futuric’ *-si̯e/o- (cf. K. H. Schmidt 1983: 78, Hollifield 1983, McCone 1991a: 145–6).
futures is cross-linguistically as well-attested as that of perfective ones.110
Moreover, as with the PIE reduplicated presents (4.51) and the Indo-
Iranian tudáti class (6.29), we may expect a distinctly telic result from
the imperfectivisation of perfectives. Hence, we can suppose that the
*-si̯ e/o- ‘future’ was at first applicable to durative telic eventualities (‘accom-
plishments’) which are already under way and where only the completion
lies in the future,111 as opposed to eventualities which may be expected to
take place but are not yet under way. In accordance with our considera-
tions on the origin of the PIE subjunctive (4.47), this latter role would
rather have been that of the subjunctive (‘X is [generally speaking] a
hitter/giver’ → ‘X is able to hit/give’ and therefore ‘expected to hit/give’
in the future).
Seen from this angle, we understand not only the coexistence of a
temporally used subjunctive and a *-si̯ é/ó- future in early Indo-Iranian
but also, more specifically, the findings of Renou who made out in a
good number of the (relatively few) Vedic *-si̯é/ó- futures an element of
particular ‘certainty’, ‘affirmation’, ‘conviction’, or ‘foreseeability’.112 That
a process which has already started will come to its end is more certain than
that one which has not yet started will indeed take place. So, as long as
the traditional comparison of the Baltic future with that of Indo-Iranian
is retained, even Baltic preserves at least an indirect reflex of the PIE
s-aorist – though one which is so remote from its source that again no
progress on the transitivity question can be made.
8.24–8.27 The s-Aorist in Indo-Iranian

8.24 Medial Primacy in the s-Aorist?
In older Indo-Iranian, Vedic Sanskrit is the language which offers the
richest and most revealing evidence, accessibly analysed in an important
110
See Bybee, Perkins, and Pagliuca (1994: 275–8). Given the structural similarity of *-si̯e/o- with *-sk̑ e/o-
(8.37–8.42), compare the Middle Indic ‘futurisation’ of presents in *-sk̑ e/o- (Hiersche 1960).
111
The general nature of such a predication may explain why the *-si̯e/o- type is particularly strong in
the participial domain (G. Schmidt 1986: 54): the only relevant form in Slavic is a participle (cf. fn.
112), in Vedic and Avestan the participle dominates (with 63.2% of the Rig-Vedic forms being
participial, according to the figures of Arnold 1897: 335; cf. Macdonell 1910: 386–7, Kellens 1984:
162), and the same holds true for the early Greek desideratives in -σειε/ο- (cf. above, fn. 106).
112
Renou (1961: passim, esp. 10, 13); Tichy (2006: 307) speaks of a ‘future which is close to the present,
i.e., connects with the present without a relevant intermediate phase’. Cf. also the meaning of the
isolated OCS ptcpl. byšęšt- (< *bhuh2-si̯e/o-), ‘on the one hand “future”, on the other hand “having
become”, possibly also “becoming”’ (Aitzetmüller 1968: 14).
460 The s-Aorist
monograph by Narten.113 For our purposes, the Vedic material is of
particular relevance because it is primarily on its basis that Watkins con-
cluded, in stark contrast to the view defended here, that “the original locus
of diffusion of the sigmatic formations in Indo-European is in the middle
voice” and that “the active forms are secondary”.114
Watkins backs his claim with two main points. Firstly, he observes that
“[t]here exists a certain amount of evidence from Vedic Sanskrit that an
s-aorist may exist in the middle voice of verbs which form an athematic or
thematic aorist active. This is particularly true of the thematic aorist;
according to Whitney . . . most verbs exhibiting this aorist form their
middle in -s- or -is-, and there are only a handful of middle forms of the
thematic aorist. In˙ general one of the clearest characteristics of the s-aorist
in the Veda is the extraordinary rarity of active indicative forms.”115
This statistical argument is misleading, as Narten’s investigation shows.
That middle s-aorist indicatives/injunctives are more frequent in the Rig
Veda than active ones is due to the fact that 3pl. med. forms of root aorists
with root-internal i, u, r were remodelled, for rhythmical reasons, into
s-aorists (e.g., a-yuk-s-ata˙ ‘they yoked for themselves’ ← *a-yuj-ata < *h1e-
˙ middle s-aorists betray their secondary character by
i̯ ug-n̥ to). Such recent
featuring a zero-grade root, where old middle s-aorists are full-graded (e.g.,
3pl. ahāsata ‘they have arisen’ < *h1e-g̑ heh1-s-n̥ to). Once the zero-graded
middle s-aorist indicatives/injunctives are therefore removed from the total
count, only 30 middle forms (to 19 different roots) (39%) stand against 46
active ones (to 32 different roots) (61%).116 These figures, which become
113
Narten (1964). The limited Avestan evidence ‘never invalidates Johanna Narten’s observations on
the Indic sigmatic aorist; sometimes it confirms them’ (Kellens 1984: 371).
114
Watkins (1962a: 51); similarly Ivanov (1965: 173–4). Watkins’s argumentation also refers to
Tocharian (cf. 8.28–8.30), Hittite (8.31–8.36), Venetic (where non-sigmatic 3sg. doto ‘gave’ shows
that the ‘middle’ inflection of vhagsto, donasto (8.20, fn. 86) is without significance; cf. Lejeune 1974:
80), and Greek. For Greek (Watkins 1962a: 52–5), it pivots around Hom. πάλτο ‘jumped’, δέκτο/
δέξατο ‘received’, and ἄσμενος ‘glad’, but πάλτο and ἄσμενος are unrelated to πάλλω ‘brandish,
sway’ and ἁνδάνω ‘please’ (cf. Table 6.2, s.vv. *sel- and *nes-), and δέκτο/δέξατο is the aorist of a
medium tantum: so these are not “debris of an earlier, more extensive distributional scheme”.
Largely premised on Watkins’s theory is Bader’s (1978: 33–44) idea that the Greek s-aorist first
inflected ‘medially’ and that 1sg. -σα, 3sg. -σε reflect PIE *-s-h2e, *-s-e: this is clearly wrong when so
many other branches require 3sg. *-s-t etc. (Celtic, Slavic, Indo-Iranian, Tocharian).
115
Watkins (1962a: 56–7), referring to Whitney (1889: 305) and later also to the statistics of Arnold
(1897: 325–6); cf. Meillet (1908: 89), Pariente (1963: 97–8).
116
According to the statistics of Narten (1964: 17, 23–4); for more detail on the secondary middle
s-aorists, see Narten (1964: 24–8). Compare the overall frequency of active vs. middle forms in the
Rig Veda and Atharva Veda according to Arnold (1897: 319), 5689 (67.2%) : 2771 (32.8%); next to
this, a ratio of 46 : 30 is not significantly different (p = 0.22). Note also the expected dominance of
the 3sg. in the active (21 of 46 forms, next to 7× 1sg., 7× 3pl.), but not in the middle (6 of 30, next to
8× 1sg., 9× 3pl.). As Narten (1964: 27) points out, the 1sg. also helped the sigmatisation of zero-
even more clear-cut when the is-aorist is also factored in,117 unsurprisingly
square much better with what˙ we find in Homer. There, according to
Drinka, “old middle σ-aorists make up only 21% of the forms attested (17%
of all attestations); only one-third of the verbs with old σ-aorists even have
middles. Moreover, among these verbs with middles, 13 of the 21 (62%) are
attested in the 3sg. only . . ., and a large number of those in 3sg. only are
found only in mixed paradigms, i.e. with actives.”118
From these Homeric data, and the further observation that “only 5 verbs
(εἴδομαι, πατέομαι, λέγω ‘lie’, ἅπτω, and ἀείρω) had complete middle
paradigms at all (i.e. forms other than 3sg or pl)”, Drinka has plausibly
concluded “that middles were not the starting point for the σ-aorist in
Greek, but were simply used when a middle sense was required”.119 Exactly
the same conclusion can now be drawn from the distribution of the Vedic
evidence. At a time when the s-aorist was unquestionably the single most
productive aorist formation in Indo-Iranian, what is interesting is not that
“an s-aorist may exist in the middle voice of verbs which form an athematic
or thematic aorist active”. This would only be telling if there were any
reason to believe that athematic or thematic active aorists were secondarily
formed to complement middle s-aorist paradigms; and that assumption in
its turn would be reasonable only if there were anything to suggest that
active s-aorists were not readily built. By contrast, since it is statistically
demonstrable that at least middle thematic aorists were indeed avoided
(6.25, with fn. 85), it was unavoidable for middle s-aorists to be used to
complement such non-sigmatic paradigms when an oppositional middle
was needed (e.g., 1sg. act. avidam ‘I have found’ : 1sg. med. avitsi120).
Furthermore, if the middle inflection were really at the core of the s-aorist,
we should expect the pull of the s-aorist to be strongest in the intransitive
domain. However, where a middle s-aorist 3pl. replaces a non-sigmatic form
in the manner described above, this replacement is sometimes limited to the
3pl. in -ata, leaving alone a corresponding mediopassive 3pl. in -ran: 3pl.
med. ayuksata ‘they yoked for themselves’ steps in for *ayujata, whereas
˙ were yoked’ survives. This is not always the case, as when
ayujran ‘they
asrksata means either ‘they released for themselves’ (= *asrjata) or ‘they were
˙˙ ˙
graded root aorists; so the unusual distribution even among the older middle s-aorists may be
influenced by the new type as well.
117
See Narten (1964: 50, 59–60): 90 active ind./inj. forms (incl. 25× 3sg., 17× 2sg., 16× 3pl.) to 54 roots
(81.8%) vs. 20 middle ones (incl. 15× 3sg.) to 17 roots (18.2%). In comparison with the overall
frequency of active vs. middle forms (cf. fn. 116), the occurrence of middles is significantly lower
here (p < 0.001).
118
Drinka (1995a: 118); cf. Duhoux (2000: 372). 119 Drinka (1995a: 118).
120
Cf. Meillet (1908: 89–90), Narten (1964: 30–1, 33–5), also on the type’s post-Rig-Vedic productivity.
462 The s-Aorist
released’ (= asrgran), but the mere possibility of the restriction is revealing
enough.121 ˙
8.25 On Aorist-Stem Distribution

Turning to Watkins’s second point, this is no stronger than the first.
Following Kuryłowicz, he writes that “already in Vedic, the expression of
genera verbi by the desinences alone (active : mediopassive) was almost
completely given up. The functional opposition was maintained by the
further formal characterization of the one (causative-transitive) or the other
(intransitive-passive) by an additional suffix morph.” One common way in
which this was achieved was that “the causative-transitive value is expressed
by [an] -aya- formation, and the intransitive by the active or middle of the
root present” (e.g., pres. rāmáyati ‘makes rejoice’ : pres. rámate ‘rejoices’).
Now, “Kuryłowicz has collected 16 presents in the Rig Veda which illus-
trate this opposition: 13 of these show a corresponding intransitive aorist.
Of these aorists, 11 are sigmatic, and all but three are sigmatic middle. This
represents additional evidence that the locus of diffusion of the s-aorist was
in the middle voice, functioning as an intransitive.”122
Once again, no such conclusion is legitimate. That the thematic root
presents, which are at stake here, characteristically co-occur with s-aorists
has already been said (8.5). That these presents themselves, due to their
prehistory, have intransitive-medial leanings will be remembered from
4.44. Since their often intransitive status is not visibly conveyed by
any segmental formant, it is tied up with the middle inflection (as in
rámate). By contrast, if the s-aorist had been intrinsically intransitive to
begin with, that intransitivity should have attached to the s-formant,
without there being any need for middle inflection as well.123 Hence,
Watkins’s claim that the s-aorist has some special connection with intran-
sitivity would only be valid if there were cases of an active s-aorist occurring
next to a middle thematic root present; but such cases are missing, as the
active or middle voice of the aorist simply matches that of the present (e.g.,
3sg. s-aor. med. áram.sta ~ 3sg. pres. rámate124). The only thing that
121
See Narten (1964: 25–6) on this phenomenon.
122
Watkins (1962a: 59–60), with reference to Kuryłowicz (1928); but the numbers given by Watkins do
not exactly correspond to the numbers of relevant pairs listed by Kuryłowicz (1928: 205–6).
123
Cf. 8.15 on the actively inflected Greek aorist in -(θ)η-. Similarly, in Old Iranian (Old Persian,
partly Avestan) the passive in PIIr. *-i̯á- (< intr. *-i̯é/ó-) takes active endings; this may be an archaism
(Thumb and Hauschild 1959: 333; cf. 10.35, fn. 69), but even if it were not, it would still illustrate the
principle.
124
The same holds for the is-aorists (8.26): e.g., 3sg. aor. pavista ‘has cleansed himself’ ~ 3sg. pres.
pávate ‘cleanses himself’; ˙Narten (1964: 61). ˙˙
Watkins’s pro-sigmatic distribution of aorists to thematic root presents
may indeed demonstrate is that in Indo-Iranian there was a stronger
aversion to middle thematic aorists than in Greek, so that the pres.
τρέπομαι : aor. ἐτρεψάμην correlation type was preferred to the pres.
τρέπομαι : aor. ἐτραπόμην one (8.8).
8.26 Secondary Developments

Overall, then, Watkins’s theory is unfounded. If anything, the Vedic
evidence supports the opposite view that the s-aorist is inclined towards
transitivity. Thanks to its productivity, this did not result in an exclusion of
middle forms, but the statistics for early Vedic still demonstrate a pre-
ference for the active voice (8.24).
Within the history of Vedic, the gradual spread of the s-aorist can be
followed fairly well. A brief summary of Narten’s main conclusions will
here suffice.125 Initially best represented among roots in a vowel and roots
with internal -a- and ending in a consonant (esp. -r, -n, -m), the s-aorist
competes with the root aorist from the very beginning of the transmission.
As noted before (8.3), already in the Rig Veda we find pairs like root aor.
átan ‘has stretched’ (< *h1e-ten-t) vs. s-aor. átān (< *h1e-tēn-s-t), and it is
conceivable that this parallelism reaches back into the proto-language. In
any case, the model of root aorists to set roots, like 1sg. ákramam, 3sg.
˙
ákramīt ‘have/has stridden’ (< *h1e-k(u̯ )remH-m ̥ /t), led to the largely post-
Rig-Vedic creation of new ‘ī-enlarged’ 2sg./3sg. forms also in the s-aorist
(e.g., RV 3sg. ind. ávāt ‘has driven, conveyed’ < *h1e-u̯ ēg̑ h-s-t → AV 3sg. inj.
vāksīt; cf. 1sg. ávāksam˙ < *h e-u̯ ēg̑ h-s-m). The advantage of such forms is
1 ̥
˙
obvious: by avoiding˙ the final consonant cluster, the transparency of, say,
ávāksīt is greater than that of ávāt.
˙ similar reasons, another ˙outgrowth of the inherited s-aorist had
For
found success even earlier. Whereas a form like 3sg. ábhār ‘has carried’
(< *h1e-bhēr-s-t, to *bher-) was lacking a distinctive personal ending, the
identically structured 3sg. ákārīt ‘has scattered’ to the set root *kerH-
preserved it (< *h1e-kērH̥ -s-t; note 3sg. *h1e-kērH̥ -s-t > *akārīs˙ → akārīt
˙
after other forms in 3sg. -t). The sequence *-H̥ -s- > *-is- of such set-root s-
aorists was therefore transferred to anit roots.126 The root ˙ aorist also
˙ had an
˙
impact on this. Since a root-aorist 3sg. such as ákramīt (cf. above) ended
like an s-aorist 3sg. such as ákārīt, s-aorist forms like 1sg. ákramisam ← root
˙
125
See Narten (1964: 17–81), where the late sis-aorists and sa-aorists are also considered (cf.
˙
M. Leumann 1952: 42–4, 48–9, Insler 1969, Romagno 2013).
126
Narten (1964: 50–9); Meillet (1933) and Renou (1935) had implausibly separated the is-aorist from
the s-aorist. ˙
464 The s-Aorist
aor. ákramam were created as well, giving rise to a full-graded active s-aorist
next to the older lengthened-grade one (cf. 8.46).127 Thanks to these
innovations, the is-aorist is more common than its source, the s-aorist
proper, already in˙the Rig Veda (8.24, fn. 117).
8.27 Independent s-Subjunctives

Worth noting, finally, is the fact that unlike the optative(-precative) and
imperative, the s-aorist/is-aorist subjunctive is still very healthy in the Rig
˙
Veda, although it too recedes later on. With 57 active vs. 18 middle s-aorist
subjunctives to 38 different roots and 21 active vs. 3 middle is-aorist
subjunctives to 18 roots, the dominance of the active voice is confirmed.˙
Interestingly, in a number of cases – especially with roots in a long vowel
or liquid – Vedic and Avestan s-aorist subjunctives are attested without
there being corresponding indicatives/injunctives (e.g., Ved. 3sg. subj.
darsat ‘shall pierce’, Av. jǝ̄ nghati ‘shall come’).128 With long-vowel roots,
the˙ rationale behind the creation
˙ of such ‘independent’ subjunctives in
*-se/o- is obvious. Whereas a root-aorist subjunctive with ‘secondary’ end-
ings, such as Ved. dāt ‘shall give’ < *deh3-e-t, was homonymous with a
corresponding injunctive (dāt < *deh3-t), the two forms could be kept apart
by using dā-s-at instead.129 However, since the Indo-Iranian phenomenon
is not entirely restricted to such roots, it intriguingly recalls the emancipa-
tion of the s-aorist subjunctive suffix *-se/o- also in the Greek and Italic
futures (8.14).
8.28–8.30 Tocharian s-Formations

8.28 s-Subjunctives and s-Presents: Overview
As so often, the Tocharian evidence, though clearly relevant in some way,
proves particularly elusive. With its s-presents, s-subjunctives, and s-
preterites Tocharian presents a variety of well-attested types which may
be related to the PIE s-aorist, but opinions greatly differ as to if or how they
127
Still later are zero-graded is-aorists next to zero-graded presents: see Narten (1964: 55, 59).
128
Narten (1964: 38–9), Kellens˙ (1984: 373).
129
Cf. Narten (1964: 38). In addition she points to the analogical influence of imperatives in -si next to
s-aorist subjunctives: even though these imperatives themselves apparently originated by haplology
in 2sg. s-aorist subjunctives (-si ← *-s-a-s(i) < *-s-e-s(i), Cardona 1965: 8–9, Szemerényi 1966b;
contra Bammesberger 1982/3), their use – backdated to Proto-Indo-European by Jasanoff (1987a:
103–6; 2003: 182–4; 2012b), Dunkel (1992; 1997: 40–1), and García Ramón (2002 [2006]) – was no
longer restricted to the s-aorist and could therefore trigger a parallel transfer of 3sg. subj. *-s-e-t(i) >
-sat(i) into non-sigmatic paradigms.
indeed are. We shall first look at the s-present and s-subjunctive and turn to
the s-preterite afterwards (8.30).
It is primarily in Tocharian A that we find s-presents (Class VIII). Their
suffix looks as if it descended from thematic *-se/o- (Toch. A -sä-/-sa-) and
˙ ˙
they usually feature a zero-grade root. In Tocharian B, such s-presents are
much rarer. What normally corresponds to them is sk-presents (Class IX),
which in their turn are absent from Tocharian A. That the sk-presents go
back to PIE presents in *-sk̑ e/o- (Toch. B -ssä-/-ske-) is universally acknowl-
˙˙ with at least apparent *-se/o-.
edged; so controversy only surrounds the type
In both Tocharian A and B, Class VIII/IX is further subdivided into a non-
causative (Class VIIIa/IXa) and a causative (Class VIIIb/IXb) group. These
differ not only semantically but also in what types of subjunctives and
preterites they pair with. While the non-causatives have a variety of
preterite types next to them, the causatives of Tocharian A (Class VIIIb)
specifically co-occur with reduplicated preterites or s-preterites, and those of
Tocharian B with s-preterites (for Class VIIIb) and with reduplicated pre-
terites or ss-preterites (for Class IXb).
Among ˙˙ the subjunctive stems, the situation is similar. Here, the
s-subjunctive (in *-se/o-) is entirely confined to Tocharian A, whereas
Tocharian B has a corresponding sk-subjunctive (in *-sk̑ e/o-). Since it is
often the case that inherited present (indicative) stems turn into subjunc-
tive stems in Tocharian, the sk-subjunctive is again unproblematic. It too
represents a descendant of the PIE present stems in *-sk̑ e/o-.
8.29 Diachronic Interpretation

Not all the theories that have been proposed to account for the Tocharian
s-presents and s-subjunctives impact on the issues we are concerned with;
but because some (potentially) do, we cannot altogether avoid this thorny
field. Yet, a cursory review will suffice for our purposes.
(i) Impressed by the suffixal homology, some scholars have taken the
Tocharian s-present to continue a PIE s-aorist subjunctive.130 For a
formation with a suffix *-se/o- this looks neat at first sight, but it
encounters two substantial obstacles. Firstly, the functional trajec-
tory of an inherited subjunctive stem turning into a Tocharian
present stem is not obvious, especially when the opposite route is
the normal one (8.28). Secondly, as a descendant of an s-aorist
130
See Jasanoff (1987a: 101–2; 1988b: 58; 2003: 180–2) and Rasmussen (2002: 382–3), criticised by
Adams (1994: 4), Hackstein (1995: 161), and Peyrot (2013: 515).
466 The s-Aorist
subjunctive, the Tocharian s-present should have an e-graded root
(and root-initial palatalisation), not a zero-graded one (without
palatalisation). It is no doubt possible to come up with ways to
deal with both objections – for instance by arguing in response to
the second that the ‘weak-stem’ vocalism of an acrostatic PIE s-aorist
(8.48) was adjusted to the ‘weak-stem’ vocalism of non-acrostatic
root formations – ,131 but this does require some special pleading.
(ii) Another approach is to try and trace the Tocharian s-presents back
directly to a PIE class of s-presents of some sort. These could have
been or become thematic already in the proto-language or later on.
Outside Tocharian, one might compare lexemes like Gr. ἀλέξω
‘ward off’, Ved. ráksati ‘protects’ (< *h2lek-s-e/o-) next to the unen-
larged root *h2lek- ˙in aor. ἀλαλκε/ο- (3.2, Table 3.1), or Gr. ἀέξω
‘increase (tr.)’ (< *h2u̯ ek-s-e/o-) next to *h2eu̯ g- in Goth. aukan
‘increase (intr.)’, Lith. áugti ‘grow (intr.)’ (3.2).132 This would not
necessarily exclude a remote connection with the s-aorist, if this
aorist had begun life as an imperfect to such an as yet athematic
PIE s-present; but it would imply that the Tocharian formation is
remarkably archaic, being older than the s-aorist itself. Also, the
problem of the root vocalism would still remain the same as with
theory (i) since the Greek and Vedic presents just cited have a full-
graded root.133
(iii) Because Tocharian s-preterites often co-occur with s-presents (8.28),
Hackstein has suggested that the present suffix *-se/o- might be
analogically developed out of the *-s- of the preterite. This innova-
tion would have taken place after the s-preterite had acquired a
radical zero grade outside the active singular in Proto-Tocharian,
and the new presents would thus be based on the preterite plural.134
131
Cf. Rasmussen (2002: 380), with a slightly different approach.
132
Thus Krause (1952: 77) and Krause and Thomas (1960: 206); cf. Watkins (1962a: 63–5) and Adams
(1994: 5) (“descendant of a se/o-iterative-intensive”). According to Kuiper (1934: 263–85), all such
thematic s-presents go back to indicativised subjunctives of athematic s-presents with suffix ablaut
(cf. 8.12, fn. 41).
133
Watkins (1962a: 63) and Melchert (2000b: 145–6) think that a secondary thematisation of a
PIE ablauting s-present could be based on either the zero-grade plural or the full-grade
singular, and Kim (2010: 194–7) even wonders about a PIE thematic present with root
ablaut. Both views put a lot of trust in a language whose first attestation postdates that of
Greek and Indo-Iranian by nearly two millennia. Moreover, Hackstein (1995: 160) observes
that Tocharian s-presents, when etymologisable, never belong to lexical systems where
independent evidence points to PIE s-presents.
134
Hackstein (1995: 162–5), adapting an idea of van Windekens (1982: 66); cf. also Pinault (1989: 151)
and Malzahn (2010: 431–2).
Unfortunately, it is not clear why the plural stem should have been
preferred in this way, nor is the extraction of a present out of a
preterite stem appealing. In the case of the ss-preterites, for example,
the more natural opposite process (present˙˙ → preterite) appears to
have occurred. Moreover, it is not even unlikely that, far from being
the model inspiring the s-presents, the sk-present ~ ss-preterite pair
itself came into being only because the corresponding ˙˙ s-present ~
s-preterite pair was already widespread (pres. *-se/o- : pret. *-s- = pres.
*-sk̑ e/o- : pret. X → X = *-sk̑ - > -ss-).
(iv) Finally, a further group of scholars ˙˙ have sought ways to simplify the
picture by extracting the s-presents, s-subjunctives, and sk-presents
from a single source type, the PIE present stems in *-sk̑ e/o-. In this
vein, Peyrot has most recently argued that, although in a first Proto-
Tocharian period *-K-sk̑ - was simplified into *-sk-, the fact that the
presents in *-sk̑ e/o- continued to be productive meant that new ones
could be built also to roots in a velar stop; and such renewed *-ksk-
groups, as also *-psk- ones, would then have developed into *-ks-
(*-ps-).135 Such a scenario not only explains beautifully why an over-
whelming majority of s-presents belong to roots in a velar stop, but it
also avoids the hurdle of the ‘wrong’ root-vowel grade; for presents in
*-sk̑ e/o- are normally zero-graded (8.38). And if Tocharian A has no
sk-presents (or sk-subjunctives), this may then simply be the result of
a generalisation of the s-variant of the allomorphic suffix *-sk̑ e/o- ~
*-se/o-.
Although the matter is not yet settled, it seems fair to say that option (iv) is
more attractive than what else is on offer. Unlike (i), perhaps (ii), and
possibly even (iii), however, (iv) has no bearing on our understanding of
the PIE s-aorist. With (i)–(iii), the fact that the s-presents are the main
present-stem type in the causative system of Tocharian A (cf. 3.26) might
have been used as an argument for our claim that the s-aorist was char-
acterised by high transitivity.136 With (iv), on the other hand, no such
conclusion is legitimate. To what extent Tocharian may nevertheless back
135
Peyrot (2013: 515–24), after Couvreur (1947: 62–3); cf. also Pedersen (1941: 167), Lane (1953: 389),
Klingenschmitt (1982: 62).
136
Inspired by Benveniste (1936: 231), Watkins (1962a: 62–3) paradoxically maintained the opposite
although he saw that the Indo-Iranian s-present evidence was not favourable either: next to “Skt.
bhūsati ‘strengthen, add power to’ beside the unsuffixed base bhū-, [Gonda 1959: 90] cites a number
˙
of instances of causative-transitive value of s-presents, e.g., Skt. uksati ‘besprinkle’ : Gk. ὑγρός ‘wet’,
or Av. taxšaiti ‘make run’ : tačaiti ‘run’”. See further 8.35. ˙
468 The s-Aorist
what we have extrapolated from Greek and Indo-Iranian therefore entirely
depends on its third s-formation: the s-preterite.
8.30 s-Preterites
The Tocharian s-preterite (Preterite Class III) has almost universally been
taken to reflect the indicative of (something like) a PIE s-aorist. However,
the extent to which this is the case has been the object of more fierce debate.
The two facts which have caused disagreement are
• that the suffix *-s- appears only in the 3sg. active and throughout the
middle, and
• that the root, whose active-voice vocalism Toch. B -e- ~ Toch. A -a-
points to Proto-Toch. *-æ- < *-o- or *-ē-, shows initial palatalisation
only in Tocharian A, whereas palatalisation is limited in Tocharian B to
very few verbs with initial /(C)l-/.
Broadly speaking, three approaches have been tried to make sense of this
situation:137
(i) Traditionally, the merger of old perfects (with radical o-vocalism)
and old s-aorists (with ē-vocalism) has been assumed.138 The absence
of *-s- in the active paradigm outside the 3sg. would be due to the
non-3sg. forms continuing the perfect stem, except that they would
have lost its reduplication syllable through analogy with the s-aorist
input. Similarly, the widespread lack of palatalisation would be an
inheritance from the perfect (with *-o-), while the occasional pala-
talisation in Tocharian B and its regularisation in Tocharian A would
be owed to the s-aorist (with *-ē-).
To posit a functional merger of inherited perfects and aorists in
Proto-Tocharian is unproblematic (cf. 3.31). What is more doubtful
is whether such a functional merger would naturally go hand in hand
with a formal merger by which stem-formational features from the
two source paradigms were randomly combined. According to
this scenario, not only was an original unitary inflectional pattern
altered – and irregularised (!) – by the replacement of one form by
another (for instance because a 3sg. from the s-aorist ousted a 3sg.
137
For a full discussion, but no definitive verdict, see Malzahn (2010: 208–14).
138
See e.g. Krause (1952: 180), Krause and Thomas (1960: 247), Watkins (1962a: 66), Lindeman (1972b:
45–6), van Windekens (1982: 160–4), Rasmussen (1997a: 149), Winter (1994a: 291–4). Malzahn
(2010: 209–11) also relates a complex theory by M. Peters, which is similar but does not stipulate an
s-aorist input in the strict sense.
from the perfect139), but the intrusive form also left its mark on the
rest of the earlier paradigm, in terms of both dereduplication and
palatalisation, even though it was too weak altogether to uproot the
stems belonging to that paradigm.140
(ii) Not entirely dissimilar is a theory of Jasanoff’s, which also involves
the joining together of two originally distinct paradigms.141
However, for Jasanoff this development is of (early) PIE date and
involves (a) the precursor of the s-aorist 3sg. active, an ē-̆ graded
‘desiderative’142 in *-s- existing before there was a fully-fledged PIE
s-aorist as such, and (b) an ‘aoristic’ version of his h2e-conjugation
paradigm (2.15). Since the latter was not reduplicated to begin with,
a Tocharian dereduplication would no longer be needed. Instead, a
h2e-conjugation 3sg. aor. *prok̑ -e ‘asked’ (next to 1sg. *prok̑ -h2e, etc.)
would have been replaced by a desiderative *prēk̑ -s-t of more or less
identical meaning. Inspired by this model, other PIE h2e-
conjugation aorists would then have followed suit and also acquired
3sg. forms of the structure *CēC-s-t, notably to differentiate between
intransitive (3sg. *CoC-e: e.g., *nok̑ -e ‘perished’) and transitive (3sg.
*CēC-s-t: e.g., *nēk̑ -s-t ‘killed’) usages. Support for this view is said
to come from Anatolian, where the oldest preterite of the Hittite
hi-conjugation, arguably the most immediate descendant of
˘Jasanoff’s PIE h e-conjugation (cf. 5.33), has a 3sg. in -š, distinguish-
2
ing it from the 3sg. pret. in -t of the mi-conjugation.
We shall soon return to this last point (8.31), but it must already be
stressed that the root-vowel grade of the Hittite 3sg. preterites in -š is
the same as that of the corresponding presents (i.e., not *-ē-̆ , but *-o-
in the case of hi-conjugation root formations). Undoubtedly, analo-
gical influence˘ might be invoked to explain a change in vowel quality
139
Cf. Watkins (1962a: 68–9). That the (relatively rare, Rasmussen 2002: 381) Tocharian sigmatic
middle is formally based on the 3sg. active, whether or not the latter belonged to a complete
sigmatic paradigm, is uncontroversial (cf. Ringe 1990: 217, and (iii) below).
140
Or inversely, if a full s-aorist paradigm was replaced by a perfect-derived one except in the 3sg.
(Rasmussen 1997a: 149), the disappearing aorist forms would still have affected the shape of their
successors. None of the mixed paradigms compared by Hackstein (2005: 171) shows a similar
impact of the lost forms.
141
Jasanoff (1988b); cf. Pinault (1989: 151–2) and Jasanoff (2003: esp. 175–9, 192–4, 198–9). The idea that
the Tocharian and Anatolian homology of showing *-s(-) only in the 3sg. act. somehow continues
an early-PIE state of affairs is older: see Pedersen (1941: 188), Ivanov (1959: 30), and Watkins (1962a:
67–8) (who cautions against analysing the -s- in the Tocharian 2sg. pret. ending -sta in the
same way).
142
Jasanoff (1988b: 61); Jasanoff (2003: 193) speaks of (the imperfect of) an acrostatic s-present, without
specifying the original function of such an s-present.
470 The s-Aorist
here,143 but as it stands the Anatolian/Tocharian ‘parallel’ is thus
effectively limited to an element *-s- occurring both in the 3sg. act. of
the Tocharian s-preterite and in the 3sg. act. of the Hittite hi-
conjugation preterite. In other words, apart from the controversial ˘
Tocharian data themselves there is no reliable evidence at all to back
the assumption that the Proto-Indo-Europeans came up with a
highly irregular, and hence intrinsically unattractive, mixed aorist
paradigm à la Jasanoff.144 Furthermore, even leaving aside these
aprioristic doubts, one has to ask, for example, (1) whether the
isolated (alleged) equivalence of *prēk̆ ̑ -s-t with *prok̑ -e could really
constitute a sufficient basis for such far-reaching changes in the verbal
system as a whole, (2) why – if the *CoC-e type was the ‘proto-middle’
Jasanoff wants it to be, also in order to justify the subsequent func-
tional split between his *CoC-e and *CēC ̆ -s-t ‘aorists’ – a form like
̑
*prok-e should ever have been regarded as quasi-synonymous with
*prēk̆ ̑ -s-t to begin with,145 and (3), most fundamentally, how sensible it
is to operate with a *CoC-e aorist as well as a *CoC-e present. Needless
to say, if one subscribes to Cowgill’s ‘nominal-verb’ theory (5.29), it is
virtually impossible to believe in anything other than a *CoC-e pre-
sent; but if there was no *CoC-e aorist, how could a preterite be based
on the *CoC-e type?
(iii) Abandoning the difficult notion of a paradigm mixture, others have
preferred to derive the Tocharian Class III preterite paradigm from a
single source. In principle this can be done in two ways: either (a) by
postulating a new formal type for Proto-Indo-European, or (b) by
tracing back the Tocharian forms to a type for which there is
evidence in other branches as well.
Pursuing (a), Adams has argued for a PIE o-graded i(s)-aorist
(structurally *CoC-i(s)-).146 This is not the place to enter into the
143
Jasanoff (1988b: 67) concedes that “the overwhelming majority of hi-conjugation preterites are not
˘
historically s-aorists at all, but imperfects of hi-conjugation presents, the vocalism of which they
simply repeat”; but Jasanoff (2003: 196–7) is ˘less conciliatory.
144
Recognising the unlikelihood of such a mixed o-grade/ē̆ -grade pattern persisting for millennia,
Jasanoff himself refrains from ascribing to it the divergent palatalisation in the Class III preterites of
Tocharian A and B; instead, the ē̆ -grade variant would eventually have prevailed throughout the
active voice, but not in the middle, so that the middle could finally induce some analogical
depalatalisation in the active of Tocharian B.
145
Jasanoff (1988b: 61) claims that ‘ask’ is “inherently middle-like” and that “verbs meaning ‘ask’ often
have redundant desiderative morphology”. According to Jasanoff (2003: 188–91), the ‘active’ mean-
ing of the *CoC-e forms is thought to result, by polarisation, from the (ill-motivated) creation of a
new middle (→ 3sg. med. *CoC-o vs. 3sg. act. *CoC-e).
146
Adams (1994).
details of his case, but overall there is really very little evidence to
support it; and the postulate of a vowel *-i- before the *-s- seems
unnecessary for Tocharian anyway.147 Having said that, it is perhaps
conceivable that a PIE *CoC-e present developed an aorist (3sg.)
*CoC-s-t, which could stand behind both the Hittite hi-conjugation
root preterite in -š and the Tocharian s-preterite, ˘if an adequate
explanation were available for the partial palatalisation of the root-
initial consonant in Tocharian.148 But could such a *CoC-s- formation
then really be anything other than the analogically built counterpart to
a standard (ē-̆ graded) s-aorist next to a thematic or athematic e-graded
root present, thereby confirming the need to operate with a standard s-
aorist too?149 And would it therefore not be preferable to reconstruct
nothing but the standard s-aorist itself for Proto-Indo-European as
well as Proto-Tocharian?
This is what Ringe has ventured to do, in line with (b).150 According
to Ringe, we should start from a conventional PIE s-aorist, with a
lengthened ē-grade root in at least the paradigmatically central singular
of the active voice (8.46), an invariant s-suffix, and ‘secondary’ endings.
These ‘secondary’ endings were generally replaced by the perfect end-
ings in Proto-Tocharian, presumably at the time when aorist and
perfect stems functionally merged. Moreover, the -s- was lost by
phonological change in most environments151 (e.g., 1sg. *nēk̑ -s-m̥
‘destroyed’ > *næk-s-äm → *næk-s-wa >152 Toch. B nekwa; contrast
147
Cf. Malzahn (2010: 214), responding to Adams (1994: 18).
148
To justify this, Adams (1994: 21–2) suspects “some ē-grade . . . s-aorists lurking in the background as
well”.
149
For Adams this is not possible because his i(s)-aorist, unlike the standard s-aorist, lacks the s-element
in the 1sg., 1pl., and 3pl. (Adams 1994: 20); he does not give a structural reason for this omission of
*-s-, but uses it to explain the absence of *-s- in the relevant slots in Tocharian.
150
Ringe (1990); cf. also Kortlandt (1994) with fundamental differences in the detail.
151
This tallies with the fact that “P[reteri]t III paradigms made from roots ending in a vowel show
stem-final (*)-sä- . . . in all the forms that lack (*)-s(ā)- in Pt III paradigms made from roots ending
in a non-syllabic other than -s-” (Malzahn 2010: 214); cf. Kortlandt (1994: 62), Peyrot (2012: 252).
152
In Ringe’s (1990: 209–11) view, the loss of *-s- in this form was analogical, not phonological; but given
the strong case for Toch. *-Csm- > -Cm- (incl. 1pl. s-pret. *CeC-s-m- > *CeC-m-), to regard a parallel
loss of *-s- in *-Csw- clusters as “not very plausible phonetically” seems overcautious. Less economic-
ally, Kortlandt (1994) operates with a loss of *-s-t and subsequent reintroduction of *-s- in the 3sg., and
Peyrot (2012: 253) accepts this in order to deal with “the many Sub[junctive] I (and Sub[junctive] V)
formations with a (non-palatalizing) root vowel P[roto-]T[och.] *æ”, which “as a consequence of
Ringe’s scenario . . . would obviously have to be separated completely from the P[reteri]t III
formations” (Malzahn 2010: 214; cf. Jasanoff 2003: 199–203). However, this objection against
Ringe’s theory may not be valid. Before the addition of preterital *-a to the 3sg. type (PIE)
*CēC-s-t > (Proto-Toch.) *CæC-s, but after the loss of *-s- in other forms (e.g., Proto-Toch. 1sg.
*CæC-wa), the surviving 3sg. -s could easily be taken as an (irregular) ending, and hence
analogical subjunctives could be built on the basis not of the stem Proto-Toch. *CæC-s- but of
472 The s-Aorist
3sg. *nēk̑ -s-t > *næk-s >→ *næk-s-a[t] (by addition of the usual preterital
suffix *-a-, cf. 3.26) > Toch. B neksa). Here, the only stumbling block is
again the palatalisation issue. In order to account for the non-patalalised
forms of Tocharian B, Ringe postulates analogical influence from the
middle s-preterite, which usually lacks palatalisation.153 To the extent
that the middle s-preterite generally shows the same ablaut grade as the
active, the problem is thereby only displaced; but since we sometimes
find in the middle s-preterite both zero-graded forms and – appar-
ently old – forms without the marker *-s-, Ringe further postulates
that initially the s-aorist was inflected mainly in the active voice
(cf. 8.24 on Vedic and Greek), and that corresponding middle
forms were supplied by the middle root aorist (with regular zero
grade).154 By the time these middle root aorists were then sigmatised
and/or acquired the vowel grade of the active, they would already have
spread their lack of palatalisation to their active counterparts.
The principal weakness of this theory is that there is no incontrover-
tible reason for the fewer middle forms to influence the more frequent
active ones in such a way. Since elsewhere in Tocharian palatalisation was
preferentially used in high-transitive (causative) paradigms, the common
use of the s-preterite in the causative system might even have constituted
an incentive to generalise what was normal in the active voice anyway.
However, it must also be remembered that the Tocharian s-preterite was
not confined to the causative domain, and that where it did supply the
preterite stem to a causative present in Tocharian B, this present (of Class
VIIIb: 8.28) had itself no palatalised onset. In such a constellation, to opt
for the non-palatal allomorphs was no unnatural choice either.
On balance, although Ringe’s interpretation (iiib) may also be a little
rough round the edges, its overall plausibility seems much greater than
that of the alternatives. Moreover, even those scholars who do not accept it,
in one way or another still make reference to the PIE s-aorist when they
explain the Tocharian s-preterite.155 In that sense, it is significant in any
case that, apart from the reduplicated preterite (3.26–3.31) and the second-
ary (present-derived) ss-preterite (8.29), only the s-preterite is allowed to
˙˙
*CæC- (with the lack of initial palatalisation being explained as detailed below for the non-palatal
s-preterite forms; cf. already Peyrot 2012: 253–4).
153
Ringe (1990: 186–7).
154
Similarly Kim (2003 [2009]: 33–6). That the attested middle forms without *-s- do not have a zero-
grade root is no counterargument since they were as liable to analogical influence from the active as
any other middle form.
155
Only Drinka (1995a: 124–6) summarily denies any s-aorist connections of the Tocharian data.
pattern with the principal causative present stems (Classes VIIIb and IXb).
Albeit less directly than Greek or Vedic, Tocharian too thus corroborates
the view that the PIE s-aorist had high-transitive leanings.
8.31–8.36 Hittite Comparanda

8.31 s-Endings: 3sg.
There is general agreement that Hittite lacks a direct descendant of the PIE
s-aorist. However, as mentioned in 8.30, the hi-conjugation preterite
features a 3sg. act. ending -š (e.g., dāš ‘took’ < *doh ˘ -s(-t)). Ever since the
3
days of Sturtevant and Pedersen, it has been suspected that this -š has
something to do with the Indo-European s-aorist complex.156
Beyond that, the waters are quite murky. In particular, it is uncertain
whether Hitt. -š here continues an inherited simple *-s or results from *-s-t
with loss of the final dental. In the absence of pertinent counter-evidence,
the latter view may look more straightforward, but there is then a dis-
crepancy with the 3sg. pret. of the mi-conjugation where postconsonantal
*-t appears to have been preserved or restored with the help of a prop vowel
(e.g., ēpta ‘took’ < *h1ep-t, ēšta ‘was’ < *h1es-t). On the other hand, it is
possible that the retention/restitution of *-t (= -t(a)) was conditional upon
the existence of a parallel 3sg. pres. in *-ti > -zi, which would have excluded
the hi-conjugation with its 3sg. pres. in *-ei̯ > -i.157
˘ the situation in the Tocharian s-preterite cannot clarify the matter
That
should be clear by now (8.30); and other data that have been adduced to
justify a reconstruction of *-s alone are not reliable either. Old Persian
features a ‘secondary’ ending 3sg. -š < *-s after -i/u- (e.g., 3sg. impf. akunauš
‘made’) and an Avestan optative form in -iiā̊ < *-yās rather than -iiāt̰ < *-yāt
resembles early 3sg. precative (~ aorist optative) forms in -yās in Vedic. But
even for these synchronic oddities one can argue, for example, that a 3sg. in
*-s regularly arose from *-st in Proto-Indo-Iranian, survived in one or two
marginal usages, but yielded to a more regular-looking 3sg. in -t elsewhere
(cf. normal 3sg. precative -yāt).158
156
Sturtevant (1932: 130), Pedersen (1941: 188); for rare dissent, see Risch (1975: 254–5) (*-s- originating
in postdental positions before *-t), Dunkel (1977: 147–8) (*-s from 2sg. *-s in the mi-conjugation),
Drinka (1995a: 123–4).
157
See Kimball (1999: 193–5, 303); cf. Risch (1975: 254–5), Yoshida (1993). On later Hitt. 3sg. -šta,
see 8.32.
158
The antiquity of *-s in all these forms was defended by Watkins (1962a: 90–3), after Burrow (1954:
39–40; 1957: 64–5). However, the Avestan forms may in fact be 2sg. ones (Hoffmann 1967b: 35 n. 5,
Kellens 1984: 295, Ringe 1990: 227 n. 5), the OPers. -š has also been explained as due to sandhi
(Schmeja 1982; Brandenstein and Mayrhofer 1964: 79 assume *-s-t > *-s), and the loss of the dental
474 The s-Aorist
8.32 s-Endings: 2sg.
Further uncertainties surround the 2sg. ending of the hi-conjugation
˘ occurs. The
preterite. Normally this is -ta (< *-th2e; cf. 5.3), but -šta also
latter could be borrowed from a later Hittite variant of the 3sg. ending,
where old -š was remade into -šta by analogy with the mi-conjugation 3sg.
pret. in -C-ta (cf. 8.31). However, it is not clear what should have prompted
such a voluntary merger of the 2sg. and 3sg. endings when -ta was in no way
morphologically inferior to -šta.159
If 2sg. -šta were therefore old, one possibility would be to regard it as an
updated version of an original s-aorist ending *-s-s > *-s. To this, 2sg. -ta
could have been added in order (a) to redifferentiate it from the corre-
sponding 3sg. *-s < *-s-t or (b) to ensure that *-s- remained identifiable as a
stem marker. Although the motivation at least for (b) might have been
strong enough already in the proto-language, it would not follow that
Hitt. -šta must be genetically identical to 2sg. perf. -(i)stī in Latin and 2sg.
pret. -sta in Tocharian (which both also point to *-s-th2e), and that in the
PIE s-aorist a 2sg. in *-s (as intimated by Greek and Indo-Iranian)
coexisted with one in *-s-th2e.160 After all, to recharacterise an s-aorist
2sg. in *-s with *-th2e would not have made sense before *-th2e had
become associated with the past rather than the present tense; but this
was the case only when either the perfect and the aorist had begun to
merge (as in Proto-Tocharian and Proto-Italic) or when *-th2e itself was
rejuvenated with ‘primary’ *-i in non-past environments (as in Hittite,
with 2sg. pres. -ti, OHitt. -te < *-t(h2)ai̯ ). If a connection between the
Hittite and the Latin/Tocharian endings were to be sought, it would
therefore be better to operate with a PIE ending *-s-th2e which has
nothing to do with the s-aorist (10.14).
in *-st is evidenced by Vedic s-aorist forms like ahās ‘has left behind’, aprās ‘has filled’ (→ later ahāt,
aprāt: cf. Narten 1964: 18, 173, 285): the shape of these may well be responsible for precative 3sg. -yās
if the precative is a purely Old Indic innovation (cf. M. Leumann 1952: 41–2, Hoffmann 1967b; that
the precative paradigm was built around the 3sg. as described by Burrow 1954: 40–1 and Watkins
1962a: 93–6, is unaffected by this).
159
Pace Ross and Crossland (1954: 114–15), followed by Watkins (1962a: 86–7); by contrast, if 2sg. -šta
was old, the remake of 3sg. -š → -šta also produced a (partial) 2sg./3sg. identity (unless 3sg. -šta stood
for /-st/, not /-sta/; cf. Kimball 1999: 194), but the new 3sg. ending at the same time helped to mark
the third person more clearly.
160
Cf. Watkins (1962a: 84–6), who points to further languages that acquired secondary -st- endings
(including Gr. -σθα in forms like ἔφησθα ‘you said’ for ἔφης, inspired by οἶσθα ‘you know’ < *u̯ oi̯d-
th2e; Schwyzer 1939: 662, 2.6); but he is too apodictic in ruling out, against Sturtevant (1932: 126–7),
an aoristic origin of *-s- in Hittite (or Latin: cf. 8.20, fn. 87).
8.33 Root Presents to s-Enlarged Roots
More valuable insights into the prehistory of the Indo-European s-
formations can be gained when we look at Hittite verbal stems rather
than endings. In this area, we shall first consider a group of (semi-)radical
presents featuring recognisable roots with an s-enlargement. Most of them
inflect actively, following either the mi-conjugation or the hi-conjugation.
In a comparative perspective, the mi-conjugated items may˘ thus be seen as
the formal precursors of s-presents like Gr. ἀλέξω ‘ward off’, Ved. ráksati
˙
‘protects’ (8.29) if the latter have taken the place of an older athematic type
(cf. 4.45).
Assuming that the inflectional behaviour of root presents to s-enlarged
roots did not substantially differ from that of other root presents, we
should expect an alternation of sg. *CeC-s- vs. pl. *CC-s- in the mi-
conjugating type. Whether the Hittite evidence indeed reflects such a
pattern is controversial. According to a recent treatment by Kloekhorst it
does, and the following reconstructions are to be envisaged:161
• kallišš-zi/kališš- ‘call, evoke, summon’
root *kelh1- ‘call’ (cf. LIV 361–2, s.v. *kleh1-; Table 3.1 on Gr. aor. κεκλε/ο-,
Table 5.5 on καλέω)
3sg. *kélh1-s-ti > kallišzi /kállɨstsi/ (with anaptyctic /-ɨ-/) vs. 3pl. *kl̥ h1-s-énti >
kališšanzi /klɨsántsi/
• kane/išš-zi ‘recognise, acknowledge’
root *g̑ neh3- ‘recognise’ (cf. LIV 168–70, s.v. *g̑ neh3-; Table 6.1 on Gr. aor. γνω-)
3sg. *g̑ neh3-s-ti > *knāšzi → kane/išzi /knɨ́stsi/ (with /-ɨ-/ in analogy with the
plural) vs. 3sg. *g̑ n̥ h3-s-énti > kane/iššanzi /knɨsántsi/
161
See Kloekhorst (2008: 430–1, 434–6, 454–5, 822–4, s.vv.), and for a detailed discussion Kloekhorst
(2009). Most controversial is Kloekhorst’s postulate of an anaptyctic vowel, notably in the case of
kane/išš-zi, and the occasional need to invoke plural → singular analogies also causes some concern.
However, the main alternative (apart from positing a different root: cf. Neumann 1962: 156 with
*kens-/*kend-, Melchert 1984: 115 with *gneh1-) is no less problematic. Both Jasanoff (1988a) and
Harđarson (1993a: 76–9) assume an acrostatic s-present (3sg. *g̑ nḗh3-s-ti, 3pl. *g̑ neh3-s-énti →
analogical *g̑ nēh3-s-énti), accept that *-ē- was not coloured next to *-h2/3- (cf. Eichner 1973: 72 for
*-h2-), and hence interpret forms like OHitt. 3sg. ga-ne-eš-zi, ga-ni-eš-zi etc. as /gnēstsi/; but
although there is good evidence for a long ē-grade in the s-aorist (8.46–8.47), how likely is it that
the vowel grade of the present stem under discussion differed from that of the other s-presents? Also
open to debate is Kloekhorst’s explanation of the absence of -h- in tamāšš-zi, but again there is no
˘
easy solution (cf. van den Hout 1988, Kimball 1999: 423, Oettinger 2002: 122–5, 550). Should we
perhaps start from State I here as elsewhere and admit that *démh2-s-ti > *dáms-ti was metathesised
into *dmás-ti (> tamāšzi /tmāstsi/) only in the prehistory of Hittite?
476 The s-Aorist
• karš-zi ‘cut (off)’
root *ker(s)- ‘cut’ (cf. LIV 355–6 and 556–7, s.vv. 2. *kers-, *(s)ker-; Gr. κείρω
‘cut, shear’ < *ker-i̯e/o- vs. κουρά ‘cropping (of the hair)’ < *kors-éh2)
3sg. *kér-s-ti > karšzi /kárstsi/ vs. 3pl. *kr̥ -s-énti > karšanzi /karsántsi/
• tamāšš-zi/tame/išš- ‘(op)press’
root *demh2- ‘tame’ (cf. LIV 116–17, s.v. 2. *demh2-; 6.18 on Gr. aor. δαμασ-
(σ)α-, pres. δάμνημι, etc.)
3sg. (*demh2-s-ti ~) *dméh2-s-ti (with State II in the root: cf. 8.4, fn. 21,
and *h2u̯ ek-s- vs. *h2eu̯ g- in 8.29) > *tmahšzi → tamāšzi /tmā́stsi/ (with
loss of -h- in analogy with the plural) vs. ˘3pl. *dm̥ h2-s-énti > tame/iššanzi
/tmɨsánt˘si/
Next to these, there are several hi-conjugating items, one of which coexists
with a synonymous middle:162˘
• ānš-i and hane/išš-zi ‘wipe’
˘
root *h2emh1-/h2meh1- ‘mow’ (cf. LIV 279, s.v. *h2meh1-; Gr. ἀμάω, OE
māwan ‘mow’)
3sg. *h2ómh1-s-ei̯ > ānši /ā́nsi/ vs. 3pl. *h2m̥ h1-s-énti > hane/iššanzi /hnɨsántsi/
(whence also 3sg. hane/išzi /hnɨ́stsi/) ˘ ˘
˘ ˘
• pahš-i and (med.) pahš-a(ri) ‘protect, guard, keep’
˘ ˘
root *peh2- ‘protect, keep, pasture (tr.)’ (cf. LIV 460, s.v. *peh2(i̯)-; Ved. pā́ ti,
YAv. pāiti ‘protects’)
3sg. *póh2-s-ei̯ > pāhši /pā́hsi/ (not attested; but cf. 1sg. pahhašhi /páhashi/) vs.
3pl. *ph2-s-énti >→˘ pahšanzi˘ /pahsántsi/(med.) ˘˘ ˘ ˘ ˘
3sg. *péh2-s-o(i̯) >→ pah˘ ša(ri) /páh˘ sa(ri)/ vs. 3pl. *péh -s-n̥ to(i̯) >→ pahšanta(ri)
2
/páhsanta(ri)/ ˘ ˘ ˘
˘
• pāš-i ‘swallow’
root *peh3- ‘drink’ (cf. LIV 462–3, s.v. *peh3(i̯)-; 4.20 on Ved. píbati, Table 8.3
on Gr. aor. ipv. πῖθι)
3sg. *póh3-s-ei̯ > pāši /pā́si/ vs. 3pl. *ph3-s-énti > pašanzi /p(a)sántsi/
8.34 Systemic Placement

Whatever the formal detail behind these verbs, they are all etymologically
transparent enough to show that the s-element makes no major semantic
162
The reconstructions are again those of Kloekhorst (2008: 182–3, 285–6, 611–13, 649, s.vv.). For ānš-i,
Kloekhorst’s formula presupposes the loss of *h2- before *-o- (cf. Kloekhorst 2006a: 82–5), but the
connection with ἀμάω was already suggested, via *amh1-s-, by Melchert (1988: 212 n. 3).
contribution.163 For example, the meaning of the Hittite root formation
pah š-i/pah š-a(ri) to *peh2(s)- not only matches that of derivatives from
˘ s- in
*peh ˘ other languages (OCS pasti ‘herd’ < *peh s-e/o-, Lat. pāstor
2 2
‘shepherd’ < *peh2s-tōr, OAv. pišiiant- ‘?seeing’, Arm. hayim ‘look’ <
*pHs-i̯é/ó- (?)164), but it also mirrors˙ the semantics of the non-enlarged
root formation *peh2-ti to which Ved. pā́ ti and YAv. pāiti point. The
functional overlap of *peh2- vs. *peh2s- thus recalls what has been said in
8.7 on the redundancy (and hence ‘invisibility’) of potential s-aorists next
to prototypically telic root aorists. The only complication resides in the
fact that *peh2-, with its root present *peh2-ti, must be classified as
(prototypically) atelic. Accordingly, we should expect the s-enlarged
*peh2s- to surface as an aorist stem, not as a simple root variant.
However, to suggest that s-enlarged root formations to prototypically
atelic roots normally became perfective (i.e., s-aorists), thanks to the
telicising/transitivising force of the s-element, need not mean that this
aspectual shift always took place. So the Hittite s-formations assembled in
8.33 may be relics of the state of affairs which our model takes to have
preceded the ‘aoristification’ of root formations with telicising/transiti-
vising s-enlargement.
8.35 The Semantics of s-Enlarged Roots

The preceding argument would gain additional strength if, wherever
we find non-aspectual doublets of simple and s-enlarged roots, the
sigmatic variant tended to be endowed with higher transitivity (3.35).
Because the roots involved in the Hittite verbs listed in 8.33 are all
prototypically transitive anyway, such a tendency does not immedi-
ately catch the eye (8.34). However, a few points do deserve
attention:
• Somewhat surprisingly, medial pahš-a(ri), which is more common than
˘
pahš-i in Old Hittite, is no less transitive than its active hi-conjugation
˘ ˘
163
The list omits more ambiguous material. With s-enlarged mi-conjugated 3sg. aušzi ‘sees, looks’ next
to non-sigmatic hi-conjugated 1sg. ūhhi, 2sg. autti, for instance, both etymological and phonolo-
gical uncertainties ˘ complicate an assessment
˘˘ of the s-form’s status: radical *h1eu̯ - is proposed by
Oettinger (2002: 405–8) and LIV 243, s.v., radical *au̯ - by Kimball (1999: 224, 226), and radical
*h2eu̯ - by Kloekhorst (2008: 227–9, s.v. au-i/u-). Similarly, Watkins (1962a: 77) refers to “Hitt. kiš-
‘become’ : ki- ‘lie’”, implying *k̑ ei̯(s)-, but kiš-a(ri) rather belongs to *gei̯s- (Kloekhorst 2008: 479–81,
s.v. kīš-(a)ri/kiš-, after Eichner 1973: 78).
164
See LIV 459, s.v. ?*peHs-, after Klingenschmitt (1982: 149–53), also on Alb. 3sg. aor. pa ‘saw’ (< *pHs-
eh1-?). Ved. 3sg. subj. pāsati ‘shall protect’ (RV 10.17.4; cf. 3du. pāsatas at RV 7.34.23) may be
artificial (Narten 1964: 168–9).
478 The s-Aorist
synonym. This suggests that the transitivising value of the
s-enlargement was strong enough to override the detransitivising force
of the middle voice.
• If *peh3s- differs from *peh3- as ‘swallow’ vs. ‘drink’, the former refers to
a more punctual activity and may imply greater object affectedness and/
or object individuation (cf. Engl. drink of sth. vs. swallow sth.).
• Similarly, whereas *k̑ leu̯ - can refer to acts of ‘hearing’ or ‘listening’ (Gr.
κλυε/ο-, Ved. áśrot: 6.9, Table 6.2), the root variant *k̑ leu̯ s- in Ved. pres.
śrósan ‘they obey’ seems to be restricted to the more intentional/voli-
˙ meaning.
tional
• In the pair *h2eu̯ g- ‘grow, increase (intr.)’ (Goth. aukan, Lith. áugti) vs.
*h2u̯ egs- > *h2u̯ eks- ‘increase (tr.)’ (Gr. ἀέξω) (3.2, 8.29), the relationship
between the variants with and without *-s- even seems to be factitive vs.
non-factitive.
• The same applies to the Indo-Iranian evidence cited in 8.29, fn. 136, to
*k̑ ei̯- ‘lie’ (Gr. κεῖμαι, Ved. śáye: 4.34) vs. *k̑ ei̯s- ‘leave (over)’ (Ved. 2sg.
aor. inj. út śisas ‘you leave’), and also perhaps to *du̯ ei̯- ‘be(come) afraid,
fear’ (Gr. δείδω ˙ ‘am afraid’ < perf. *de-du̯ oi̯ -a, Table 5.1) vs. *du̯ ei̯s- (Ved.
pres. dvésti ‘hates, is hostile to’ < *‘makes [be] afraid, makes fear’?).165
˙˙
8.36 Hittite Fientives in -ešš-

Finally worth noting is an important secondary stem type of Hittite, which
also illustrates how the addition of an s-suffix goes hand in hand with an
increase in semantic transitivity. As Watkins observed,
[a]mong the remaining Hittite verb formations showing an -s-, we have the
suffix -eš-, suffixed to adjectives in the meaning ‘become what the adjective
denotes’ (idalu- ‘bad’, idalaweš- ‘become bad’). It corresponds in function
exactly to Latin -ēscō (albus ‘white’, albēscō ‘become white’), which is itself
based on the stative in -ē- (albeō ‘be white’). The inflexion is athematic in
Hittite: 3sg. idalawešzi.166
Stems featuring a stative suffix *-eh1- + *-s- are directly comparable
with Greek s-aorists such as θαρσησα- ‘become bold’, ῥιγησα- ‘become
165
Alternatively, *du̯ ei̯s- merely shows greater agent potency than *du̯ ei̯-. LIV 321, s.v. ?*k̑ ei̯s-, does not
connect *k̑ ei̯s- and *k̑ ei̯-. Note that in cases like these there can be no question of a ‘desiderative’
value of the s-element.
166
Watkins (1962a: 76); see further Watkins (1971: esp. 64–83), Jasanoff (2002/3: 148) (who implausibly
sees in *-ēs- and *-ēsk̑ e/o- substitutes of *-ēi̯e/o-), García Ramón (2014: 157–9). The corresponding
factitive type ends in -ahh- (e.g., happinahh-i ‘enrich’ vs. happinēšš-zi ‘become rich’; cf. Watkins
1971: 85–6, Hoffner and˘Melchert ˘ ˘2008: 175–8).
˘˘ ˘
8.37–8.45 Presents in *-sk̑ e/o- 479
cold’ (5.44) or Slavic s-aorists to deadjectival verbs in *-ēi̯e/o- (e.g., OCS
blědějǫ ‘am pale’, bogatějǫ ‘am rich’ with aor. (1sg.) -ěchъ ←< *-ē-s-m̥ ). Since
the Hittite fientive verbs in -ēšš- < *-eh1-s- freely occur in the present tense,
one might be tempted to infer that the definitive categorisation of the type
as aoristic occurred only after Anatolian had branched off the Indo-
European family tree. However, it is also conceivable that a paradigm
split took place in Proto-Anatolian, when the aspectual imperfect/aorist
distinction was abandoned there. This development would have enabled
the reinterpretation of the aspectual contrast between impf. *X-ē(i̯e-)t >
Hitt. -ēt and aor. *X-ē-s-t > Hitt. -ēšta as a lexical one, viz. ‘was X’ vs.
‘became X’ (e.g., 3sg. pret. šullēt ‘was wanton’ vs. 3sg. pret. idalau̯ ēšta
‘became bad’). Following that, it would have been logical also to build
fientive presents to match the already existing stative ones (e.g., 3sg. pres.
šullēzzi ‘is wanton’ vs. 3sg. pres. idalau̯ ēšzi ‘becomes bad’).167
Whichever scenario is correct, the crucial point is this: compared to
stative *-eh1(-i̯e/o)-, fientive *-eh1-s- is semantically more transitive. Statives
are by definition non-actional and atelic, whereas fientives are always
actional and often telic as well.
8.37–8.45 Presents in *-sk̑ e/o-

8.37 PIE *-sk̑ e/o- as a Composite Suffix
Although we have just left the issue open for the PIE *-eh1-s- type (8.36),
and although the preceding section has not produced any definitive proof
that an aspectually perfective s-formation already existed when Anatolian
split off, there is at least an indirect argument to support this view, and with
it the categorisation of the hi-conjugation 3sg. pret. ending -š as specifically
aoristic by background (8.31). ˘
This argument is the fact that Anatolian shares with the rest of Indo-
European the use of present stems in *-sk̑ e/o-. In 7.6, we have already seen
that *-sk̑ e/o- serves as an imperfectivising suffix in both Ionic Greek and
Hittite. This functional observation may now be complemented with a
formal analysis. If we accept Watkins’s compelling comparison of Hitt.
167
Even if there were no strict boundaries: “already in O[ld] H[ittite] the stems in -e- had the
inchoative sense and therefore merged in the post-OH period with the stems in -ešš-”
(Hoffner 1998: 275; cf. Hoffner and Melchert 2008: 177). A similar development, inspired
by the aorist in *-eh1-s-, is widespread among the verbs in *-eh1-i̯e/o- of Baltic (e.g., Lith.
senė́ti ‘grow older’; cf. Watkins 1971: 57). That there must be some link between the Hittite
verbs in -ēšš- and the PIE s-aorist was already recognised by Sturtevant (1932: 124–5).
480 The s-Aorist
fientive -ēšš- with fientive -ēsce/o- in Latin (8.36),168 and if we recognise the
similar correspondence between Hitt. pāhši ‘protects’ (*poh2-s-) on the
one hand and Lat. pāscō ‘pasture (tr.)’, Toch. ˘ B paskenträ ‘they protect’
(*p(e)h2-sk̑ e/o- ) on the other, we may reasonably wonder if *-sk̑ e/o- should
169
not be analysed as composite *-s-k̑ e/o-. Whatever the origin of the thematic
k̑ -element (8.39), we would thus have a simple suffix *-s- acting as a
prominent perfective marker throughout the Indo-European world, and a
closely related suffix *-sk̑ e/o- with an equally prominent role in the imper-
fective domain. To explain this economically, we may assume that *-s- could
be perfectivising already at a fairly early stage of the proto-language, but that
the addition of *-k̑ e/o- allowed to (re)imperfectivise the resulting aspectual
stems. And since Anatolian continues imperfective *-sk̑ e/o- no less than the
other branches of Indo-European, this then implies that *-s- did not become
a perfective marker only after Anatolian went its own way.170
8.38 A Problem of Root Vocalism

Interestingly, however, we find a zero-grade root in securely reconstructible
PIE *-sk̑ e/o- lexemes such as *g u̯ m̥ -sk̑ e/o- (> Gr. βάσκω ‘go, come’, Ved.
gácchati ‘goes, comes’171) and *pr̥ k̑ -sk̑ e/o- (> Ved. prccháti ‘asks’, OAv. 1sg.
pǝrǝsā ‘ask’, Lat. poscō ‘ask, demand’). The structure ˙of such stems must then
be formalised as *CC-s-k̑ é/ó-, not with the root vocalism of the s-aorist (8.46–
8.48). Since the creation of a full s-aorist paradigm may itself postdate the time
when ablaut was a purely phonological (accent-conditioned) phenomenon
(3.41), we should be wary of blaming the zero-grade root in *CC-s-k̑ é/ó- on the
suffix accentuation (pre-ablaut *CeC-sk̑ é/ó- → post-ablaut *CC-sk̑ é/ó-).
Instead, an analogical explanation will have to be sought (8.41).
8.39 k-Enlarged Roots, k-Presents, and Thematic Root Presents

At this point, we may usefully consider the origin of the second part
of the *-sk̑ e/o- suffix. For the k̑ -element two interrelated morphological
168
Cf. also (a) Hom. ἀλδήσκω ‘grow’ (vs. ἀλδαίνω ‘make grow’), even if neither the aorist (*ἀλδησα-)
nor the adjectival basis (*ἀλδύς?; cf. θαρσύς ~ θαρσησα-) is attested, and (b) Armenian verbs in
*-ich- (e.g., t‘ak‘č‘im ‘hide’; Klingenschmitt 1982: 72–9, Vine 1993: 50–1).
169
Since primary derivatives in *-sk̑ e/o- normally show a radical zero grade (8.38), LIV 460, s.v.
*peh2(i̯)-, plausibly assumes that the e-grade presupposed by the long ā-vowel of the Latin verb is
analogical with the aorist; but an archaic *péh2-s-k̑ e/o- is not impossible (cf. 8.41). On pāscō ~ pāhši,
see also Watkins (1962a: 75–6), after Ivanov (1959: 30). ˘
170
Whether or not the ‘aoristification’ of the s-formations was still ongoing at that point. Pace Curtius
(1877–80: 1.274–5), Benveniste (1935: 167), and Kuryłowicz (1964a: 105), nothing suggests a
denominal origin of the verbs in *-sk̑ e/o-.
171
With secondary accent shift: see Wackernagel (1905: 22), Kuryłowicz (1958: 99–100), Gotō (1987: 73
n. 45). On *g u̯ m̥ -sk̑ e/o- and *pr̥ k̑ -sk̑ e/o-, cf. LIV 209–10, 490–1, s.vv. *g u̯ em- and *prek̑ -.
8.37–8.45 Presents in *-sk̑ e/o- 481
comparanda suggest themselves.172 Firstly, we have already encountered a
root extension in *-k- (or *-k̑ -) in our discussion of the root aorists and/or
κ-aorists of *d heh1(k)- ‘put’ and *Hi̯eh1(k)- ‘throw’ (Gr. ἔθηκα, ἧκα, Lat.
fēcī, iēcī) (6.12). Secondly, Greek also features a small group of k-presents,
including τήκω/τήκομαι ‘melt (tr./intr.)’ (< *teh2-k-e/o-; contrast OCS tajǫ
‘melt’ < *teh2-i̯e/o-) and ἥκω ‘(have) come’ (< *Hi̯eh1-k-e/o- ‘reach, *hit’ (?);
Table 4.1).173 What unites the roots involved here is their *CeH- structure.
That PIE laryngeals could ‘harden’ into velars has sometimes been sus-
pected in the past,174 but that assumption alone does not lead very far. After
all, the root-final laryngeal remains present in the forms we have to
reconstruct. So we may rather look for a slightly different way to deal
with these k-presents and k-enlarged *CeH- roots.
In 4.34–4.42, it has been argued that the PIE thematic root presents
result from the verbalisation of *CeC-e/o nominals which originally
paired with finite root formations of the (3sg.) *CeC-t(i) type. We shall
look at the paradigm constitution of the emerging thematic class later
(10.24–10.25), but one point must be anticipated here. When *CeC-e/o was
first treated as a medial/intransitive verb form, the corresponding 1sg. will
have shown the structure *CeC-h2 (10.19). In theory, therefore, a 1sg.
*CeH-h2 might be posited for any *CeH- root. However, if we admit that
regressive assimilation had to affect the final *-Hh2 cluster, and if we also
remember that Proto-Indo-European did not tolerate geminates,175 the
actual outcome should rather have been 1sg. *Ceh2h2 > *Ceh2. Such a form
was undesirable because it could only have been segmented as either *Ce-h2
with the regular ending but no proper root, or as *Ceh2-Ø with an
acceptable root but no ending. So (something like) ‘laryngeal hardening’
may indeed have intervened – but only in the sense that an epenthetic velar
̑
developed to prevent the expected changes (i.e., *CeH-h2 → *CeHkh2).
That such dissimilatory ‘degeminations by epenthesis’ were possible in
principle, we know: for what has just been posited for a laryngeal group is
172
Contrast Shields (1984; 1992: 83), who sees in *-sk̑ e/o- a particle combination, and Oettinger (2013),
who derives it from an endingless imperative of s-suffixed roots with added *-k̑ e ‘now, here’. Neither
account clarifies the systemic role of the stem type.
173
Not paralleled in Greek, but reflecting the same addition of *-k̑ - and thus supporting a PIE date for
the phenomenon (against e.g. Untermann 1993 and Drinka 1995a: 63–4, who separate even Gr. ἔθηκα
and Lat. fēcī), is the Proto-Tocharian preterite/subjunctive stem *taka- (with *tak- < *st(e)h2-k̑ -?) used
suppletively next to nes-/nas- ‘be’ (cf. Hackstein 1992: 160–1, Malzahn 2010: 638–40).
174
See especially Sturtevant (1940b), taking up a suggestion of E. Sapir; cf. also Parlangèli (1972: 237–
8), Adrados (1974: 1.191–3), Carruba (1992c: 155–9), and Melazzo (2014: 211–13), and for crucial
criticism Cowgill (1965: 175–6). Like Curtius (1852: 27–9), Rasmussen (1994: 332–4; 1997b: 254)
posits early *-s-i̯é/ó- > *-s-k̑ é/ó-, but this lacks phonological credibility.
175
See e.g. Mayrhofer (1986: 120), Meier-Brügger (2002: 105).
482 The s-Aorist
similar in kind to the PIE development of epenthetic *-s- in *-tt- groups
arising – like our geminate *-h2h2 – at morpheme boundaries (e.g., *u̯ id-to-
‘seen’ > *u̯ itsto- > Skt. vitta-, Av. vista-, Gr. ἄ-(ϝ)ιστος, Lat. vīsus, etc.).176
Hypothetical though it be, we thus obtain a scenario for how semanti-
cally unmarked, but k-enlarged root versions like *d heh1(k)- and *Hi̯eh1(k)-
may have arisen; and we understand why it is precisely the thematic root
presents of *teh2- and *Hi̯eh1- that feature the additional *-k- (*-k̑ -). After
̑
1sg. *CeHkh2 ~ 3sg. *CeC-e/o had come into being, the paradigm could be
(re-)regularised by extending the root allomorph with *-k̑ - to other posi-
tions (e.g., 3sg. *CeHk̑ -e/o). And once that step had been taken, there was –
depending on one’s viewpoint – either a semi-independent class of k-
presents functionally matching ‘normal’ thematic presents or a small
group of *CeH- roots with ‘optional’ k-enlargement.177
8.40 Middle Presents in *-sk̑ e/o-

If the *-k̑ e/o- part of *-sk̑ e/o- thus becomes interpretable as a peculiar variant
of the thematic root presents’ *-e/o- suffix, extracted from such presents to
*CeH- roots, one or two further jigsaw pieces fall into place.
Firstly, we understand why the *-sk̑ e/o- formations, exactly like the the-
matic root presents (4.44), show an affinity with the middle voice. We
witness this not only in Hittite, where “[a] fairly large group of verbs occur
in the medio-passive only in the marked imperfective with the suffix -ške-”
(e.g., act. pai- ‘go’ vs. med. paiške/a-, act. parkēšš- ‘become tall [parku-]’
vs. med. parkiške/a-),178 but probably also in Latin where there is a group of
archaic deponents in -(ī)scor. Since these differ from other presents with the
same suffix by not having directly related active present/perfect stems next
to them, it is plausible that the more widespread and synchronically regular
active type represents an innovation. For example, whereas active senēscō
‘grow old’ pairs with an active perfect senuī and stands in a clear semantic
relationship with active seneō ‘am old’, deponential ad-ipīscor ‘obtain’ may
176 ̑
Cf. Mayrhofer (1986: 110–11), Szemerényi (1996: 103–4). In both *-t.t- > *-tst- and *-H.H- > *-HkH-, the
epenthetic consonant would ensure the retention of both the coda of the first and the onset of the
second syllable. For *-t.t-, this was only possible because *-s- was ranked even lower in sonority than
voiceless stops (and hence allowed at the syllable edge; cf. Szemerényi 1996: 98), but for *-H.H- the
insertion of a stop was sufficient to create an admissible sequence.
177
A root aorist with 3sg. *d heh1k-t (6.12) thus presupposes a thematic ‘k-present’ *d heh1-k̑ e/o-,
although such a present would not in the end survive alongside it (4.49); according to 8.40, its
place could have been taken by a new *dh1-sk̑ e/o-, but reduplicated *d he-d hh1-e/o- → *d he/i-d heh1-
(Table 4.1, 4.20) was an obvious alternative (4.50).
178
Hoffner and Melchert (2008: 233); cf. Neu (1968a: 86–9) and Watkins (1969: 72–3; 1971: 83–4), with
reference to Ivanov (1965: 139–42). The usual active mi-inflection of the Hittite verbs in -ške/a- may
thus at least in part be due to analogical influence from the corresponding base verbs.
8.37–8.45 Presents in *-sk̑ e/o- 483
have been protected from becoming †ad-ipīscō by its perfect adeptus sum
and the fact that an active present apiō only survives vestigially; proficīscor
‘depart’ may have escaped an update into †proficīscō thanks to its perfect
profectus sum and the semantic separation from prōficiō ‘achieve’; and nāscor
‘am born’ may not have changed into †nāscō because its perfect was nātus
sum.179
8.41 The Presents in *-sk̑ e/o- as Secondary Imperfectives

Secondly, by functionally ‘equating’ *-k̑ e/o- with simple thematic *-e/o-,
the following parallel relationships emerge:
Perfective (aorist) stem Imperfective (present) stem
(i) *CéC-s- [s-aorist] *CéC-s-k̑ e/o- [present in *-sk̑ e/o-]
(ii) *CéC- [root aorist] *CéC-e/o- [thematic root present]
(iii) *C1é-C1C- (→ *C1é-C1C-e/o-: 3.39) *C1é-C1C-e/o- (→ *C1í-C1C-e/o-: 4.25)
[reduplicated aorist] [reduplicated present]
According to 4.49 and 4.52, the imperfective *CéC-e/o- stem under (ii)
would normally survive only as a root-aorist subjunctive, while its non-
modal functions would be taken on by other present-stem types.
Correspondingly, the *CéC-s-e/o- type which we should expect in the slot
under (i) where we actually find *CéC-s-k̑ e/o- is not entirely inexistent
either. It is just largely confined to the subjunctive domain (qua s-aorist
subjunctive), except where its continuation as a thematic s-present (cf. Gr.
ἀλέξω etc.: 8.29) was not impeded by the basic *CéC-s- form being
classified as perfective. And because the new suffix *-sk̑ e/o- – formed in
lieu of the insufficiently marked *-se/o- by replacing *-e/o- with its allo-
morph *-k̑ e/o- – was both formally distinctive and equivalent in function to
the simple *-e/o- of (ii), nothing stood in the way of rejuvenating *CéC-e/o-
under (ii) as well, by introducing *-sk̑ e/o- there too. However, since *CéC-
sk̑ e/o- under (i) displayed the corresponding s-aorist’s ‘weak’ stem variant,
with full but not lengthened e-grade (8.46–8.48), the root vocalism of the
new imperfective in *-sk̑ e/o- under (ii) was also aligned with that of the
weak variant of its perfective correspondent, the root aorist. Thus,
*CéC-e/o- in (ii) was remade not into †CéC-sk̑ e/o-, as if it too were the
secondary imperfective to an s-aorist, but into zero-graded *CC-sk̑ é/ó- (with
179
On the Latin verbs in -(ī)scō/-(ī)scor see, apart from Watkins (1969: 74), especially M. Leumann
(1977: 535–9), Mignot (1969: 145–228), Keller (1992) (who doubts the affinity with the middle
voice), Rix (1995: 400–1), Haverling (2000: esp. 394–449). Baldi’s (1976: 253–4) idea that the
inchoative meaning triggered deponential inflection is “poorly substantiated” according to the
author himself; if it were true, the normal type should not be active.
484 The s-Aorist
the suffix accentuation triggered by default in a situation where the the-
matic vowel was the only fully vocalic segment).180
8.42 On the Aktionsart Values of *-sk̑ e/o-

One important implication of all this is that we must not attach a specific
Aktionsart value to the verbs in *-sk̑ e/o-.181 When some of them allow
‘iterative’ readings, while others suggest inchoative nuances, this is epiphe-
nomenal to their prehistory as secondary imperfectives. Next to the expres-
sion of progressivity, that of iterativity is one of the central functions of any
marked imperfective type.182 Similarly, the ‘inchoative’ – though also pro-
gressive – value of lexemes like Lat. senēscō ‘grow old’ must not be looked at
in isolation. The perfective variants (in *-eh1-s-) of stative base verbs would
commonly prompt inchoative interpretations (8.36), and these were natu-
rally retained when secondary imperfectives (in *-eh1-s-k̑ e/o-) were built from
there.183
8.43 Greek Unreduplicated Presents in *-sk̑ e/o-

The pattern established in 8.41 enables us to see in *-sk̑ e/o- presents like
*g u̯ m̥ -sk̑ e/o- > Gr. βάσκω, Ved. gácchati (8.38) secondary imperfectives
to root aorists (cf. Ved. ágan ‘has gone, come’, Arm. ekn ‘came’ <
*(h1e-)g u̯ em-t184). As such they parallel some of the newly productive
180
Mutatis mutandis, the development is thus similar to the later s-aorist-based creation of the secondary
futuroid suffix *-si̯é/ó- (8.23). The widespread use of -ške- (< *-sk̑ e-) in Old Hittite, even in positions
where -ška- (< *-sk̑ o-) is expected (Risch 1965a: 241, Oettinger 2013: 61), must also be due to analogy,
whether intraparadigmatic or interparadigmatic (after verbs in *-i̯é/ó-: on these, see 10.39).
181
Pace e.g. Porzig (1927: 159) (‘actions or processes that take place jerkily, bit by bit’), Benveniste (1936:
231) (‘iterative-intensive’), W. P. Lehmann (1974: 147–8) (“plurality of individual actions”),
Hackstein (1995: 2) (‘iterative’, with atelic bases also ‘inchoative’). For Latin, Mignot (1969: 213)
more adequately speaks of a ‘progressive value’ (e.g., nigrēscō = niger fiō ‘become black’, not niger esse
incipiō ‘begin to be black’; cf. Hermann 1927: 226, Berrettoni 1971: 120, Keller 1992: 432–5,
Haverling 2000: 450), and Giacalone Ramat (1967: 109–15) and Di Giovine (1999: 39–40) stress
the functional diversity in Greek. In Hittite too, some have seen the basic function as ‘iterative’
(Pedersen 1938a: 131–4, Friedrich 1960: 140–1, Kuryłowicz 1964a: 106–7), others as ‘durative (and/or
distributive)’ (Bechtel 1936: 109, 114, Sturtevant 1951: 129–30, Kammenhuber 1959: 40): cf. Dressler
(1968: 160–2). Dressler’s (1968: 228–34) ‘arguments against an aspectual character’ only jeopardise
the synchronic classification of the Hitt. -ške- forms as ‘aspectual’, if that (cf. Bertinetto and Cambi
2006, Hoffner and Melchert 2008: 317–22).
182
The same holds for the ‘backgrounding’ function of *-sk̑ e/o- in Hittite and Homeric Greek (Daues
2009).
183
So the derivational chain is (1) stative ipfv. *X-eh1(-i̯e/o)- ‘be X’ → (2) stative pfv. *X-eh1-s- ‘be(come)
X’ → (3) secondary ipfv. *X-eh1-sk̑ e/o- ‘be in the process of becoming X’. However, *X-eh1-sk̑ e/o-
eventually begins to compete with *X-eh1(-i̯e/o)- (Mignot 1969: 227).
184
Cf. LIV 209–10, s.v. *g u̯ em-, and Klingenschmitt (1982: 280) on the Armenian form as a suppletive
variant of ek- < *h1e-g u̯ eh2-. Note also the Ved. subj. gámat(i) < *g u̯ em-e-t(i) (Hoffmann 1955).
8.37–8.45 Presents in *-sk̑ e/o- 485
Ionic (Homeric) past iteratives in -σκε/ο-, like δόσκε ‘would give’ < *dh̥ 3-sk̑ e/o-
(to root aor. *deh3-).185
However, given the emancipation of the suffix, not every present in
*-sk̑ e/o- presupposes a corresponding aorist. In Greek, for example, the
present φάσκω correlates with a root present φημί (*bhh̥ 2-sk̑ e/o- ~ *bheh2-mi;
cf. Arm. 3sg. bay ‘says’), and the present βόσκω ‘feed, tend’, whatever its
etymology, also fails to match a relevant aorist.186 Thus, the emerging PIE
formula [zero-grade root + *-sk̑ e/o-] must in a next step have been applied
also to roots with non-radical aorists. If Hom. μίσγω ‘mix’, despite its
s-aorist μειξα-, may still be based on an almost vanished root aorist
(Table 6.2: i.e., *mig̑ -sk̑ e/o- >→ μίσγω187), this is not so for Hom.
πάσχω ‘suffer’ (*bhn̥ dh-sk̑ e/o-?, cf. Table 5.1), θνή(ι)σκω ‘die’ (*dhn̥ h2-sk̑ e/o-),
βλώσκω ‘go, come’ (*ml̥ h3-sk̑ e/o-), and θρώ(ι)σκω ‘jump’ (*d hr̥ h3-sk̑ e/o-) with
their thematic aorists (6.16, 6.22).
8.44 Greek Reduplicated Presents in *-sk̑ e/o-

With the items mentioned in 8.43, plus ἀλδήσκω ‘grow’ (8.37, fn. 168) and
γηράσκω ‘grow old’,188 the list of unreduplicated *-sk̑ e/o- presents in
Homer is more or less complete.189 However, next to them there is a
major group of reduplicated presents in *-sk̑ e/o- (Table 8.4).
185
On these, see further 7.6, Schwyzer (1939: 710–11), Chantraine (1958: 323–5), Risch (1974: 276–8),
Wathelet (1973), Zerdin (2002). Formally, δόσκε etc. are therefore more archaic than iterative
imperfects such as θέλγεσκε ‘would enchant’, κτείνεσκε ‘would kill’ (Chantraine 1958: 321–2). They
need not all be recent creations modelled after φάσκε ~ ἔφη ‘said’ (Risch 1974: 277; contrast
Brugmann 1902/3a with an implausible periphrastic derivation). Ionic Greek has simply revitalised
an old type, in order to distinguish iterative (e.g., δόσκε) from general imperfectives (e.g., impf.
(ἐ)δίδου). The ‘unexplained’ restriction of the former to the past tense (Schwyzer 1939: 712) is due to
the fact that the corresponding aoristic base forms were equally restricted.
186
Aor. βοσκησα- is obviously depresentic. On the etymological question, see Frisk (1960–72: 1.253–
4), Chantraine (2009: 178), and Beekes (2010: 1.228), all s.v. βόσκω, as well as De Decker (2011: 50),
Willi (2014a: 221 n. 20). Even more intricate is the case of ἔρχομαι ‘go, come’ (with suppletive aor.
ἐλθε/ο-) since here both *h1r̥ -sk̑ é/ó- (cf. Ved. rccháti ‘reaches’) and *h1erg̑ h-e/o- are possible recon-
structions (cf. 4.44, Table 5.4). ˙
187
Cf. Lat. misceō ‘mix’, Ved. ptcpl. med. micchamāna- ‘mixed up, troubled’ (?), OIr. mescaid ‘mixes’,
OHG miscen ‘mix’, all presupposing *mik̑ -sk̑ é/ó- (LIV 428–9, s.v. *mei̯k̑ -).
188
The long root vowel of γηράσκω ‘grow old’ suggests that it is formed to the s-aorist ἐγήρᾱ ‘grew
old’ (< *(h1e-)g̑ ērh̥ 2-s-e: 8.47), though possibly only at a time when the latter was no longer
recognised as sigmatic.
189
Cf. Risch (1974: 274–5). Pres. ἐπαυρίσκω/-ομαι is tentatively included in the list of reduplicated
lexemes, leaving only the difficult verbs ἠλάσκω ‘wander, stray’ and ἀλύσκω ‘flee from, shun’ (cf.
Frisk 1960–72: 1.66, 1.80, 1.628–9, s.vv. 2. ἀλέα, ἀλύω, ἠλάσκω, Chantraine 2009: 56, 63–4, 392,
s.vv. ἀλέομαι, ἀλύω, ἠλάσκω, Beekes 2010: 1.65, 1.76, 1.514, s.vv. ἀλέομαι, ἀλύω, ἠλάσκω). For
these one may perhaps posit (with LIV 264, s.v.) a root *h2elh2- (pres. ἀλάομαι ‘wander, roam’ <
*h2l̥ h2-éi̯e/o-?, cf. 5.44, fn. 166), explain ἠλάσκω along the lines of γηράσκω (fn. 188), and derive
ἀλύω, ἀλύσκω, etc. from a verbal adjective *ἀλύς ‘wandering, roaming’: ἀλύσκω might then
replace an older *ἀλήσκω (cf. 8.37, fn. 168, on ἀλδήσκω/*ἀλδύς/ἀλδαίνω, and note the existence
of ἀλαίνω ‘wander about’; contrast LIV 278, s.v. *h2leu̯ -, after Hackstein 1995: 214–16).
486 The s-Aorist
Table 8.4. Greek reduplicated presents in *-sk̑ e/o-
Reduplicated
aorist
Root Reduplicated present in *-sk̑ e/o- (cf. Table 3.1)
*bheh2(u̯ )- ‘shine. be πιφαύσκω ‘make manifest/known, tell of’

bright’ < *bhi-bhh̥ 2u̯ -sk̑ e/o-
(cf. LIV 68–9, s.v. 1.
*bheh2-)
*dek̑ - ‘receive, perceive’ δε(ι)δίσκομαι ‘welcome, greet’
(LIV 109–12) ←< *dei̯ -dek̑ -sk̑ e/o- (4.17, fn. 77)
Cf. also 8.45 on Lat. discō ‘learn’.
*dens- ‘learn, be(come) διδάσκω ‘teach’ δεδαε/ο-
competent’ < *di-dn̥ s-sk̑ e/o-
(LIV 118–19) Cf. Debrunner (1937); Lejeune (1976)
favours *di-dn̥ k̑ -sk̑ e/o- and a remote link
with Lat. discō ‘learn’.
*du̯ ei̯- ‘be frightened, *δειδίσκομαι (δειδίσσομαι) ‘frighten’
fear’ < *de-du̯ i-sk̑ e/o- (cf. Table 4.2)
(LIV 130) Contrast Arm. erknč‘im ‘am afraid’ <
*du̯ i-n-sk̑ e/o-, with secondary n-infix
(Klingenschmitt 1982: 78–9).
*d heu̯ gh- ‘hit upon, τιτύσκομαι ‘make ready, prepare, take τετυκε/ο-
succeed, be useful/ aim’
ready’ < *ti-tuk(h)-sk̑ e/o- (*d hi-d hugh-sk̑ e/o-?) (cf.
(LIV 148–9) Table 3.1)
*g̑ neh3- ‘recognise’ γιγνώσκω ‘recognise’
(LIV 168–70) < *g̑ i-g̑ n̥ h3-sk̑ e/o-
Contrast *g̑ n̥ h3-sk̑ e/o- and/or *g̑ neh3-
sk̑ e/o- in Lat. (g)nōscō ‘recognise, know’
(← *gnā-ske/o-, Rix 1995: 400), OPers.
3sg. subj. xšnāsātiy ‘shall recognise’, Arm.
čanač‘em ‘recognise’, Alb. njoh ‘know’
(Klingenschmitt 1982: 68).
*g u̯ eh2- ‘go’ (ἐπι)βιβάσκω ‘bring onto’
(LIV 205) < *g u̯ i-g u̯ h̥ 2-sk̑ e/o-
The infinitive ἐπιβασκέμεν at Il. 2.234
results from haplology; see Wackernagel
(1916: 18–19 n. 2).
*h2ep- (?) ἀπαφίσκω ‘cheat, beguile’ ἀπαφε/ο-
(cf. Table 3.1) ←< *h̥ 2p-h̥ 2p-i-sk̑ e/o- (?) (cf. Table 3.1)
*h2er- ‘fit, join’ ἀραρίσκω ‘fit together (sth.)’ ἀραρε/ο-
(LIV 269–70) < *h̥ 2r-h̥ 2r-i-sk̑ e/o-
*h2u̯ er- ‘lift’ (ἐπ)αυρίσκω/-ομαι ‘partake of, enjoy’ (ἐπ)αυρε/ο- (?)
(LIV 290) < *-h2e-h2u̯ r-i-sk̑ e/o- (?) (cf. Table 3.1)
8.37–8.45 Presents in *-sk̑ e/o- 487
Table 8.4. (cont.)
Reduplicated
aorist
Root Reduplicated present in *-sk̑ e/o- (cf. Table 3.1)
*kelh1- ‘call’ κικλήσκω ‘call’ κεκλε/ο-

(cf. LIV 361–2, s.v. < *ki-kl̥ h1-sk̑ e/o-
*kleh1-)
*mneh2- ‘think of, μιμνήσκω ‘remind’, μιμνήσκομαι
remember’ (?) ‘remember’
(PIE neo-root, to pres. < *mi-mn̥ h2-sk̑ e/o-
*mneh2-i̯e/o-, aor. Contrast isolated μνήσκεται (coni.
*mneh2-s- from nominal μνήσεται?) in Anacr. fr. 94.4 Bergk, most
*mn-eh2 likely an artificial creation.
‘remembrance’?)
(LIV 447)
*sleh2- ‘gratify, appease’ ἱλάσκομαι ‘make propitious’
(cf. LIV 530, s.v. *selh2-; ←< *si-sl̥ h2-sk̑ e/o- (cf. Table 4.1)
Table 4.1) Contrast *sl̥ h2-sk̑ e/o- in Arm.
ałač‘em ‘ask’.
*u̯ ei̯k̑ - ‘enter, assimilate’ ἐΐσκω ‘make like, compare, deem’
(LIV 669–70) < *u̯ e-u̯ ik̑ -sk̑ e/o-
*u̯ erh1- ‘find’ εὑρίσκω ‘find’ εὑρε/ο-
(cf. LIV 698, s.v. < *u̯ e-u̯ r[h1]-i-sk̑ e/o-
*u̯ reh1-)
Extending the argument presented in 8.41 for *-sk̑ e/o- presents next to
root aorists, the reduplicated formation in *-sk̑ e/o- can now be explained in
the same way: as an imperfectivised version of the reduplicated aorist, in
which the expected thematic vowel *-e/o- has again been updated into
*-sk̑ e/o-.190 So these are not so much reduplicated variants of unredupli-
cated presents in *-sk̑ e/o- (= [reduplication + [root + *-sk̑ e/o-]]), but presents
in *-sk̑ e/o- based on reduplicated stems (= [[reduplication + root] +
*-sk̑ e/o-]). As a type, they thus constitute a modernised variant of the
reduplicated thematic present (4.50).
Once more, this does not mean that each individual lexeme must have
been matched by a reduplicated aorist when it was created. However, a
fundamental correlation with the reduplicated aorist is still noticeable,
190
Where applicable, the reduplication vowel *-i- has been generalised as in most reduplicated
presents (4.25). In δε(ι)δίσκομαι and ἐΐσκω, the historical e-reduplication is either due to secondary
dissimilation or an association with the perfect (fn. 191).
488 The s-Aorist
both formally and semantically. About half of the Homeric items occur
next to an attested reduplicated aorist and many also attest the character-
istic factitive value of the reduplicated aorist, unlike their unreduplicated
counterparts.191 Also, the difficult suffix variant *-iske/o-, which gradually
spreads (cf. e.g. later Attic θνῄσκω ‘die’192), is perhaps best taken to
originate in lexemes like ἀπαφίσκω, ἀραρίσκω, and εὑρίσκω where the
insertion of an anaptyctic *-i- could help to prevent unhelpful cluster
simplifications of *-C-ske/o- (→ †ἀπασκε/ο-, †ἀρασκε/ο-, †εὑσκε/ο-; but
note *ti-tuk(h)-ske/o- > τιτυσκε/ο-).193
8.45 Reduplicated Presents in *-sk̑ e/o- outside Greek

Since the reduplicated aorists have generally been marginalised (3.36), it
makes sense that reduplicated presents in *-sk̑ e/o- almost exclusively occur
in Greek where the reduplicated aorist with its specialised factitive func-
tionality survives fairly well. Even in Indo-Iranian (Vedic), where a similar
correlate would have been available, the paradigmatic coordination of the
reduplicated aorists with a separate present-stem type (Class X presents:
3.16) meant that a *C1i-C1C-sk̑ e/o- structure was no longer needed, and
when it therefore disappeared among the factitives, there was nothing left
to ensure its survival elsewhere.
191
If the perfect were the derivational basis for *δειδίσκομαι ‘frighten’ (cf. perf. δείδω < *de-du̯ oi̯-a,
Table 5.1), ἐΐσκω (cf. perf. ἔοικα, Table 5.1), and perhaps μιμνήσκω/-ομαι (cf. perf. μέμνημαι), the
type’s reduplication would have been the tertium comparationis, just as it was for δε(ι)δίσκομαι
‘welcome, greet’ next to an intensive present (4.17); but the factitive meaning cannot be sourced
from there. Verbs like ἐπιβιβάσκω (cf. factitive aor. ἔβησα) show that the factitive functionality of
the reduplicated present in *-σκε/ο- secondarily triggered the creation of such forms also when the
corresponding factitive aorist was not reduplicated; but factitivity never was a condicio sine qua non:
cf. e.g. post-Hom. τιτρώσκω ‘wound’ and ἐκτιτρώσκω ‘miscarry’ (6.17), pass. πιπράσκομαι ‘am
sold’, and even intr. διδράσκω ‘run’ (Schwyzer 1939: 710, Giacalone Ramat 1967: 108–9).
192
Schwyzer (1939: 709–10). Following J. Schmidt (1904), Schwyzer relates -ισκε/ο- to ‘long-
diphthong’ roots, but the only potentially relevant lexeme is πιπίσκω ‘give to drink’ to *peh3(i̯)-
‘drink’ (*pi-pih3-sk̑ e/o- ← *pi-ph3i-sk̑ e/o-?) and this is more likely built to factitive πισα- (Table 8.3)
by analogy with other factitive reduplicated presents in -σκε/ο-; and even if it were not, why should
it have been segmented as πι-π-ίσκω rather than πι-πί-σκω? Despite the superficial parallel of Lat.
expergīscor ‘awaken’ and similar verbs (Hirt 1899: 33), a PIE origin of *-isk̑ e/o- is also rejected by
Klingenschmitt (1982: 72–4), Vine (1993), and Beckwith (2002). Vine’s explanation via *TR̥ h1-sk̑ e/o-
> *ToRi-ske/o- is hard to sustain when the outcome of *TR̥ H- sequences in *-sk̑ e/o- verbs is usually
*TRV̄ -ske/o-, Beckwith’s replacement of *-ιζε/ο- by -ισκε/ο- has a doubtful starting point, and
Keller’s (1992: 291–2) and Ruijgh’s (1997: 272) analysis of the *-i- as the zero grade of suffixal *-i̯é/ó-
is formally and functionally questionable. For ‘cluster-preserving’ *-i- elsewhere in Greek, cf.
πίτνημι ‘spread out’, σκίδνημι ‘disperse’, etc. (for †πτνημι, †σκδνημι), even if the use of *-i- here
arose by association with i-reduplicating presents (Petersen 1926, Schwyzer 1939: 351, Lejeune 1972:
208, Ruijgh 1995: 351) or with some verb with radical *-i- (Szemerényi 1986).
193
Ιn κικλήσκω (to aor. κεκλε/ο- < *ke-kl[h1]-e/o-: 3.8, 6.27), *ki-kl̥ -sk̑ e/o- > †ki-kla-sk̑ e/o- was adjusted
differently, by introducing a more regular zero-grade shape of the root (*ki-kl̥ h1-sk̑ e/o-; cf.
γιγνώσκω etc. to roots with *-h2/3-).
And yet, Greek is not entirely isolated. Firstly, there is the Latin verb
discō ‘learn’, for which a derivation from *di-dk̑ -sk̑ e/o- (to *dek̑ - ‘receive,
perceive’) remains the most straightforward explanation.194 Secondly, and
more revealingly, the third branch where the reduplicated aorist survived in
the factitive domain, Tocharian, also hints at the existence of reduplicated
presents in *-sk̑ e/o-, thereby securing the type for the proto-language
itself.195 It is true that the Tocharian Class IX presents in *-sk̑ e/o- are not
reduplicated as such (8.28). However, the vocalism of the causatives among
them (Class IXb) points to an unusual initial accent, and this has been
explained as due to the form once having being reduplicated. The details,
which are again controversial, need not detain us;196 but the fact itself
underscores the structural relationship between reduplicated aorists and
reduplicated presents in *-sk̑ e/o-.
8.46–8.52 Ablaut in the PIE s-Aorist

8.46 Regular s-Aorist Vocalism in Greek and Indo-Iranian
The question of the s-aorist’s root-vowel grade has been touched upon
occasionally throughout this chapter (8.2, 8.26, 8.29–8.30, 8.38). To look
more carefully at this contentious issue is the last task before we can finally
try to determine the precise place of the s-aorist in the verbal system of
Proto-Indo-European. It will soon become clear why questions of ablaut
are not irrelevant in this respect.
194
Thus M. Leumann (1977: 586); contrast Thurneysen (1921: 199) (*di-dk̑ -e/o- > *dikk-e/o- → *disk-e/o-),
Keller (1992: 110–16) (perhaps “*dºk-ske/o-”), LIV 110–11, s.v. *dek̑ - (remake of Pre-Latin desiderative
*di-dk̑ -se/o- > *dik-se/o- → *dik-ske/o-), Klingenschmitt (2009) (‘*dis-dekō “I take apart (mentally)”’).
195
If the reduplication were a Greek innovation (Giacalone Ramat 1967: 107–8, Rix 1992: 213–14), the
rationale for it would be difficult to see anyway. By contrast, because of the continued productivity
of both reduplication and the suffix *-sk̑ e/o- in Hittite (4.9, 8.37), the occasional occurrence of stems
like Hitt. lahhilahhiške/a-zi ‘be anxious’ (Hoffner and Melchert 2008: 174) is less relevant.
196 ˘˘ ˘˘
Original reduplication is assumed e.g. by Krause and Thomas (1960: 211) and Malzahn (2010: 452–
9), against Eyþórsson (1997). Malzahn rightly doubts that the apparent initial accent, which
synchronically correlates with causativity (Winter 1980; cf. Hackstein 1995: 3), may also be
identified diachronically as the marker of this feature. However, her own view that we “have to
start with causative/oppositional transitive present stems . . . that in general had a root vowel pre-
PT *e > PT *’ä in the active and ended in (mostly suffixal) PT *-ā-” and that “must also either have
been reduplicated right from the start, or acquired reduplication secondarily at some stage in (pre-)
PT times” is too complex when these Proto-Tocharian present stems are at the same time thought
to be based on an unreduplicated preterite. More likely, the relationship between aor. *C1e-C1C-e/o-
and pres. *C1i-C1C-sk̑ e/o- was updated after the descendant of the aorist had acquired the preterital
marker Proto-Toch. *-a- (3.26). Next to the reduplicated preterite stem Proto-Toch. *C’ǽC-a- >
*C’áC-a- (cf. 3.30), a renewed reduplicated *-sk̑ e/o- present would have been *C’áC-a-sśä/skæ-,
producing the required outcome if (with Malzahn 2010: 458–9) presuffixal *-ä- replaced *-a- here.
490 The s-Aorist
In Greek, primary s-aorists normally show an e-graded root throughout
the paradigm. In Vedic, on the other hand, the oldest layer of s-aorists (and
is-aorists) features roots with a lengthened ē-grade in the active indicative/
˙
injunctive and with a regular e-grade only in the middle indicative and in
the active and middle subjunctive.197 Although exceptions to this rule are
relatively frequent, notably with an e-grade in the active and a zero grade in
the middle/subjunctive, they tend to occur in items for which a root-aorist
origin is likely for other reasons as well. Thus, it is safe to conclude that the
former pattern, which is matched in Avestan,198 is more ancient.
To explain the Greek situation as innovated and due to a combination of
factors is not too difficult. Firstly, in *CeRC- and *CeI̯ C- roots a full grade
would replace a lengthened grade by Osthoff’s Law and thus produce a
paradigm without gradation (e.g., *dēi̯k̑ -s- > *dei̯k-s- → δειξα-). This could
then be copied by other roots, not least because the coordination of a
strong stem with *-ē- and a weak stem with *-e- was unusual anyway,
whereas non-ablauting verbs with full-grade root were common. Secondly,
as noted before (6.14, 6.21, 8.3), many s-aorists continue older root aorists,
and these would naturally possess an active (singular) e-grade.199
8.47 Lengthened-Grade Evidence outside Indo-Iranian

Lengthened-grade evidence is not confined to Indo-Iranian. Of particular
relevance are the following data:
1. In Greek, there are a number of synchronically irregular forms which
can be accounted for if the active s-aorist once featured a long ē-vowel.
Thus, the Homeric (Aeolic) aor. 3sg. ἐγήρᾱ ‘grew old’ (to *g̑ erh2-) need
not imply an ill-substantiated acrostatic root aorist but can be traced to
a lengthened-grade s-aorist *(h1e-)g̑ ērh̥ 2-s-t > *(e-)gēras → (e-)gēra-s-e >
(e-)gēra-h-e > ἐγήρᾱ (not remade into †ἐγήρασ(σ)ε vel sim. because of
the parallelism with the common intransitive aorists in *-ā(t): ἔβη,
ἔστη, ἔτλη, ἔφθη; Table 6.1, Table 6.2).200 Similarly, no acrostatic root
present is necessary to justify μήδομαι ‘plan, contrive, take care’ next to
197
See Narten (1964: esp. 17, 21–2, 23–4, 30, 34, 37, 50–4, 57–8, 60–1, 63, 64–5), to be held against
Watkins (1962a: 46–52). Narten (1964: 51–2, with nn. 121, 124) rejects Kuryłowicz’s (1956: 162) claim
that the ablaut of the is-aorist was originally different (full grade vs. zero grade) from that of the s-
aorist. ˙
198
Kellens (1984: 366–8, 371–2).
199
These factors were overlooked by Watkins (1962a: 23–5); but his criticism of Kuryłowicz’s (1956:
272–5) artificial explanation of the full-grade roots in Greek remains valid.
200
See Barton (1982) and Harđarson (1993a: 72–6), against Peters (1980a: 314), Tremblay (2005: 651–
2), and the older theory that ἐγήρᾱ replaces an *ἔγρᾱ (< *(h1e-)g̑ reh2-t) of doubtful status (Schwyzer
1939: 708, Gil 1964: 176, V. Schmidt 1968: 16–18).
μέδομαι ‘provide for, plan, devise’ (to *med-, 4.44) if the long-vocalic
variant is backformed from an s-aorist stem *mēd-s(a)- > μησα- (3sg.
ἐμήσατο ‘planned, contrived’).201 Attractive too is the explanation of
aor. γημα- ‘marry’ as *gēm-s(a)- to *gem- ‘seize’ (cf. Table 6.2);202 if pres.
γαμέω is derived from *gm̥ -éi̯e/o- (5.44, fn. 166), no aorist *gam-s(a)- >
*gāma- > γημα- should be expected, and since *gem-s(a)- would yield
†γειμα- rather than γημα-, the lengthened-grade solution is most
economical.
2. In Slavic, an ē-grade is directly attested in a number of s-aorists (e.g.,
OCS 1sg. věsъ ‘led’ < *u̯ ēd h-s-, rěchъ ‘said’ < *rēk-s-, něsъ ‘carried’ <
*h1nēk̑ -s-). Because their root vowel was lengthened in comparison
with the corresponding presents (vedǫ , rekǫ , nesǫ ), other long-vowel –
or, where the presents were zero-graded, possibly full-vowel – s-aorists
were created by the same principle (e.g., 1sg. aor. basъ ‘pricked’ <
*bhōd h-s- vs. pres. bodǫ < *bhod h-e/o-; mrěchъ ‘died’ < *mēr̆ -s- vs. pres.
mьrǫ < *mr̥ -e/o-). Correlative lengthening thus became a distinctive
mark of the formation, but it could hardly have triggered the intro-
duction of an entirely new long-vocalic pattern if there had not already
been long vowels in the inherited type;203 and attempts to account for
these through a process of compensatory lengthening after the simpli-
fication of *-Cs- clusters204 not only have to disregard the non-Slavic
evidence but also encounter the obstacle that no compensatory length-
ening occurs in similar environments elsewhere.
3. A long-vocalic s-aorist is hinted at by the occasional inscriptional apex
on Latin s-perfect forms (rēxī ‘directed’, tēxī ‘covered’, trāxī ‘pulled’;
contrast e.g. gessī ‘carried’, not †gēsī). However, the evidential value of
this material is limited.205 Firstly, one could argue, for example, that
201
See 8.5, fn. 23, following Dunkel (2010: 19 n. 3) against LIV 423, s.v. 1. *med-, and Meier-Brügger
(1992b: 242); Lamberterie (1993: 145–8) operates with *me(h1)d-. Szemerényi’s (1996: 282) idea that
ἔρρηξα ‘broke’ presupposes *u̯ rēg̑ -s-, not *u̯ rēh̆ 1g̑ -, because aor. pass. ῥαγη- cannot continue *u̯ r̥ h1g̑ -
eh1-, is weaker because ῥαγ- can be an analogical new zero grade (cf. LIV 698, s.v. *u̯ reh1g̑ -, Drinka
1995a: 94; note the verbal adj. ῥηκτός, not †ῥακτός).
202
Szemerényi (1964: 187); for the connection of γαμέω etc. with *gem-, see already Hermann (1918:
220; 1934: 61) and Maass (1928: 17).
203
Pace Watkins (1962a: 41–6), according to whom *-ē- was instituted merely to distinguish present
from aorist stems because they already differed in pairs like pres. *mr̥ -e/o- vs. aor. *mer-s-.
204
See Pisani (1934: 409), Otkupščikov (1963: 154–61), and Drinka (1995a: 38–44); contra, Mathiassen
(1969) and Arumaa (1985: 304–6). Advocating something similar for the lengthened grade in the
Indo-Iranian s-aorist forces Drinka (1995a: 8–33) to treat as independent innovations even the long
vowels of Avestan and Vedic.
205
M. Leumann (1977: 593) concludes that ‘none of the attested vowel lengths in Latin can be used to
support the lengthened grade of an e a o in the s-aorist, only perhaps the Oscan initial ō of uupsens
*ōpsent to the root op (in Lat. opus “work”)’. On the Oscan form, cf. 8.20, fn. 86.
492 The s-Aorist
the long vowel of an item like intellēxī ‘understood’ is due to the
corresponding simplex lēgī ‘collected’ and that the relationship perf.
-lēxī : pres. -legō was then copied into perf. tēxī : pres. tegō, etc.206
Secondly, there is often a correlation between the vocalism of an s-
perfect and the perfect participle (e.g., tēxī ~ tēctus, like gessī ~ gessus,
spexī ‘observed’ ~ spectus). Even if a direct influence from the passive
participle onto the active s-perfect is unlikely,207 it is still possible to
maintain that the process which produced the length in some parti-
ciples but not others also applied to the relevant s-perfects.208 In such a
perspective, only vēxī (~ ptcpl. vectus) would remain a potential piece
of evidence for an inherited ē-grade, but this form might then just as
well be analogical (for *vexī) after tēxī, rēxī, and -lēxī. After all, the
thematic present vehō was structurally more similar to tegō, regō, etc.
than to speciō ‘observe’ or flectō ‘bend’ whose perfects spexī and flexī
could have supported *vexī.
4. In Celtic, the u-vocalism (instead of o-vocalism) of the preverb in t-
preterite forms such as OIr. -tu-bart ‘gave’ suggests that the vowel of the
following syllable was originally *-i-, not *-e-. The form *birt which is
thus presupposed “can be generated straightforwardly enough from one
characterised by lengthened grade *bīr-s- < *bhēr-s-, whether throughout
or in the singular active alone”.209 On the assumption that this was the
regular pattern in every inherited s-aorist, full-grade forms like OIr. -acht
‘drove’ or at‧recht ‘rose’ (*ag̑ st, *reg̑ st) would then have to be modelled
after the present stems *ag-e/o- and *reg-e/o- (*h2eg̑ -e/o-, *h3reg̑ -e/o-).
5. For all the controversy around the Tocharian s-preterite (8.30), there is
almost universal210 agreement that the category’s palatalisation is due
to the root vowel being PIE *-ē- (not *-o-) in at least the obviously
sigmatic 3sg. Hence, Tocharian too supports a PIE s-aorist with a
lengthened grade in the active voice.
206
Cf. Osthoff (1884: 113–14), Watkins (1962a: 30–5), also on (*)rēgī → rēxī.
207
Pace Drinka (1995a: 91–2); she regards the length in vēxī and trāxī as analogical after tēxī etc.
(Drinka 1995a: 81 n. 213; similarly Watkins 1962a: 35–7).
208
The long-vowel participles themselves have been much discussed since ‘Lachmann’s Law’ (vowel
lengthening before an etymological voiced stop followed by *-to-) was first observed (Lachmann
1850: 54–5; cf. Kent 1928, Kuryłowicz 1968b, Watkins 1970, Strunk 1976, M. Leumann 1977: 114,
Collinge 1985: 105–14, Kortlandt 1989b; 1999, Baldi 1991, Drinka 1995a: 76–91). In line with the
argument of Jasanoff (2004), which implies Lachmann sequences also before *-s- (e.g., *kad-to- >
*kat-to- > *kas-so- → restituted *kad-so- > *kāsso- > cāsus ‘fallen’), one could assume *teg-s- > *tek-s-
→ restituted *teg-s- > *tēk-s- (but *u̯ eg̑ h-s- > *u̯ ek(h)-s- → restituted *u̯ ex-s- > *u̯ ek-s-).
209
McCone (1991a: 64–9), arguing against Watkins (1962a: 21–2); cf. Schumacher (2004: 63–4).
210
Watkins (1962a: 66) wanted to “derive lyautsa from IE *leudh-s-”; but *(h1)leu̯ d h-s- would produce
*lyuts(a)-.
8.48 The s-Aorist as an ‘Acrostatic’ Type?
In his early article on the s-aorist, Meillet highlighted as unusual the lack
of ablaut in the suffix: ‘everything looks as if there was a purely conso-
nantal suffix *-s-’.211 Together with both the belief that normally ‘the
vocalic alternations used in inflection concern only the element before the
ending, never the element before the suffix’ and the observation that
elsewhere ‘the lengthened grade almost exclusively appears . . . in final
syllables, or before a series of short syllables’, this constituted a central
argument for Meillet’s thesis that the s-aorist is a secondary formation,
based on pre-existing stems rather than roots, and as such a latecomer in
the system.212 Although this last conclusion is still widely cited, its basis is
no longer shared by all those Indo-Europeanists who reconstruct ‘acro-
static’ (‘acrodynamic’) and ‘amphidynamic’ (‘holodynamic’/‘holoki-
netic’) paradigms: the former are supposed to show ablaut alternations
in the presuffixal root, the latter alternations in root and ending despite
an intervening suffix.213 On the basis of the evidence mustered in 8.46,
the s-aorist has thus been identified as an ‘acrostatic’ (‘acrodynamic’) type
more recently.214
As such the s-aorist would be comparable with the ‘acrostatic’
(‘Narten’) root presents, which are reconstructed mainly on the basis of
Indo-Iranian material (3.40). The only major differences would be that
the acrostatic root presents (a) by definition do not contain a suffix and (b)
are commonly thought to have shown, like other root presents, an ablaut
difference between the active singular and plural (3sg. *Cḗ C-ti vs. 3pl.
*CéC-n̥ ti). In reality, the evidence for the e-graded plural is very doubt-
ful,215 but even if it were not, one might of course ascribe the divergent
behaviour of the s-aorist plural to analogical levelling after the singular.
Leaving open this particular issue, we would thus obtain the following
parallelism:
211
Meillet (1908: 81–2).
212
Meillet (1908: 82–3); that presuffixal elements do not ablaut is Saussure’s (1879: 186) idea.
213
For an overview, see Rix (1992: 122–4) and Meier-Brügger (2002: 216–17), both primarily
referring to nominal types (after Schindler 1975: 262–4). The overarching principles are the
same in the verb.
214
Insler (1972a), Strunk (1985: 495–7).
215
See especially Insler (1972a: 55–6, 59–60), and the summary of Beekes (1990: 44): “From the roots
that have active forms: taks-, stu-, mr̥ j-, daś- and śās-, the last form is irrelevant as full and lengthened
grade cannot be distinguished˙ . . ., and from daś- all forms have dāś(a)-. stu- and mr̥ j- have zero grade
in the plural (stuvanti, mr̥ jánti). So only taks- remains, which provides táksati, ataksma, atasta in the
˙
Rigveda”. The evidential value of taks- is limited ˙ and tās˙- in 3sg.˙tās
because taks- in 3pl. taksati ˙ ti may
actually both continue *tek̑ þ- (3.33, ˙fn. 84). ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙˙
494 The s-Aorist
Acrostatic root present s-aorist

sg. 1 *Cē ́C-mi pl. 1 *Cē̆C-meś ́
sg. 1 *Cē ́C-s-m̥ pl. 1 *Cē̆C-s-me
2 *Cē ́C-si ́
2 *Cē̆C-te 2 *Cē ́C-s-s ́
2 *Cē̆C-s-te
3 *Cē ́C-ti ́ ̥ ti
3 *Cē̆C-n 3 *Cē ́C-s-t ́
3 *Cē̆C-s-n ̥t
The question is what to make of this. Since it seems clear that accent-
uation alone did not cause lengthening in Proto-Indo-European, we must
above all account for the unambiguous lengthened-grade forms.216
8.49 Theories of ‘Aufstufung’

According to Kuryłowicz, the lengthened grade in the s-aorist was a
derivational marker. When the s-aorist stem – originally a full-graded
present stem in *-s- – was ‘aoristified’ and thus aspectually paired with
other present stems, including some with zero-grade roots, the difference
in vowel grade that was observable between the present and the aorist stem
in such instances was copied by others where the present stem also had a
full-grade root (so that only the *-s- marked the aorist). Thus, since a
relationship like pres. *CC-é/ó- ~ aor. *CéC-s- implied the addition of *-e-
in the root of the aorist, one like pres. *CéC-e/o- ~ aor. *CéC-s- was adjusted
into pres. *CéC-e/o- ~ aor. *Cē ́C-s- (as if *CéeC-s-). Finally, the outcome of
this innovation spread to all s-aorists.217
To a comparative linguist who is used to thinking in terms of reduced vs.
full vs. lengthened grades, such a process may look plausible. However, it is
doubtful that any speaker of Proto-Indo-European would have analysed
his or her language in such a way. Whatever the corresponding present
stem was, the aorist stem would have been clearly marked by the *-s- alone.
And if it had been a matter of differentiating the root in present vs. aorist
stems, why was the same principle not also applied in the middle and
subjunctive where the stem distinction should have been equally
important?
Only the latter objection does not apply to an alternative hypothesis put
forward by Strunk.218 For Strunk too, what is at stake is a process of
‘secondary upgrading’ (“Sekundäraufstufung”), and he also starts with a
full-graded (non-ablauting) paradigm (3sg. *CéC-s-t, 3pl. *CéC-s-n̥ t). Next
to this, there was the normal ablauting root-aorist paradigm (3sg. *CéC-t,
216
The lengthened grade is simply accepted as a given by Insler (1972a). Adrados (1971: 109) opines that
“it is the result of adding s to root stems with that particular vocalism” (cf. Adrados 1974: 2.717–18,
2.724–5).
217
Kuryłowicz (1956: 160–2).
218
Strunk (1985: 498–507); cf. Sukač (2013: 100–1). For a variant of this, with the lengthening used to
differentiate between the active and middle voices, see Patri (1996: 237–42).
3pl. *CC-ént; 6.6). Because the ‘strong’ stem of the latter differed from the
‘weak’ stem by having an additional *-e- in the root, a similar difference
would have been introduced into the s-type, by adding a radical *-e- in the
strong-stem slots (active singular: e.g., 3sg. *Cḗ C-s-t, as if *CéeC-s-t). This
avoids one of the obstacles Kuryłowicz’s theory faces: the middle is a weak-
stem category and must therefore retain the full-grade root. For the
subjunctive, things are less clear. The subjunctive of an ordinary ablauting
root formation also has a full-grade (or ‘strong-stem’) root (cf. e.g. Ved.
3sg. aor. ind. ákar ‘has made’ vs. 3sg. aor. subj. kár-a-t(i)). So why should it
not have received the lengthened grade in the s-aorist?219 Moreover, in
another respect Strunk’s scenario is even more counterintuitive than
Kuryłowicz’s. If the ‘normal’ root aorists/presents had served as a model
for the s-aorists (and acrostatic presents), surely it would have been sensible
to keep unchanged the paradigmatically central active singular, whose
vowel grade was identical in the two types (e.g., 3sg. *CéC-s-t like
*CéC-t), and to invent a new ‘weak’ stem for the plural (e.g., 3pl. *CéC-s-n̥ t
→ *CC-s-ént like *CC-ént).
8.50 ‘Acrostatic’ Presents vs. s-Aorists

Since the morphological theories of Kuryłowicz and Strunk turn out to be
unhelpful, it may be best to look for a solution on a different, phonological
level. If all goes well, we may then not even have to reconstruct two
paradigmatic types that were functionally indistinguishable but accentually
distinct: namely ‘acrostatic’ vs. ‘normal’ (‘amphidynamic’) root formations.
In 3.40, it has been suggested that the acrostatic root-present type
originates from reduplicated formations to *TeT- roots with cluster
simplification and compensatory lengthening. Subsequently, it would
have spread to roots whose phonological layout would not have prompted
lengthening to begin with.220 To this, one might perhaps object that, like a
219
For Strunk (1985: 504), the subjunctive’s ‘radical full grade . . . was probably left unchanged because,
in conjunction with the thematic vowel, it was so common and normal elsewhere in this mood that
a later subjunctival stem formation with lengthened grade and thematic vowel would have been
unique in the entire verbal system’; but prior to ‘secondary upgrading’, lengthened-grade indica-
tives would have been just as uncommon, so that the phenomenon should have been prevented in
the indicative too.
220
Thus e.g. *stēu̯ -t(i) ‘praises’ (cf. Ved. 3sg. impf. astaut ‘praised’, OAv. 1sg. pres. stāumī ‘praise’; LIV
600, s.v. *steu̯ -) built to stative/proto-medial *stéu̯ -o(i̯) ‘boasts, is renowned’ (>→ Gr. στεῦται
‘boasts, declares’; cf. Ved. stáve ‘is renowned’, 4.34) by analogy with *dēk̑ -t(i) ~ stative/proto-medial
*dek̑ -o(i̯) ‘receives’ (>→ Gr. δέχεται, impf. (*)δέκτο (?); cf. Table 6.2). Somewhat differently,
Lindeman (1972a: 70–5) thinks of analogical influence from the s-aorist, and Kortlandt (2015: 239)
from monosyllabic root aorists, but they agree that *stēu̯ ti cannot be very old, and the same appears
to be true for the Indo-Iranian acrostatic presents more generally (Anciferova 1988). Since thematic
496 The s-Aorist
reduplication syllable, the lengthened grade should not then be restricted
to the singular. However, it has already been stressed that there is in fact
hardly any evidence to suggest that the ‘acrostatic’ plural had a full grade
(8.48, with fn. 215). Where it does differ from the singular, we rather see a
zero grade; and since this equals the situation in ‘normal’ root paradigms,
such zero grades may have been introduced secondarily, by analogy with
the ‘normal’ type.
We are thus able to equate the columnar initial accent of the ‘acrostatic’
presents with the old accent on reduplication syllables (cf. 3.42, 4.24). But
if the acrostatic type thus loses its structural autonomy among the present
stems, what about the s-aorist? To posit a reduplicated origin here too
would be an ultima ratio. Fortunately, there is a much better alternative.
8.51 Monosyllabic Lengthening?

According to Kortlandt, who takes up a remark of Wackernagel’s, the
2sg. and 3sg. forms of the s-aorist underwent a process of vowel lengthen-
ing in monosyllables (3sg. *CeC-s-t → *CēC-s-t).221 The resulting long
vowel then spread, although some non-lengthened forms may have been
fossilised here or there, notably in the injunctive.222 Such a theory would
neatly explain why the subjunctive and middle, which are not mono-
syllabic, do not have a long vowel. And if the spread was only partial, even
the Greek e-vocalic s-aorist would not have to be ascribed exclusively to
the factors cited in 8.46.
However, the evidence for the alleged lengthening process itself is weak.
Apart from the s-aorist, Wackernagel mentions only nominal forms for
which a different explanation, unrelated to monosyllabicity, seems prefer-
able: according to ‘Szemerényi’s Law’, nominatives of (at least) the struc-
ture *(-)CVR/s-s developed into *(-)CV̄ R/s through cluster assimilation
followed by degemination with compensatory lengthening.223 Moreover,
if monosyllable lengthening had been a reality in Proto-Indo-European,
and athematic middle presents with full-grade root both ultimately continue the same prototype
*CéC-o(i̯) (4.34–4.42, 10.25), the existence of such middle forms alone never justifies the recon-
struction of an already PIE acrostatic present (cf. Melchert 2014: 252).
221
Kortlandt (1987b: 219–20), after Wackernagel (1896: 68); cf. Beekes (1990: 42–3) and Kortlandt
(1997: 133–4; 2004; 2015), and for important criticism Kümmel (2012a).
222
Since the injunctive is a relic category, which may preserve archaisms, this assumption is less
paradoxical than Strunk (1985: 497 n. 11) claims: when the s-aorists became augmented, well after
the presumed monosyllabicity → lengthening rule had operated, the more recent (lengthened)
variants would have been preferred.
223
After Szemerényi (1956: 190–6), see now Szemerényi (1996: 115–18), where the principle is not
restricted to *-R/s- before *-s and where forerunners are named. Apart from positing a new phoneme
with peculiar side-effects (Rasmussen 1994: 329–32), the only way to deny the law would be to
why did the root aorists, where 2sg./3sg. *CeC-s/t → *CēC-s/t should have
applied a fortiori, not end up with a long-vocalic root as well?224
8.52 Szemerényi’s Law and the s-Aorist

Yet, it is precisely Szemerényi’s Law which shows a way forward.
Szemerényi himself wondered if “an aorist *bher-s-m̥ could have given
rise to *bhērm̥ and later, with restored s, to *bhērsm̥ . The development
found for the word end is also adequate to explain the 2nd and 3rd s.
*bher-s-s > *bhēr, *bher-s-t > *bhēr, which were later reshaped to *bhēr-s(s)
and *bhēr-s-t respectively”.225 This does not lead very far, for two reasons.
Firstly, it presupposes that the change *-VRs- > *-VRR- > *-V̄ R- also
occurred word-internally, where there is no independent support for
it;226 and even granting that, the subjunctive (*bher-s-e/o-) and middle
(3sg. *bhers-to, etc.) should have undergone the same treatment.
Secondly, since Szemerényi explicitly states that “this lengthening has in
itself nothing to do with the -s but only with the doubling of the con-
sonant”,227 how likely is it that a 3sg. such as *bher-s-t developed into *bherrt
in the first place (rather than, say, into *bher-t, whence again *bher-s-t with
restoration of *-s-)?
So it is wiser to operate with Szemerényi’s Law only at word-end. We
then obtain a lengthened grade in the 2sg. (e.g., *bher-s-s > *bhers > *bhēr).
Unlike the 3sg., this is not a form from which we can expect the long vowel
to have spread to the other singular slots, and eventually to the plural as
well. By contrast, if we could postulate for the pivotal 3sg. an archaic
structure *CeC-s(-Ø), rather than *CeC-s-t, that problem would disappear.
Every root in *-R/s could then have featured an s-aorist 3sg. of the type
*CēRs, in which the stem-marking *-s- would have been restituted at a later
point.
To take again *bher- ‘carry’, the development would have been the
following:
reconstruct a subgroup of (masculine) nominatives without *-s, but that is a high price to pay (pace
Beekes 1985: 151–62; 1990: 45; cf. 9.6, fn. 12).
224
Cf. Kümmel (2012a: 88–91), against the unsatisfactory justification given by Kortlandt (2004: 14).
Beekes (1990: 45) thinks that “the ablaut CeC-/CC- was so widespread and strong, that it resisted
transformation . . ., whereas there was no such constraint in the static inflexion”; but even accepting
the unmotivated coexistence of a ‘static’ and a ‘mobile’ paradigm, as soon as monosyllable
lengthening had begun, the ‘ablaut CēC-/CC-’ would automatically have been more widespread
and stronger than ‘CeC-/CC-’.
225
Szemerényi (1996: 118).
226
Contrast the situation at word-end, where sequences like *ph̥ 2ter-s > *ph̥ 2tēr > Gr. πατήρ ‘father’
explain the absence of nom. sg. *-s in all pertinent masculine stems (cf. 8.51, fn. 223).
227
Szemerényi (1996: 117).
498 The s-Aorist
1sg. *bher-s-m̥ > *bher-s-m̥ > *bher-s-m̥ → *bhēr-s-m̥

2sg. *b er-s-s > *b ēr
h h
→ *b ēr-s
h
> *bhēr-s
3sg. *b er-s
h
> *b ēr
h
→ *b ēr-s(-t) (with added 3sg. *-t) > *bhēr-s-t
h
Subsequently, the long vowel would have spread (a) to the plural and (b)
to roots not ending in *-R/s; but the full grade of the middle and sub-
junctive would simply preserve the original state of affairs. Moreover, non-
lengthened-grade evidence in the active of languages like Greek would
again not necessarily imply secondary shortenings (8.46).
In 8.31, we have come across a number of forms that have been
thought to point to an archaic 3sg. ending *-s, rather than *-s-t.
However, we have also seen that such an interpretation remains uncer-
tain. We must not therefore treat it as a confirmation for the evolution
just outlined. All we can say is that the above (revised) Szemerényi-type
approach to the s-aorist’s root vocalism is more promising than its compe-
titors. Ultimately its acceptability depends on whether a morphosystemic
argument can be made for a 3sg. type *CeC-s. And that brings us back to the
question how to explain the origin of the s-aorist as a functional category.
8.53–8.54 Whence the s-Aorist?

8.53 An Action Noun Turned Verbal?
It is a lasting achievement of Watkins’s discussion of the s-aorist to have
shown how an entire paradigm can be built around a 3sg. form. As we have
seen in 8.21, this is how the Celtic t-preterite came into being. Inherited
s-aorist forms like 3sg. *bhēr-s-t > *bērt were reinterpreted as *bēr-t-Ø (with
t-suffix and zero-ending) and thus provoked changes such as 1sg. *bēr-s-ū
→ *bēr-t-ū (with t-suffix instead of the original s-suffix).
Watkins himself stressed that a similar story may lie behind the
PIE s-aorist.228 If it all started with a 3sg. *CeC-s, reinterpreted as
*CeC-s-Ø, 1sg. *CeC-s-m̥ , 2sg. *CeC-s-s, 1pl. *CeC-s-me, etc. could all
be built from there, possibly well before the 3sg. itself was remodelled into
*CeC-s-t by analogy with ‘normal’ 3sg. forms in *-t. One condition for this
to happen might have been the existence of 3sg. forms with zero-ending
elsewhere in the verbal system. But given the ancestor formations of the
PIE perfect (*CóC-e: 5.27) and of the thematic conjugation (*CéC-e/o:
4.42), that condition was met at an early point anyway.
228
See Watkins (1962a: 97–106), in the wake of Burrow (1957: 75–6). Hill (2013: 173–4) adds a Baltic
parallel for this kind of paradigm constitution.
8.53–8.54 Whence the s-Aorist? 499
It would of course be hazardous to accept this reconstruction only to
make the scenario of 8.52 applicable to the s-aorist’s lengthened-grade root.
We should rather ask what else can be gained from it – especially in
comparison with the more conservative approach of declaring the *-s- a
suffix with perhaps ‘desiderative’ value but no real etymology.229 If
Watkins’s ideas on paradigm constitution made it possible to connect
the s-aorist with *CeC-s structures that are independently reconstructible,
our understanding of the category might deepen considerably. In this
spirit, Watkins himself writes:
There remains the question of what was, in fact, the original function of an
enlarged root form such as *preks. To such a question one can offer only more
or less unverifiable hypotheses. The interpretation of such a form as showing a
zero ending is sufficient to mark the form thenceforth as verbal, with the
consequences we have described. But when we consider the neutral, intransi-
tive value still present in such forms in the historical period, as well as the
formal identity of -s with the mark of the nominative singular, then it is hard
to avoid the supposition that the formation was originally nominal.
We may tentatively suggest that such nominal forms could be used
simply predicatively:
*Hneks ‘unnatural death (occurred)’
*preks ‘asking (occurred)’
The syntactic point of contact between the nominal and verbal expres-
sion could have been furnished by the nominal phrase, where no verb at all is
present.230
So, an early Proto-Indo-European would have translated an English
sentence like John turned round and asked . . . with the equivalent of ‘John
229
Cf. e.g. Jasanoff’s (1988b; 2003) theory, referred to in 8.30, or also those of Ambrosini (1962: 88–90, 96)
and Bader (1974: 14–22), for whom the *-s- designates ‘what is felt to be extra-subjective, mediated, and
non-real’ (Ambrosini) or is a root enlargement marking a form as ‘temporal’ (not: ‘aspectual’!), although
still ‘undifferentiated in terms of its value as a present or preterite’ (Bader). Whereas Meillet (1908; 1933:
129) and Adrados (1971; 1974: 2.699–732; 1981b) were even less committal, Kuryłowicz (1964a: 110; 1977:
76–9) paradoxically suggested that an initially meaningless *-s- formant was created by analogy with
forms not containing it (!) as speakers of Proto-Indo-European wrongly thought that root-aorist forms
ending in *-T-to had originated from *-T-s-to by loss of *-s-. – Not to probe further at such a point
because ‘suffixes cannot be etymologised’ would be a wrong-headed petitio principii before one has tried
to do it. To a synchronic linguist of French it might also seem pointless to trace back the ‘future suffix’ -r-
in chanterai, chanteras, etc. to the locative singular of a prehistoric nomen actionis, but the historical
linguist need not therefore refrain from doing so.
230
Watkins (1962a: 105–6); along similar lines, G. Schmidt (1986: 59) thinks that the verbal nouns in
*-(e/o)s- were used to express an ‘execution of the verbal action’. Erhart (1989: 22) also equates the
aorist marker *-s- with a nom. sg. in *-s, but he remains vague on the actual derivation. On
Dunkel’s (2010) proposal, see 8.54.
500 The s-Aorist
turned round and asking (occurred) (= *prek̑ s) . . . ’. As Watkins observes, this
cannot be proved or disproved, nor does it make much sense to query the
naturalness of such phrasing. But from our discussion of the Greek, Indo-
Iranian, Tocharian, and even Hittite data, we now know that Watkins’s idea
is based on a wrong premise. Far from being an intrinsically medial and
intransitive category, the s-aorist was placed at the high end of the transitivity
scale (8.7–8.11, 8.24–8.25, 8.30, 8.36). And since it is difficult to see how a
nomen actionis of the kind mentioned by Watkins could have turned into
such a high-transitive type, his genetic hypothesis is best abandoned too.
8.54 An Agent Noun Turned Verbal?

Somewhat less problematic in terms of the transitivity issue is an alternative
proposed more recently by Dunkel. Dunkel also suggests a nominal origin, but
thinks of a nomen agentis. In his view, whereas “*rḗ g̑ s h1esti or *so rḗ g̑ s” meant ‘he
is the leader’, “[f]or a non-continuous, abstract preteritality ‘he was leader’ one
could of course turn to the suppletive aorist of the verbum existentiae: *(so) rḗ g̑ s
ebhuHt”; but another option “might have been to verbally inflect (hypostasize)
the nominal predicate. The prefixation of the augment and the addition of the
secondary personal ending to *rḗ g̑ s would have produced a form which is
identical to the regular third singular s-aorist: *(so) e-rēg̑ s-t”.231
Given its inherent agentivity, a nomen agentis would square better with a
distinctly transitive offshoot than a nomen actionis does. Mutatis mutandis,
one might even compare the development of the – commonly transitive –
Hittite hi-conjugation root presents from verbalised nomina agentis (5.31).
However, ˘ the mere preteritisation of a phrase meaning ‘he is leader’ should
rather produce a form that is as imperfective as its present counterpart. One
could perhaps try to save the argument by assuming that Dunkel’s “*rē ́g̑ s” +
*-t at first indeed became imperfective, arguably with a present variant
*rḗ g̑ s-ti, that this accounts for the existence of PIE s-presents, and that
*rēg̑ s-t was aoristified, à la Kuryłowicz (cf. 2.18, 8.1, 8.7), when *rḗ g̑ s-t(i) no
longer meant ‘he is/was a leader’ but simply ‘he leads/led’. Also, a further
comparison, this time with the denominal *CoC-éi̯e/o- presents (5.34–5.39),
could be made to justify why it is this ‘denominal’ s-aorist – rather than the
truly verbal root aorist – that specialises in Greek and Tocharian at the top
(factitive) end of the transitivity scale.
But even then, one major stumbling block would persist. The nomina
agentis that are at the heart of Dunkel’s analysis remain a living category.
Dunkel himself equates, for example, his “*rē ́g̑ s” with the ancestor of Ved.
231
Dunkel (2010: 20), disavowing his earlier explanation by means of a particle *es (Dunkel 2004c: 122–3).
8.55 Conclusion 501
rā́ j-, Lat. rēx, OIr. rí ‘king’. So why should such a noun have been
reinterpreted as a verbal form? Here lies a crucial difference with the
*CoC-é agent nominals that underlie the Hittite hi-conjugation root pre-
sents. The verbalisation of *CoC-é may have been ˘triggered precisely by the
change of nominal *CoC-é into *CoC-é/ó-s, through the introduction of a
nominative ending *-s. We shall look at this innovation in more detail later
(9.5, 9.21, 10.30), but the essential point is this: when agentive nominals
such as *prok̑ é ‘asker’ or *g u̯ honé ‘killer’ were updated into *prok̑ ós, *g u̯ honós,
etc., the older versions could be stranded as predicates in phrases like *X
prok̑ é ‘X is an asker’, prompting their reanalysis as finite forms.
None of this means that Dunkel’s idea must be wrong. But its principal
strength lies on the phonological, not the morphosyntactic level. While it
does justice to the peculiar lengthened grade of the s-aorist (because the
development sketched in 8.52 is applicable), everything else is kept too
vague to make for a systemically coherent picture. Considering the time
depth we are reaching here, this might be unavoidable. However, it would
still be far better if we were able to elaborate a theory that accounts for the
function as well as the form of a paradigmatic *CeC-s nucleus.232 In the
next chapter we shall try to do so – though only after an important
preliminary step: we shall first have to orient ourselves in the largely
uncharted territory of ‘Pre-Proto-Indo-European’.
8.55 Conclusion
8.55 Conclusion
One of the main questions in this chapter has been why the s-aorist, though
widely attested, is such an elusive category when it comes to reconstruction
(8.1). By mapping the Greek s-aorist’s evolution and spread, often at the
expense of other aorist types (8.2–8.4), and by recognising the important
role it played as an aorist to (mainly thematic) root presents (8.5), we have
been able to infer that the formation was endowed with a high degree of
(semantic) transitivity (8.7). Within Greek, this conclusion is confirmed
both by the specialisation of the s-aorist in the factitive domain (8.9–8.11)
232
This cannot be said of the theories of Kretschmer (1947: 8–17) (*-s- as an infixed object pronoun,
with reference to PIE *so/to- ‘that’; but within Kretschmer’s ergative framework one should expect
*-t-: cf. 9.4), Shields (1981; 1992: 35–40) (*-s- as a temporal deictic particle ‘then’; but the
s-formations are not all preterital), Bammesberger (1985: 75–7) (*-s- extracted from a reanalysed
2sg. med. of a root aorist; but the middle voice is an unlikely place for this innovation to start and
Bammesberger’s base paradigm is questionable), and W. P. Lehmann (2002: 155–6) (*-s- as a
particle indicating proximity).
502 The s-Aorist
TRANSITIVITY
HIGH LOW
perfectives imperfectives
(REDUPLICATED) AORIST ‘S-FORM’ ROOT IPFV .

3sg.*C1é-C1C-t 3sg.*CeC-s[-t] 3sg.*CeC-t
(unmarked) telic
markedly high-trans. ipfv. > pfv.
ipfv. > pfv.
REDUPL. AORIST
*C1é-C1C-t
S-AORIST ROOT AORIST

−
*CeC-s-t *CeC-t
thematisation
simplified
reduplication
marginalised (> augment)
old form
REDUPL. AORIST THEMATIC AOR.

*C1é-C1C-e-t *h1é-CC-e-t
S-AORIST ROOT AORIST

−
*CeC-s-t *CeC-t
competition in
competition in general pfv. domain
factitive domain (→ spread of s-aor.)
(→ spread of s-aor.)
Fig. 8.1. Systemic relationships between reduplicated, thematic, root, and s-aorists
8.55 Conclusion 503
and by the peculiar morphosyntactic behaviour of the s-future; the latter
continues an old s-aorist subjunctive, whose frequent middle inflection
neutralises the transitivising force of the suffix (8.12–8.19).
A survey of s-aorist continuants in most other major branches of Indo-
European has then demonstrated that the distinct transitivity of the s-aorist is
not exclusive to Greek. While the evidence of Italic, Celtic, Slavic, and Baltic
is inconclusive (8.20–8.23), Indo-Iranian statistically supports the primacy of
transitive/active over intransitive/medial s-aorist forms (8.24–8.27). In
Tocharian, the situation is complex because the prehistories of, and relation-
ships between, s-presents, s-subjunctives, and s-preterites are controversial;
but here too at least the s-preterite’s association with the (high-transitive)
causative system seems relevant (8.28–8.30). In Hittite, a good number of
verbal stems in *-s- concur, and a ‘fientive’ stem class in -ēšš- is of special
interest: its semantics point to the objective bounding or telicisation, by
means of *-s-, of otherwise unbounded (stative) stems in *-eh1- (8.31–8.36).
Building on this, an excursus on the present stems in *-sk̑ e/o- has argued
for an analysis of this suffix as composite *-s-k̑ e/o- (8.37). The velar
component initially served to (re)imperfectivise stems otherwise marked
as perfective by the *-s- element (8.39–8.42). Once established, imperfec-
tivising *-sk̑ e/o- could however also be applied to non-sigmatic aorist stems,
including reduplicated ones (8.43–8.45).
The peculiar ablaut pattern of the s-aorist was highlighted in the next
section (8.46–8.47). Since morphological explanations for the lengthened
grade in the active voice remain unconvincing (8.48–8.49), a phonological
approach was advocated. In practice, this may necessitate the reconstruc-
tion of a ‘proto-s-aorist’ 3sg. *CeC-s, rather than *CeC-s-t (8.50–8.52).
There have been previous attempts to derive the s-aorist from a *CeC-s
source, by relating it to nomina actionis or nomina agentis of such a shape
(8.53–8.54). Because none of them is entirely satisfactory, for the time
being we can only conclude that any such theory must meet two conditions
to be suitable: (a) that the high-transitive nature of the s-aorist be attribu-
table already to the *CeC-s nucleus, and (b) that the functional relationship
of this nucleus with ‘normal’ root formations (3sg. *CeC-t) be such that a
*CeC-s form could in principle be built to most, if not all, roots, but that
*CeC-t prevailed over *CeC-s whenever it too was prototypically telic (e.g.,
*prek̑ -t ‘asked, demanded (sth.)’ ~ *prek̑ -s[-t] ‘do.’ vs. *bher-t ‘carried’ ~
*bher-s[-t] ‘do.’) (cf. 8.7). This would explain why the s-aorist is less
accessible to reconstruction, although its PIE existence beside root and
other aorists is undeniable.
Fig. 6.3 is now updated into Fig. 8.1.
chapter 9
From Proto-Indo-European to
Pre-Proto-Indo-European
9.1 Uhlenbeck’s Ergative Hypothesis
In 1901, the Dutch comparative and anthropological linguist Christianus
Cornelius Uhlenbeck published a short note entitled “Agens und Patiens
im Kasussystem der indogermanischen Sprachen”, which opened a new
chapter in Indo-European philology. Highlighting the identity of the
nominative and accusative cases in all neuter paradigms and the identity
of the neuter nominative-accusative ending with the non-neuter accusative
ending in the o-stem inflection, Uhlenbeck concluded
that in a very remote period of Indo-European there was no nominative
and accusative, but an activus and a passivus. What is meant by activus is
the case of the acting person, the subject case of transitive verbs: this was
characterised in Indo-European by a suffixed -s . . . The passivus is the case
of a person or thing as a patient, or more generally of the person or thing
about whom/which something is said without a transitive action being
ascribed to them. It is also the object case with transitive verbs and the
subject case with passive and intransitive verbs. In Indo-European the
mere stem served as passivus; only with the o-stems do we find -m as a
marker.1
Languages that feature the alignment system Uhlenbeck describes are
classified as ‘ergative’ in more recent typological literature. Figure 9.1
visualises how they differ from ‘accusative’ languages, the type to which
most ancient and modern Indo-European languages belong.2 As before
(4.35, 4.41), the subject of intransitive sentences is labelled as S, the
(logical) subject of transitive sentences as A, and the (logical) direct object
of transitive sentences as O. Instead of Uhlenbeck’s activus and passivus, the
1
Uhlenbeck (1901: 170–1) (translated).
2
For general discussion, see Dixon (1979; 1994) and Comrie (1978; 1989: 104–37); cf. also K. H.
Schmidt (1973) with particular attention to the Indo-European and Caucasian families.
504
Accusative system Ergative system

transitive intransitive transitive intransitive
sentences sentences sentences sentences
A S nominative A ergative
O accusative O S absolutive
Fig. 9.1. ‘Accusative’ vs. ‘ergative’ alignment systems
terms ‘ergative’ and ‘absolutive’ are nowadays used for the relevant cases in
an ergative system.3
On the assumption that neuter nouns, which prototypically refer to
inanimate things, will readily occur in the S or O slots, but less readily in
the A slot,4 and that non-neuter nouns, which prototypically refer to
animates, will commonly occupy the A slot, the distribution of the basic
PIE case endings referred to by Uhlenbeck indeed provides a better fit with
an ‘ergative’ than with an ‘accusative’ system (Fig. 9.2).
Accusative system Ergative system
transitive intransitive transitive intransitive
sentences sentences sentences sentences
*-(o)s *-om / -Ø nominative *-(o)s ergative
*-(o)m / -Ø accusative *-(o)m / -Ø *-om / -Ø absolutive
Fig. 9.2. PIE case endings and accusative vs. ergative alignment
9.2 Chapter Outline

Figure 9.2 represents an idealised state of affairs. It ‘forgets’, for example,
that non-neuter nouns may also occur in the S slot. Nevertheless, the
general distribution is as noteworthy as it seemed to Uhlenbeck and its
implications have been duly discussed by subsequent scholars. The present
chapter will retrace this debate and show how what started as an attempt to
3
The labels A (cf. ‘Agent’, but not every A is necessarily an agent in the strict sense), S, and O (cf.
‘Object’) are those of Dixon (1979: 60; 1994: 6); other scholars (like Comrie 1978: 330–1; 1989: 110–11)
use P (cf. ‘Patient’) instead of O. The first scholar to use the term ‘ergative’ (“Casus ergativus”) may
have been W. Schmidt (1902: 88): see Manaster Ramer (1994).
4
Cf. already Delbrück (1893: 189): ‘The neuter, which did not generally refer to people, was not suited
to form the active carrier or centre of an action’. According to Ostrowski (1985), the essential
difference between neuters and non-neuters concerns ‘individuation’ rather than ‘animacy’ (cf.
also Matasović 2004: 133–6, 189), but since non-individuated entities are equally unlikely A’s and
since animacy and individuation correlate, the crucial point remains the same.
506 From Proto-Indo-European to Pre-Proto-Indo-European
elucidate the prehistory of the PIE nominal system (9.4–9.11) soon
acquired a verbal dimension as well (9.12–9.14).5 In our context, this latter
aspect will be of particular importance. To sketch the history of the
problem is just a way of preparing the ground before taking up again the
loose ends left in the preceding chapters. We shall do this by first returning
to the s-aorist (9.28–9.31); but afterwards, in Chapter 10, we shall also
revisit all the other categories we have looked at throughout this study.
9.3 On Studying ‘Pre-Proto-Indo-European’

From now on, our primary focus will thus be on a remote stage of Proto-
Indo-European. For convenience, this stage will be called ‘Pre-Proto-
Indo-European’ (‘Pre-PIE’). The defining difference between our
‘Proto-Indo-European’ and this ‘Pre-Proto-Indo-European’ will be the
alignment structure, for an updated version of Uhlenbeck’s ergative theory
will eventually be adopted here. It hardly needs stressing that some conclu-
sions must remain tentative when we operate at such depths of time. This
does not, however, make every exploration of Pre-Proto-Indo-European
pointless. As long as the undertaking promises to refine our understanding
of structural oddities in the later proto-language and its historical descen-
dants, like the morphological point noticed by Uhlenbeck, it would be
wrong to abandon it merely because it has not always been pursued with
the necessary methodological rigour.
9.4–9.11 Pre-PIE Nominal Ergativity after Uhlenbeck

9.4 Van Wijk on Genitives, Impersonal Verbs, and Pronouns
Soon after the publication of Uhlenbeck’s piece, one of his pupils, Nicolaas
van Wijk, went a step further. Van Wijk argued that at one point the
ending *-s of the non-neuter nominative singular must have been identical,
apart from the accent, with the ending *-es/-os of the genitive singular.6 The
near-homonymy is revealing because in ergative systems the ergative case
often has functions other than referring to A, just as the accusative in
accusative systems need not only refer to O (but for instance also acts as a
directional case in Indo-European: 9.24). More specifically, ergatives tend
5
Already Uhlenbeck (1901: 171) remarked that ‘the mediopassive . . . reminds us of the verbs with
incorporated dative and object case in Basque and in the American languages’.
6
Van Wijk (1902). The identity of the nom. and gen. sg. in the Hittite thematic declension (e.g.,
attaš ‘(of the) father’), which suggests that the PIE o-stem gen. sg. in *-osi̯o be analysed as *-os-i̯o (cf.
10.37, fn. 73), was still unknown then, and the phonological details of van Wijk’s theory are now
superseded.
to coincide with instrumental or similar cases, as may be expected of a case
category which expresses that an eventuality occurs ‘by someone’.7
Accordingly, it is also of interest when the PIE genitive and ablative
singular appear to have been identical (except in the o-stems), since the
ablative can have agentive functions too (an eventuality occurs ‘issuing from
someone/something’). Moreover, van Wijk found support for his views in
a number of verbal classes governing the genitive, in which the genitive can
be interpreted in an agentive manner. For example, in impersonal verbs of
the Latin type pudet me alicuius rei ‘I am ashamed of something’, the thing
causing (A) the shame stands in an ergative-like genitive and the person
affected (O) in an absolutive-like accusative.8
More as a side remark, van Wijk finally added that Uhlenbeck’s theory
also explains an inflectional peculiarity of the Proto-Indo-European
demonstrative pronouns. Here, a stem *so in the non-neuter nominative
(masc. *so, fem. *sā/*seh2 > Gr. ὁ, ἡ, etc.) contrasts with a stem *to- in the
other paradigmatic slots (e.g., nom.-acc. sg. ntr. *to-d, acc. sg. masc. *to-m
> Gr. τό, τόν, etc.). This distribution resembles the one observed by
Uhlenbeck for the case endings: ‘The distribution of the stems so and to
suggests that in older Indo-European so was a pronoun in the activus, to a
pronoun in the passivus’ (i.e., ‘ergative’ *s(o) vs. ‘absolutive’ *t(o)-).9
9.5 Pedersen on Ergative → Accusative Alignment Change

Similar views were next expressed by Pedersen.10 Like van Wijk, Pedersen
believed in the original identity of nominatives in *-s, qua old ergatives, and
genitives in *-es/os, and for him too synchronically irregular impersonal
7
Cf. Dixon (1994: 57): “instrumental in Dyirbal and many other Australian languages, in North-east
Caucasian languages such as Avar and Andi, in Chukotko-Kamchatkan, in a number of Papuan
languages . . . and in both classical and modern Tibetan . . .; locative in a handful of Australian
languages and in Kuikúro from the Carib family . . .; genitive in Eskimo, Lak from the North-east
Caucasian family and Ladakhi from the Tibeto-Burman family”. None of these parallels is cited by
van Wijk, but see already Uhlenbeck’s (1907) reply to Finck’s (1907) criticism of passive analyses of
ergative structures (Schuchardt 1896) and of the application of ergative theories to Indo-European
reconstruction (Uhlenbeck 1901, Schuchardt 1905/6). Vaillant (1936: 94) refers to a similar situation
in Basque (erg. -k ~ abl./partitive gen. -ik).
8
Van Wijk (1902: 94–5); when such impersonal verbs became personalised (cf. Lat. pudet me + gen. →
pudeō + gen.), personal verbs governing the genitive (e.g., Gr. κήδομαι + gen. ‘care for sth.’) would
have arisen.
9
Van Wijk (1902: 83); cf. independently Vaillant (1936: 103–4). The argument would not suffer if *so
were derived from erg. *t(o)-só > *tsó > *so (vel sim.; cf. Hirt 1934: 95) and hence relatable, save for the
accent, to PIE pronominal genitives in *-so (e.g., Gr. τέο/τοῦ; ‘whose?’ < *ku̯ e-so): the essential point
is that the non-neuter nominative ends up with a different surface stem, and a development *totó >
*ttó > *só (Martinet 1991: 39) is certainly not more appealing.
10
Pedersen (1907: esp. 148–57), stressing that his ideas predate the publication of Uhlenbeck (1901).
constructions were telling relics. However, by comparing sentences with-
out a surface subject, like Russ. otca derevom ubilo ‘a tree killed the father
[lit., it killed the father by a tree]’ with instr. derevom ‘by a tree’, he
advocated a slightly more complex system for Pre-Proto-Indo-European.
In his opinion, the ergative was used only when the A of a transitive
sentence was animate, whereas inanimate A’s stood in the instrumental.11
More importantly, though, Pedersen also sketched for the first time a
possible mechanism for the change from a Pre-PIE ergative system to the
unquestionably accusative system of (later) Proto-Indo-European. At first
confined to the A function in transitive sentences, the ergative ending
would later have been used also to mark the S’s of intransitive sentences (cf.
9.18, 9.21). Among the animate o-stems, whose absolutive ended in *-om,
this eventually led to the restriction of *-om to the O function of transitive
sentences. Hence, *-om was reanalysed as an ‘accusative’ ending and its
case-marking element *-m was transferred to other (animate) stem classes.
As we shall see instantly (9.6–9.7), one problematic aspect of this
scenario is the assumption that *-om was the old absolutive ending of the
o-stems; but in this as in most other respects, Pedersen was still very much
in agreement with what Uhlenbeck had laid out.
9.6 Vaillant on Nominal Gender and Directional *-m

What had thus become the ‘classical’ theory of Pre-PIE ergativity was
consolidated further12 by two French scholars, Vaillant and Martinet.
Although Vaillant’s main contribution concerned the verbal domain
(9.12), he also offered a brief comparison with a modern ergative language,
Basque, in which inanimate nouns may occur in the ergative, but more
commonly stand in the instrumental when referring to the A of sentences
like Bread nourishes the man.13
11
Gulina (2000: 116–17) adduces comparanda from Tongan and Jacaltec Mayan. Pre-PIE instrumen-
tals in A function are also postulated by Haudry (1970: esp. 77–9), but for him they designated the
‘immediate constituent of the verbal predicate’, next to nominatives and accusatives for ‘the origin
and the end-point of the process’.
12
Also against the modifications by Kuryłowicz (1935: 162–5), who regarded the similarity of nom. *-s
with gen. *-es/-os and its restriction to non-neuters as irrelevant. Kuryłowicz proposed a contrast
between an absolutive in *-e and an ergative in *-é or *-és, without the rationale behind the presence
or absence of *-s being recoverable; the old ergative would only survive in the genitive-ablative of
later Proto-Indo-European, but in its A-marking core function it would be superseded by the
absolutive (> nominative), to which it donated the *-s. One reason for this unhelpful revision of
Uhlenbeck’s ideas was PIE non-neuter nominatives without *-s (e.g., *ph̥ 2tēr ‘father’), but these are
better explained otherwise (8.52, with fn. 226; cf. Vaillant 1936: 96).
13
See Vaillant (1936: 97–102); but Tchekhoff (1978: 234 n. 32) and Villar (1984: 178–9) qualify the
allegedly restricted use of the Basque ergative.
In one sense, this was merely an endorsement of Pedersen’s ideas, but
Vaillant also spelled out an important corollary. The nominal gender
distinction between neuter (= prototypically inanimate) and non-neuter
(= prototypically animate) nouns may have come into being only as a
consequence of the transition from ergative Pre-Proto-Indo-European to
accusative Proto-Indo-European. When the formal expression of A and S
was homologised – presumably due to the A → S extension envisaged by
Pedersen – , all those (prototypically animate14) nouns that frequently
occurred in the A slot retained the form of the former A-only case (ergative
in *-s) for the new A/S case (nominative), whereas those (prototypically
inanimate) nouns that did not normally occupy the A slot generalised the
form of the former S case (absolutive in *-Ø) for the new A/S case. Before
this had happened, however, there was no morphological gender differ-
entiation, just as the neuter and non-neuter genders later continue to
inflect identically outside the nominative and accusative cases.15 As for
the accusative in *-m, this would initially have been not an alternative
absolutive ending (next to *-Ø), but the ending of a directional case
(‘towards X’) which secondarily superseded the old absolutive in the new
non-neuter gender.16
9.7 Martinet on Markedness

While the old absolutive was said to survive best in the neuter nominative-
accusative, a likely trace of it was also left among the non-neuters. Vaillant
pointed out that the vocative singular is regularly expressed by the nominal
stem with a zero-ending (cf. athematic Gr. πάτερ, Skt. pítar ‘father!’ <
*ph̥ 2ter-Ø; thematic Gr. λύκε, OCS vlьče ‘wolf!’ < *u̯ l̥ ku̯ e-Ø, etc.). But it was
only Martinet who realised that this difference between a marked nomi-
native and an unmarked vocative in the same declension class constitutes a
cornerstone of the ergative theory:
In languages that make use of an ergative case for the agent, it is frequent, if
not universal, to find the bare stem used for the most obvious complement
14
Or at least animate-like: Vaillant (1936: 99–100) refers to Meillet’s (1921: 211–29) distinction between
‘the acting action’ (non-neuter) and ‘the result of the action’ (neuter) (‘the ἀνάθεσις sets up the
ἀνάθημα’), and between nouns for a producing tree (Lat. fem. pirus ‘pear-tree’) and the produced
fruit (Lat. ntr. pirum ‘pear’) (cf. 9.16).
15
The further differentiation between masculines and feminines in later Proto-Indo-European (cf. e.g.
Meillet 1921: 211–15, Vaillant 1936: 100–1, Matasović 2004: 165–73) is of no relevance: unlike neuter
and non-neuter nouns, masculines and feminines are not, as a rule, inflectionally distinct from each
other within a given stem-class.
16
Thus already Finck (1907: 280) and Kuryłowicz (1935: 162–3), comparing Span. a (< Lat. ad) before
human direct objects (e.g., veo a Juan ‘I see John’). See further 9.24.
of the predicate; in an utterance corresponding to ‘the woman is washing
the linen’, the woman, as the agent, will be a complement in the ergative,
but the linen, as the ‘most obvious complement’, will be in the
nominative.17
So, whereas it makes sense to have a formally marked ergative (next to an
unmarked absolutive) in an ergative language, it is unexpected in an
accusative language to have a formally marked nominative (next to a
marked or unmarked accusative) – as in later PIE *h2ner-snom. [sow]
*seh1mn̥ -Øacc. ‘the man [sows] the seed’. And this oddity is compounded
if, with the vocative, there is in fact an unmarked case somewhere in the
system; for this shows that the system is perfectly able to cope with a bare
stem designating an animate entity.
In other words, the ergative theory also manages to account for the
typologically irregular distribution of case marking in Proto-Indo-
European by tracing it back to a typologically regular state of affairs. By
contrast, to postulate that Proto-Indo-European had always featured an
accusative system with an (animate) nominative in *-s and a less marked
vocative in *-Ø would violate the principle that “that case which covers S (i.e.
absolutive or nominative) is generally the unmarked term – both formally
and functionally – in its system”.18 Of course, the very fact that precisely such
a ‘wrong’ system does exist in later Proto-Indo-European and its daughter
languages proves that here as always exceptions can occur; but not to use
these as waymarks in the reconstructive process would be wrong if there is a
straightforward way to explain them in diachronic terms.19
9.8 Split Ergativity and the Animacy Hierarchy

Having said that, it would be equally wrong to defend the classical theory
of Pre-PIE ergativity if it entailed contradictions with typologically ‘nor-
mal’ behaviour in other respects. Since the 1980s, pertinent objections have
17
Martinet (1962: 151), labelling as ‘nominative’ the ‘absolutive’ case of ergative languages. The point
about case marking was already made by Schuchardt (1905/6: 530), but too fleetingly to impact on
the discussion at the time. It also informs Greenberg’s (1963b: 75) Universal 38: “Where there is a case
system, the only case which ever has only zero allomorphs is the one which includes among its
meanings that of the subject of the intransitive verb.”
18
Dixon (1994: 56–7); cf. Dixon (1979: 71–9). The same principle invalidates the unorthodox
reconstruction of Pre-PIE ergativity by Shields (1978; 1979; 1982a: esp. 17–21, 54–60), with a primeval
ergative in *-Ø and an absolutive in *-N (coupled with an ill-motivated later transfer of a mean-
ingless element *-s from some verbal roots to the ergative).
19
And one whose systemic dimension makes it less arbitrary than the identification of the nominative
*-s as a particle (Specht 1944: 354), derivational suffix (W. P. Lehmann 1958: 188–92), or pronoun/
article (e.g., Hirt 1927: 39, Biese 1950, Szemerényi 1985a: 30, Matasović 2004: 183; cf. Uhlenbeck 1901:
170) added to an older *-Ø ending.
been voiced more than once, and this has led to a more or less universal
abandonment of what had once been a popular hypothesis – though not
necessarily to a return to a strictly accusative reconstruction (cf. 9.15–9.18).
As we shall see, this is an unfortunate development because the objections
themselves are based on a misunderstanding.
In a famous article of 1976, the typologist Michael Silverstein established
what is today known as the ‘animacy hierarchy’, a scale of animacy reaching
from a high-animate end at which first- and second-person pronouns are
located down to a low-animate end at which inanimate nouns are placed
(Fig. 9.3).20
1st / 2nd > 3rd / demonstratives > proper nouns > human > animate > inanimate
I / you he, she, it / that Socrates friend cow stone
Fig. 9.3. Silverstein’s animacy hierarchy
Many languages that feature ergative alignment structures do so only in

part. So-called split ergative languages commonly use an ergative pattern
only for certain kinds of A, but an accusative one for others. As shown by
Silverstein, the split between the two patterns is not random in these cases.
While it can occur at any point within the animacy hierarchy, the
accusative-patterning A’s will always be located towards the left and the
ergative-patterning A’s towards the right. Thus, there cannot be a language
where, in a sentence such as the stone hits my friend, the noun stone (= A)
stands in the nominative when in a sentence such as my friend throws the
stone the noun friend (= A) would stand in the ergative. By contrast, it
would be perfectly normal to encounter a language in which friend in my
friend throws the stone stands in the nominative, but stone in the stone hits my
friend in the ergative.
The underlying reason for this cross-linguistic rule is not very difficult to
see. If we take the participants my friend and stone as well as the verb throw,
our knowledge of the real world tells us that it is much more likely to find
them together in a sentence meaning ‘my friend throws the stone’ than in
one meaning ‘the stone throws my friend’. So, in combination with a verb
like throw, the semantics of my friend and stone make these a natural A and a
natural O respectively, and we can in principle do without any case
marking. But what if we did want to say ‘the stone throws my friend’? In
that case, we would need to signal the unusual distribution of A and
O. One way of doing that would be to give stone a special A marking, as
20
Silverstein (1976: 122–3); cf. Dixon (1979: 85–6), Comrie (1989: 185–200).
an ergative. Alternatively, my friend could receive a special O marking, as
an accusative. Thus, we end up with a situation where the upper end of the
scale, populated by prototypical A’s, tends towards an accusative pattern
with an unmarked nominative and a marked accusative; whereas at the
lower end, where the prototypical O’s cluster, the ergative pattern with an
unmarked absolutive and a marked ergative is at home.
Within Indo-European, Hittite operates a split ergative system of this
sort. In it, neuter nouns functioning as subjects of a transitive verb (A) take
a suffix -anza (sg.), -anteš (pl.), which may therefore be regarded as an
‘ergative’ suffix. By contrast, pronouns and nouns of common gender used
in A function stand in the nominative.21
9.9 Pre-PIE ‘Split Ergativity’ or ‘Split Accusativity’?

Impressed by Silverstein’s findings, Villar and Rumsey independently
concluded that the ‘classical’ theory of Pre-PIE ergativity must be dis-
missed.22 As we have seen, this theory derives the later nominative ending
*-s of prototypically animate nouns from an ergative, whereas the
nominative-accusative ending *-Ø of prototypically inanimate nouns is
supposed to continue an absolutive (9.1). But if the lower end of the
animacy scale favours ergative alignment, whereas the upper end does
not, should we not expect the opposite, with an old ergative surviving
among the inanimate nouns (essentially the later neuters) rather than
among the animate (non-neuter) ones?
Following this logic, both Villar and Rumsey advocate a (Pre-)PIE ‘split-
accusative’ alignment system instead. The items at the top of the animacy
21
See Laroche (1962), Garrett (1990: 265–80), Carruba (1992b: 66–70, 81–90), Hoffner and Melchert
(2008: 66–7, 72–3), Melchert (2011b), Goedegebuure (2013). Whether this situation is an inner-
Anatolian development (Benveniste 1962: 50–1, Garrett 1990: 278–9, Bauer 2000: 49–54, Oettinger
2001b: 311–12, Josephson 2004a: 102, 114; 2004b: 260, Teffeteller 2015: 166–77, with diverging views
on the morphological origin) or, less likely, reflects an already PIE state of affairs (Tchekhoff 1978:
237–9, Lindeman 1986, Neu 1989a: 11–13) is of little relevance to our issue. Even if the latter were
true, so that a Pre-PIE ergative alignment pattern might have survived at least partially until
Anatolian split off, the specialisation of the old ergative/genitive case (as per van Wijk: 9.4) as a
mere genitive at the top end of the animacy hierarchy could have prompted a formal differentiation
between the genitive (in *-es/-os) and the ergative (remade as *-es/-os → *-ent-s/-ont-s?) at the bottom
(neuter) end.
22
Villar (1983: esp. 49–90; 1984: 175–81), Rumsey (1987a; 1987b). Their views are echoed by Dixon
(1994: 90 n. 19), Stempel (1996: 73), Gulina (2000: 108–10), and Matasović (2004: 182–3), whereas
Schwink (1994: 82–5), Comrie (1998: 83–4), Cuzzolin (1998), and Matasović (2012: 298) are more
cautious. Rumsey explicitly exempts from his criticism the ‘non-classical’ theories of Kuryłowicz
(1936: 162–5) and Shields (1978; 1979; 1982a), but rightly rejects these on other grounds (cf. 9.6, fn.
12, and 9.7, fn. 18). Gulina’s (2000) new take on the matter unduly ignores the verbal data that point
to an ergatival system also among the pronouns (9.13–9.14, 9.25).
hierarchy would have followed a normal nominative-accusative pattern,
whereas those at the bottom would have featured ‘neutral’ case marking
(without formal distinctions between A, S, and O).23 Broadly speaking,
this is what historical languages like Ancient Greek still present with their
indistinct nominative-accusative case in the neuter, but a clear distinction
between nominatives and accusatives among non-neuters. The only sub-
stantial changes that might have happened on the way from earlier to later
Proto-Indo-European would thus have been (a) the introduction of *-s in
the non-neuter nominative, because a typologically ideal accusative system
should have had an unmarked nominative (9.7), and (b) possibly a gradual
downward shift on the animacy scale of the boundary between the accu-
sative and the ‘neutral’ systems.
9.10 Shortcomings of the ‘Split-Accusative’ Hypothesis

On closer inspection, such a ‘split-accusative’ hypothesis turns out to be
less helpful than it may look at first sight. To begin with, it should be noted
that there is no real motivation for (a), the introduction of nominatival
*-s.24 Moreover, even if one were prepared to disregard this, two other
obstacles would remain.
Firstly, the very starting point for Uhlenbeck’s proposal, the formal
identity of the o-stem neuter nominative-accusative with the non-neuter
accusative of the same stem class, would have to be a mere coincidence.
While *-m should be the accusative ending among the animates (non-
neuters), the nominative-accusative case of the inanimates (neuters) should
have ended in *-Ø (i.e., *-e/o-Ø in an o-stem class). Hence, Villar suggests
that inanimate nouns like *i̯ugóm ‘yoke’ were initially athematic m-stems
(with zero-ending: i.e., nom.-acc. *i̯ug-om-Ø), which were subsequently
reinterpreted as ‘o-stems’ (*i̯ug-o-m) because of their similarity with the
animate o-stem accusative where *-o-m was indeed a combination of stem
vowel + ending.25 However, it is far from clear that a chance similarity like
this could have triggered such a fundamental reanalysis when there were
many other inanimate nouns which all ended in nom.-acc. *-Ø, not *-m,
23
Villar (1983: 91–196; 1984: 181–96), Rumsey (1987a: 33–4; 1987b: 313).
24
Referring to Villar (1974: 107–18, 251–63), Villar (1983: 160–1; 1984: 185) wants to extract the *-s from
the thematic ending *-os: an (athematic) genitive in origin, this would have been reinterpreted as an
adjectival nominative in *-o-s (contrast 9.24, fn. 82). However, without other nominatives in *-s
already existing, what should have triggered such a reinterpretation (notably in opposition to one as
nom. *-os-Ø)?
25
Villar (1983: 133–8; 1984: 188–90), following Burrow (1955: 173–4); cf. also Gulina (2000: 112–13), and
for a similar separation of ntr. *-om from non-neuter *-(o)m already Meillet (1918: 177).
and when all the oblique cases of the nouns in question (gen. *i̯ug-(o)m-és,
etc.) would have betrayed their m-stem nature plainly enough.
Secondly, there is the problem that some non-neuters are also inani-
mate. Whereas proponents of the ergative theory can postulate that some
inanimate nouns (e.g., *ped- ‘foot’) occurred in the ergative frequently
enough to make the ergative become their later nominative, such inani-
mates with a nominative in *-s should never have existed if the ultimate
boundary between an accusative and a neutral system coincided with that
between animate and inanimate nouns. Villar therefore has to assume that
the animate accusative marker *-m proved so useful that it was gradually
extended to inanimates, and that the nominative marker *-s followed suit;
but what triggered these extensions were formal, not semantic criteria.26
Had there been no phonotactic constraints, the split-accusative system
might have become a fully accusative one, but this did not happen because
certain inanimates, like those in *-mn̥ (e.g., *sper-mn̥ ‘seed’ > Gr. σπέρμα),
would not admit an ‘accusative’ in *-m/-m̥ (e.g., †-mn̥ -m). Whether or not
such blocking is conceivable in a few cases, Villar himself must admit that
he is unable to explain why, for example, the many neuter s-stem nouns did
not then acquire an accusative in *-(e/o)s-m̥ when *-Vsm̥ was unquestion-
ably a possible sequence in Proto-Indo-European.
9.11 Countering Animacy-Based Objections to the Ergative Theory

At least from a morphological27 point of view, the classical ergative theory thus
remains superior to the alternative envisaged by Villar and Rumsey. Yet, its
legitimacy does depend on whether it can be defended against the typological
objections raised (9.9). Luckily, to do so is not particularly arduous as long as
synchronic and diachronic considerations are not mixed up.
The classical model of Pre-PIE ergativity does not presuppose that inani-
mate nouns had no ergative case.28 If it did, it would indeed contradict
Silverstein’s hierarchy (9.8). However, the hierarchy only refers to languages
with animacy-based split-ergative systems. It has nothing to say about lan-
guages that are either fully ergative or show other types of split ergativity (cf.
9.21, 9.26–9.27). According to the classical model, Pre-Proto-Indo-European
26
Villar (1983: 142–54; 1984: 190–3).
27
The syntactic arguments of Luraghi (1987) are less powerful. For example, if it is difficult to
reconstruct a standard way of encoding agents in PIE (medio)passive contexts, this need not
imply a non-accusative alignment for Pre-Proto-Indo-European any more than the difference
between French par and Italian da does for Latin.
28
At least this is no central tenet of it: even Pedersen (1907: 152) did not really say this, and Vaillant
(1936: 97–8) was explicitly nuanced on the matter (9.7). For a similar rejection of Villar and
Rumsey’s argument, see Cuzzolin (1998: 186–98) and Nikolaev (2000: 298–302).
belonged to one of the latter types because it is assumed that ergative alignment
occurred throughout the hierarchy, including the pronouns at the upper end of
the animacy scale.29 The point is just that in this ‘fully’ ergative system, in line
with every expectation, the more animate constituents of the hierarchy
occurred more often in the ergative case (i.e., in A function) than the less
animate ones. When the ergative alignment system of Pre-Proto-Indo-
European was transformed into the accusative system of Proto-Indo-
European, it was therefore natural that the new A/S case (= nominative)
would be formally identical to, and originating from, the former A case
(= ergative) in the paradigm of those (prototypically animate30) nouns
that often occurred in A function; and similarly, it was natural that the
new A/S case would be formally identical to, and originating from, the old
S/O case (= absolutive) among those (prototypically inanimate) nouns
that freely occurred in S function, but rarely if ever in A function (cf. 9.6).
Importantly, as long as we accept that the gradual spread of any A marker
to the S function started at the upper end of the animacy hierarchy, among
the pronouns, moving down the scale as time went by, there was not a single
point in time at which Silverstein’s principle was violated. Schematically, this
is shown in Fig. 9.4 (conflating, for the sake of simplicity, the different kinds
of pronouns and the different groups of animate nouns).
Stage Pronouns Animate nouns Inanimate nouns

I Aerg. | SOabs. Aerg. | SOabs. Aerg. | SOabs. = ergative system
II ASnom. | Oacc. Aerg. | SOabs. Aerg. | SOabs.
III ASnom. | Oacc. ASnom. | Oacc. Aerg. | SOabs.
IV ASnom. | Oacc. ASnom. | Oacc. ASnom. | Oacc.or ASOnom.-acc. = accusative system
Fig. 9.4. Ergative → accusative alignment change and the animacy hierarchy
9.12–9.14 Early Views on Pre-PIE Ergativity and the Verb

9.12 Vaillant’s ‘Pseudo-Transitive Inflection’
The fact that the criticism of scholars like Villar and Rumsey is unjustified
does not of course prove that the ergative theory is right. Ultimately, its value
continues to rest on the number of apparent oddities it is able to explain.31
29
Cf. 9.4 on pronominal *so vs. *to-; on the first/second-person pronouns, see further 9.13–9.14, 9.28.
30
Or individuated: see 9.1, fn. 4. In what follows, we will continue to use the animate/inanimate distinction,
which has traditionally informed the discussion but which can only be approximative anyway.
31
Unlike Villar and Rumsey, Zwolanek (1987: esp. 135–9) fails to recognise that this is the rationale
behind the entire hypothesis. When she objects that one cannot prove (a) that the case in *-s did not
From the preceding discussion, it will be clear that there are quite a few of
them in the area of nominal morphology. But what about the verb?
In his article on Pre-PIE ergativity, Vaillant was one of the first scholars
to ask how verbal inflection fits into the picture. Unaware that Pedersen
had already expressed similar views a few years earlier (9.14), he suggested
that the difference between the PIE ‘mi-conjugation’ on the one hand
and the ‘h2e-conjugation’ behind the perfect, the middle, and the
Anatolian h i-conjugation on the other (2.9, 2.14, 5.3) might reflect two
˘
different underlying constructions, each requiring the use of different
pronominal forms that secondarily became verbal endings. For ease of
reference, and leaving aside the less distinctive plural, the two primitive
ending systems – before the addition of ‘primary’ *-i (1.2, 7.30, 10.18) –
are repeated here as conventionally32 reconstructed (cf. 1.3, 5.3):
m(i)-conjugation h2e-conjugation
1sg. *-m *-h2e
2sg. *-s *-th2e
3sg. *-t *-e
Given its use in the prototypically intransitive perfect and middle, it is
appropriate to associate the ‘h2e-conjugation’ with intransitive environ-
ments; and in contrast with this, the ‘mi-conjugation’ may then be
regarded as prototypically transitive. Moreover, we know that in several
Indo-Iranian languages ergative constructions have arisen from syntacti-
cally reinterpreted patterns involving a past passive participle in *-to-
accompanied by an agent in an oblique case (e.g., Old Persian X manā
kr̥ tam ‘X is done/has been done by me’ > Middle Persian man kart ‘I did’
with the oblique case man of the 1sg. personal pronoun).33 Vaillant
therefore proposed to explain the ‘mi-conjugation’ as a similarly built
occur for the S of an intransitive sentence right from the start and (b) that the O of a transitive
sentence was in the same case as the S of an intransitive sentence, this is no valid counterargument:
the opposite cannot be proved either. Hence, Zwolanek’s only substantive addition to the critics’
points is (c) the observation that ergative languages have either no verbal cross-referencing or double
cross-referencing to both S/O and A, whereas (later) Proto-Indo-European has only simple cross-
referencing to S/A (through its verbal endings, which are indifferent to O). However, she admits
herself that Pre-Proto-Indo-European may initially have been of the former kind, with the later S/A-
cross-referencing system stemming from an isolating system with independent pronouns (cf. 9.12–
9.14, 9.28).
32
That is, for a stage when the 3sg. ending of the ‘h2e-conjugation’ was no longer analysable as *-Ø
added to an (originally nominal) stem in *-e/o (5.27, 5.40–5.41). For further analysis, see 9.28–9.29,
10.3–10.4.
33
Cf. e.g. Elizarenkova (1967), Pirejko (1967; 1979), K. H. Schmidt (1973: 116) (also on the comparable
Old Armenian perfect), Bubeník (1989; 1995), Hewson and Bubeník (1997: 75–9, 271–4, 309–13)
(also on Armenian and Hindi), Bynon (2005).
‘pseudo-transitive inflection’. In this, the 3sg. in *-t would reflect ‘a
nominal form *gwhen-t-, presumably a verbal abstract’, and the other
persons would have arisen by a combination of the same nominal form
with a personal pronoun in the ergative case:
3sg.: ‘(the man) strikes’ = ‘(by the man there is) strike’: (ergative and) *gwhent(i).
1sg.: ‘I strike’ = ‘(there is) strike by me’: *gwhent-m(i) > *gwhenmi.
2sg.: *gwhent-t(i) > *gwhensi.
1pl.: *gwhent-m(es) > *gwhenm(es) . . .
2pl.: *gwhent-w(es) > *gwhent(es).34
9.13 Critique
Vaillant’s proposal is ingenious, but unsatisfactory in more than one
respect. Firstly, much of the appeal of any such theory lies in the overlap
between the 1sg. ending *-m and the oblique stem *m- of the 1sg.
pronoun in Proto-Indo-European (cf. e.g. acc. sg. *me > Gr. με, *mē >
Ved. mā(m), Lat. mē(d)). This stem *m- strikingly contrasts with what-
ever form without *m- one may have to reconstruct for the corres-
ponding nominative (underlying Gr. ἐγώ, Lat. ego, Skt. ahám, etc.:
e.g. *(h1)egh2-óm/-oH, cf. 9.28). It would thus seem simple enough to
assume that the Pre-PIE ergative, being an oblique case, should have
featured the stem *m-, exactly as required for Vaillant’s pattern.
Surprisingly, however, only a few paragraphs earlier Vaillant had
suggested that the historical nominative without the *m- continues
the ancient ergative of the 1sg. pronoun.35
To remove this contradiction is easy. All one has to do is to correct
Vaillant’s statements about the pronominal nominative continuing a pro-
nominal ergative. In fact, there is a good reason why the historical nomina-
tive of the first-person (and second-person) pronoun should descend from an
absolutive rather than an ergative, even if the relevant paradigms initially did
contain an ergative. If, as is likely, later Proto-Indo-European behaved like
34
Vaillant (1936: 105–6) (translated). Interestingly, Vaillant did not explicitly link his ‘nominal form’
in *-t- with the PIE verbal adjective in *-to-. That the verbal endings somehow contain pronominal
forms is a much older idea: cf. Jellinek (1901: 158–61) and Seebold (1971: 185–6), with reference to
Bopp (1816: 147–51) and others. As Givón (1976: 76) notes, “[s]ince in all other respects . . . the IE
suffixal conjugation functions much like pronominal subject agreement . . ., it would be rather
strange to assume that it arose from any other source except the classical, natural one from which all
verb-agreement systems rise, namely from anaphoric pronouns”; and it is no less strange to assume
that the endings (“person markers for cross-referencing”) have been secondarily combined into a
pronominal paradigm (W. P. Lehmann 1994: 4–5).
35
Vaillant (1936: 103); Rasmussen (1974: 20–8) promotes a similar paradox (“intransitive -m” vs.
“transitive -H2e”).
Greek, Latin, or Sanskrit in its use of the personal pronouns, their nominative
occurred mainly in emphatic, contrastive, or syntactically absolute contexts –
but not as a rule in conjunction with first-person or second-person verb forms
(where the endings alone sufficed to reference S/A). At least in its absolute
function, the ‘nominative’ of the personal pronouns thus acts as a mere ‘name’
for the speaker (‘I’) and addressee (‘you’). As such it resembles a standard
animate noun’s vocative (or naming form) more than such a noun’s S/A-
referencing nominative. Hence, it is also as likely as a standard vocative to
continue the unmarked absolutive of a Pre-PIE ergative system.36
Secondly, and more seriously, Vaillant’s idea depends on sound devel-
opments that are created entirely ad hoc. In the 2sg., for example, the
starting point *g u̯ hent-t(i) is needed because the 2sg. pronoun features a
stem *t(u̯ )- corresponding to the stem *m- of the 1sg. pronoun (cf. e.g. acc.
sg. *tu̯ e > Gr. σε, *tē > Lat. tē(d), etc.); but for the associated change *-tt- >
*-s-, one cannot very well postulate *-tt- > *-ss- > *-s- by arguing that ‘the
group *tt changes in all the Indo-European languages, including Hittite
(> zt . . .)’, that ‘the treatment which is closest to the primordial treament,
without restitution of the dental stop, must be the most unusual one,
Western Indo-European ss’, and that ‘a group ss had to be simplified into
s (2sg. *ési . . .)’. If the stage *-s- had been reached in Proto-Indo-European
before Anatolian split off (cf. 2sg. *-s(i) also in Hittite), it is chronologically
impossible to relate this to the largely post-PIE changes of *-tt- > *-tst- >
Anatolian -zt-, Greek/Iranian/Balto-Slavic *-st-, Italic/Germanic -ss-.
Similarly, one is left to wonder why in the 1sg. or 1pl. the internal *-t- was
lost instead of the *-m of the ending becoming vocalic (e.g., 1sg. *g u̯ hent-m̥ ).
Of course, nothing can prevent us from postulating Pre-PIE sound laws
that produce the required outcomes, but a priori the phonological odds are
stacked against what Vaillant needs to make his scenario work.
Furthermore, a general point is also worth making. While it is true that
the ergatival constructions of ancient and modern Indo-Iranian have arisen
in the way envisaged by Vaillant for Pre-Proto-Indo-European, the syn-
tactic reanalysis of previous accusative-system passives is no necessary
precondition for ergative systems to emerge.37 It is even somewhat
36
As we shall see later (9.22), the fact that the personal pronouns occupy the top end of the animacy
hierarchy also means that they would not normally have stood in the absolutive, but in an indirect
case, when referring to a patient or ‘underlying’ O. Stempel’s (1998: 175) observation that ‘*egō as a
nominative should in principle have formed the basis for the accusative as a younger object case’ is
therefore invalid.
37
See Rumsey (1987b: 303), who notes that “there is no reason to suppose that the verbs used in
ergative constructions must have arisen historically from nominalized verbs. . . . Abundant counter-
evidence can be found in Australia, where even some of the fairly closely related Aboriginal
paradoxical that Vaillant’s comparison with Indo-Iranian implies an even
earlier (‘Pre-Pre-PIE’) accusative system when the conclusions that were
drawn from the nominal data by Uhlenbeck and his successors were precisely
what had pointed away from such accusatival beginnings in the first place.
9.14 Pedersen’s Alternative

A more promising way forward is therefore the one shown by Pedersen. While
discussing the similarities, and possible genetic relationships, between the
Indo-European and the Finno-Ugric personal pronouns, Pedersen stated
that ‘the “perfect endings” [sc., 1–3sg. *-h2e, *-th2e, *-e] will thus originally
have belonged to the intransitive verbs, the “normal” endings [sc., 1–3sg.
*-m(i), *-s(i), *-t(i)] to the transitive ones’;38 and he observed that ‘the
“intransitive” ending of the 1sg. is reminiscent of the initial sound of ἐγώ,
the “transitive” ending of the non-nominative cases of the pronoun. . . . In the
intransitive 3sg. the personal endings seem to be absent, for the -e of the perfect
is hardly a person marker; in the transitive series there is an ending -t, which is
reminiscent of the non-nominative pronominal stem *to- (Gr. τόν etc.).’39
What Pedersen proposes is thus a situation in which a verbal root could
be combined, depending on syntactic context, with either the absolutive or
the ergative case of a pronoun. For illustration, we may make up the
following examples:
(i) Transitive sentence: *g u̯ hen=m̥ erg. h2ner-Øabs.
strike=by me man
‘I strike the man’
(ii) Intransitive sentence: *trep=h2eabs.
turn=I
‘I turn’
In these sentences, transitive *g u̯ hen- and intransitive *trep- represent
the same kind of uninflected base form, and the ergative
languages vary in their declension systems from ergative to fully nominative-accusative without
showing any evidence of periphrastic verbal conjugations using nominalized verbs”. Cf. also Dixon
(1994: 187–92).
38
Contrast Schnorr v. Carolsfeld (1934: 27), who suspected the opposite (‘that behind the middle there
is precisely the inflectional form of the transitive construction’), while independently promoting an
ergative interpretation of the PIE verb (mainly because of the absence of a reconstructible passive; for
important observations on the secondariness of middle forms used as passives in Indo-European, cf.
now Napoli 2001).
39
Pedersen (1933: 312–13); cf. Pedersen (1938a: 83–6). Seebold (1971: esp. 203–5) overlooks Pedersen’s
contributions but also compares similar endings in Uralic. On the Uralic dimension of the complex,
see further Bomhard (1988: 484–7) and Kortlandt (2001; 2009: 45); on balance, the similarities here
seem greater than those with South Caucasian highlighted by Gamkrelidze (1995: 82–3).
alignment is exclusively conveyed by the pronominal/nominal constitu-
ents. But because Pedersen outlines all this only summarily, it remains
unclear whether he is assuming (a) that one and the same root could occur
in both transitive and intransitive sentences or (b) that the selection of
either (i) or (ii) was entirely determined by the root involved.40 If (a) were
the case, we would end up with a nuclear system of verbal voice:41
(ii) Intransitive sentence: *trep=h2eabs.
turn=I
‘I turn’ (also ‘I am turned’?)
(iii) Transitive sentence: *trep=m̥ erg. h2ner-Øabs.
turn=by me man
‘I turn the man’
Although not every root might occur with equal ease in both ‘voices’, one
advantage of positing such a system would be that the later active vs. middle
voice contrast could naturally grow out of it. In fact, Pedersen does refer to
Kuryłowicz and Stang, who at the time had only just discovered the
common origin of the perfect and middle endings.42 Yet, since he also treats
the middle as a category that is both contemporary with and independent of
the ‘active intransitive’ type, he may nevertheless have been inclined towards
(b), the assumption that the intrinsic (in)transitivity of any given root
ultimately decided which of the two constructions it had to take.43
9.15–9.20 Pre-Proto-Indo-European as an ‘Active’

(‘Split-S’) Language?
9.15 Beginnings of the ‘Active Hypothesis’
If so, Pedersen’s ideas not just connect with the classical ergative hypothesis
but foreshadow a rather different take on Pre-PIE alignment. Since this
40
But he does underline the imprecise nature of the transitive/intransitive dichotomy, which cannot
do justice to examples like intransitive Gr. εἶμι, Ved. émi ‘go’ with ‘transitive’ endings. Such cases are
said to be due partly to secondary adjustments and partly to classificatory principles differing from
our syntactic transitive/intransitive divide (Pedersen 1933: 312 n. 1). See further 9.18 and 9.20.
41
Cf. S. R. Rose (2006; 2009); ignoring her predecessors, she arbitrarily suggests that the “more direct
case” of the personal pronoun (*-h2) marked a “more direct level of involvement of the self in the
verbal activity” (middle voice), and the “less direct case” (*-m) a “lower involvement” (active voice)
(see esp. S. R. Rose 2006: 78–80, 101–4).
42
Kuryłowicz (1927c: 102–3; 1932), Stang (1932): cf. 2.9, fn. 18.
43
See Pedersen (1933: 314–15), with the remark that ‘in a few cases the middle ending was identical with
the active intransitive ending; however, this identity is probably not original, but due partly to the
transfer of the active intransitive ending into the middle and partly to the inverse transfer of the
middle ending into the active intransitive series’.
9.15–9.20 Pre-Proto-Indo-European as an ‘Active’ Language 521
alternative approach, which flourished some decades later, is still fairly
influential today, it must also be considered here, if only to show that its
explanatory potential is inferior to that of its ergative counterpart.
Next to the ‘ergative’ and ‘accusative’ systems discussed so far, a third
major alignment type is constituted by so-called active (or ‘split-S’) lan-
guages. In these, what matters is not the transitivity/intransitivity of any
given verb but its belonging to either an ‘active’ or an ‘inactive’ class. With
‘active’ verbs, the functions of A and S are marked the same (so that S can
be indexed as SA), whereas with ‘inactive’ verbs the S formally matches an
O (hence: SO). Importantly, an intransitive verb should not sometimes
mark its S like an O (e.g., when the eventuality is not volitional) and at
other times like an A. If, say, a verb like fall were classified as ‘inactive’
because it usually refers to an involuntary and uncontrolled activity, its
subject would still be marked as SO if, for once, it voluntarily fell.44
That the existence of such active languages might impact on our under-
standing of Pre-Proto-Indo-European was first argued in 1947 by Iosif
M. Tronskij; but a printed version of this paper was only published in the
1960s, in a collection that also contained one or two other pieces promot-
ing similar views.45 According to Tronskij, Pre-Proto-Indo-European not
only had two classes of verbs, activity verbs and verbs of state (i.e., the
above ‘active’ and ‘inactive’ classes), but also two corresponding groups of
nouns: an inflected active one with ergatives and absolutives, and an
uninflected inactive one. As we shall see (9.16), the recognition that in
some active languages the active/inactive dichotomy in this way extends
to the nominal domain was to become quite important in later discussions
of the supposedly ‘active’ character of Pre-Proto-Indo-European. In
Tronskij’s scheme, however, it ultimately had little structural relevance.
All it meant was that nouns of the inactive class were always uninflected,
also when occurring with active verbs, whereas nouns of the active class
would take the formally unmarked absolutive only when occurring as SO’s
44
For more detailed discussion, see Dixon (1979: 82–4; 1994: 71–8).
45
Tronskij (1967); cf. Kacnel’son (1967: 41). Guxman (1967) and Savčenko (1967) do not dissociate
themselves from the ergative theory although both had apparently promoted similar ideas before (in
Savčenko 1960 and Guxman 1964 [non vidi]; Gamkrelidze and Ivanov 1995: 268 n. 50 also refer to
Kacnel’son 1947 [non vidi]). In the 1967 volume, Guxman is mainly concerned with impersonal
verbs (e.g., Lat. pudet me ‘I am ashamed’, Gr. δοκεῖ μοι ‘it seems to me’; cf. 9.16) and Savčenko
hypothesises that PIE endingless locatives and Hittite allatives also continue the absolutive. As
Tronskij notes (with references), the Soviet Union had seen some interest in such typologically
oriented work on Proto-Indo-European already in the 1930s and 1940s (under the influence of N. Ja.
Marr’s ‘stadial’ theory of language).
of inactive verbs or as O’s of active verbs.46 In hindsight, we must say that
this does violate Silverstein’s animacy hierarchy: for the absence of case
marking should occupy the higher ranges of the animacy hierarchy when
contrasting with an ergative (rather than an accusative) marking system.47
9.16 The Classical ‘Active Hypothesis’

Following these beginnings, the ‘active hypothesis’ gained in visibility
thanks to Gamkrelidze and Ivanov’s monumental 1984 study on PIE and
Pre-PIE language and culture as well as W. P. Lehmann’s work on the
subject.48 These scholars, whose discussions are informed by the typologi-
cal description of active languages by Klimov, agree that the following
points deserve particular attention:49
1. Active languages commonly divide their nouns into an active and an
inactive class (cf. 9.15). These classes, within which there should be
virtually no inflection apart from the opposition between an ‘active’
and an ‘inactive’ case, are said to be replicated by the Pre-PIE
precursors of the later non-neuters and neuters respectively. In the
wake of Meillet,50 reference is also made both to the alleged occur-
rence of PIE lexical pairs like ntr. *peh2ur (vel sim.) as ‘inactive’ fire
46
Tronskij (1967: 93–4) wants to find further traces of the later accusative’s prehistory as an absolutive
case in the accusative of exclamation (Lat. heu me miserum ‘poor me!’) and the subject accusative of
accusative-with-infinitive constructions.
47
Cf. Silverstein (1976: 123) (“the overlap [sc., of subsystems of case markings] always produces more
case distinctions in the mid-to-lower range of the hierarchy than in the upper range”), Rumsey
(1987b: 309) (“Silverstein’s constraint should not also be taken to rule out a 2–1 system, with
nominative-accusative marking in the upper range and 1-way neutral case marking in the lower”).
48
See W. P. Lehmann (1989a; 1989b; 1992: 107–9, 247–8; 1993: esp. 208–33; 1995; 2002), after
Gamkrelidze and Ivanov (1984: 267–319), the more accessible English translation of which will be
referenced here (Gamkrelidze and Ivanov 1995: 233–76). Cf. already Klimov (1972; 1977: esp. 78–
169), Perel’muter (1977: 201–3), and K. H. Schmidt (1977: 100–11; 1979: 335–44; 1980: 101–5; 1986:
96–103).
49
See W. P. Lehmann (1989a: esp. 231–40; 1989b: 117–24; 1992: 107–9, 247–8; 1993: 213–27; 1995: 15–17
and passim; 2002: 3–6, 29–32, and passim), Gamkrelidze and Ivanov (1995: esp. 267–70), but also
Matsumoto (1993: 318–26) and Bauer (2000: 15–22, 57–92), all harking back to Klimov (1972; 1973;
1977). On (i), see also Lazzeroni (2002a; 2002b), on (iii) W. P. Lehmann (1991) who reconstructs a
Pre-PIE impersonal type in *-r; but in a language like Latin, should this not yield predominantly
deponential impersonals? Not included in the list are two further characteristics (Pre-)Proto-Indo-
European has been claimed to share with ‘active’ languages, viz. a weaker development of plural
inflection and/or a preferred (S)OV word order (cf. W. P. Lehmann 1974: esp. 30–9). Nichols (1992:
105–9, 143–52, 255) has shown that these correlate more with dependent vs. head marking and
geographical location than with ‘active’ vs. accusative/ergative alignment. The fact that Proto-Indo-
European is dependent-marking, which is extremely rare among ‘active’ languages but predominant
among ergative ones (Nichols 1987: 98–9; 1992: 100–5), even constitutes an argument against the
‘active hypothesis’ (Nichols 1987: 99).
50
Meillet (1920b; 1921: 211–29; 1937: 339–40).
(> Gr. πῦρ, Umbr. pir, Hitt. pah h ur, etc.) vs. non-ntr. *n̥ gnis as
‘active’ fire (> Lat. ignis, Ved. agníh˘ ˘, OCS ognь), and to the paralle-
lism of feminine nouns for trees˙ vs. stem-formationally identical
neuter nouns for fruits (e.g., Lat. pirus ‘pear tree’ vs. pirum ‘pear’;
cf. 9.6, fn. 14).
2. Next to the binary noun classification, active languages feature a
corresponding dichotomy among the verbs. Whereas verbs with
‘active’ semantics (e.g., go, run, eat, live, kill, etc.) freely occur with
subjects from the active noun class, a more restricted group of verbs
with ‘inactive’ semantics (e.g., lie, fall, be heavy, etc.) typically require
an inactive noun as their subject. If an active noun is to be predicated
similarly, a separate active verb may be used, so that there will be
synonym pairs for verbal concepts of the second type. In Indo-
European, the erstwhile existence of such doublets is supposed to
be reflected by pairs like *h1es- vs. *bhuh2- ‘be’, *ses- vs. *k̑ ei̯- ‘lie’, and
*steh2- vs. *h3er- ‘stand’ (with the first item in each pair representing
the ‘active’ variant). Furthermore, the opposition between the PIE mi-
conjugation and the h2e-conjugation is taken to continue the same
active vs. inactive divide.
3. Active languages often possess a distinct class of verbs of affect and/or
experiencing, whose experiencer subject does not stand in the active
case. By contrast, passives are missing. Impersonal constructions in the
ancient Indo-European languages, such as the Lat. pudet me ‘I am
ashamed’ and Gr. δοκεῖ μοι ‘it seems to me’ types, might thus descend
from such affective/experiencing verbs. And the variety of formations
and constructions used to express the passive in the various Indo-
European idioms would result from the lack of a single specific passive
in the ancestor language.
4. Active languages frequently distinguish alienable and inalienable pos-
session, but have no separate verb for ‘have’. The latter point appears
to have been shared by Proto-Indo-European since the daughter
languages do not agree on what (if any) verb they use to express the
concept of ‘having’. As for the former point, a pertinent phenomenon
is observed in Hittite. There, the so-called ‘split-genitive’ construction
(whereby a possessor in the genitive is ‘doubled’ by a possessive
pronoun attached to the head noun: e.g., ša lúmašdá ēšhar=šet ‘the
blood of the poor man’, lit. ‘of the poor man his blood’) is ˘by and large
confined to situations of inalienable possession. Similarly, it has been
suggested that the complementary use of the Latin dative vs. genitive
of possession (domus patri/patris est ‘the house belongs to the father’)
might originally have been determined by the (in)alienability of the
thing possessed.51
5. Finally, the differentiation of inclusive vs. exclusive pronouns is
claimed to be a standard characteristic of active languages. To match
this, it is argued that the stem divergence between *u̯ - and *m- in the
Indo-European 1pl. pronoun could be due to a similar distinction.
Inclusive *u̯ - would be continued for instance in Hitt. u̯ ēš, Ved. vayám,
and Goth. weis ‘we’ – but because of its inclusivity also in 2pl. forms
such as Lat. vōs, Gr. ὑμεῖς (with *us-), or OCS vy ‘you’ – , and exclusive
*m- in OCS my, or also Lat. nōs and Gr. ἡμεῖς (with *n̥ s-) whose *n- for
*m- may be influenced by forms with regular *m̥ s- > *n̥ s-.
9.17 Assessment I: Minor Evidence

Not all of these arguments are equally weighty. The central point for us
is (2), regarding the dichotomous verbal system. Before we discuss this
(9.18), a few remarks on the others will suffice to show how inconclusive
they are.52
ad 1. While it is not implausible to suspect an earlier animate/‘active’ vs.
inanimate/‘inactive’ distinction behind the later non-neuter vs.
neuter divide, we have already seen that the ergative theory can
just as readily explain the genesis of nominal gender by reference to
the change from an ergative to an accusative system (9.6). If there
are pairs like *peh2ur vs. *n̥ gnis, these can only possibly tell us
something about (Pre-)PIE world views and culture, not about
grammar. In order to argue that the Pre-Proto-Indo-Europeans
grammatically (i.e., not just semantically) distinguished an inactive
*peh2ur from an active *n̥ gnis, one would have to produce evidence
suggesting that combinatory restrictions applied to the selection
and/or formation of predicates accompanying these ‘fire’ lexemes.
As for the primitive declension system, again it is perfectly con-
ceivable that there was a very early opposition between an ‘active’
case in *-s and an ‘inactive’ one in *-Ø (as would be required by the
51
On the Hittite ‘split genitive’, see Hoffner and Melchert (2008: 251–2), after Garrett (1998), on the
Latin construction Schmalz and Stolz (1910: 372–3), but also – with other (more likely) explanations –
C. E. Bennett (1910–14: 2.164), Kühner and Stegmann (1955: 1.308), Benveniste (1960) (‘possession’/
“possession” vs. ‘belonging’/“appartenance”), Bauer (2000: 190–3), and Nuti (2005).
52
Cf. also Schwink (1994: 86–7, 101–2), Drinka (1999: 470–92), and Viti (2015a: 240–4); Drinka ends
by suggesting that Pre-Proto-Indo-European might have been a ‘fluid-S’ (not: ‘split-S’) language: on
this, see further 9.19–9.20.
later neuter vs. non-neuter characteristics53). However, there is no
particular reason to regard, say, the ‘animate’ nouns’ case in *-m (>
PIE acc. *-m) as more recent than the one in *-s. Moreover, the
suggestive similarity of the later nominative in *-s to the later
genitive in *-(e/o)s (9.4) would have to be accidental,54 and it
might be asked why it was the ‘active’ rather than the ‘inactive’
case of the active/animate noun class that was marked.
ad 3. To have a special group of experiencing verbs is no prerogative of
active languages. Several ergative languages of the Caucasus, for
example, share this feature.55 Also, if the Indo-European coexis-
tence of impersonal verbs with either a dative or an accusative
experiencer (Lat. pudet me vs. Gr. δοκεῖ μοι) is anything to go by,
the ergative hypothesis even has more explanatory power. The
accusatival structure may then continue a normal transitive con-
struction (with the experiencer in the absolutive → accusative) and
the datival one a special experiencing type (with the experiencer in
the dative qua experiencer case). In an active language with very
limited inflection, one would not expect such a dual option.56
Turning to the absence of a PIE passive, we should both note
that the late-PIE middle may (also) have been used in passive
53
W. P. Lehmann (1989a: 238), based on W. P. Lehmann (1958: 190–1), oddly calls *-m an ‘inanimate’
ending, although its use in the non-neuter accusative should place it in the ‘active’ paradigm of
prototypical animates. What may be meant is an ‘inactive’ ending (cf. W. P. Lehmann 1989b: 116),
but pace W. P. Lehmann (1993: 225) typical inanimates have a nominative in *-Ø. Gamkrelidze and
Ivanov (1995: 238) solve the problem by referring to *-Ø (next to *-m) as “[a]nother marker of the
inactive class”, but this means to multiply ‘inactive’ markers gratuitously; contrast K. H. Schmidt
(1986: 98–9).
54
Gamkrelidze and Ivanov’s (1995: 241–2) explanation for this overlap is not only arbitrary (with its
stipulation that in attributive constructions consisting of modifier noun + head noun, “the syntagma
was marked with *-os regardless of the class of the head . . . noun” provided that “the modifying
noun (the possessor) . . . belonged to the active class”: so e.g. *[king]-[robe]-os ‘the king’s robe’),
but also paradoxical when *-os is then taken to be extracted from here as a genitive marker of inactive
nouns: why should *[robe]-os ‘of the robe’ arise from a syntagma where only *[king] is genitival? In
the same context, it can no longer be maintained that Hittite had a non-neuter genitive singular in
-an < *-om (cf. Hoffner and Melchert 2008: 73).
55
Cf. Velten (1931: 233–4), K. H. Schmidt (1973: 109, 112; 1977: 101; 1979: 336), Boeder (1979: 455–6).
56
On the need to distinguish different kinds of impersonal verbs, see Cuzzolin and Napoli (2009: 78),
on the range of experiential constructions in early Indo-European, Dahl and Fedriani (2012) and
Viti (2015a: esp. 154–81). Since impersonal verbs inflect like 3sg. personal ones, they do not look like
members of a separate “third [system] for verbs of involuntary action that express natural and
psychological phenomena” (W. P. Lehmann 1995: 36), but Matasović (2013) may err on the opposite
side when he regards the pudet me type as recent. Pertinent too is Comrie’s (1998: 93) observation
that “even though there are a few impersonal verbs that take a single non-nominative argument . . .,
adjectives, which are the prime instances of inactive predicates, take nominative subjects”. In
principle, one can of course classify any language with occasional non-prototypical subject marking
as ‘active’ (Nichols 2008: 134), but the label then loses its classificatory usefulness.
contexts and stress that a passive transformation would have been at
least as redundant in an ergative-type Pre-Proto-Indo-European as
in a Pre-PIE system with active alignment. Just as an accusative
language must not be expected to feature an ‘antipassive’ (9.22), so
an ergative language can do without a passive.
ad 4. Similarly, it is unclear why the differentiation of alienable vs.
inalienable possession should not also be possible in ergative (or
accusative) languages. Even if it were true that “in active languages
it is internally motivated and intertwined with the dominating
pattern of the language” since “inalienable possession, which
implies absence of change, is closely connected to stativity”,57 and
even if there does seem to be some correlation with active-language
structures in this case,58 the Hittite facts, which provide the most
substantial – if not the only – support for the idea that the parent
language also made such a distinction, could not possibly allow any
inferences about the ‘active’ nature of Pre-Proto-Indo-European.
Firstly, the phenomenon is in Hittite not backed by an active/
inactive divide in the nominal and verbal systems. Secondly, it is
most doubtful that the Hittite construction is inherited when an
exact match is observed in neighbouring, but genetically unrelated,
Hurrian, another ergative language.59
The point about the missing ‘have’ verb, meanwhile, can be
turned on its head. If later Proto-Indo-European, despite being
an accusative language, did not develop such a verb although it
might have done so just as easily as many of its descendants did, it
can hardly be maintained that only active languages are able to go
without for a prolonged stretch of time.
ad 5. Once again, it is simply wrong to assume that ergative or accusa-
tive languages are less inclined than active ones to distinguish
inclusive from exclusive pronouns.60 Apart from that, the recon-
struction of the PIE personal pronouns is so fraught with diffi-
culties that any interpretation of the discernible patterns as
57
Bauer (2000: 89).
58
See Nichols (1987: 97; 1992: 116–23, 255); but she suggests that areal factors may be at work, not the
semantic organisation of the lexicon, and she also observes a correlation with (un-Indo-European)
head marking (cf. 9.16, fn. 49).
59
Cf. Hazenbos (2005: 153, 154–5), with examples (e.g., šen(a)=iffu=ve ašti=i=Ø ‘the wife of my
brother’, lit. ‘of my brother his wife’); similarly sometimes in Sumerian (cf. Michalowski 2008:
20, e.g. kalam.ak lugal.bi ‘the land’s king’, lit. ‘of the land its king’, next to lugal kalam.ak ‘the king of
the land’). See also Nichols (1992: 271) on the likelihood of areal pressure.
60
Cf. Nichols (1987: 97–8; 1992: 123–4).
reflecting an inclusive vs. exclusive divide is extremely uncertain at
best.61 If one concentrates on the 1pl., the two-stem situation with
*u̯ - vs. *m- is primarily reminiscent of the two-stem situation in
the 1sg., not least because the oblique stem features *m- there too
(9.13). Admittedly, the 1pl. with *u̯ - does not in the same way
resemble the 1sg. pronoun *(h1)egh2-óm/-oH (vel sim.), which is
continued in most Indo-European languages, but its shape at least
vaguely recalls the 1sg. nom. pronoun ūk ‘I’ of Hittite (itself of
unclear provenance). This is not to say that there must be a
connection, and that pluralic *u̯ - vs. *m- therefore must have
arisen from an absolutive/nominative vs. oblique difference rather
than an inclusive vs. exclusive one; but the matter shows that
alternative ways of looking at the same data do exist. Unless the
appearance of *u̯ - also in the 2pl. were a mere coincidence, this
could incidentally still be explained by reference to inclusive
usages of the 1pl. form, with *u̯ - replacing whatever 2pl. pronoun
might have been around before (cf. 10.6). However, the stem
overlap no more proves that the (Pre-)PIE 1pl. pronoun contained
[±inclusive] as an essential semantic feature than the confidential
or condescending uses of 1pl. we in the sense of ‘you’ (in e.g.
doctors’ speak) proves it for Modern English.
9.18 Assessment II: ‘Active’ vs. ‘Inactive’ Verbs?

So far then, there is little support for the active hypothesis. Unlike its
ergative competitor, it also does not clarify any of the morphological
patterns we have to reconstruct for Proto-Indo-European.62 Whether it
should nevertheless prevail therefore depends entirely on argument (2)
in 9.16. Is this strong enough to override the advantages of the ergative
view?
61
See in detail e.g. G. Schmidt (1978), without reference to inclusivity/exclusivity, and Szemerényi
(1996: 212–20), who finds that “[t]he distinction between inclusive and exclusive pronouns . . . has no
significance for IE, but may have played a part in the prehistoric period”; cf. also Jensen (1930),
Prokosch (1939: 282), Watkins (1969: 47), Quattordio Moreschini (1971), Sihler (1993), Winter
(1994b), Dunkel (2004b; 2014: 2.573), Pooth (2011: 473–6), Matasović (2012: 299–300). Pace
Szemerényi (and similarly Martinet 1991: 40–1), it is not “clear that [2pl.] *wes is itself simplified
from *twes, the regular plural of *tu . . . ” as “confirmed by the verbal ending -tes, which represents a
simplification in internal position of *twes”: apart from the following remarks, contrast also e.g.
Cohen (1976) (2pl. *u̯ e- < *i̯u̯ e-?).
62
K. H. Schmidt (1994: 184) suggests that demonstrative *so (as opposed to *to-: 9.4) descends from an
‘agent case in a prehistoric active system’. This is possible, but the argument that in an ergative
system the stem of the ergative and of other oblique cases should be identical becomes insubstantial
if ‘ergatival’ *so itself at an earlier point featured a stem with *t- (cf. 9.4, fn. 9).
Effectively, the backing provided by (2) is very limited as well. It is true
that intransitive mi-verbs like *h1ei̯-m(i) ‘go’ pose a problem for a strictly
ergative system where the mi-conjugation was confined to transitive struc-
tures (9.14). In order to account for them, one has to assume that the
‘ergatival’ endings were secondarily adopted by some intransitive verbs,
notably ones with an agentive/controlling subject (‘unergatives’, as
opposed to non-agentive/controlling ‘unaccusatives’ like lie or sleep). In
the context of an ergative → accusative alignment change, this would be a
natural development.63 Once the case marking of S’s and A’s coincided (cf.
9.5, 9.21), it was no longer necessary to operate with one verbal cross-
referencer (‘ending’) for S and another for A. If both of them were to
continue, their use had to become determined by semantic instead of the
previous syntactic criteria.64 As we shall see later (9.20), the h2e-
conjugation could thus become specialised in a new ‘middle-voice’ cate-
gory opposed to the characteristically ‘active’ m(i)-conjugation.
Within the framework of the active hypothesis, things are not equally
smooth. First of all, it must be emphasised that a binary division into active
vs. inactive verbs and nouns is no necessary characteristic of a language
belonging to the ‘active’/‘split-S’ type. The fact that an ‘inactive’ verb like
fall requires a subject marked as SO need not mean that fall can only occur
with subjects like stone, but not with others like man, and that a second
quasi-synonymous ‘active’ verb fall2 is therefore needed to formulate
sentences like ‘the man falls’. But even supposing that Pre-Proto-Indo-
European was one of those ‘active’ languages where such verbal pairs
exist,65 the concrete examples given are questionable: *steh2- and *h3er-
63
Cf. Boeder (1979: 468–9) with the observation that in South Caucasian (Kartvelian), “[a]n over-
whelming majority of ‘irregular’ ergatives is found with the verba movendi. Sumerian, Urartian and
Hurrian, i.e. the Erg[ative] languages in the ancient southern neighbourhood of Kartvelian,
interestingly sometimes also show the Erg[ative] with the verba movendi”, which “are at the top
of the activity hierarchy which is characterized by decreasing agency and voluntary control [Nichols
1975]. . . . It is tempting to assume an extension of the Erg[ative] along this activity hierarchy in
G[eorgian], Laz and Megrelian, starting from the verba movendi and ending with the subject of
passives (in Megrelian . . .).” On Mingrelian (Megrelian), see further 9.21, on the general principles
underlying the extension observed here, Anderson (1977: 52–3), Dixon (1979: 78, 108–9), and Harris
and Campbell (1995: 261–81).
64
But many of the Indo-European media tantum (Delbrück 1897: 419–25, Meiser 2009) still reflect the
earlier state of affairs. Pace W. P. Lehmann (1989a: 229–30), they cannot support the active
hypothesis when they include, for example, ‘verbs of movement’ that presuppose ‘active’ subjects:
see fn. 65.
65
Although he never voices disagreement with Gamkrelidze and Ivanov on the matter, and although
he does mention verbal pairs in W. P. Lehmann (1992: 171, 248; 1995: 15; 2002: 5, 54), Lehmann
generally seems to envisage a less strict type of ‘active’ language (cf. esp. W. P. Lehmann 1992: 107;
1995: 15); as Dixon (1994: 185–6 n. 2) notes, Klimov (1973; 1977), on whom Lehmann relies, mainly
are no more synonymous than Engl. ‘(take a) stand’ and ‘rise’, and *ses- and
*k̑ ei̯- are normally taken to mean ‘sleep’ and ‘lie’ respectively. As for *h1es-
vs. *bhuh2-, not only is it possible to diagnose a semantic divergence here
too (‘be’ vs. ‘become’), but it is also odd to treat *bhuh2- as the ‘inactive’
counterpart of *h1es- when its mi-inflection is no less established than that
of *h1es- (cf. 1sg. aor. *(h1e-)bhuh2-m > Gr. ἔφῡν, Ved. ábhuvam;
Table 6.1).66 Furthermore, there is no sign of any of the alleged ‘inactive’
verbal roots being restricted to ‘inactive’ nouns: *h3er- frequently refers to
people rising or getting up, *k̑ ei̯- predicates lying persons as freely as lying
things, and *bhuh2- is the root used in various intrinsically animate, hence
‘active’, lexemes like Ved. bhūtá- ntr. ‘creature’ or Gr. φῦλον ‘tribe’.
Related to this is the more general difficulty that one and the same root
can readily be associated with both mi-endings and h2e-endings in parallel
formations, be they actives vs. middles or non-perfect (dynamic) vs. perfect
(stative) ones. In order to defend the active hypothesis, one has to regard
this as a secondary development. But the argumentation then becomes
paradoxical. Because there are two conjugation ‘classes’, an active-language
prehistory is postulated, but because the two ‘classes’ do not behave as they
should in an active language, it is assumed that substantial changes
obscured the original state of affairs.
Similar inconsistencies emerge when we look more carefully at one of the
most fundamental traits in the two-class structure. Just like the mi-conjugation
with 1sg./2sg. *-m(i) and *-s(i), the h2e-conjugation possesses 1sg./2sg. forms, in
*-h2e and *-th2e respectively (9.12). Yet, if the h2e-conjugation were the original
‘inactive’ class, should we not expect it to combine only very reluctantly, if at
all, with subjects from the top end of the animacy hierarchy (‘I’, ‘you’)? In order
describes a ‘fluid-S’ type (9.19). Much of the following criticism therefore applies only to
Gamkrelidze and Ivanov’s presentation. However, even with a milder version little is gained over
the ergative approach. Firstly, just as the ergative model presupposes that nominal A marking was
extended to S’s, so an extension of A/SA marking to SO will still be needed in the transition from an
‘active’/‘split-S’ to an accusative system. Secondly, the active hypothesis is in any case inconve-
nienced by (a) media tantum verbs with an ‘agentive/controlling’ S (e.g., Gr. ἅλλομαι ‘jump’,
μάχομαι ‘fight’, σεύομαι ‘rush’, φέβομαι ‘flee’ in Delbrück 1897: 422–3; see fn. 64 and Meiser’s
2009: 331 acknowledgment of the problem) and (b) the coexistence of active and middle forms from
the same stem (cf. below in the main text). Thirdly, the active hypothesis morphologically entails
that 1sg. *-m be the ‘active’ personal ending and *-h2e the ‘inactive’ one: this does not fit in with the
stem m- being confined to the oblique cases of the 1sg. pronoun (including the ‘inactive’ accusative),
and it is altogether absurd at the same time to declare *-m an old 1sg. O/SO marker (W. P. Lehmann
1994: 4; 1995: 30; 2002: 126–7).
66
Or else, if the perfect Gr. πέφῡκα ~ Ved. babhū́ va is used to back the claim (Gamkrelidze and Ivanov
1995: 256), why not also assign *steh2- to the ‘inactive’ domain because of Gr. ἕστηκα ~ Ved. tastháu
~ Lat. stetī? For similar criticism, see Stempel (1996: 73–4), although he is sympathetic to the idea as
such (cf. Stempel 1998: 172–3), and K. H. Schmidt (1999: 533–4).
to address this problem, Gamkrelidze and Ivanov propose that *-h2e initially
indexed an inactive patient (O = ‘stone’) in a transitive sequence such as ‘I/you
[move] stone’, following either a zero marker of the active agent (A) in the 1sg.
(hence *-Ø-h2e) or a *-t- marker of the active agent in the 2sg. (hence *-t-h2e).
By contrast, 1sg. *-m(i) and 2sg. *-s(i) would have indexed the active agent (A)
only when the patient (O) also belonged to the active class (e.g. ‘I/you [kill]
animal’).67 In other words, far from being restricted to intransitive contexts
with inactive A’s, *-h2e and *-th2e would have belonged to a prototypically
transitive type with active A’s, before being “extended to one-place verbs with
an inactive argument” because of the “loss of the strict binary active/inactive
classification of Indo-European nouns and reanalysis of the noun classes as
grammatically agreeing nominal formations without regard to their semantic
activity or inactivity”. That we are then not only dealing with an ‘extension’,
but in many cases (with prototypical middles and perfects) also with an
unmotivated restriction to intransitive uses (“one-place verbs”) is not commen-
ted upon, perhaps because the construct is so thoroughly arbitrary anyway.
With it, the existence of two conjugation types is effectively no longer regarded
as a telling relic of a Pre-PIE active alignment system. Instead, argument (2)
comes to hinge exclusively on the semantic pairs discussed and dismissed
above, together with the opposition of an allegedly ‘active’ 3sg. in *-t(i) vs. an
allegedly ‘inactive’ 3sg. in *-e – with the proviso that the ‘inactivity’ of the latter
is a pure petitio principii when this ending, at the stage we can really reconstruct,
undoubtedly parallels the ‘active-class’ 1sg./2sg. endings *-h2e and *-th2e.68
9.19 ‘Split-S’ vs. ‘Fluid-S’

Just like the ‘split-accusative’ hypothesis (9.10), the active hypothesis thus
fails to offer the degree of reconstructive economy that can be achieved
with its ergative counterpart. Therefore to prefer the latter does not of
course exclude the theoretical possibility that an even earlier active phase
preceded the ergative one:69
67
Gamkrelidze and Ivanov (1995: 256–60).
68
Also, why is the inactive argument (O) in e.g. ‘man [move] stone’ not similarly indexed with *-h2e
when it is so indexed in ‘I/you [move] stone’? And why do inactive patients (unlike active ones)
require O-indexing at all when they (qua inactives) can hardly be anything other than O’s in a two-
argument structure?
69
In accordance with Klimov (1973: 8), who wants to see in the ergative system a ‘special phase in the
transformation of an active into a nominative [i.e., accusative] structure’; cf. Klimov (1977: 210–11;
1979: 332), K. H. Schmidt (1977: 102, 111; 1979: 337, 344), and for (Pre-)Proto-Indo-European perhaps
already Kacnel’son (1967: 41). Of course, not every ergative language must have an active precursor. On
other possible sources, see e.g. Comrie (1976b: 258–9), Trask (1979), Garrett (1990), Harris and
Campbell (1995: 248–9), and Drinka (1999: 482–3), and note the general doubts of Nichols (2008: 135)
about the distinctiveness (or cognitive priority: Romagno 2011) of active languages.
‘active’/‘split-S’ phase (?) → ergative phase → accusative phase
However, care must be taken not to confuse such a conceivable – though
exceedingly remote – ‘active’/‘split-S’ phase with an intermediate phase
during the transition from the ergative to the accusative system. As argued
in 9.18, this period too would have seen some S’s (already) marked as SA’s
while others were (still) marked as SO’s. But this would not have been the
same kind of SA vs. SO contrast as in an ‘active’ (‘split-S’) language. Instead,
the transitional system would have belonged to what typologists call a
‘fluid-S’ type:
In a split-S language the A-type and O-type markings are allocated to S
syntactically; the Sa/So division has a semantic basis, of course (as does
the prototypical identification of A and O in a transitive clause) but
there is no choice involved for an individual verb. In a fluid-S language
the A-type and O-type markings are allocated to intransitive clauses
semantically, with each intransitive verb having the possibility of either
choice, depending on the semantics of each particular context of use. In
practice, some verbs refer to activities that are always likely to be
controlled and these are always likely to be marked as Sa; other verbs
refer to activities or states that are likely never to be controlled and
these are always likely to be shown as So. But there will be many verbs
in a middle region, referring to activities where there can be control or
lack of control, and these may accordingly be marked either as Sa or
So.70
9.20 The Emergence of Verbal Voice

The emergence of verbal voice in Proto-Indo-European may be seen as a
consequence of such a ‘fluid-S’ interlude between the Pre-PIE ergative
and the later accusative systems. Although in the end the subjects of
(prototypically, though not exclusively, transitive) active verbs and (pro-
totypically intransitive) middle ones are identically marked as nominatives,
no matter how ‘controlling’ or ‘agentive’ they are, the possibility of
attaching either the active or the middle endings to one and the same
verbal stem may still hark back to the characteristic flexibility of a ‘fluid-S’
type.
More concretely, as soon as the A-indexing verbal endings of transitive
verbs (e.g., 1sg. *-m) started to intrude into the domain of intransitive
verbs, a competition had to ensue between them and the old S-indexing
70
Dixon (1994: 78–9); cf. Dixon (1979: 80–2). According to Drinka (1999: 493), ‘fluid-S’ languages are
rare, as they should be if they are a transitional type.
endings of intransitive verbs (e.g., 1sg. *-h2 as the likely precursor of *-h2e:
9.28, 10.3–10.4). This was resolved not by getting totally rid of the
S-indexing endings, as might have been possible, but by refunctionalising
them. Not only were they kept wherever an SO had to be indexed but, in
line with this core function during the ‘fluid-S’ period, their application
range was also somewhat extended into transitive environments. There
they could now be used on condition that an A had some O-like properties,
such as being the experiencer – and hence potentially the beneficiary – of
an eventuality (‘AO’). This explains why in Indo-European we observe not
only intransitive middles like Gr. φέρεται ‘takes a course, moves, succeeds,
(pass.) is carried’, but also transitive ones like Gr. φέρεται ‘carries off, wins
sth. for him/herself’.71
Figure 9.5 represents the development schematically, using the 1sg.
endings as placeholders for the complete paradigms. For a more detailed
account of the formal evolution of the middle voice, see 10.19.72
Phase I (ergative Pre-PIE) Phase II (accusative PIE)
A S A S
‘agentive / controlling’ *-m *-h2 ‘agentive / controlling’ *-m *-m ( = active)
‘non-agentive / controlling’ *-m *-h2 ‘non-agentive’ or ‘deagentivised’ *-h2 *-h2 ( = middle)

(incl. reflexive, self-benefactive, etc.)
Fig. 9.5. The emergence of verbal voice in Proto-Indo-European
71
Cf. Drinka (1999: 486–92), where a parallel argument is made for the development of transitive
perfects, Clackson (2007: 179–80), and Barđdal and Eythórsson (2009) (on ‘oblique’ subjects in
Germanic). Pooth (2004a) too seems to be thinking of a Pre-PIE ‘fluid-S’ rather than ‘split-S’ type.
On the functional range of Indo-European middles (reflexive, indirect-reflexive, reciprocal, intran-
sitive, passive, etc.), see e.g. Gonda (1960) (“a process is taking place with regard to, or is affecting,
happening to a person or a thing”), Strunk (1980) (‘a general function of the middle . . . consists in
relating some behaviour referred to by the verb . . . to the carrier of the behaviour’), Perel’muter
(1984), Lazzeroni (1990), Klaiman (1991: 82–104), P. K. Andersen (1993) (‘the primary actant stands
in a patient-like relationship with the predicate’), Stempel (1995: 522; 1996: 21–7), Romagno (2002)
(‘morphological manifestation of Indo-European inaccusativity’), Pooth (2004a: 46–7) (‘semanti-
cally based “non-prototypically-active category”’).
72
For the sake of simplicity, the figure abstracts from the existence in later Proto-Indo-European of
(a) ‘agentive/controlling’ intransitive middle verbs (e.g., 3sg. aor. *(h1e-)h3r-to > Gr. ὦρτο ‘rose,
got up’) and (b) more exceptionally, at least partly ‘non-agentive/controlling’ transitive active
verbs (e.g., 3sg. aor. *(h1e-)k̑ leu̯ -t > Ved. áśrot ‘has heard’). Since these do not constitute innova-
tions vis-à-vis the ergative phase, systemic inertia explains them. Secondarily, a neater distribution
of transitive actives vs. intransitive middles could of course be achieved in individual branches: see
Tischler (1982b: 245–9) on this happening during the history of Hittite, and compare the role of
transitivity in the transfer of many Latin deponent (~ middle) verbs to the active inflection
(Flobert 1975: 308, 316–17, 322, 570–1).
9.21–9.25 Ergative → Accusative Alignment Change 533
9.21–9.25 Pathways for an Ergative → Accusative
Alignment Change
9.21 Extension of A Marking
The idea that a Pre-PIE ergative system could be transformed into the
accusative system of later Proto-Indo-European by an extension of nom-
inal A marking to S’s (9.5), accompanied by a reshuffling of verbal A vs.
S indexing (9.18, 9.20), gains in plausibility when we observe that a change
of this kind indisputably occurred in Mingrelian. Like its South Caucasian
relatives, which include Georgian, Mingrelian originally used ergative
alignment in the aspectually perfective aorist tense series, but accusative
alignment in the imperfective present tense series (cf. 9.26). At some point,
however, the original ergative marker was extended to cover S as well as
A in the aorist.73 Since the alignment of both the present and the aorist
tense series has thus become accusatival in Mingrelian, the old ergative
marker (-k), still being confined to the aorist system, has effectively turned
into a marker of aspectual perfectivity (though one that is attached not to
the verb, but to its nominal subject).
9.22 Passives and Antipassives

Though simple and straightforward, the evolution witnessed by
Mingrelian is not the only possible mechanism for an ergative → accusa-
tive alignment change. A second major pathway mirrors the accusative →
ergative change brought about by the reinterpretation of a generalised
passive in Indo-Iranian (9.12).74
Just as accusative languages often have a passive that can be used, for
example,
(i) when the patient (underlying O) of an eventuality is located higher
up on the animacy hierarchy than the agent (underlying A), so that
the ‘normal’ relationship of agent and patient is inversed (e.g., John
was hit by a car),
(ii) when the underlying O is considered to be of greater relevance
than the underlying A, so that the latter need not even appear in
73
See Boeder (1979: 439–43) and Dixon (1994: 202), both also on the inverse generalisation in Laz,
where “the range of ergative has been extended so that it marks all A, regardless of tense”. The
potential relevance of the Mingrelian development for the discussion of (Pre-)PIE alignment was
already noted by Klimov (1967: 154) and K. H. Schmidt (1973: 115–16; 1977: 105).
74
Cf. K. H. Schmidt (1973: 115), Anderson (1977: 347–52), Dixon (1994: 193–200), Harris and
Campbell (1995: 245–6).
the passive construction (e.g., The tree was felled (by the work-
men)), or
(iii) when the primary focus is placed on the result of an eventuality
rather than the eventuality as such (e.g., Mary was surprised by the
news),75
so ergative languages commonly possess a so-called ‘antipassive’ transfor-
mation, featuring an obligatory S in the absolutive case and an optional
Target in an oblique case (such as a dative or directional) (Fig. 9.6).
Base construction Transformation

accusative system Anom. [verb] Oacc. → passive: Agentobl. (e.g. instr.) [verb] Snom.
ergative system Aerg. [verb] Oabs. → antipassive: Sabs. [verb] Targetobl. (e.g. dat. / dir.)
Fig. 9.6. Passive and antipassive transformations
Enabling semantic moves that match the ones just listed for the passive,
such antipassives may for example allow speakers
(i) to remedy an atypical A–O relationship by demoting a highly
animate underlying O into an indirect object or Target role, so
that there is neither a non-prototypical (high-animate) O nor a
non-prototypical (low-animate) A (e.g., The car is hitting at/towards
John, rather than The car is hitting John),
(ii) to assign greater relevance to the underlying A than to the underlying
O (especially if the latter is indefinite or generic), and possibly to
omit the underlying O altogether (e.g., Smoking kills (people)),
(iii) to focus on certain modal features of an eventuality (rather than its
actuation as such, let alone its result), such as the underlying O’s only
partial involvement/affectedness (e.g., Jane is pulling at the table, as
opposed to Jane is pulling the table) or the underlying A’s general
inclination/habit to carry out the eventuality (e.g., Mary tells funny
stories).76
Point (iii) in particular explains why “just as a passive is suited to
perfective aspect or past tense – and is sometimes the genesis of an ergative
system that is found only in perfect or past – so antipassive relates to tenses/
75
On these and related functions of the passive (such as backgrounding in discourse), see e.g. Hopper
and Thompson (1980: 292–4), P. K. Andersen (1985) (with a focus on Vedic).
76
Cf. Silverstein (1976: 140–3), Plank (1979b: 28), Hopper and Thompson (1980: 268–70), Dixon
(1994: 148–52); on ‘normal’ (or prototypical) O’s and A’s, see Comrie (1989: 129–30).
aspects/moods in which the subject is likely to control the activity (e.g.
purposive) or where the possibility of an activity happening depends on the
propensity of the subject”.77 The use of the antipassive is therefore com-
monest in the non-perfective and non-past domain.
9.23 Reanalysis of Antipassives

Given the focus on the underlying A rather than the underlying O in the
syntactically intransitive antipassive, an antipassive transformation con-
stitutes an ideal locus for A marking to spread to S’s. Thus, far from being
mutually exclusive with the evolution described in 9.21, the reanalysis of
an ergative system’s ‘generalised antipassive’ as a transitive base construc-
tion in a newly accusative system should be able to go hand in hand with
the spread of A marking to S roles. In fact, there are strong reasons to
believe that the accusative system of the present tense series of South
Caucasian (9.21) goes back precisely to such an antipassive transforma-
tion, since its functionally accusative-like case for O’s is also used more
generally as a dative.78 If this is so, it means that Mingrelian has merely
gone a little further along the road towards full accusativity than other
South Caucasian languages. Its A-marker extension in the aorist tense
series nothing but complements the antipassive-induced change from
ergativity to accusativity in the present tense series which is shared by
relatives like Georgian.
9.24 Pre-PIE Antipassives and Nominal Inflection

Against this background, it will be useful to remember that several scholars
already suspected an older ‘directional’ case behind the PIE accusative
ending *-m (9.6).79 To support this, one may compare the directional
accusative in various ancient Indo-European languages (e.g., Il. 1.322
ἔρχεσθον κλισίην Πηληϊάδεω Ἀχιλῆος ‘go to the tent of the Peleid
Achilleus!’, Lat. Romam/rus ire ‘to go to Rome/to the countryside’,
nuptum dare ‘give into marriage’, RV 10.14.13 yamám ha yajñó gachati
‘to Yama goes the sacrifice’).80 Given such usages, it is˙ unproblematic to
assume that the non-directional accusative has its roots in a Target case
77
Dixon (1994: 198); on the correlation of antipassives with imperfectivity, see also Tchekhoff (1987).
78
Boeder (1979: 460–3).
79
Cf. now also Stefański (1994: 372–5), Pooth (2004a: 50–1). Pace Luraghi (1987: 366–7), the existence
in Anatolian of a differently marked ‘allative’ case is no counterargument, whatever its origin.
80
Cf. e.g. Delbrück (1893: 363–5), Schwyzer and Debrunner (1950: 67–8), Hofmann and Szantyr (1965:
49–50), Macdonell (1916: 299), Haudry (1977: 143–4), García Ramón (1995), Conti (2002), all with
further examples.
in *-m representing an underlying O in the framework of an antipassive
transformation.81 And since we have seen in 9.22 that the use of such
an antipassive would naturally have been prompted whenever a high-
animate surface O was to be avoided, it also makes sense that the accusative
in *-m is restricted – at least outside the thematic declension82 – to
the higher end of the animacy scale.83 With inanimate O’s, the need to
use the antipassive would have been less frequent, causing inanimate
nouns to occur less often in the *-m case, just as they occurred less
often in the ergative marked with *-s. When the old antipassive was
reanalysed as a new transitive base construction in an accusative system
(9.23), the generalisation of *-m as a surface O marker therefore did not
affect these lexemes any more than did the extension of *-s from A to S
function (Fig. 9.7).
9.25 Pre-PIE Antipassives and Verbal Inflection

To keep things clear, our discussion of antipassives has so far focused only
on the marking of the nominal constituents. However, if we still want to
follow Pedersen in tying the PIE mi-conjugation to an earlier transitive
syntactic pattern, and the PIE h2e-conjugation to an intransitive one (9.14),
the notion that an antipassive derivation may have been key to the Pre-PIE
81
This was first suggested by Schmalstieg (1980: 183–5; 1981: 248–52; 1986: 163, 165; 1987; 2000), but
with doubtful premises: for example, PIE masculine nominatives would continue either ergatives or
absolutives, and PIE 3sg. *-to would be the oldest ‘transitive’ (!) ending in the preterite.
82
The thematic nom.-acc. ntr. *-om need not be separated from accusatival *-m (9.10, Schmalstieg
1997) if the thematic class was originally adjectival (‘relating to/characterised by X’, e.g. *leu̯ k-o-
‘relating to/characterised by brightness’ > ‘bright’, Gr. λευκός; cf. Mottausch 2001: 5–6, to be held
against the interpretation of *-e/o- as a definite article or part of the root in Haudry 1982: 29–36 and
Erhart 1993: 72–3 respectively). When agreeing with an A in *-s, the later nom. *leu̯ k-o-s emerged,
when agreeing with a Target in *-m, the later acc. *leu̯ k-o-m (e.g., *leu̯ k-o-m h2ner-m̥ ‘the bright
man’). Once the Target case in *-m was generalised as the standard accusative for ‘animates’, a
competition between the older accusative (< absolutive) ending in *-o(-Ø) and the newer one in
*-om resulted. This was resolved in favour of *-om, so that *-om was used even when agreeing with an
‘inanimate’ accusative in *-Ø (e.g., *leu̯ k-o-m peh2ur ‘the bright fire’); and since inanimates did not
otherwise distinguish nominatives and accusatives, the form in *-om also became the neuter
nominative. However, in the pronominal inflection (e.g., *h2el-i̯o- ‘other’), a trace of the previous
situation persists (pace Matasović 2004: 187). In Greek, for example, only non-neuters show acc.
*-om (ἄλλον < *h2el-i̯om ≠ ntr. ἄλλο < *h2el-i̯o(-d), with added *-d perhaps after *to-d ‘that’ < *to-t(o):
cf. Szemerényi 1973: 60; 1996: 96, 205, against Vaillant 1936: 102). The ultimate starting point for
such an adjectival o-stem class (which allows further comparison with the *CeC-o ‘statives’ of 4.34;
cf. 5.41, fn. 156) may then still be sought in a (root-noun) genitive in *-os, interpreted adjectivally
because of its apparent agreement with an ergative head noun (e.g., *leu̯ k-os h2ner-serg. ‘man of
brightness/light’ → ‘bright man’): cf. Pedersen (1907: 152–3), Beekes (1985: 172–4, 192), Matsumoto
(1993: 316–17), Matasović (2004: 187).
83
As a typological comparandum, note that “a dative morpheme is often reanalysed as a marker of
definite and/or animate O’s” (Hopper and Thompson 1980: 260, after Givón 1976: 160).
Phase I (ergative system)
(1) base construction A-serg. [verb] O-Øabs.
(2) antipassive S-Øabs. [verb] Target-mdir. (esp. with high-animate underlying O’s)
Phase II (extension of A-marking to agentive S’s)

(1') A-s [verb] O-Ø
(2') S-s [verb] Target-m
Phase III (reanalysis: S = A, Target = (high-animate) O) (accusative system)
(3) base construction A-snom. [verb] O-macc.(high-animate) / O-Øacc. (low-animate)
Fig. 9.7. Antipassive case marking and (Pre-)PIE ergative → accusative

alignment change
ergative → PIE accusative alignment change also has consequences for the
verb.84
Specifically, we may consider two options:
(a) the Pre-PIE antipassive structure was exclusively marked on the
nominal constituents, with the verb simply taking the required
‘intransitive’/S-indexing endings;85 or
(b) the Pre-PIE antipassive structure was (additionally) marked by some
derivational affix attached to the verbal stem.
Taking again the example of 9.14 (though now writing *-h2 for *-h2e: cf.
9.20), we thus get either
(a) base construction *g u̯ hen-m̥ h2ner-Øabs. = ‘I strike the man’
antipassive *g u̯ hen-h2 h2ner-m̥ dir. = ‘I strike (at) the man’
or
(b) base construction *g u̯ hen-m̥ h2ner-Øabs. = ‘I strike the man’
antipassive *g u̯ hen-[suffix]-h2 h2ner-m̥ dir. = ‘I strike (at) the man’
In principle, the two options do not exclude each other. Compare the
Greek passive, which is also partly marked by endings (act. πέμπ-ω ‘I send’
vs. pass. πέμπ-ομαι ‘I am sent’) and partly by a derivational suffix (act.
84
Cf. Pooth (2004a: 49–54), who does not consider the possibility of a formally marked antipassive
derivation.
85
The situation would thus be parallel to the one documented by Anderson (1976: 21–2) for West
Circassian (Northern Caucasus), with e.g. (ergatival) č’’aaλa-m č’ǝg°-ǝr ya-ź°a ‘boyerg. fieldabs. ploughs
[it]’ = ‘the boy is ploughing the field’ vs. (accusatival/antipassive) č’’aaλa-r č’ǝg°-ǝm ya-ź°a ‘boyabs.
fieldobl. ploughs [it]’ = ‘the boy is trying to plough the field/doing some ploughing on the field’.
Whereas the verb remains unaltered, the accusatival/antipassive version “indicates that the action is
carried out less completely, less successfully, less conclusively, etc., or that the object is less completely,
less directly, less permanently, etc., affected by the action”.
ἔπεμψ-α ‘I sent’ vs. pass. ἐπέμφ-θη-ν ‘I was sent’). A priori, one might
perhaps expect a preference for (a) with ‘labile’ roots, which freely occur in
either transitive or intransitive contexts (e.g., *trep- ‘turn’), but for (b) with
prototypically transitive roots whose use in an intransitive structure would
require more signposting. In 10.35, we shall see that there is in fact a strong
candidate for such a Pre-PIE antipassive suffix.86 But for the time being, we
may content ourselves with stressing once more that the question of Pre-
PIE alignment cannot adequately be discussed by reference to nominal
inflection alone.
9.26–9.27 Ergativity and Tense/Aspect Categories

9.26 General Principles
In 9.21 it has been mentioned that most South Caucasian languages
belong to a linguistic type with ‘split ergativity’, though one where it is
not the animacy of the nominal constituents that determines the split
(9.8). Instead, ergative syntax is found in the perfective aorist tense series,
and accusative syntax in the imperfective present tense series. A similar
restriction of the ergative pattern is observed among the modern Indo-
Iranian languages where what used to be a passive periphrasis with a *-to-
participle generally87 replaces a transitive verb in the past tense only (cf.
9.12). This is not a chance coincidence. Ample cross-linguistic evidence
shows that “if a split is conditioned by tense or aspect, the ergative
marking is always found either in past tense or in perfective aspect”.88
The fact that antipassives tend towards non-past and non-perfective
contexts (9.22) is also in line with this rule. Antipassives are, after all,
‘accusative-style’ transitive structures.
The reason for this phenomenon is easy to detect. As Plank observes,
[p]erfective or completive aspects, for example, differ from imperfective/
prospective/potential/future/progressive/habitual aspects in describing a
state, rather than an ongoing or potentially occurring activity, or preferably
a change of state already accomplished, the involvement of the participants
86
For an early hint in this direction, see Schuchardt (1905/6: 530–1): ‘it may be asked if the presentic
stem formants did not serve to transform a passive transitive into a real active, as is probably the case
with the very similar Kartvelian ones’.
87
According to Pirejko (1979: 487), who refers to Regamey (1954: 365), the “extension [sc., of the Indo-
Aryan ergative construction] into the present tense verb forms in some of the languages (e.g. Shina,
Nepali), can be accounted for by the influence of the Tibeto-Burman substratum”; in any case, it is a
secondary development.
88
Dixon (1994: 99), who cites further data from the linguistic isolate Burushaski in Pakistan, Mayan
languages, Sumerian, or Chukchee, among others. Cf. also Plank (1979b: 26–8).
9.26–9.27 Ergativity and Tense/Aspect Categories 539
having already reached its maximum degree at the completion of the event.
Under these circumstances, the patient is likely to be particularly salient
since it is typically the condition of the patient, rather than the agent, that is
recognizably different after the completion of an event (John has killed Bill/
has melted the ice).89
Looking at the same matter from a different angle, one can then also add
‘ergativity’ to the correlates of high transitivity, and ‘accusativity’ to those
of low transitivity (3.35). According to Hopper and Thompson, “[c]har-
acteristically, we find any of the following correspondences:
ergative antipassive
Verb codes two participants Verb codes only one participant
Perfective Aspect Imperfective Aspect
Total involvement of O Partitive O
Definite O Indefinite O
Kinetic/volitional V Stative/involuntary V
Active participation of A Passive participation of A”90
9.27 Implications for (Pre-)Proto-Indo-European

As we shall see later, the nexus between perfectivity and ergative syntax on
the one hand, and between imperfectivity and accusative/antipassive syn-
tax on the other, is of great importance for the evolution of the (Pre-)PIE
verbal system. But already at this point, two things are worth stressing:
1. The observation that few of the world’s languages display full (non-
split) ergativity91 cannot be used as an argument against an ergative
reconstruction of Pre-Proto-Indo-European. Although Villar’s and
Rumsey’s criticism of the ergative hypothesis is wrong-headed (9.11),
we must concede that it would be unwise to posit a fully ergative
Pre-PIE grammar without any split. However, given the widespread
existence of partially ergative languages in which the split between
ergatival and accusatival patterns relates to the verbal rather than the
nominal domain, there is an obvious alternative.92 We must envisage a
system in which tense and/or aspect distinctions correlated with
different ways of encoding eventualities that involve more than one
participant.
89
Plank (1979b: 24); cf. Anderson (1976: 22). 90 Hopper and Thompson (1980: 268).
91
Cf. Trask (1979: 386), who cites as exceptions Basque and the Mayan language Tzeltal; Dixon (1994:
14, 55).
92
“There are apparently no languages exhibiting a clear NP split together with a clear tense/aspect
split” (Trask 1979: 386).
2. Once we do this, the ergative hypothesis offers a simple answer to the
question how tense distinctions (present vs. past) could be expressed in
the proto-language before ‘primary’ *-i was introduced (1.2, 10.18). In
past-tense contexts, ergative structures may have been preferred, and
in present-tense ones non-ergative structures (‘antipassives’ of what-
ever type: 9.25).93 Positively to prove this is of course difficult, but one
or two morphological points can be cited in support.
Firstly, the addition of ‘primary’ *-i seems more deeply rooted, and
hence older, in the ‘ergatival’ m-series of PIE endings. If the h2-series,
where ‘primary’ *-i is still absent from the Greek and Indo-Iranian
perfect (5.3), was naturally presentic anyway, it would stand to reason
that it required a present-tense marker less urgently.
Secondly, in the thematic conjugation the 1sg. pair (pres.) *-oH :
(past) *-om is structurally less regular than 2sg. *-esi : *-es and 3sg. *-eti :
*-et (1.5). How exactly 1sg. *-oH is related to the 1sg. in *-h2(e) will
occupy us later (10.4), but it is hard to deny that there is some link
between the two, and that *-oH is therefore best rewritten as *-oh2. So,
the tense-conditioned *-oh2 : *-om contrast in the thematic 1sg. con-
curs with the notion that, to begin with, m-series endings had a past-
tense affinity and h2-series endings a present-tense one.94
Meanwhile, Pre-PIE aspectual differences stricto sensu appear not to have
been conveyed by the selection of ergatival vs. non-ergatival syntax/end-
ings. As worked out earlier and last diagrammed in Fig. 8.1, perfectivity as
such was signalled by reduplication in the earliest recoverable stages of the
proto-language. The ergative hypothesis does not necessitate any modifi-
cation of this theory. There is nothing to suggest that, for example, the use
of a 1sg. in *-(o)m was ever unavailable in the imperfective past (imperfect).
And yet, the subsequent evolution of aspect was not to remain unaffected by
the aspectual dimension of ergativity. As will be argued in 10.41, it is precisely
the change from Pre-PIE (split) ergativity to PIE accusativity that provides the
key to all the aspectual restructurings we have dealt with in the preceding
chapters. But before we can go there, we must first return to our unfinished
discussion of the origin of the s-aorist (8.54). By now, we finally have all the
theoretical equipment we need in order to bring it to a conclusion.95
93
Cf. already Schmalstieg (1988: 592) and Hart (1990: 463–4), the latter without reference to ergativity.
94
If the argument in 9.28–9.30 is accepted, a similar point can be made about the 3sg. pret. ending -š in
the Hittite hi-conjugation matching a h2e-conjugation-based 3sg. pres. in *-e(i̯): the PIE *-s which
˘ -š (8.31) is then as ‘ergatival’ in origin as the 1sg. in *-m.
underlies Hitt.
95
The following section recasts some of the ideas set out in Willi (2010b: 520–2).
9.28–9.31 Reconsidering the Origin of the s-Aorist
9.28 From Pronouns to Personal Endings
In 9.12–9.14, we have encountered the idea that the personal endings of
Proto-Indo-European go back to once independent personal pronouns.
We have seen that there is a match at least between 1sg. *-m and the
pronominal oblique stem *m-, which should also have been the stem used
in the oblique ergative case. Whether there is a similar connection between
the element *-h2- in 1sg. *-h2e and the laryngeal element *-h2- in the
pronominal nominative *(h1)eg-h2-oH/-om (> Gr. ἐγώ, Lat. ego, Skt.
ahám) is much less certain; but given the tendency of emphatic pronouns
to be renewed by accretion, it must not be excluded.96 In the 2sg., the
pronominal t- stem is common to both the oblique and the nominative
cases (cf. e.g. nom. Gr. (Dor.) τύ, Lat. tū, Skt. tvám < *tu(H)(-om), acc. Gr.
σέ, Skt. tvā(m) < *tu̯ -ē̆ (-om), Lat. tē < *t-ē), but only replicated by the verbal
ending *-th2e next to 1sg. *-h2e. The likeness between the 1sg. and 2sg. here
suggests that a simpler 2sg. ending *-t (vel sim.) was remade into *-th2e
under the influence of the 1sg. For the m-series with 2sg. *-s, there is no
such correspondence and one may therefore have to concede a complete
renewal (cf. 9.29, fn. 100). In view of the *t- also in the oblique cases of the
pronoun, one would rather expect a verbal ending 2sg. *-t next to
1sg. *-m.97
Turning to the 3sg. in *-t, a connection with the pronominal stem *to- has
long been suspected.98 However, if one pays attention to the stem suppletion
between *s(o) and *t(o)- (9.4) and adheres to an ergative framework, the stem
*t(o)- should be represented primarily in the ‘non-ergatival’/‘absolutival’ h2-
series of personal endings, not in the ‘ergatival’ m-series. The distribution of
*t(o)- vs. *s(o) requires that the latter, which eventually yields the non-neuter
96
Seebold (1971: 191) wonders if the *-h2- element in the verbal ending might be reduced from *-gh2-;
similarly S. R. Rose (2006: 109–42; 2009: 172). Adrados (1981a: 35–40) implausibly sees in verbal *-h2
a reanalysed root enlargement *-h2-, Erhart (1989: 17–18, 34) an ‘inclusive’ ‘I’ (vs. ‘exclusive’ *-m).
On the difficult nominative of the 1sg. pronoun, see esp. G. Schmidt (1978: 21–47) and Dunkel
(2002a: 93–8; 2014: 2.199–203). Instead of *-(g)h2-, for example, Szemerényi (1975: 339) regards *-om
as its nucleus (~ verbal *-m(i)), Shields (1986: 14) *e-, Da Milano, Arcodia, and Banfi (2011: 58–65)
*-ō̆ , and Dunkel (2014: 2.199) *eg̑ -.
97
This may be corroborated by the correspondence of 1sg. *-m : 1pl. *-me with 2sg. X : 2pl. *-te (cf.
Seebold 1971: 197): see also 10.6.
98
Cf. e.g. Bopp (1816: 147, 149–50), Brugmann (1913–16: 593–4; 1921a: 137–8), Brandenstein (1967: 19),
Seebold (1971: 192), Erhart (1989: 14), Szemerényi (1996: 330); contrast Schmalstieg (1976: 24) and
Olsen (2001: 70) (nominal t-stem suffix), Krasukhin (2012: 184–5) (nominal agent suffix).
Szemerényi already treats *-s as an ‘equivalent’ of *-t because of the suppletive pronominal stems,
but his reference to a “chronological succession” is vague.
nominative, be the ergatival variant and the former the absolutival one.99 At
the same time, the m-series should then feature a 3sg. in *-s (~ pronominal
*so). In all these cases, an initially fuller-bodied pronoun may have been
reduced to the shape we actually observe in the ending. If we allow for that,
and therefore concentrate on the consonantism alone, the following rough-
and-ready prediction of the ending patterns results:
‘Ergatival’ m-series ‘Absolutival’ h2-series
1sg. *-m *-h2(e)
2sg. *-t (?) *-t(h2e)
3sg. *-s *-t
9.29 Zero-Endings and Full Endings in the 3sg.

Importantly, though, the 3sg. must be viewed differently from the 1sg. and 2sg.
In sentences like I strike the man or You strike the man, the logical subject (A =
‘I’/‘you’) is encoded in the personal pronoun. In God strikes the man, on the
other hand, no pronoun is involved. So if we reconstruct a linguistic stage
where the verbal idea was conveyed by an invariant form, to which the relevant
participants were added as either pronouns or nouns, the basic 3sg. ending will
be *-Ø, no matter if a transitive or an intransitive construction is at stake:
Transitive sentences Intransitive sentences
u̯ h
*g en=m̥ erg. h2ner-Øabs. *trep=h2(e)abs.
strike=by me man turn=I
‘I strike the man’ ‘I turn’
but:
*di̯eu̯ -serg. g u̯ hen-Ø h2ner-Øabs. *trep-Ø h2ner-Øabs.
by god strike man turn man
‘God strikes the man’ ‘the man turns’
The 3sg. endings posited in 9.28 should only occur where there is no
separate A/S. Under those circumstances, the demonstrative stem might
step in anaphorically:
Transitive sentence Intransitive sentence
*g u̯ hen=serg. h2ner-Øabs. *trep=tabs.
strike=by him/her man turn=he/she
‘he/she strikes the man’ ‘he/she turns’
99
This problem is glossed over by Pedersen (1933: 313); but Bomhard (1988: 484) already opposes a
“determinative (objective) conjugation” with 3sg. *-s and an “indeterminative (subjective) conjuga-
tion” with 3sg. *-Ø.
In other words, if a pronominal origin of the 3sg. endings is accepted, it
entails an earlier situation where the 3sg. commonly bore no ending at all
and where *-s and *-t were at best ‘optional’:
1sg. *-m *-h2(e)
2sg. *-t (?) → *-s100 *-t(h2e)
3sg. *-Ø (*-s) *-Ø (*-t)
9.30 Spreading 3sg. *-t and the Genesis of Suffixal *-s-

The 3sg. ending *-Ø in the ‘absolutival’ h2-series matches the absence of a
3sg. person marker in the PIE stative and perfect. As noted before (cf. 4.35,
5.27, 5.40–5.41), the final -e/o in 3sg. *CéC-e/o and *Ce-CóC-e, respectively,
was originally part of the nominal stem behind these categories, not a true
3sg. ending. But what about the ‘ergatival’ m-series?
Due to the changes mentioned in 9.28 – the remake of the 1sg. pronoun, the
remodelling of the 2sg. ‘absolutive’ ending *-t into *-th2e, and the phonological
attrition of the original pronouns when used as ‘endings’ – the connection
between pronouns and endings was gradually obscured. The endings thus
became independent grammatical morphemes, yielding a system in which
the 3sg. in *-Ø, without a personal marker, contrasted with the fully marked
1sg. and 2sg. forms. To create distinct 3sg. endings out of the hitherto ‘optional’
3sg. endings (*-s/*-t) must have been tempting at that point. However, this
process may well have begun only when the accusativisation of the alignment
system was already under way. If so, it would not have been clear that the
‘optional’ 3sg. in *-s should be confined to transitive sentences and the ‘optional’
3sg. in *-t to intransitive ones. Rather, the ‘optional’ 3sg. in *-t would have had
its natural locus both in intransitive contexts and in transitive contexts going
back to antipassive structures (9.24–9.25). The ‘optional’ 3sg. in *-s, on the
other hand, would have been confined to transitive contexts of non-antipassive
origin – that is, the transitive contexts at the upper end of the semantic
100
As stated in 9.28, we can only make guesses as to where the 2sg. in *-s comes from (cf. Seebold 1971:
191–2, 197–8). One possibility is that the correspondence of 2sg. *-t (before the addition of *-h2e) :
‘optional’ 3sg. *-t in the h2-series led to the replacement of 2sg. *-t by *-s next to ‘optional’ 3sg. *-s in
the m-series (the advantage of differentiating the two series perhaps outweighing the disadvantage of
partially collapsing 2sg. and 3sg. forms). For alternative views see, apart from Vaillant (1936) (9.12),
e.g. Brandenstein (1967: 19) (lost oblique stem *s- of the 2sg. pronoun), Rasmussen (1974: 29–31)
(reflexive pronoun), Shields (1997: 112) (deictic particle), Kortlandt (2001: 5–6) (assibilated *-ti > *-si,
whence analogical *-s), Krasukhin (2012: 183) (deictic origin or epenthetic consonant as per Vaillant).
In any case, a merger of two distinct forms seems more likely than a secondary differentiation of an
earlier common 2sg./3sg. category (pace Erhart 1970: 58, 113; 1989: 15–16, Schmalstieg 1977; 1980: 101,
Adrados 1985: 40, Shields 1992: 15; 1997: 109–10, W. P. Lehmann 1994: 5–6).
transitivity scale (cf. 9.26). With a functional distribution of this kind, the form
in *-t had to be regarded as the ‘normal’, since least restricted, 3sg. marker. After
all, the syntactic transitive/intransitive distinction had now lost its relevance to
the selection of verbal endings. What newly counted was voice (9.20), but the
3sg. slot of the new early ‘middle’ voice could adequately be filled with the once
nominal *CéC-e/o and *C(o)C-é forms instead (cf. 10.19).101
Once *-t had thus become the default 3sg. person marker, it spread to all
active 3sg. forms, including high-transitive (perfective) ones that hitherto
ended in either *-Ø or ‘optional’ *-s. This could have spelled the end of
‘optional’ *-s. But what happened instead may have been the following.
The competition between general (incl. transitive) 3sg. *CeC-t and high-
transitive-only *CeC(-s) was resolved by adding the now universal person
marker *-t to the form in *-s as well. Already before that, however, the
restriction of *-s to the high-transitive domain meant that this element was
no longer treated as an oddly deviant alternative person marker next to *-Ø
and *-t, but as a signal of high transitivity – and hence, in the end, aspectual
perfectivity (cf. 8.7, 8.55). Mutatis mutandis, this refunctionalisation of a
previously ergatival element as a perfective marker is reminiscent of what
happened to the ergative case ending -k in Mingrelian (9.21).
Figure 9.8 summarises the entire development that affected transitive
structures, showing how the ultimate outcome was a split between a high-
transitive s-paradigm and a root paradigm.
9.31 Assessment
Unlike earlier explanations, the new scenario satisfies the requirements
formulated in 8.55; namely, (a) that the 3sg. *CeC-s structure, which pho-
nological considerations suggest to be the nucleus of the s-aorist paradigm,
be characterised by high transitivity, and (b) that the same *CeC-s structure
regularly stand next to a *CeC-t structure without *-s-, which will eclipse it
whenever the s-less variant is prototypically telic too. Because we are dealing
with a paradigm split, this virtual parallelism naturally follows from the fact
that the later s-aorist and root aorist share a common starting point.
9.32 Conclusion
9.32 Conclusion
Although certainty cannot be reached in any such matter, the above
derivation of the s-aorist is built around a widely accepted premise: that
101
And later also by adding the 3sg. middle *-o to person-marking *-t, whence *-to (cf. 4.42, 10.19).
9.32 Conclusion 545
1sg. *CeC-m
3sg. *CeC-s *CeC-Ø
(‘optional’)
spread of*-t as ‘default’ 3sg. marker
1sg. *CeC-m
3sg. *CeC-s *CeC-t
refunctionalisation (+ intra-paradigmatic extension)

of*-s as high-transitivity marker
(→ reinterpretation of *CeC-s as *CeC-s-Ø)
1sg.*CeC-s-m
1sg.*CeC-m
3sg.*CeC-s-Ø
− 3sg.*CeC-t
[>→*CeC-s-Ø]
further spread of *-t as 3sg. marker

generalisation of e− -grade (active)
−
1sg.*CeC-s-m 1sg. *CeC-m
−
3sg.*CeC-s-t 3sg. *CeC-t
(> s-aorist) (> root aorist)
Fig. 9.8. A new model for the genesis of the s-aorist
the PIE verbal endings are ultimately of pronominal origin. On this basis,
it combines the results of our philological dissection of the s-aorist with an
independently established and typologically viable model of Pre-PIE align-
ment (9.28–9.31). In the next chapter, we shall have to investigate whether
the same model is also able to do justice to, and shed further light on, the
other parts of the PIE verbal system we have been looking at.
To pave the way for this finale has been one aim of the present chapter.
By retracing the history of research on Pre-PIE alignment since its begin-
nings (9.1–9.20), we have seen that what started off as an attempt to
explain certain intriguing details of nominal inflection also has major
implications for the verb, notably with regard to the two PIE conjugation
‘classes’ in *-m(i) and *-h2e. While various scholars have tried to explain
this dichotomy as a relic from an earlier ‘active’ (‘split-S’) stage of Pre-
Proto-Indo-European, the same evidence can be integrated more easily
into an ergative framework; and since the nominal data equally favour an
ergative reconstruction, this is where we should look, no matter if such an
ergatival system were in its turn the successor of an ‘active’ one (9.19).
For the classical ergative hypothesis to be rehabilitated, we must realise
that typological objections raised against it are unfounded (9.8–9.11).
These not only mix up diachronic and synchronic considerations, but
also forget that, although few languages are purely ergatival, split erga-
tivity is conditioned by (verbal) tense and aspect just as often as by
(nominal) animacy. It is therefore proposed that Pre-Proto-Indo-
European featured a split-ergative system in which a past/present
distinction correlated with an opposition of ergative and antipassive
structures (9.26–9.27). In combination with the simple spread of A
marking to the S participant of intransitive sentences, the existence of
such antipassives – reinterpreted as regular transitives – provides a plaus-
ible pathway for the transformation of the Pre-PIE ergative system into
the accusative system of later Proto-Indo-European (9.21–9.25).
The historical active vs. middle voice contrast may then be seen as the
product of an intermediate ‘fluid-S’ phase (9.19–9.20).
The concrete paradigmatic changes involved in all this are still to be
outlined. In order to do so, we must be prepared to continue operating on
uncertain ground. As always, the ultimate measure of success can only be if,
in the end, we manage to combine plausibility in the detail with coherence
overall.
chapter 10
From Pre-Proto-Indo-European back to Greek
10.1 A Gap to be Filled
No one has ever attempted to produce a detailed description of how the
PIE verbal system developed out of a Pre-PIE system featuring a different
alignment structure. Those favouring the ‘active hypothesis’ have been con-
tent with highlighting the existence of two conjugation classes, a proto-active
mi-conjugation and a proto-middle h2e-conjugation, but they have not
considered in any detail the stem formations belonging to each (9.16).
Similarly, scholars like Pedersen and Vaillant, who operated with a Pre-PIE
ergative framework, looked only at the general principles when they traced
back the two sets of PIE endings to transitive and intransitive structures
respectively, without investigating the link between tense/aspect stems and
conjugational behaviour (9.12, 9.14). By contrast, Jasanoff, whose compre-
hensive theory of the structural relationships between stem types and early PIE
conjugation classes has been influential in more recent times, shies away from
any hint at the possibility of alignment change, as if the vast literature on the
‘ergative question’ did not require comment (2.13–2.16). Thus, there is a gap
to be filled, especially now that we have not only committed ourselves to
an ergative reconstruction of Pre-Proto-Indo-European, but stressed that such
a reconstruction is incomplete if it focuses on nominal morphology alone.
10.2 Chapter Outline

The present chapter has two main aims. Firstly, it adds to the thread spun
in 9.28–9.31 for the s-aorist, by spinning corresponding threads for the
other verbal stem formations that have been encountered in earlier
chapters (10.15–10.31). As we shall see, this is not equally straightforward
in every case. In particular, close attention must be paid to the constitu-
tion of the thematic conjugation (both active and middle, and suffixed
and unsuffixed) and its genetic relationship with the perfect on the one
547
548 From Pre-Proto-Indo-European back to Greek
hand and with the middle voice on the other. In order to make progress
here, it will be necessary first to complete our structural analysis of the verbal
endings (10.3–10.14). Furthermore, since a constant theme will again be the
ergative → accusative alignment change whose systemic impact has already
informed our account of the s-aorist’s prehistory, the same discussion will
eventually bring us back to the issue of a Pre-PIE antipassive and its possible
survival among the later stem types (10.32–10.39).
Secondly, following these (mini-)histories of individual stem categories,
the chapter will tackle one last big question we have eschewed so far.
Throughout our study of the perfective types, we have assumed, in the
wake of Kuryłowicz, that certain originally imperfective (though objectively
bounded) stems aspectually shifted into the (subjectively bounded) perfec-
tive domain (Fig. 8.1). Somewhat less centrally, it has also been suggested
that, in a very remote past, the earliest aspectual perfectives may have arisen
from verbal ‘collectives’ characterised by root reduplication (4.4–4.5). But
nothing has so far been said about what caused the subsequent reclassification
of previous imperfectives as new perfectives. Merely to state that the forma-
tions so affected (i.e., the later root aorists and s-aorists) were objectively
bounded (telic), and that objectively bounded verbs have a natural affinity
with subjective boundedness (aspectual perfectivity), does not explain the
shift; for we have stressed, against earlier scholars, that objective bounded-
ness/telicity and imperfectivity by no means exclude each other (2.6).
Fortunately, the idea that a Pre-PIE ergative system was converted into
the accusative system of Proto-Indo-European will make it possible to
address this issue (10.40–10.41). The ergative theory will thus in the
end enable us to understand the single most important trigger for all
the processes described so far.
10.3–10.14 More on Verbal Endings

10.3 Singular Endings: Recapitulation
In 9.28–9.30, a partial analysis and internal reconstruction of the Proto-
Indo-European verbal endings has been offered for the singular of what we
shall now call the m-conjugation and the h2-conjugation respectively. It has
been argued that, within a strictly ergative framework, the following
distribution must be posited:
1sg. *-m *-h2(e)
2sg. *-t (?) *-t(h2e)
3sg. *-Ø (*-s) *-Ø (*-t)
Although it cannot be ascertained, it is possible that the replacement of
*-t (?) by *-s in the 2sg. of the ‘ergatival’ m-series with its optional 3sg. in *-s
was triggered by the fact that in the ‘absolutival’ h2-series the (old) 2sg. in
*-t and the optional 3sg. in *-t were also identical (9.29, fn. 100). However
that may be, due to the eventual generalisation of the 3sg. in *-t not only
in intransitive but also in transitive contexts, the former ‘ergatival’ series
eventually surfaced as 1sg. *-m, 2sg. *-s, 3sg. *-t in later (accusative-aligned)
Proto-Indo-European.
10.4 Remodellings of the h2-Series 1sg. and 2sg.

Turning to the ‘absolutival’ h2-series, we have seen that the 2sg. in *-th2e
may have acquired the element *-h2e by analogy with the 1sg., and that
*-t alone would seem a more regular starting point (9.28). That 2sg. forms
are often influenced by either 3sg. or 1sg. ones is well-known.1
As for the 1sg., because of our deliberate focus on the consonantism
we have already bracketed the *-e of *-h2(e), but we have not considered
the matter further. From a structural point of view, a vowel-less 1sg. *-h2
would match the other basic endings (*-m, *-s, *-t). The thematic 1sg.
in *-oH (> Gr. -ω, Lat. -ō, etc.) points in the same direction. To posit for
this *-oh2e instead of *-oh2 would make us expect, against the evidence,
trimoric rather than simple (bimoric) long *-ō in Germanic and Baltic,2
regular disyllabic scansions of the ending in the Rig Veda, or thematic
endings such as †-āhami instead of -āmi < *-ah2-i̯oh2(-mi) (with analogi-
cally added *-mi3)˘ in denominal i̯-presents in Hittite. Moreover, as
Ruipérez, García Ramón, and Kortlandt have pointed out, to reconstruct
1sg. *-h2 is advisable also because of the past-tense (‘secondary’) athematic 1sg.
1
Cf. Bybee (2007: 58–9). 2sg. *-th2e is analysed as *-t + *-h2e also by Carruba (1976: 137).
2
For the difference in Germanic, where e.g. Goth. -a (not †-o) presupposes *-ō < *-oH, see Stiles (1988)
and Ringe (2006: 73; 2012: 121), for Baltic, where Lith. -ù (not †-uo) demands *-oH because of
Leskien’s Law and Saussure’s Law, see Jasanoff (2003: 60). Jasanoff (1994b: 154 n. 11; 2003: 61) wants
to retain *-oh2e through a PIE “apocope rule which shortened final sequences of the type *-oHe to
*-oH” (cf. Villanueva Svensson 2002, Yoshida 2010b: 241–2). Attempts to relate *-ō and *-o-m
phonologically (Heller 1957, Schmalstieg 1973: 147–9; 1974, Rasmussen 1974: 25–7, Shields 1980:
261–2; cf. Cowgill 1985a: 108, Hill 2012, with *-omi), or to see in *-ō an “emphatic particle” (Dunkel
1998b: 93; 2002a, with *-oh1), are unattractive; but so is the separation of *-oH from the PIE h2-
conjugation 1sg., as implied by assigning either the laryngeal or the entire ending an exclusively
modal (subjunctival/voluntative) function opposed to non-modal *-(o)m (Risch 1965a: 237–9,
Lazzeroni 2000: 90–4).
3
1sg. pres. *-oh2 → *-o(h2)-mi is trivial next to 3sg. *-e-ti (cf. athematic 1sg. *-m(i) : 3sg. *-t(i)) and 1sg.
impf. *-o-m (9.27). By contrast, Euler’s (1997: 12) ‘ousting of *-o-mi by hybrid *-o-ha, -ō’ in non-
Anatolian Indo-European would be much less trivial (cf. similarly Neu 1988: 465–6, Strunk 1988a:
304–7).
middle ending -i (< *-H̥ ) of Indo-Iranian.4 Greek ‘secondary’ -μη-ν
(Dor. -μᾱ-ν) might then derive from postconsonantal *-m̥ h2(-m), with *-m
added as a hypercharacterising 1sg. marker, although *-mh2e > *-mh2a + added
1sg. *-om → *-mh2aom > *-mām is also conceivable.5
Meanwhile, *-h2e is presupposed not only by the PIE 1sg. perfect
(1.6, 5.3), but also by the ‘primary’ 1sg. middle of Indo-Iranian (Skt.
-e < *-ai̯ < *-h2e + ‘primary’ *-i) and Hittite (-ha(ri)).6 In the perfect,
˘
*-h2e correlates with 3sg. *-e (5.3). One explanation 7
for the entire
distribution is therefore that everything started with simple *-h2,
which was superseded – in line with the ‘Fourth Law of Analogy’ (3.34) –
by *-h2e except in a ‘marginal’ domain, as a ‘secondary’ ending. The
innovative *-h2e itself will then be understood to represent *-h2 remade
into *-h2-e by analogy with the paradigmatically central 3sg. in *-e of the
‘nominal verb’ behind the perfect (5.27). As such, it will have originated only
when a full conjugation was created around the previously nominal 3sg.
(5.48). The three crucial steps are the following:
I. ‘Absolutive’ series *-h2, *-t, *-Ø vs. ‘nominal verb’ *-e
II. Creation of 1sg. *-h2e from *-h2 + *-e (i.e., by analogy with 3sg.)
III. Creation of 2sg. *-th2e from *-t + *-h2e (i.e., by analogy with 1sg.)
10.5 The 1pl. Endings

In the 1pl. and 2pl., there is greater overlap between the endings of
the h2-conjugation and the m-conjugation. In 1.6, we have seen that
*-me is demanded by the 1pl. of the PIE perfect. Also, the 1pl. middle ending
4
See Ruipérez (1952: 23), Kortlandt (1981), and García Ramón (1985), and cf. Jasanoff (1978a: 50 n. 44).
Garciá Ramón rejects both Neu’s (1968b: 350) idea that PIIr. *-i here continues PIE *-i (and hence is
unrelated to the Greek ending; cf. Watkins 1969: 138–9) and earlier analogical explanations of it
(Petersen 1936: 162, Cowgill 1968: 28–30, G. Schmidt 1982: 346; 1pl. *-mad hai̯ : *-mad hi = 1sg. *-ai̯ : X
→ X = *-i), the latter on the grounds ‘that it is hardly conceivable that a form which is anomalous
within its paradigm . . . may have arisen through an analogical proportion, and that an analogy
affecting the 1sg. always operates in relation to the other persons of the singular and to the 3pl., but
never in relation to the 1pl.’.
5
For the second possibility, see Watkins (1969: 130), Klingenschmitt apud Hollifield (1978: 219),
Klingenschmitt (1982: 4, 6), and G. Schmidt (1982: 355–6). More artificial are both *-m-eh2-m
with a different ablaut grade of *-h2 (Ruipérez 1952: 24, Chantraine 1961: 291–2, Rix 1992: 246)
and *-m-h2eh2e-m (Weiss 2009: 388, with reference to Hitt. -ḫ aḫ at(i) next to -ḫ at(i); but see
Yoshida 2010b). See further 10.14.
6
The Indo-Iranian and Hittite endings could also continue *-h2o (+ *-i, *-r(i)), but for Gr. -μαι, earlier
*-m-h2o-i is no option (cf. García Ramón 1985: 203). See also García Ramón (1985: 212–13) on Toch. B
-mar ~ Toch. A -mār, which can descend from *-m-h2e-r or *-m-h̥ 2-r, but not *-m-h2o-r.
7
Adumbrated already by Kuryłowicz (1927c: 103).
in *-med hh̥ 2 (1.48) is no doubt to be analysed as ‘basic’ *-me + *-d hh̥ 2. Possibly,
*-me-d hh̥ 2 may have alternated with *-mes-d hh̥ 2 (> Gr. -μεσθα; cf. Hitt.
-u̯ ašta?), i.e. *-mes + *-d hh̥ 2, to the younger active 1pl. -mes (< *-me + plural-
marking (?)*-s; 1.3, 5.50). What *-d hh̥ 2 is, remains obscure: if one were to
connect the final *-h2 with that of the 1sg., this would still leave the preceding
obstruent.9
Because there is a likely formal relationship of 1pl. *-me (qua *-m +
‘pluralising’ *-e?10) with 1sg. *-m, the original locus of *-me is best sought
in the ‘ergatival’ m-series. However, the Hittite 1pl. endings regularly
begin with *-u̯ - rather than *-m- (e.g., 1pl. pres. -u̯ eni/-u̯ ani), just like the
first person dual endings in Indo-Iranian and Balto-Slavic (1.3–1.4).
Moreover, it will be remembered from 9.28 that a remote connection
between the 1sg. *-h2 of the ‘absolutival’ h2-series and the nominative
singular of the first-person pronoun may be suspected. It is therefore
suggestive that the 1pl. pronoun has a nominative stem with *u̯ - (as
opposed to an oblique stem with *n-) in Indo-Iranian, Anatolian, and
Germanic (cf. Ved. vayám, Hitt. u̯ ēš, Goth. weis ‘we’; 9.16–9.17).
All of this fits together if we take *-u̯ e to be the oldest 1pl. ending of
the h2-series.11 In Anatolian, where the h2-conjugation not only survived
in the middle voice and a few formal relatives of the perfect but also
in a prominent active hi-conjugation, the descendants of *-u̯ e were
generalised at the expense ˘ of those of *-me.12 Elsewhere, a similar
8
Vedic ‘primary’ -mahe (< *-mad hai̯) does not presuppose *-me-d hh2e-i, but is analogically created
within Indo-Iranian (1sg. ‘primary’ *-ai̯ : 1sg. ‘secondary’ *-i = 1pl. ‘primary’ *-mad hai̯ : 1pl.
‘secondary’ *-mad hi).
9
One possibility would be that *-d h is a 2pl. pronominal stem (paralleling 1pl. *u̯ -), added to 1pl. *-me
(for inclusive ‘we’ = ‘I and you (pl.)’) before the addition of *-h2 from the singular (→ *-me-d h-h̥ 2);
but although such a hypothesis could also help with explaining the 2pl. middle ending (10.6), it has
no independent support. On 1sg. → 1pl. analogy, see Bybee (2007: 59).
10
Cf. Schmalstieg (1977: 73). Some languages point to *-mo (e.g., Lat. -mus, OCS -mъ < *-mo-s or
*-mo-m, Arumaa 1985: 278–9, Olander 2015: 348–55), which may have arisen when *-me was
unaccented (as in stems with an accented reduplication syllable, Klingenschmitt 1975b: 161) (cf.
4.38, 4.41). ‘Pluralising’ is used here as a purely descriptive term, but one is reminded of the PIE
nom. pl. ending *-es if this combines ‘pluralising’ *-e + ergative *-s (contra Erhart 1993: 53); does the
nom. = acc. du. ending *-e (Rasmussen 2003a; contrast Oettinger 1988, Malzahn 1999, and Fritz
2011: 200–3 with *-h1e or *-eh1) reflect the old plural absolutive (Ammann 1949: 202–3)?
11
And not, for example, an inclusive 1pl. ending (Pooth 2011: 473–6); cf. 9.17, with fn. 61.
12
1pl. -meni/-mani etc. are phonologically conditioned variants of -u̯ eni/-u̯ ani after -u- (Hoffner
and Melchert 2008: 44, 181). The addition of -n(i) is probably an independent innovation of
Anatolian and Greek, again showing the influence of the 1sg. on the 1pl. (1sg. ‘secondary’ *-m → 1pl.
*-me/*-u̯ e + -m; cf. Sommer 1919: 65 n. 3, contra Cohen 1979 (medial *-m!), Shields 1982b; 1992: 70–1
(3pl. → 1pl.)). Word-final unaccented *-u̯ em > *-u̯ en regularly gave *-u̯ an, as opposed to *-u̯ en-i >
-u̯ eni, and these outcomes of *-u̯ en(i) were then analogically extended: preterital *-u̯ an was given up in
favour of -u̯ en under the pressure of -u̯ eni, but not before it had itself triggered the creation of a
presentic by-form -u̯ ani.
generalisation promoted *-me(s) instead, except that – again in line
with the ‘Fourth Law of Analogy’ – the old *-u̯ e(s) survived in a marginal
function, the dual.
10.6 The 2pl. Endings

Next to the pair 1sg. *-m : 1pl. *-me, the 2pl. ending *-te must be
correspondingly analysed as 2sg. *-t + ‘pluralising’ *-e. Although we accept
a 2sg. in *-t in both the ‘ergatival’ and the ‘absolutival’ series (10.3), the
parallelism with the 1pl. demands that we regard the *-t involved in 2pl. *-te
as that of the ‘ergatival’ series. Also, since we have just seen that the
nominative of the 1pl. pronoun behind the presumed h2-series 1pl. *-u̯ e
had nothing to do with the *-h2 of the corresponding 1sg., a similar
discrepancy may have characterised the 2pl. (vis-à-vis 2sg. *-t). In order
to decide what the initial h2-series 2pl. marker might have been, we
therefore have to look at the perfect and middle endings again.
Despite being a likely archaism, the Sanskrit 2pl. perfect in *-e (1.6)
should not make us posit *-e here. While this odd ending can be explained
by reference to the nominal-verb ancestry of the perfect (5.50), the fact that
it does not square with the historical middle endings practically rules it out
for the wider h2-conjugation.
In the middle, Vedic ‘primary’ -dhve ~ ‘secondary’ -dhvam, Gr. -σθε,13 and
Hitt. -tuma(ri) (pres.), -tuma(t) (pret.) point to *-d hu̯ e. The further analysis
of this is even trickier than in the 1pl. Given the remake of 2sg. *-t into *-th2e
by analogy with 1sg. *-h2e, the identity of the final *-u̯ e in *-d hu̯ e with the
reconstructed 1pl. ending intimates a similar process. This would entail that,
before the addition of *-u̯ e, *-d h(e) alone was the 2pl. ending of the h2-series.
In this case, however, there is no personal pronoun to back up the claim, and
forms like Ved. yūyám, Av. yūš/yūž-ǝm, and Goth. jus ‘you (pl.)’ rather hint at
a 2pl. pronoun beginning with *i̯-.14 Great caution is therefore necessary.15
13
Pace Risch (1975: 258), the addition of *-s- is probably an inner-Greek development, perhaps after
PGr. 1pl. *-mestha ~ *-metha (whence also new *-s-thu̯ e ~ older *-thu̯ e; cf. Rix 1992: 248, Sihler 1995:
478–9), by extraction of *-s- from 2pl. med. forms to roots in final *-s- or *-t(h)/d- (with *-t(h)/d-th- >
*-s-th-; Schwyzer 1939: 670, Chantraine 1961: 300), or by analogy with 2sg. *-stha < *-s-th2e (cf. 10.14,
with fn. 28). Any connection between Gr. -σθε and Skt. -dhve was rejected by Wackernagel (1895:
57–61).
14
Cf. Seebold (1971: 194–5), G. Schmidt (1978: 207–12), Szemerényi (1996: 216–20), Dunkel (2014:
2.388–90). Hittite šumeš diverges, and it would be bold to postulate for this (something like) *d h-i̯u-
(with *i̯(u)- added to *d h-) when it is not even clear that *d hi̯- yields š- (cf. Kimball 1999: 291–2, also
on *di̯-). Since Carruba’s (2005: 15) explanation by metathesis from *(i̯)us-es is no more compelling,
šumeš remains unclear (Kloekhorst 2008: 116).
15
Though see at least 10.5, fn. 9, on *-d h- in 1pl. *-med hh̥ 2.
10.7 1pl./2pl. Endings: Summary
All in all, we can now supplement the data given for the singular
in 10.3:
1pl. *-me *-u̯ e
2pl. *-te *-d he (?) → *-d h-u̯ e (after 1pl.)
Due to the general spread of the first-person and second-person m-series
endings (9.20), 1pl. *-me and 2pl. *-te became established in the perfect too.
As described above, however, 1pl. *-u̯ e (and its descendants) survived in a
newly constituted dual and 2pl. *-d h-u̯ e was continued, like the 1sg./2sg.
endings of the h2-series, in the middle voice (for which *-u̯ /me was rechar-
acterised: *-u̯ /me-d h-h̥ 2).
10.8 3pl. Endings: Preliminary Remarks

In 5.50, the peculiar 3pl. ending *-r̥ (s) (and *-ers) of the perfect and related
formations has been traced back to a verbal noun in *-r̥ used in impersonal
constructions. Its prehistoric status thus differs from that of the other
endings of the h2-series with which it comes to form a paradigm. In
principle, we might not even have expected a distinct personal ending in
the 3pl. any more than in the 3sg. (with *-Ø) if, in both the m-series and the
h2-series, in third-person contexts only nominal constituents were marked
at the earliest stages of verbal inflection (9.29).
At least in the m-series, however, the pairs 1sg. *-m : 1pl. *-m-e and
2sg. *-t : 2pl. *-t-e had the potential to suggest an analogical 3pl. in
*-e (i.e., 3sg. *-Ø : 3pl. *-Ø-e). Such a hypothetical form should
presumably have been realised as *CC-é, to judge by the parallel 1pl.
*CC-mé, 2pl. *CC-té (← *CeC-m-é, *CeC-t-é). In practice, though, what
we have to reconstruct is not 3pl. *CC-é, but 3pl. *CC-ént (cf. 6.6). Here
too, then, the question arises why the 3pl. is structurally aberrant, and
what exactly lies behind the element *-nt-.
10.9 The Participial Connection

It has long been suspected that the 3pl. ending *-nt is somehow related
to the *-nt- suffix which characterises the active participles of Indo-
European.16 Yet, it is rarely specified how exactly the relationship is
16
See e.g. Hirt (1904/5a: 77; 1928: 104–5), Brugmann (1913–16: 592, 594; 1921a: 135, 139), Benveniste
(1935: 173), Vaillant (1936: 106), Seebold (1971: 202), Szemerényi (1996: 330), Kurzová (2011: 173);
contrast Schmalstieg (1976: 25) (“non-singular” *-oN + “*-t found in the 2nd plural *-t(e)”), Erhart
supposed to work.17 It is inadequate simply to assume that the phrase ‘they
[are] X-ing’ must have been expressed by a periphrastic construction
involving an active participle in *-nt without nominative or plural mark-
ing. This would only work if there were other indications that PIE
predicative nouns were uninflected for case and number. Also, since at
an early point the participle appears to have been inflected ‘holodynami-
cally’ (i.e., with a strong stem *CeC-ont- in the nominative, but a weak
stem *CC-n̥ t- in the oblique cases),18 only the ablaut scheme of a thematic
3pl. *CeC-ont is explainable in this way, but not that of an athematic
proto-form 3pl. *CC-ént.
10.10 Anatolian and Pre-PIE Participial Orientation

In this case too, things become simpler as soon as we draw in the ergative
theory. In order to demonstrate how, we must first digress and briefly deal
with the syntactic orientation of the Indo-European nt-participles.
In most branches of Indo-European, the participles in *-nt- are strictly
active and hence oriented towards the A and S roles of transitive and
intransitive verbs respectively. In Hittite, however, the *-nt- participle of
transitive verbs
usually corresponds to the passive participle of other languages, expressing the
state of a person or thing acted upon: appant- ‘seized, taken’, paršiyant-
‘broken’, piyant- ‘given’, haššant- ‘born’, taruppant- ‘assembled, united’.
With intransitive verbs it ˘may indicate an attained state: akkant- ‘having
died’, pānt- ‘having gone’, uwant- ‘having come [a river in flood stage]’, but
sometimes also an ongoing state equivalent to an English present participle:
arant- ‘standing’, huwant- ‘running’, nahhant- ‘afraid’. Participles of transitive
˘
verbs used generically ˘ ˘ (šekkant- ‘knowing’, ištamaššant-
can be either active
‘hearing [ear]’, uwant- ‘seeing [eye]’, adant- ‘having eaten’, akuwant- ‘having
drunk’, dWišuriyant- ‘the strangerless’) or passive.19
In other words, the Anatolian participle in *-nt- is S/O-oriented, not
S/A-oriented. Either this or the situation in the rest of Indo-European
(1989: 16; 1993: 87) (‘compounding of the pronominal roots n(V) and t(V)’), Shields (1992: 67–9)
(“non-singular” *-oN + 3sg. *-t(i)).
17
An exception is Kortlandt (1987b: 222; 2004: 13–14), who sees in *-nti a predicative nom. pl.; but
*-nti is no plausible nom. pl. ending and it is counterintuitive to separate the *-i of 3pl. *-nt(i) from
that of 3sg. *-t(i). Haudry (1982: 19) thinks of a ‘predicative participle without agreement’.
18
Cf. Szemerényi (1996: 317–19), Meier-Brügger (2002: 186), Widmer (2004: 135–7); for detailed
discussion, see now Lowe (2015: 311–15).
19
Hoffner and Melchert (2008: 339). Despite the remarks of Oettinger (2013/14: 157), few will be
prepared to separate the Hittite formation from the nt-participles elsewhere in Indo-European.
must be an innovation. To figure out which is more likely, we may
consider the following four possibilities:20
1 a. Pre-PIE with accusative alignment and S/A-oriented *-nt- participle
b. Pre-PIE with accusative alignment and S/O-oriented *-nt- participle
2 a. Pre-PIE with ergative alignment and S/A-oriented *-nt- participle
b. Pre-PIE with ergative alignment and S/O-oriented *-nt- participle
With (1a), participial orientation in Anatolian would have to be inno-
vated in a non-obvious way. At least among animate nouns, Anatolian has
accusative alignment just like (later) Proto-Indo-European (cf. 9.8). Thus,
it would not have been natural for the branch to replace an original S/A
orientation of the *-nt- participle by a new S/O orientation.21
Mutatis mutandis, the same is true for the non-Anatolian languages
under (1b). Again, no alignment change would have challenged the pre-
vious status quo here. Although perhaps less internally consistent than (1a),
according to which the participle’s orientation would simply have matched
the S/A coordination of the grammatical system at large, (1b) would still
not be impossible as such, as long as the O-oriented patientive character
of many *-nt- participles was prominent (cf. Engl. O-oriented slain vs.
S-oriented gone with the same n-suffix). However, that very prominence
should have prevented the switch to S/A orientation.
Meanwhile, both (2a) and (2b) presuppose an ergative → accusative
alignment change between Pre-Proto-Indo-European and Proto-Indo-
European. Under this premise, (2a) is more difficult to reconcile with the
participial evidence. If already Pre-Proto-Indo-European had an S/A-
oriented *-nt- participle – against the innate tendency for an ergative
language to coordinate S and O – , then all the later accusative-type
branches, including Anatolian, would have been well-advised to retain it.
With (2b), on the other hand, everything is smooth. The ‘naturally’
S/O-oriented *-nt- participle of ergatival Pre-Proto-Indo-European
was transformed into an equally ‘naturally’ S/A-oriented participle in
20
Other options are less economical: the nt-participle could also at first have had exclusive S orientation
(see K. H. Schmidt 1964a: 7–9, following Sommer 1947: 67; cf. Hahn 1966: 380–1), or no inherent
orientation (Haspelmath 1994: 170; cf. Lowe 2015: 307–11). In either case, both Anatolian and the rest
of Indo-European would have innovated, but differently. Lowe also discusses marginal evidence for
“-nt- participles to transitive stems showing patient-oriented alignment” outside Anatolian (e.g., Lat.
ēvidēns ‘manifest, visible’, Av. vazǝnt- ‘travelling’).
21
Pace Meiser (2004: 347), the loss ˙of contrastive tense/aspect stems in Anatolian can hardly justify
this. Even if the participle in *-nt- had replaced a formation in *-to- among intransitive verbs
(‘pai̯ant-, which originally meant “going” but now “gone”, became synonymous with *paita- and
ousted the latter’; similarly Kurzová 2011: 168–70), this should not have spelled the end of active *-nt-
among transitive verbs.
the accusative system of later Proto-Indo-European. The fundamental
orientation of the *-nt- participle towards the grammatical subject thereby
remained the same, as the subject itself switched from S/O to S/A.
However, while the ergative → accusative alignment change clearly pre-
dates the separation of Anatolian, the subsequent adjustment of participial
syntax was not carried out early enough to obliterate the earlier situation in
the Anatolian branch as well.22
10.11 From Participles to 3pl. Forms

Given a Pre-PIE S/O-oriented participle with a strong stem *CeC-ont-, a
sentence like ‘the man strikes the tree’ could have been expressed periphra-
stically as
*h2ner-serg. gu̯ hen-ont-Øptcpl.-abs. doru-Øabs.
lit. by (the) man [is] (being) struck (the) tree
involving participial *gu̯ hen-ont-Ø in the absolutive case with zero-ending
(9.7). With a plural A (‘the men strike the tree’), the participial form would
have been the same:
*h2ner-eserg.(pl.) gu̯ hen-ont-Øptcpl.-abs. doru-Øabs.
lit. by (the) men [is] (being) struck (the) tree
But as soon as the ergative in sentences like this was reinterpreted as a
nominative within an accusative system, the participial form could be
reinterpreted as a 3pl. verb with a direct object *doru in the accusative.
Two points deserve comment here. Firstly, such a reanalysis only works
with a singular O. With collective or plural O’s, the participle should have
shown a different form by agreement, as in
*h2ner-eserg.(pl.) gu̯ hen-ont-h̥ 2 ptcpl.-abs.(pl./coll.) doru-h2 abs.(pl./coll.)
lit. by (the) men [are] (being) struck (the) trees
However, since prototypical O’s are definite single entities, it is not
surprising if the singular and no other form was generalised after the align-
ment change.
Secondly, nothing in the participial form itself predestined it to become a
3pl. rather than a 3sg. The reason for the specialisation in the plural must
therefore be sought along the same lines as for the 3pl. in *-r̥ (s), where an
undesirable older/alternative 3pl. was avoided (5.50). If the verb was initially
22
That the Anatolian situation is older is also assumed by Watkins (1969: 142–5) and Brosman (2010),
but neither connects the issue with the question of (Pre-)PIE ergativity. W. P. Lehmann (2002: 183)
seeks to fit it into his active-language framework, but this again requires much special pleading.
uninflected in Pre-Proto-Indo-European, a non-periphrastic way of expres-
sing our sample sentences would have been the following (cf. 9.29):
(a) sg. *h2ner-serg. gu̯ hen doru-Øabs.
by (the) man strike (the) tree
‘the man strikes the tree’
(b) pl. *h2ner-eserg.(pl.) gu̯ hen doru-Øabs.
by (the) men strike (the) tree
‘the men strike the tree’
Following the ergative → accusative alignment change, (a) would have
been reinterpreted as (a'), eventually acquiring the 3sg. marker *-t (9.30). In
(b), on the other hand, the first change affecting the verbal base form (*CeC)
might have been the creation of a separate plural variant (*CC-é: 10.8). Thus,
for early accusative-aligned Proto-Indo-European we obtain:
(a') sg. *h2ner-snom. gu̯ hen(-t)3sg. doru-Øacc.
(the) man strikes (the) tree
‘the man strikes the tree’
(b') pl. *h2ner-esnom. gu̯ hn-é3pl. doru-Øacc.
(the) men strike (the) tree
‘the men strike the tree’
Next to these, there would still have been the formerly periphrastic
variant, now also interpreted accusatively:
(a'') sg. *h2ner-snom. gu̯ hen-ont doru-Øacc.
(the) man ?strikes/is striking (the) tree
(b'') pl. *h2ner-esnom. gu̯ hen-ont doru-Øacc.
(the) men ?strike/are striking (the) tree
In the singular, (a'') presented no advantage over (a'), especially after
3sg. *-t had become a distinct third-person marker on a par with 1sg. *-m,
2sg. *-s. On the contrary, selecting the ending -ont of (a'') as the 3sg. ending
would have jeopardised the principle of paradigmatic iconicity, according
to which the semantically maximally unmarked 3sg. should not carry
heavier formal marking than its 1sg. and 2sg. colleagues.23 In the plural,
by contrast, the *CC-é form of (b') was less than perfect since *-é had to
signal both third person and plural at the same time – and that, although
elsewhere in the verbal system (among the ‘nominal verbs’) the same
ending stood for the 3sg. In this case, there was therefore more pressure
to innovate and resort, for example, to the alternative offered by (b'').
23
Cf. Matthews (1991: 242–4).
However, the *CeC-ont form of (b'') was not simply adopted as such,
except in the incipient neo-active thematic conjugation where its stem
structure with an e-grade root followed by an unstressed e/o-vowel matched
that of the 3sg. (*CeC-e/o → *CeC-e-t: 4.41–4.42). Instead, the same
structural analysis as *CeC-o-nt suggested the use of just *-nt as the 3pl.
ending. So, *-nt alone was added to the previous 3pl. structure *CC-é
of (b'), resulting in an adequately characterised 3pl. *CC-é-nt whose final
shape tallied well with 1pl. *CC-mé, 2pl. *CC-té.
For the root formations, the evolution of the third-person endings
of the m-conjugation before the addition of ‘primary’ *-i may thus be
diagrammed as shown in Fig. 10.1.
Pre-PIE PIE I PIE II PIE III

3sg. *CeC-Ø → *CeC(-t) → *CeC-t → *CeC-t
3pl. *CeC-Ø *CC-é *CC-é *CC-é-nt
Fig. 10.1. A model for the early evolution of the m-conjugation third-person endings
10.12 Participles and *CéC-o ‘Statives’

In order to complete the picture, one last detail may be added to the above
derivation of the 3pl. ending *-nt from an S/O-oriented participle. The
structural similarity of the participial *CeC-ont form with the *CeC-e/o
nucleus of the thematic conjugation has just been noted. In 4.35, the same
*CeC-e/o form has been identified as an S/O-oriented (quasi-)participle or
patientive nominal. It is therefore tempting to regard the *CeC-ont type as
an enlarged version of *CeC-e/o itself, i.e. as *CeC-o-nt.24
Now, a number of scholars have ascribed an individualising function to the
PIE nominal suffix *-nt-, primarily on the basis of some Hittite material (e.g.,
ḫ amešḫ ant- ‘the (next/following) spring’ vs. ḫ amešḫ a- ‘spring-time (in general)’;
adjectival pairs such as āššu- ~ āššu(u̯ )ant- ‘good, pleasant’, irmala- ~ irmalant-
‘ill’, etc.; neuter ergatives in -anza, 9.8).25 Accordingly, next to an S/O-
oriented participle *CeC-e/o (e.g., *k̑ ei̯ -o ‘lying’), an ‘individualised’ by-form
*CeC-o-nt should also have existed (e.g., *k̑ ei̯ -o-nt ‘the lying one’ > ‘lying’,
*gu̯ hen-o-nt ‘the one struck’ > ‘(being) struck’). Hence, we are not gratuitously
24
Similarly already Vaillant (1942–5: 82).
25
See now Oettinger (1997; 2001b), Melchert (2000a: 68–70), Josephson (2004a; 2004b: 259–61), and
Hoffner and Melchert (2008: 56), after Solta (1958: 43) and Benveniste (1962: 48–50). Against Oettinger
(1982), Oettinger (2001b: 307–10) plausibly regards the *-t- in *-nt- as arising from epenthesis/anaptyxis
(or excretion) in word-final position. This makes it possible to connect individualising or singulative
(Pronk 2015) formations with simple suffixal *-n- (cf. e.g. Gr. χειμών ‘winter’ < *g̑ hei̯m-on- vs. Hitt.
gimmant- ‘winter’ < *g̑ hei̯m-ont- vs. Lat. hiems ‘winter’ < unsuffixed *g̑ hi̯em-); but since these nouns in *-n
(t)- are not neuters, the best way of defending a sufficiently frequent occurrence of word-final *-n > *-nt
is, again, to assume a Pre-PIE absolutive case in *-Ø, and hence an ergative framework.
multiplying Pre-PIE S/O-oriented participles when we derive both the *CéC-o
‘statives’ and the later active participles from such a category. We merely
acknowledge the paired existence of two formations whose functional inter-
dependence was governed by independently attested derivational principles.
10.13 Endings of the m-Series and h2-Series: General Summary

For ease of reference, the developmental history of the personal endings
of both the m-series and the h2-series is summarised below. Greek (Attic)
outcomes are indicated where they are phonologically straightforward.
For more detail about changes affecting the latest forms given, see 1.3–
1.4 and 1.6. A simple arrow indicates a remodelling, an arrow between
square brackets the takeover of an unrelated ending.
I. ‘Ergatival’ m-series → m(i)-conjugation
1sg. *-m → ‘primary’ *-m-i (> Gr. -μι) ~ ‘secondary’ *-m (> Gr. -ν)
2sg. *-t → *-s (9.29, fn. 100, 10.3) → ‘primary’ *-s-i ~ ‘secondary’ *-s
(> Gr. -ς)
3sg. *-Ø → *-t (9.30) → ‘primary’ *-t-i (> Gr. -σι) ~ ‘secondary’ *-t
(> Gr. -Ø)
1pl. *-m-e → ‘primary’ *-me-s (10.5) (> Gr. -μες)
→ ‘secondary’ *-me → *-me-m (10.5, fn. 12) (> Gr. -μεν)
2pl. *-t-e > Gr. -τε (10.6)
3pl. *-Ø → *-é (10.8, 10.11) [→] *-nt (incl. *-é-nt) (10.11) → ‘primary’
*-nt-i
(> Gr. -:σι) ~ ‘secondary’ *-nt (> Gr. -ν)
II. ‘Absolutival’ h2-series → h2(e)-conjugation
1sg. *-h2 → *-h2e (10.4) (> Gr. -α (perfect))
2sg. *-t → *-t-h2e (10.4) (> Gr. -(σ)θα (rare: esp. perf. οἶσθα))
3sg. *-Ø [→] *-é (‘nominal verb’) (5.27–5.28) (> Gr. -ε (perfect))
[→] *-o (‘stative’) (4.34)
1pl. *-u̯ e [→] *-me (10.7) (>→ Gr. -μεν (perfect)) → *-me(s)-d h-h̥ 2 (10.5)
(> Gr. -με(σ)θα (middle))
2pl. ?*-d he [→] *-te (10.7) (> Gr. -τε (perfect))
→ *-d h-u̯ e (10.6) (> Gr. -(σ)θε (middle))
3pl. *-Ø [→] *-r̥ (s) (incl. *-é-r(s)) (5.50) (perfect)
10.14 Composite Middle Endings

The only major26 absentees from the list in 10.13 are middle endings of the
type Gr. -μαι, -σαι, -ται, -νται. These are based on a combination of
26
On 2sg. *-th2a-es vel sim., see 5.11, fn. 38, on mediopassive endings in *-r, the Epilogue, fn. 1. Also missing
are the dual endings, but it is virtually “impossible to recover any IE form for the 2nd and 3rd dual,
although the [‘secondary’ ending] of the 3rd dual was presumably -tā(m)” (Szemerényi 1996: 235,
endings from both series/conjugations. After nominal *CéC-e/o had been
integrated into the verbal system as a 3sg. ‘stative’ (*CéC-o: 4.34), the
ending *-o acquired a mediopassive value and could be added to the 3sg.
ending *-t of the m-conjugation to form new ‘oppositional’ middles (4.42).
In this way, 3sg. med. *-to arose next to *-o already at an early point (> Greek
‘secondary’ -το ~ ‘primary’ (dialectal) -τοι; similarly Vedic ‘primary’ -te <
*-toi̯ < *-to-i, Hitt. -ta(ri) < *-to(-ri)).
By analogy with this *-to, a 3pl. *-nto (~ ‘primary’ *-ntoi̯) and a 2sg. *-so
came into being (e.g., 3sg. act. *-t : 3sg. med. *-to = 2sg. act. *-s : 2sg. med.
X → X = *-so). However, unlike *-to and *-nto (cf. Hitt. 3pl. med. -nta(ri)),
2sg. med. *-so is not reflected in Hittite. It will therefore constitute a later
development, though one still shared between Greek and other Indo-
European languages (cf. e.g. Lat. 2sg. pass. ipv. -re < *-so). For structural
reasons one may suppose that *-so was preceded by *-s-th2e (= active *-s +
*-th2e, like 3sg. -t-o = active *-t + *-o). Since Vedic ‘primary’ 2sg. med. -se
can continue either *-sai̯ or *-soi̯ , a late-PIE ‘primary’ *-s-t(h2)a-i
may have been ‘regularised’ after active *-si into *-sai̯ (> Ved. -se), while
the vocalism of only ‘secondary’ *-s-th2e > *-s-t(h2)a → ‘regularised’ *-sa was
aligned with that of 3sg. *-to. This would imply that Proto-Greek possessed a
‘primary’ middle series 1sg. *-mai̯ (cf. below), 2sg. *-sai̯, 3sg. *-toi̯ vs. ‘sec-
ondary’ *-mā(m) (cf. below), *-so, *-to, and it would thus account for the
general a-vocalism in the ‘primary’, but not ‘secondary’, middle endings of
most historical dialects (Att. -μαι, -σαι, -ται vs. -μην, -σο, -το). If, as is
commonly assumed,27 the ‘primary’ series had instead been *-mai̯, *-soi̯, *-toi̯
in Proto-Greek, a generalisation of the o-vocalism (whence 1sg. †-moi̯) would
have been more natural because there would have been no reason to regard a-
vocalism as a distinctive medial voice marker.
referencing Kuryłowicz 1964a: 153–6; cf. also Watkins 1969: 47–8, Rix 1992: 252–3, 255, Sihler 1995: 470,
480, Fritz 2011: 215–17, Pooth 2011: 476–81, Olander 2015: 342–8). The 1du. has been touched upon in
10.5, and it has been suggested there that the differentiation of dual and plural endings is a secondary
development. The same may be inferred from the partial similarity of the 2du. and 2pl. endings, both
featuring *-t- in the active: Ved. 2du. (‘secondary’) -tam ~ Gr. (‘primary’ and ‘secondary’) -τον, and less
directly OCS -ta ~ Lith. -ta, point towards *-to (+ -m) as an ablaut variant of 2pl. *-te (cf. 10.5, fn. 10, on
1pl. *-mo ~ *-me). Also, the 2du. and 3du. endings, which are distinguishable only in the ‘secondary’ set in
Greek (active: 2du. -τον vs. 3du. -τᾱν/-την, though cf. Meillet 1927: 193–5; middle: 2du. -σθον vs. 3du.
-σθᾱν/-σθην), probably share the same origin (in the second person). All this means that the 2du. and
3du. endings are only of limited relevance to the systemic evolution of the PIE verb.
27
Following Ruipérez (1952; 1968), whose arguments for the antiquity of *-toi̯ would stand even if
Mycenaean instances of ‘primary’ -ται existed (Schwink 1989); the above modification meets the
objections of Neu (1968b: 349–50). That PGr. 2sg. *-sai̯ must have preceded *-tai̯ was already seen by
Safarewicz (1963b: 114), and Winter (1982: 10) noted that “Gr. -mai -sai -toi is matched by Toch. B
-mar -tar -tär”. If Arc. 2sg. *-σοι were real, despite its doubtful attestation (Dubois 1986: 1.178–9,
2.321–2), it could be remodelled after the preserved 3sg. -τοι in the same dialect.
In the 1sg. middle, it is again imprecise to treat Gr. -μαι as *-(h2)ai̯
< *-h2e-i (= *-h2e + ‘primary’ *-i), with an inserted person marker *-m.28
Here too the creation process will rather have started from active *-m,
to which the old h2-conjugation 1sg. *-h2(e) was added (cf. again 3sg. *-to
< *-t + *-o). However, whereas *-to eventually ousted *-o as the default 3sg.
middle ending throughout Indo-European,29 in the 1sg. the competition
between the ‘oppositional’ 1sg. med. *-m-h2(e) and the older *-h2(e)
remained more even. The latter eventually won out in Indo-Iranian
(cf. Vedic ‘primary’ -e < *-ai̯ < *-h2ei̯ ~ ‘secondary’ -i < *-h̥ 2; 10.4),30 but
the former was preferred in Tocharian (cf. Toch. A 1sg. pres. med. -mār,
Toch. B -mar < Proto-Toch. *-mar < *-m-h2(e) + added *-r)31 and
Greek (‘primary’ -μαι < *-m-h2e-i32 ~ ‘secondary’ -μην/-μᾱν < postconsonan-
tal *-m-h2(e) + added *-(o)m; 10.433).
10.15–10.31 Categorial Histories

10.15 Introductory Remark
The preceding section has shown that the reconstruction of the PIE verbal
endings cannot always be separated from the reconstruction of entire
paradigms. For example, we must not vaguely call the 1sg. ending *-h2e
(as evidenced by the perfect) an ‘ablaut variant’ of *-h2 (as evidenced by the
thematic 1sg. *-oh2 or the Vedic ‘secondary’ 1sg. middle) without also
asking why, in a given paradigm, *-h2e rather than *-h2 was used. Once
we do ask, we realise that *-h2e is not so much a ‘full-grade’ variant of *-h2,
but an ending created by analogy with a corresponding 3sg. in *-e and
therefore situated within one specific PIE paradigm: that of the ‘nominal
28
Cf. e.g. Ruipérez (1952: 24–5), Cowgill (1968: 27) (“first singular -m- preposed”), García Ramón
(1985: 206) (‘*-H2 with the preceding, secondarily added, -m-’), Hart (1987: 221), Rix (1992: 253),
Sihler (1995: 474); contrast Kortlandt (1979a: 67; 1981: 128–34), whose views resemble what is
assumed here (also for 2sg. *-s-th2e as a forerunner of *-so; on this, cf. 8.32).
29
Probably at a late stage since the replacement is still ongoing in Hittite: see Yoshida (2007: 381–6;
2013) and Oettinger (2013/14: 162–3), and cf. e.g. Ved. śáye → śéte ‘lies’ (4.34), Jasanoff (2003: 50–1).
30
Cf. the Indo-Iranian preference for 2sg. *-th2e over *-s-th2e; but Insler (1995) has identified Vedic
traces of the latter ending too.
31
The preterital 1sg. med. ending of Toch. A, -e < *-h2ei̯ (≠ Toch. B -mai), suggests that the variant
without *-m- was continued as well.
32
Or, with García Ramón (1985: 208), *-mah2-i, with the addition of *-i after postconsonantal *-m̥ -h2
had become *-mah2 in Proto-Greek; but the same addition of *-i in Indo-Iranian points to an earlier
date, and late-PIE *-(C)m̥ h2i should rather have yielded *-(C)m̥ -i > *-(C)mi or *-(C)ami in Proto-
Greek.
33
Hart’s (1987) scenario of an inner-Greek creation of -μην (*-Ch̥ 2-h2a > *-Ca-a > *-Cā →
*-Ca-m-ā(m)) would be unconvincing even without the Tocharian parallel.
verb’ *C(o)C-e which lies behind the PIE perfect and one group of Vedic
statives (5.48).
Our next task will now be to map the evolution, from Pre-Proto-Indo-
European to later Proto-Indo-European and Proto-Greek, of each of the
major verbal formations we have come across in this study. Heeding
the imperative “that the reconstruction should actually be carried out
in every instance”,34 we will thus complement what has been offered in
9.30 for the s-aorist and underline once more the systemic dimension of
everything that has been argued so far. Accordingly, the point of the
following section is not so much to insist on the – often patently
uncertain – details of every developmental track followed, but to recapi-
tulate our essential claims and to demonstrate that the big picture we have
drawn is really compatible with the more microscopic aspects of formal
reconstruction.
10.16 Root Aorists: Active

The prehistory of the active root aorist is fairly straightforward. As is
expected for any active type that is perfective in historical times, it possesses
a relatively high degree of semantic transitivity, no matter if its representa-
tives are syntactically transitive or not. Before the endings, only the root
occurs. At the outset, paradigm (i) may thus be posited. As soon as ablaut
began to operate, however, the double e-grade of the 1pl. and 2pl. was
no longer sustainable. Since the accent appears to have shifted onto the
ending wherever that was possible, the root then acquired the zero grade.35
The other changes leading to paradigm (ii) are those summarised in 10.13
(2sg. *-t → *-s; 3sg. *-Ø → *-t; 3pl. *-Ø → *-é → *-ént).
Paradigm (ii) is the one encountered in 6.6. On further developments,
such as the spread of the singular e-grade into the plural and the
34
Szemerényi (1979: 280); cf. Schwink (1994: 109) on the need to work out stage models as synchronic
systems.
35
Cf. Watkins (1969: 24–5), following Saussure (1879: 188) (‘every ending which is able to host an
accent (i.e., which forms a syllable) takes on the stress of the cell before the ending’); differently
Seebold (1971: 196–7). This rule need not contradict the idea that the singular endings go back to
pronouns (9.28), whose own vocalic nucleus was reduced/lost due to clitic positioning. It can have
applied after the fusion of verbal roots and such clitic pronouns had taken place, particularly if a
form like 1pl. *CeC-me were indeed nothing but 1sg. *CeC-m pluralised with *-e. One might then
still ask why in an ‘absolutival’ 1pl. composed of root (*CeC) + pronoun (*u̯ e), the pronominal
vocalism had not been equally reduced; but (a) the greater frequency of the combination with
singular pronouns could have been more conducive to phonological cliticisation and vowel loss in
the singular, and (b) the vowel *-e of a plural pronoun could have been analogically protected by the
existence of nominal plurals in *-e (if nom. pl. *-es represents *-e + ‘ergatival’ *-s; cf. 10.5, fn. 10).
There are just too many unknowns to ascertain any of this.
enlargement with *-k- (*-k̑ -) affecting some *CeH- aorists, see 6.11–6.12, on
the eventual adoption of the augment 6.26 and 6.29. (Restricted to Greek
is of course the establishment of recessive accentuation in all finite forms of
the verb (1.2).)
Paradigm (i) (ii)
sg. 1 *CeC-m *CeC-m
2 *CeC-t *CeC-s
3 *CeC-Ø *CeC-t
pl. 1 *CeC-mé *CC-mé
2 *CeC-té *CC-té
3 *CeC(-é) *CC-é-nt
10.17 Root Aorists: Middle

Middle root aorists also exist, either as oppositional middles to active ones or
as media tantum (e.g., Gr. ὦρτο ‘arose’ < *(h1e-)h3 r-to). Being prototypically
intransitive, these should in principle go back to a root formation with
endings of the ‘absolutival’ h2-series (cf. paradigm (iii) in 10.19). At the same
time, they are less at home in a perfective paradigm whose aspect naturally
correlates with high transitivity (3.35, 4.6). It does not then surprise if some
apparently archaic intransitive root aorists (e.g., *(h1e-)steh2-t ‘took a stand’ >
Gr. ἔστη) inflect actively. Their frequent occurrence in semantically high-
transitive (telic/bounded) contexts not only meant that such forms shifted
from the imperfective into the perfective domain as smoothly as their
transitive congeners (cf. 3.36), but also that they must have been among
those intransitives which readily acquired the extended ‘ergatival’ m-series
endings during the ergative → accusative alignment change (9.18, 9.20).
By implication, it is uncertain that middle-inflected root aorists
belong to an equally ancient layer of the proto-language. The media
tantum among them may well owe their inflection to a gradually emerging
association of intransitivity with the middle voice. In other words, a
middle root aorist *h3r̥ -to ‘arose’ might have replaced a previous *h3er-t
(cf. *steh2-t) under the influence of middle root presents.36 A more detailed
36
Though probably at a stage when *h3r̥ -tó was still *h3r-é or *h3r-ó (cf. 10.19). As media tantum, such
aorists will have acquired an ‘oppositional’ middle ending *-tó least readily, and they should
therefore also have preferred a 3pl. in *-ré/*-ró instead of *-ntó (cf. 5.50, fn. 194). For the sake of
simplicity, this differentiation is not reflected in 10.19, but there is evidence in Vedic for “two largely
non-overlapping populations” of root-aorist middles, one with 3pl. -ran (← *-ro) (with a corre-
sponding 3sg. in -i and radical o-grade), and another with 3sg. *-to, 3pl. *-n̥ to (Hart 1990: 453–4, also
on the likelihood of certain middle-only thematic aorists of Greek belonging here; e.g., *bhud h-é →
recharacterised *bhud h-é-to > (ἐ)πύθετο ‘became aware’).
consideration of how the structural type *h3r̥ -to etc. came into being is
therefore postponed to the section on the middle root present (10.19): for
in the imperfective domain of the present, nothing had ever precluded the
existence of prototypically intransitive root formations with ‘absolutival’
h2-series endings.
10.18 Root Presents (Athematic): Active

In all essentials, the development of the active athematic root presents was
identical to that of the active root aorists (10.16). In the 1pl., the ending
*-me was remade into *-me-s (10.5), but the truly substantial difference
concerns the addition of ‘primary’ *-i to the singular and 3pl. endings. That
this hic-et-nunc element was initially restricted to actual presents has
been noted in 7.30 (with fn. 131). Some scholars have suspected a further
connection with the nominal locative singular in *-i.37 However, the
mechanism by which such a nominal ending could enter a verbal paradigm
has not been identified.
Paradigm (i) in 10.16 now suggests a pathway. Since Proto-Indo-
European appears to have possessed a class of radical nomina actionis,
whose locative singular had the structure *CeC-i,38 an early phrase such
as *h2ner-snom. gu̯ hen-Ø3sg. ‘the man strikes’ (later → *h2ner-snom. gu̯ hen-t3sg.)
may have alternated with a progressive periphrasis *h2ner-snom. gu̯ hen-iloc.
‘the man [is] in/at striking’. On this basis, a syntactic reanalysis of the
nominal locative *gu̯ hen-i as a progressive 3sg. variant of the general 3sg.
*gu̯ hen-Ø was feasible. Once *-i had thus turned into an ‘actual-present’
marker, the 3sg. with at first ‘optional’, but later compulsory *-t could be
modified accordingly (general present *gu̯ hen-t vs. progressive/actual pre-
sent *gu̯ hen-t-i). By further spread, the same *-i was subsequently attached
(a) to other active singular endings as well as the 3pl. of the same ending
series (*-mi, *-si, *-nti), (b) to the corresponding middle endings, and
(c) eventually, with different degrees of generalisation in the various
branches of Indo-European, to other endings with present reference.39
37
Cautiously Pooth (2009a: 401), Dunkel (2014: 1.136, 2.362); cf. already Brandenstein (1967) (whose
idea that the ‘primary’ endings arose from locatives of personal pronouns is justly rejected by Strunk
1968: 123 n. 23) and Shields (1992: 25–6). Contrast Siebs (1910: 273–4) and Hirt (1928: 121) (‘nominal
form in -ti’).
38
Cf. Schindler (1972: 36–8), Meier-Brügger (2002: 218).
39
The absence of *-i from the PIE perfect, despite the present reference of this formation (5.14–
5.23), does not therefore warrant the far-reaching inferences of Ringe (2012) (on the perfect as a
primeval subjunctive). On locatival expressions as a common source for progressives, see 4.3 with
references.
According to our reconstruction – but against those of Cowgill or
Hoffmann and Strunk (2.2–2.12) – this attachment of ‘primary’ *-i took
place in a system which already distinguished perfective and imperfective
forms. Since progressivity and perfectivity are incompatible with each
other, everything that was aspectually perfective would thus not take the
*-i. So, even if the ultimate classification of some forms may still have been
ambiguous,40 the aspectual shift of what were to become root aorists must
on the whole have preceded the birth and spread of ‘primary’ *-i. Contra
Cowgill and Kuryłowicz (2.10, 2.17), but with Hoffmann and Strunk
(2.6), we must indeed assume that presents like *gu̯ eh2-ti ‘*goes’ never
existed. However, the reason for their inexistence is more stringent
now. It is not because telic/punctual verbs cannot occur in an actual
present, which is untrue, but because items like *gu̯ eh2-t were already aorists
(i.e., perfectives) when the possibility of adding *-i arose.
10.19 Root Presents (Athematic): Middle

In 9.20, it has been argued that the emergence of the middle voice is owed
to the ergative → accusative alignment change. It follows from that
discussion that the middle root present should be traced to a formation
with ‘absolutival’ h2-series endings (paradigm (iii)).
When we compare this with paradigms (i) and (ii), we instantly notice
the overlap in the 3sg. both before and after the introduction of *-t as a
third-person marker (9.29). However, there was a way to avoid the proble-
matic homonymy. Whereas *CeC-t was treated as the basic active form,
the participial twin forms *CéC-e/o (< *CéC-ǝ) ~ C(o)C-é (< *C(ǝ)C-é )
(4.35, 5.40) offered themselves as substitutes in the 3sg. middle. Both of
them had previously been used as nominal predicates (with the regular
zero-ending of the absolutive case), but their reinterpretation as finite
forms prevented them from adopting the new nominative ending *-s
after the alignment change. At the same time, their S/O orientation
meant that there was a substantial semantic similarity between periphrastic
(imperfective) ‘[is] Xintr.-ing/Xtr.-ed’ and non-periphrastic (but equally
imperfective) ‘Xintr.-es, is Xintr.-ing/Xtr.-ed’, as required by the new middle.
In line with 5.40–5.41, *CéC-e/o as the less agentive member of the
*CéC-e/o ~ C(o)C-é pair must have been particularly suited to the expres-
sion of ‘patientive’ middles (oriented towards SO and/or O: e.g., middles
used as passives like is washed), and *C(o)Cé as the more agentive member
40
As is perhaps suggested by apparent root-present forms to roots with otherwise firm root-aorist
evidence, such as Hitt. tēzzi ‘states’ (and Ved. dhā́ti ‘puts’, if old) < *d heh1-ti: cf. 2.17.
to that of ‘agentive’ middles (oriented towards SA: e.g., reflexive middles like
washes (him/herself); by extension also self-benefactive middles: washes for him/
herself). If we assume the morphologisation of *CC-é rather than its variant
*CoC-é (cf. 10.30), we obtain paradigm (iv). This paradigm also features the
post-ablaut 1pl./2pl. forms, the altered 2pl. *-d he → *-d hu̯ e ending (10.6), and a
3pl. in *-é. Not much hinges on the last point, but in principle such a 3pl. can
have taken the place of an endingless 3pl. *CeC-Ø in the early stages of the
h2-conjugation no less than in those of the m-conjugation (10.8).
In the long run, the double representation of the 3sg. middle could not
last. One of the two forms had to oust the other, and *CC-é appears to have
prevailed. It may have been under analogical influence from this 3sg. *CC-é
that the 1sg. also acquired a zero grade, although the ending *-h2 here
managed to survive alongside analogical *-h2é (10.4). By contrast, in the
2sg. the older *-t entirely yielded to the more recent *-th2é. The entire
paradigm now featured a zero-grade root (paradigm (v); on the adjusted
1pl. ending, see 10.5).
Certain disadvantages remained. A 3sg. *CC-é lacked the person marker
seen in the corresponding active voice (*CeC-t). But through the addition of
the ‘ending’ *-o of patientive *CéC-o to active forms in *-t, a new ‘opposi-
tional’ middle ending *-to (with corresponding 3pl. *-nto) had come into
being (4.42, 10.14). Since this conveniently combined a person marker with
a voice marker, it ousted *-é (though the oxytone accentuation was retained
because the zero-graded root could still not bear the accent). Whether or not
this change went through an intermediate phase during which only the
vowel quality of *-é was affected (i.e., *CC-é → *CC-ó → *CC-tó: cf. 5.42, fn.
160), its end result was a pair 3sg. act. *CéC-t : 3sg. med. *CC-tó. The 3pl.
then followed suit, with *CC-é (?) probably first being replaced by *CC-ntó
and only later – again under the influence of the active counterpart
(*CC-ént) – also by *CC-énto (cf. 6.26 with fn. 87) (→ paradigm (vi)).
Paradigm (iii) (iv) (v) (vi)
sg. 1 *CeC-h2 *CeC-h2 *CC-h2(é) *CC-h2(é)
2 *CeC-t *CeC-t *CC-th2é *CC-th2é
3 *CeC(-t) *CéC-e/o (SO) / *CC-é (*CC-ó) *CC-tó
*CC-é (SA)
pl. 1 *CeC-u̯ e *CC-u̯ é *CC-mé(s)d hh̥ 2 *CC-mé(s)d hh̥ 2
2 *CeC-d he *CC-d hu̯ é *CC-d hu̯ é *CC-d hu̯ é
3 *CeC-Ø *CC-é (?) *CC-é (?) *CC-ntó
It may not have been before stage (vi) was reached that middle root
aorists began to be built as well (cf. 10.17). Apart from the fact that
‘primary’ *-i was not of course added in the aorist, the histories of the
middle root aorists and middle root presents are in any case fairly parallel
from here onwards. Two differences are however worth noting (but
both are also observed in non-radical types). Firstly, the more recent
*-h2e variant of the 1sg. ending (→ *-h2ei̯ > Ved. -e; or *-m-h2e → *-m-
h2ei̯ > Gr. -μαι) was universally adopted only when combined with ‘pri-
mary’ *-i. In the Indo-Iranian aorist (and imperfect), the older *-h2 survives
(10.4, 10.14). Secondly, the replacement of 2sg. *-(s)th2e(i̯) by *-so and
*-sai̯/-soi̯ respectively (10.14) also dates back to PIE times only in the
present. It is shared by Greek and Indo-Iranian in the root presents, but
not in the root aorists where Greek 2sg. med. -σο contrasts with Ved. -thās
< *-th2a + *-es (5.11 with fn. 38). In fact, late-PIE *-t(h2)ēs < contracted
*-th2a-es might also be continued in Greek if the passive aorist in -θη- were
ultimately based on it (cf. Epilogue, fn. 3).
Finally to be highlighted is the marginal survival of the 3sg. middle of
paradigm (v). Though sidelined by *CC-tó with its clearer person-marking,
*CC-é/ó (→ *CC-é/ói̯ with ‘primary’ *-i) is continued among the Indo-
Iranian duhé-type ‘statives’ and their Anatolian relatives (5.42).41
10.20 Reduplicated Aorists

According to 3.37–3.42, the reduplicated aorist descends from a redupli-
cated (and therefore perfective) version of an imperfective root formation.
Our starting point should thus be paradigm (vii), a reduplicated version of
(i). And just as paradigm (ii) supersedes (i), so paradigm (viii) supersedes
(vii) – with the important proviso that (viii) acquires a zero-graded root
throughout the singular and plural because the accent is fixed on the
reduplication syllable. Analogy with the unreduplicated paradigm
impeded the loss of the final vowel in the plural endings, though not its
reduction to *-ǝ > *-e/o (cf. 10.5, fn. 10, on 1pl. *-mo as a variant of *-me).
The factors which subsequently led to the fully thematic paradigm
41
According to Villanueva Svensson (2012), Anatolian preserves several full-graded athematic root-
present middles and acquired a zero-grade variant only late, by influence from the duhé type. Some
of the material is ambiguous, but in view of concurrent evidence in the Indo-Iranian root aorist
(Pooth 2001: 224–30, notably on Ved. arta ‘arose’ < *h3er-to?), this may be correct and imply a
sequence *CéC-o → *CéC-to ~ *CC-é (*CC-ó?) → *CC-tó (with *CC-tó eventually ousting *CéC-(t)o);
cf. also 4.44, fn. 159, for some Greek forms which might then date back to Proto-Indo-European. By
contrast, nothing is gained by positing a separate acrostatic root-aorist category (Tremblay 2005; cf.
3.25 and Table 6.2, s.vv. *legh-, *peh2g̑ -), let alone by uncoupling the inflection of middle root presents
and middle root aorists in order to posit a PIE o-grade/zero-grade ablauting middle root aorist, whose
main traces would be regular o-graded ḫ i-conjugation presents in Anatolian (Villanueva Svensson
2006; 2007/8; 2010/11).
(ix) of later Proto-Indo-European have been outlined in 3.39. Apart from
the fact that anaptyxis was phonotactically desirable in the 3sg. (*C1é-C1C-t
→ *C1é-C1C-ǝt > *C1é-C1C-e-t), the parallel existence of thematic types
with a 3pl. in *-o-nt next to the *-ǝnt > *-ont ending expected here may have
been relevant.
To what extent this high-transitive type already possessed a middle
variant in the earlier phases of Proto-Indo-European remains uncertain.
In principle, middle forms could be built as soon as a distinct middle voice
existed (cf. Gr. (ἐ)κέκλετο ‘commanded’, etc.).
Eventually, the augment was introduced as elsewhere. In diachronic
terms this meant to duplicate the reduplication syllable (cf. 6.24, 6.26), but
synchronically this redundancy could no longer be perceived.
Paradigm (vii) (viii) (ix)
sg. 1 *C1é-C1eC-m *C1é-C1C-m *C1é-C1C-o-m
2 *C1é-C1eC-t *C1é-C1C-s *C1é-C1C-e-s
3 *C1é-C1eC-Ø *C1é-C1C-t *C1é-C1C-e-t
pl. 1 *C1é-C1eC-me *C1é-C1C-mǝ *C1é-C1C-o-me
2 *C1é-C1eC-te *C1é-C1C-tǝ *C1é-C1C-e-te
3 *C1é-C1eC(-e) *C1é-C1C-ǝ-nt *C1é-C1C-o-nt
10.21 Thematic Aorists and Zero-Graded Thematic Presents (tudáti)

Since the thematic aorist is an offshoot of the reduplicated aorist (6.25), its
separate history starts only after the creation of paradigm (ix). Paradigm (x)
reflects the beginnings with the simplified *h1e- reduplication, paradigm
(xi) the next step after the semantically conditioned omission of the
‘augment’ and the introduction of substitute accentuation (6.29). On the
further development of tudáti-type presents, see 6.29: the thematic ‘sec-
ondary’ endings of (xi) are replaced by thematic ‘primary’ ones in (xii).
Paradigm (ix) (x) (xi) (xii)
sg. 1 *C1é-C1C-o-m *h1é-CC-o-m *CC-ó-m *CC-óh2
2 *C1é-C1C-e-s *h1é-CC-e-s *CC-é-s *CC-é-si
3 *C1é-C1C-e-t *h1é-CC-e-t *CC-é-t *CC-é-ti
pl. 1 *C1é-C1C-o-me *h1é-CC-o-me *CC-ó-me *CC-ó-mes
2 *C1é-C1C-e-te *h1é-CC-e-te *CC-é-te *CC-é-te
3 *C1é-C1C-o-nt *h1é-CC-o-nt *CC-ó-nt *CC-ó-nti
10.22 s-Aorists
The development outlined in 9.30 is repeated below. The starting point is
again paradigm (i), whence s-aorists and root aorists split. Paradigm (xiii)
shows the first step on the s-aorist’s separate path, with the use of high-
transitive (‘ergatival’) *-s as an ‘optional’ ending in the 3sg. (≠ 3sg. *CeC-t in
paradigm (ii)) and possibly already the replacement of *-t by *-s in the 2sg.
(10.3). Around the high-transitive 3sg. *CeC-s, interpreted as *CeC-s-Ø,
paradigm (xiv) was constituted. Later on, *-t was added in the 3sg., but this
happened only after the phonological and analogical changes described in 8.52
had generated a distinctive lengthened grade in the same form (3sg. *CeR/s-s >
*CēR/s → *CēR/s-s → generalised *CēC-s). This lengthened grade spread
throughout the active indicative (→ paradigm (xv); cf. 8.48). On the
language-specific developments leading from (xv) to the ‘alphathematic’
s-aorist of historical Greek, see 8.2, on the s-aorist subjunctive becoming an
s-future, 8.12–8.20. The relationship of the initially short-vocalic s-aorist
subjunctive to the s-aorist indicative matches that of the root-aorist subjunc-
tive (~ thematic root present) to the root-aorist indicative (4.52).
As in the reduplicated aorist, corresponding middle forms could be
created in later phases of the proto-language by using middle instead of
active endings.
Paradigm (i) (xiii) (xiv) (xv)
sg. 1 *CeC-m *CéC-m *CéC-s-m̥ *CḗC-s-m̥
2 *CeC-t *CéC-t/s *CéC-s-s *CḗC-s[-s]
3 *CeC-Ø *CéC(-s) *CéC-s *CḗC-s-t
pl. 1 *CeC-me *CC-mé *CéC-s-me *CḗC-s-me
2 *CeC-te *CC-té *CéC-s-te *CḗC-s-te
3 *CeC-Ø *CC-é (?) *CéC-s-n̥ t *CḗC-s-n̥ t
10.23 s-Presents
The histories of the athematic and thematic s-presents are parallel to
those of the athematic and thematic root presents (10.18–10.19, 10.24).
Such s-presents would arise when the invariant *CeC-s- structure normally
seen in the s-aorist (10.22) was not classified as perfective, but treated as a
root variant (cf. 8.33–8.35).
On the presents in *-sk̑ e/o-, see 10.28.
10.24 Thematic Root Presents: Active

The pivotal form for the creation of the thematic root-present paradigm
was the participial *CéC-e/o form which in paradigm (iv) replaced, along-
side *CC-é, an earlier ‘absolutival’ 3sg. *CeC(-t). Whereas *CC-é prevailed
in the new middle voice (10.19), *CéC-e/o as such survived only in relic
statives like Ved. śáye (< *k̑ éi̯-o + ‘primary’ *-i; 4.34).
As remarked in 9.25, forms like those of paradigm (iii) need not have been
excluded from Pre-PIE two-participant structures, despite their ‘absolutival’
h2-series endings. They may have been used in antipassive structures where
an underlying A occupied the S slot, and an underlying O the slot of an
indirect object (marked with *-m). Following the ergative → accusative
alignment change, such derivationally unmarked ‘antipassives’ would have
become an alternative version of transitive active verbs, though one retaining
the antipassive’s association with aspectual imperfectivity (9.26). Along these
lines, Pooth has tried to explain the genesis of the active thematic root
present.42 To illustrate the proposed development, Pooth gives the following
two sentences. The second of these is a structurally antipassive variant of the
first, whose S has already analogically acquired the case marker *-s of the
transitive base structure (cf. 9.21: ‘extended ergative’).
(a) *u̯ l̥ ku̯ o-serg. h2ou̯ i-Øabs. (h1)rép-t
by (the) wolf (the) sheep is torn
‘the wolf tears the sheep’
(b) *u̯ l̥ ku̯ o-sext.erg. (h1)rép-o h2ou̯ i-mdir.
(the) wolf tears (the) sheep
‘the wolf tears (at) the sheep’
As soon as sentences like (b) were used with some frequency, not only
did the case in *-m become a normal ‘accusative’ (9.24), but – still
according to Pooth – the verbal form *(h1)rép-o also became a virtual
equivalent of *(h1)rep-t. As such it adopted the ending *-t and turned
into *(h1)rép-e-t, the surface outcome of *(h1)rép-e/o-t.
One glitch of this account emerges when we look at it from a wider
perspective. Although Pooth also compares the *CéC-e/o form with the
*C(o)C-é form behind the standard middle inflection (10.19) and the perfect
(10.30), he does not assign any significance to the different accentuation.43
The fact that *CéC-e/o became the nucleus of the thematic root presents and
*CC-é the one of the standard middle type is thus treated as a coincidence.
Since this is unsatisfactory, Pooth’s scenario requires some modifications.
If the *C(o)C-é nominal is to be given a more agentive (SA-oriented)
interpretation than its SO-oriented *CéC-e/o counterpart (5.40–5.41,
10.19), it seems paradoxical to assume that *CéC-e/o was preferred in the
42
Pooth (2000: 113; 2001: 239–40; 2004a: esp. 52–4); in Pooth (2004a) he refers to Pre-Proto-Indo-
European as a ‘split-S’/‘active’-type language, but he effectively operates with a ‘fluid-S’ pattern
(cf. 9.19).
43
Pooth (2001: 251) merely states that the *CoC-é structure of the perfect must be ‘internally derived’
from *CéC-o; cf. Pooth (2004b: 422–6; 2009b: 241–4).
constitution of a neo-active paradigm. Because SA and A are conceptually
closer to each other than SO and A, it should rather be *C(o)C-é that gave
rise to new transitive patterns with an A subject, as in (b'):
(b') *u̯ l̥ ku̯ o-sext.erg. (h1)r̥ p-é h2ou̯ i-mdir.
(the) wolf [is] tearing (the) sheep
‘the wolf is tearing the sheep’
As argued in 9.25 and 10.19, (b') may indeed be ancestral to a self-
benefactive middle.
At the same time, we must not forget that *CéC-e/o was O-oriented as
much as SO-oriented (cf. 5.40–5.41). So, although Pooth’s sentence (b)
must be replaced by (b'), we should also consider a non-antipassive variant
(c) with A in the ergative and O in the absolutive:
(c) *u̯ l̥ ku̯ o-serg. (h1)rép-e/o h2ou̯ i-Øabs.
by (the) wolf [is] (being) torn (the) sheep
Whereas (b') stands in a ‘voice’ contrast with (a), the difference between
(a) and (c) is one between a non-periphrastic and a periphrastic construc-
tion. After the alignment change, the O in both (a) and (c) received the
new O marker *-m (*h2ou̯ i-Øabs. → h2ou̯ i-macc.; 9.24). More importantly,
however, the periphrastic and hence distinctly imperfective origin of the
emerging finite verb form in (c) protected it from the aspectual shift
that turned so many prototypically transitive root imperfectives into root
aorists. The only change affecting *CéC-e/o forms in sentences like (c) was
therefore that they adopted the usual active 3sg. ending *-t, as described
above (→ *CéC-e-t in paradigms (xvi) and (xvii)).
It may be noticed that the explanation just given for the 3sg. *CéC-e-t is
virtually identical to the one envisaged in 10.11 for the thematic 3pl. *CéC-o-nt.
In 10.12, we have seen why it makes sense to think of *CéC-o-nt as an
‘individualised’ variant of *CéC-e/o. This may now be illustrated by pairing
sentence (c) with a near-synonymous, though semantically more marked, (c'):
(c) *u̯ l̥ ku̯ o-serg. (h1)rép-e/o h2ou̯ i-Øabs.
by (the) wolf [is] (being) torn (the) sheep
(c') *u̯ l̥ ku̯ o-serg. (h1)rép-o-nt h2ou̯ i-Øabs.
by (the) wolf [is] the one (being) torn (the) sheep
Following some semantic bleaching, the *CéC-o-nt form of (c') might
well have superseded the *CéC-e/o form of (c) if nothing else had happened.
But since the less marked *CéC-e/o nominal was converted into a finite
verb by the processes just described, *CéC-o-nt was left to its own devices.
Whereas *CéC-e/o disappeared from the participial sphere, *CéC-o-nt
was continued there (cf. 10.12).44 Meanwhile, the new ‘active’ 3sg. *CéC-e/o
(→ *CéC-e-t) required a corresponding 3pl.45 For this role too, *CéC-o-nt was
perfectly suited because *CéC-o-nt as well as *CéC-e/o would previously have
occurred next to plural or singular ergatives (cf. 10.11):
(c(')) *u̯ l̥ ku̯ o-serg.sg. (h1)rép-e/o[-nt] h2ou̯ i-Øabs.
by (the) wolf [is] [the one] (being) torn (the) sheep
(d) *u̯ l̥ ku̯ o-eserg.pl. (h1)rép-e/o[-nt] h2ou̯ i-Øabs.
by (the) wolves [is] [the one] (being) torn (the) sheep
‘the wolves are tearing the sheep’
The earlier – perhaps already obsolete – semantic difference between
general *CéC-e/o and individualising *CéC-o-nt could thus be usefully
recast as one between singular *CéC-e/o (→ *CéC-e-t) and plural *CéC-ont.
Turning to the other persons, we must remember that the periphrastic source
syntagma for each of them initially had to contain the same *CéC-e/o[-nt]
participle, but combined with a personal pronoun in the ergative case (corre-
sponding to erg. *u̯ l̥ ku̯ o-s/*u̯ l̥ ku̯ o-es in (c) and (d)). Although these pronouns
appear to have been cliticised when joined to a basic verb form (cf. 1sg. *CéC-m
etc. in paradigm (i)), the same need not have happened when a periphrastic
participle acted as the predicate. After the transformation of *CéC-e/o into a
finite 3sg., the constitution of a full paradigm threfore had to start from there.
Now, since the invariant *-e/o of the source syntagma was clearly not a
person-marker like *-t, it was natural to (re)interpret the 3sg. *CeC-e/o as
*CéC-e/o-Ø with zero-ending (whence later 3sg. *CéC-e-t: cf. above); and this
in turn meant that the paradigm had to be built by adding personal endings
to *CeC-e/o-.46 Being transitive, the new type could in principle have adopted
the ‘ergatival’ m-series endings, but the thematic 1sg. in *-oh2 suggests
44
In the nom.-acc. ntr. sg.; since the emergence of a finite 3pl. from the same *CéC-o-nt structure took
place only after the ergative → accusative alignment change, this was the only form that continued
to overlap with the new 3pl. (unlike the non-neuter nom./acc. sg. *CéC-ont-s/-m̥ ).
45
The impersonally used nominal *CéC-r̥ form which served, in the updated shape *CéC-r-o(i̯), as the
3pl. next to the middle/intransitive (< SO-oriented) *CéC-o(i̯) relic type (5.50, fn. 191) was not suitable
to active contexts. The peculiar Baltic 3sg. = 3pl. identity is hardly a relic of the state of affairs before
the number differentiation took place, even if Kortlandt (1979a: 64–6) has postulated an archaic 3pl.
in *-o; *-ont is probably continued elsewhere in Baltic (Cowgill 1970), and an innovation in any case
more likely (see Stang 1966: 411–12, Erhart 1984: 242–5, Cowgill 1985a: 106; 2006: 556).
46
Kim’s (2010) Tocharian evidence for a root-ablauting phase of the thematic present does not bear
the weight of the conclusion; cf. 8.29, fn. 133.
otherwise. The reason why the ‘absolutival’ h2-series appears to have been
preferred is probably not that a 3sg. *CéC-e/o also occurred next to 1sg.
*CeC-h2 etc. in prototypically intransitive paradigms (cf. paradigm (iv));
for if that homology had been significant, it should rather have caused the
creation of a transitive 1sg. †CeC-h2 etc. The truly decisive factor will have
been a different one. As we shall see in 10.39, when all this happened early
Proto-Indo-European already possessed another quintessentially imperfec-
tive present-stem type with a 3sg. in *-e(-t) (or, more specifically, *-i̯e(-t)), and
that type naturally inflected with endings of the ‘absolutival’ h2-series because
it descended from a derivational antipassive. To model the newly constituted
imperfective *CéC-e/o- type after this was only sensible (→ paradigm (xvi)).47
Whereas the 1sg. *CéC-o-h2 thus preserves an archaic state of affairs, in
the 2sg.48 and 1pl./2pl. the regular active (< ‘ergatival’) endings have
become standard (→ paradigm (xvii), which also reflects the partial attach-
ment of ‘primary’ *-i: cf. 10.18). Given the ‘irregular’ 1sg., this is no doubt a
later development due to the general spread of the ‘ergatival’ first-person
and second-person endings in non-medial environments (9.20, 10.7).
On the genesis and development of the PIE subjunctive from paradigm
(xvii), see 4.45–4.48.
Paradigm (xvi) (xvii)
sg. 1 [Ierg.] *CéC-e/o[-nt]ptcpl. [Oabs.] *CéC-o-h2 *CéC-o-h2
2 [youerg.] *CéC-e/o[-nt]ptcpl. [Oabs.] *CéC-e-t *CéC-e-s(i)
3 [he/sheerg.] *CéC-e/o[-nt]ptcpl. [Oabs.] *CéC-e(-t) *CéC-e-t(i)
pl. 1 [weerg.] *CéC-e/o[-nt]ptcpl. [Oabs.] *CéC-o-u̯ e *CéC-o-me(s)
2 [youerg.] *CéC-e/o[-nt]ptcpl. [Oabs.] *CéC-e-d hu̯ e *CéC-e-te
3 [theyerg.] *CéC-e/o[-nt]ptcpl. [Oabs.] *CéC-ont *CéC-o-nt(i)
10.25 Thematic Root Presents: Middle

By replacing the active endings of paradigm (xvii) with their middle
counterparts, an oppositional thematic middle was created. The 3sg. of
this (*CéC-e-to(i̯)) further endangered whatever *CéC-o forms still survived
outside the neo-active thematic conjugation. In that sense, it was not only
47
That such functional considerations played a role is confirmed by the fact that ‘ergatival’ endings do
appear as ‘secondary’ endings also in the thematic conjugation (1sg. *-om). Because of the nexus
between perfectivity, ergativity, and past tense vs. imperfectivity, accusativity, and present tense, the
‘absolutival’ endings carried the day only in presentic contexts (cf. 9.26–9.27). Cf. already Hart
(1990: 461), without reference to ergativity.
48
To what extent Tocharian thematic 2sg. forms of the type (Toch. B) āśät ‘you lead’ (< *h2eg̑ -e-t°)
reflect something old is difficult to tell; on the problems surrounding this 2sg. ending -t, which
cannot easily be traced back to *-th2e, see Malzahn (2010: 30–1), with literature (e.g., Cowgill 1985a:
104–5, “from *tū̆ ‘thou’”).
the *CC-é → *CC-tó form that caused the disappearance of *CéC-o (10.19),
but also the fact that any *CéC-o item could easily be updated into an
equivalent *CéC-e-to.49 This is why we still observe an affinity of the
thematic root present with the middle voice in the historical period
(4.44). ‘Statives’ like *k̑ éi̯-o(i̯) > Ved. śáye are thus double survivors: on
the one hand because they were not superseded by medial †k̑ i-tó(i̯) and on
the other hand because they were not modernised into †k̑ éi̯-e-to(i̯).
10.26 Reduplicated Presents (Thematic)

Because of its periphrastic background, the thematic paradigm (xvi) was in
principle suitable to act as the imperfective correspondent to any perfective
stem. This situation is continued in pairs consisting of a perfective s-aorist
and a thematic root present (Table 8.1).
Next to root aorists, things were more precarious. Although the the-
matic vowel had once been a sufficient marker of imperfectivity, the merger
of thematic and athematic root presents and the partial modalisation
of thematic root formations as subjunctives led to a demand for more
distinctly characterised imperfective (present) stems (4.49, 4.51).
In some cases this demand could be met by pressing former antipassives
into service (cf. 9.25; see further 10.35–10.39). Since antipassives make it
possible to avoid atypical agent–patient relationships with highly animate
O’s (9.22), the use of former antipassives may have been most common
with prototypically transitive roots that often took animate O’s. However,
where no well-established antipassive was available, other options could be
pursued as well.
One of these was to employ reduplicated presents that had been created
as secondary imperfectives to reduplicated aorists following the model of
*CeC-e/o-based imperfectives next to perfective root aorists (4.50). Thus,
whereas the reduplicated aorists were ousted by the incoming root aorists
in the perfective domain, the reduplicated type began to thrive in the
imperfective domain as an alternative to the simple thematic present.
In formal terms, the relation between the reduplicated aorist paradigm (viii)
and the earliest reduplicated present paradigm (xviii) therefore matches that
between the root aorist (ii) and the ancestor of the thematic present (xvi).50 In
(xix), as seen in 10.27, the reduplication vowel is then changed from *-e- to *-i-
49
Or also *CéC-o-to: cf. 4.42, fn. 154.
50
But note that the first reduplicated presents must have been built already before 3sg. *-t
became compulsory, since the Anatolian version of the type is still based on *C1é-C1C-e/o →
*C1í-C1C-e/o (4.40).
(4.25), but otherwise the paradigm merely reflects the alterations we have
already discussed in connection with the transition from (xvi) to (xvii) (10.24).
Paradigm (ii) : (xvi) = (viii) : (xviii)
sg. 1 *CeC-m *CéC-o-h2 *C1é-C1C-m *C1é-C1C-o-h2
2 *CeC-s *CéC-e-t *C1é-C1C-s *C1é-C1C-e-t
3 *CeC-t *CéC-e(-t) *C1é-C1C-t *C1é-C1C-e(-t)
pl. 1 *CC-mé *CéC-o-u̯ e *C1é-C1C-mǝ *C1é-C1C-o-u̯ e
2 *CC-té *CéC-e-d hu̯ e *C1é-C1C-tǝ *C1é-C1C-e-d hu̯ e
3 *CC-ént *CéC-ont *C1é-C1C-ǝ-nt *C1é-C1C-ont
10.27 Reduplicated Presents (Athematic)

Through analogical athematisation, notably under the influence of
corresponding root aorists, an athematic (and ablauting) version of the
reduplicated presents was created (4.20). Individual branches differ in the
extent to which they make use of such a type, which must be of some
antiquity only where *CeH- roots are involved (cf. 4.21) (paradigm (xx)).
On the ambiguous root vocalism in the singular, see 4.22–4.23.
Paradigm (xix) (xx)
sg. 1 *C1í-C1C-o-h2 *C1é/í-C1e/oH-m(i)
2 *C1í-C1C-e-s(i) *C1é/í-C1e/oH-s(i)
3 *C1í-C1C-e-t(i) *C1é/í-C1e/oH-t(i)
pl. 1 *C1í-C1C-o-mes *C1é/í-C1H̥ -mes
2 *C1í-C1C-e-te *C1é/í-C1H̥ -te
3 *C1í-C1C-o-nt(i) *C1é/í-C1H̥ -nt(i)
10.28 Presents in *-sk̑ e/o-

According to 8.41, the present stems in *-sk̑ e/o- also originated as secondary
imperfectives, initially to s-aorists. By analogy with the reduplicated imper-
fectives (paradigms (xviii)/(xix)), one might thus expect a neo-imperfective
3sg. *CéC-s-e(-t) → *CéC-s-e-t(i) in this case. But such a formation would
have been as undercharacterised vis-à-vis the s-aorist as the thematic root
presents were vis-à-vis the root aorist (10.26). The imperfectivisation was
therefore carried out by adding not just the thematic vowel *-e/o-, but its
allomorph *-k̑ e/o- (8.39). In all other respects, the relationship between
paradigms (xiv) (s-aorist) and (xxi) → (xxii) is the same as that between (ii)
and (xvi) → (xvii) (10.24) or (viii) and (xviii) → (xix) (10.26).
However, in contrast with what is shown in (xxii), the historical presents
in *-sk̑ e/o- mostly have a zero-graded root. As suggested in 8.41, the reason
for this may be that paradigm (xxii) could be taken to contain the s-aorist’s
‘weak stem’ after the root vowel had been lengthened throughout the active
s-aorist (10.22). So, as soon as the suffix *-sk̑ e/o- was employed to build
secondary imperfectives also to root aorists, the ‘weak stem’ was selected
among them as well (→ paradigm (xxiii)).
On the analogical creation of presents in *-sk̑ e/o- also to reduplicated
aorists, see 8.44.
Paradigm (xiv) (xxi) (xxii) (xxiii)
sg. 1 *CéC-s-m̥ *CéC-s-k̑ o-h2 *CéC-s-k̑ o-h2 *CC-s-k̑ ó-h2
2 *CéC-s-s *CéC-s-k̑ e-t *CéC-s-k̑ e-s(i) *CC-s-k̑ é-s(i)
3 *CéC-s *CéC-s-k̑ e(-t) *CéC-s-k̑ e-t(i) *CC-s-k̑ é-t(i)
pl. 1 *CéC-s-me *CéC-s-k̑ o-u̯ e *CéC-s-k̑ o-mes *CC-s-k̑ ó-mes
2 *CéC-s-te *CéC-s-k̑ e-d hu̯ e *CéC-s-k̑ e-te *CC-s-k̑ é-te
3 *CéC-s-n̥ t *CéC-s-k̑ ont *CéC-s-k̑ o-nt(i) *CC-s-k̑ ó-nt(i)
10.29 Excursus: Hittite Imperfectives in -šša-

Interestingly, the Hittite imperfectives in -ške/a- (cf. 7.6, 8.37) presup-
pose a thematic mi-conjugation paradigm descending from something
like (xxii)/(xxiii). By contrast, the reduplicated mimma-i type, which is
based on *C1é-C1C-e/o → *C1í-C1C-e/o, follows the hi-conjugation (4.40,
10.26, fn. 50). In 4.40, it has been suggested that the˘ latter treatment is
owed to a secondary association of the reduplicated type with the unre-
duplicated Anatolian CaC-i class (←< PIE ‘nominal verb’ *CóC-e: 5.31).
In the absence of a similar hi-conjugation class with *-sk̑ - suffix, no such
association was possible for˘ a 3sg. form like *CéC-s-k̑ e/o. Nothing there-
fore prompted the use of *CéC-s-k̑ o-e(i̯) rather than *CéC-s-k̑ e-t(i) etc.
Things might however have been different if *-k̑ e/o- had not replaced
simple *-e/o- in these neo-imperfectives. Instead of *CéC-s-k̑ e/o, one should
then expect *CéC-s-e/o. Just as *C1í-C1C-e/o was relatable to *CóC-e(i̯), such
a form would have been relatable to *CóC-s-e(i̯) formed to s-enlarged roots
(e.g., Hitt. pāhši ‘protects’ < *poh2-s-e(i̯), 8.33). Accordingly, *CéC-s-e/o
could also have˘ given rise to an innovated imperfective *CéC-s-o-e(i̯) type.
From here, a hi-inflectional imperfective suffix *-so- > -š(š)a-i51 might have
been extracted˘ in the same way as a mi-inflectional imperfective suffix
51
The geminate -šš-, which would probably be regular before an accented vowel (Eichner 1980: 161–3,
Kimball 1999: 440–1) may point to an accentuation history paralleling that of *-sk̑ e/o- → *-sk̑ é/ó- after
zero-grade roots. In Hittite, *-só- > *-ssá- would then have kept the resulting long/fortis/voiceless
consonant when attached as an imperfectiviser to stems retaining their accent (contrast Luw. -sa- ~
-ssa-). Alternatively, one might operate with a suffix variant *-h1so- originating among set roots (cf.
Kimball 1987: 180, Oettinger 2002: xxvii, modifying Melchert 1994: 78–9). In either case,˙ a separate
suffix *-soh1- is unnecessary (pace Kloekhorst 2008: 688–90, s.v. -šša-i, -šš-).
-ške/a- was extracted from *CéC-s-k̑ e-t(i) etc. And as mentioned in 7.6,
imperfectivising -š(š)a-i is in fact found next to -ške/a- in Hittite. We now
grasp the structural relationship between the two suffixes:52 -šša- is an
offshoot of the formation substituted by the source of -ške/a-.
10.30 Perfects (and ‘Nominal Verbs’)

In 5.29, the PIE perfect has been identified as a perfective version of the
‘nominal-verb’ type which lies behind the hi-conjugation root presents of
˘ is thus tied to the paradigm
Anatolian. The genesis of the perfect paradigm
of the ‘nominal verb’.
The paradigmatic nucleus here is the *C(o)C-é nominal already dis-
cussed in connection with the middle (10.19). The fact that *C(o)C-é
featured either a zero grade or an o-grade in the root – originally depending
on phonotactic factors (3.41, 4.40) – allowed an analogical generalisation
of each variant in different categories. Whereas *CC-é became the default
variant in the emerging middle root inflection, the nominal-verb/perfect
paradigm centres around *CoC-é.
In 5.28, it was left open why nominal source forms like *d hoh1-é ‘placer’
did not contain a nominative ending *-s. Thanks to the ergative theory, this
is now obvious. The endingless form represents the old absolutive, as
expected in a predicative noun. One reason for reinterpreting such a
form as verbal may have been the ergative → accusative alignment change.
After this change had run its course, only a form in *-s could still have been
regarded as a nominal predicate (cf. 8.54).
At the point when *CoC-é and its by-form *CC-é entered the verbal
system, they did not have a full paradigm of their own, but both were
integrated into the old ‘absolutival’ (intransitive) root inflection (paradigm
(iv), here rewritten with *C(o)C-é). Since the latter developed into the
historical middle, which is a dynamic category, whereas the earliest histor-
ical perfects are still mainly stative, we may infer that the o-graded variant
was reserved for contexts where the quality-descriptive value of predicates
like ‘is an X-er’ was paramount. In other words, *CoC-é was retained at the
more nominal end of the spectrum of meanings covered by *C(o)C-é
(typicalised/deindividuated propositions), and *CC-é occupied the more
verbal end (individuated propositions) (cf. 5.29).
52
A connection between Hitt. -š(š)a-i and other formations with s-suffix has been suspected before: cf.
Oettinger (1979: 510; 1992: 233) after H. Mittelberger apud Kronasser (1966: 552), Kimball (1987: 180)
(cf. ‘desideratives’), Melchert (1987: 200) (cf. Tocharian causatives), Jasanoff (2003: 136–9) (cf.
reduplicated (!) s-presents), Kloekhorst (2008: 690, s.v. -šša-i, -šš-) (cf. presents in -sk̑ e/o-). The
semantically detransitivising value of -š(š)a- (Daues 2012) befits an imperfectiviser.
Once this division of labour was established, *CoC-é acquired its own
1sg. and 2sg. forms. These paralleled those of *CC-é, but differed from
them by their root vocalism and the adoption of root accentuation (5.28).
The generalisation of the o-grade did not, however, extend to the plural (cf.
5.50). One important change happening there was the replacement of 1pl.
*-u̯ é by *-mé and of 2pl. *-d hu̯ é by *-té as the ‘ergatival’ endings spread
(10.7). Since the emerging paradigm, though intransitive, was not medial,
neither was *-d hu̯ é kept (as in the middle voice) nor *-mé remodelled into
medial *-med hh̥ 2. Also worth noting are the likely continuation of the old
nominal form in 2pl. *CC-é next to expected *CC-té, the partial substitu-
tion of the insufficiently marked 3pl. *C(o)C-é (?) by the nomen actionis
*CéC-r̥ , and the creation of a new 3pl. ending *-(e)rs on that basis (5.50).
The Hittite hi-conjugation root presents thus originate from something
like paradigm ˘(xxiv).53 Paradigm (xxv), a reduplicated version of (xxiv),
equals the PIE perfect as reconstructed in 5.8.
On the late creation of middle perfects, see 5.9, on that of middle and
active pluperfects 5.10–5.12.
Paradigm (iv) (xxiv) (xxv)
sg. 1 *CeC-h2 *CóC-h2e *C1e-C1óC-h2e
2 *CeC-t *CóC-th2e *C1e-C1óC-th2e
3 *CéC-e/o (SO) / *CóC-e *C1e-C1óC-e
*C(o)C-é (SA)
pl. 1 *CC-u̯ é *CC-mé *C1e-C1C-mé
2 *CC-d hu̯ é *CC-té [*CC-é] *C1e-C1C-té [*C1e-C1C-é]
3 *C(o)C-é (?) *CéC-r̥ (s) ~ *CC-é-r(s) *C1e-C1C-(é)r(s)
10.31 ‘Iterative-Causative’ Presents

In 5.34–5.39 and 5.43–5.47, two subtypes of ‘iterative-causative’ presents
have been identified: one with a zero-grade root, the other with an o-grade
root. Both are denominal derivatives in *-i̯e/o- to the *C(o)C-é nominal
behind the nominal-verb/perfect paradigm (10.30). Since the *CC-é-i̯e/o-
type is primarily iterative, but the *CoC-é-i̯ e/o- type either iterative (next to
transitive base verbs) or factitive/causative (next to intransitive base verbs), it
has been argued that the orientation of the underlying *C(o)C-é nominals
may have changed over time: while S-oriented at first, they would have
become A-oriented later. The causative *CoC-é-i̯e/o- verbs would thus repre-
sent a more recent stratum than the iterative *C(o)C-é-i̯e/o- ones, with the
zero-graded type not participating in the semantic diversification (5.47).
53
Though of course still with 1pl. *-u̯ é, not *-mé (10.5). For more detail, see 5.31, 5.33 (on the plural
vocalism), and 5.50, fn. 193 (on the introduction of 3pl. -anzi).
10.32–10.39 Origin and Functions of the i̯ -Present 579
Against the background of Pre-PIE ergativity, the logic behind this
suggestion now becomes clear. If the agentive *C(o)C-é nominals were at
all times oriented towards the grammatical subjects of underlying proposi-
tions (just as the *-nt- participles were according to 10.10), at the Pre-PIE
ergative stage this entailed S orientation because agentive grammatical
subjects occupied the S role. At the accusative stage, on the other hand,
the same principle brought with it A orientation since agentive gramma-
tical subjects now protypically occupied the A role.
Inflectionally, the *C(o)C-é-i̯e/o- presents belong with the large group of
thematic presents in *-i̯e/o-, other subtypes of which we have come across
elsewhere (cf. 5.44, 8.4, 8.23). Their conjugational pattern is the same as
that of the thematic root presents (cf. paradigm (xvii)). However, nothing
has so far been said on the original function(s) of the suffix *-i̯e/o- itself. As
the next section will demonstrate, our survey of the cardinal points in
the verbal systems of Pre-Proto-Indo-European and early Proto-Indo-
European is complete only when we have addressed this question as well.
10.32–10.39 Origin and Functions of the i̯-Present

10.32 Imperfectivising *-i̯e/o-
A priori, the prominence of imperfective i̯ -presents throughout the Indo-
European world poses less of a systemic problem than that of (thematic or
athematic) root presents, of reduplicated presents, or of s-presents. One
trigger for our investigation has been the unease caused by the fact that
Proto-Indo-European possessed both root aorists and root presents, redu-
plicated aorists and reduplicated presents, s-aorists and s-presents; and that
the formal means of distinguishing perfective (aorist) stems from imper-
fective (present) stems in each of these pairs appear to be superficial and/or
secondary ones. It is only through a combination of comparative and
internal reconstruction that we have been able to discern the deeper reasons
behind this ‘untidy’ situation.
By contrast, there is nothing to suggest that Proto-Indo-European
ever had a i̯-aorist to match the i̯-present. So we can safely regard the suffix
*-i̯e/o-54 as an unwavering marker of aspectual imperfectivity, and we might
54
Whether or not one sees in this a thematised offshoot of an ablauting (Kortlandt 1987a; 1989a,
Schrijver 2003, de Vaan 2011: 23–9; cf. Kloekhorst 2006b) or non-ablauting (Poultney 1967: 879,
Jasanoff 2003: 91–117) i-suffix. On balance, it seems doubtful that an athematic ancestor is needed.
The etymological explanation offered in 10.38 works more smoothly if the suffix was thematic
already at the earliest recoverable point, but it is not dependent on it (since the relative stem *(h1)i̯e/o-
itself may be nothing but a thematised variant of demonstrative *(h1)ei̯-/(h1)i-). On the question of
leave it at that. If there was one type of imperfective stem that never shifted
into the perfective domain, this type cannot impact much on our under-
standing of the development of the aspectual system as such.
However, when we look more deeply into prehistory things appear in a
different light. If we argue that all formally unmarked (radical) stems were
aspectually imperfective to begin with, the existence of any imperfective stem
with a formal marker must raise the question what contribution that marker
made. In this respect, the case of the PIE presents in *-i̯e/o- resembles that of
the presents in *-sk̑ e/o-. But whereas the formal analysis of the latter suffix
suggested that *-sk̑ e/o- acts as a secondary imperfectiviser, exactly like simple
*-e/o- when added to reduplicated (perfective) stems (8.41), a parallel hypoth-
esis for *-i̯ e/o- would be unwarranted when there are no perfective stems in
*-i̯- alone. An answer must therefore be sought along different lines.
10.33 The Basic Formal Type

Leaving aside the many denominal items, the oldest group among
the i̯-presents appears to be the one featuring a zero-grade root plus
accented *-i̯é/ó-; e.g.,
• *gu̯ m̥ -i̯é/ó- > Gr. βαίνω ‘go’, Lat. veniō ‘come’,
• *kh̥ 2p-i̯é/ó- > Gr. κάπτω ‘gulp down’, Lat. capiō ‘catch’, Goth. hafjan
‘lift’,
• *(s)tup-i̯ é/ó- > Gr. τύπτω ‘beat’, CLuw. dūpiti ‘strikes’, Alb. për-typ
‘chews’.55
To acknowledge this does not mean to deny that Proto-Indo-European
also knew a type with full-graded root and suffix *-i̯e/o-. However, as
Barber has pointed out in a comprehensive treatment of the Greek mate-
rial, the strongest evidence for the latter variant comes from *TeT- roots
where a structure *TT-i̯é/ó- was avoided for phonotactic reasons (cf. 8.4:
e.g., *spek̑ -i̯e/o- ‘watch, look’ >→ Gr. σκέπτομαι, etc.).56 This being so, we
*-h1i̯e/o- vs. *-i̯e/o-, see 10.34, fn. 60, and 10.38, fn. 76: although the latter may descend from the
former, the traditional notation (rather than *-(h1)i̯e/o-) will here be used.
55
Cf. LIV 209–10, 344–5, 602–3, s.vv. *gu̯ em-, *keh2p-, *(s)teu̯ p-. In Vedic, the suffix -ya- < *-i̯e/o-
(10.34) is not always accented, but against rare dissent (e.g., Delbrück 1897: 435–6), it is commonly
held that the Class IV verbs with unaccented suffix are innovated and that those with suffix accent
preserve an older state of affairs (together with the denominal verbs and the passives with -yá-).
Although the latter claim may not be entirely accurate (Kulikov 1998), the former will still be: see
Kulikov (2012: 759–60), with literature, and for a likely explanation of the accent shift in Class IV
(influence from Class I) especially Kuryłowicz (1958: 101), inspired by Saussure (1879: 174).
56
Barber (2013: 226–32, 349–64), who further notes the frequency of the type with resonant-final roots
(e.g., θείνω ‘strike’ < *gu̯ hen-i̯e/o-); on this, see also 8.4, and cf. Kulikov (2012: 10) on Indo-Iranian.
may suspect that the accent on the suffix was responsible for the usual
reduction of the radical vowel grade. But that in turn will entail that the
(ancestors of) present stems in *-i̯é/ó- already existed when ablaut patterns
were still phonologically conditioned (*CeC-i̯é- > *CC-i̯é-). Moreover, if
we assume that the qualitative *-e/o- alternation of the thematic vowel
should have arisen only when unaccented (3.38), we must hypothesise that
an initial non-alternating structure *CeC-i̯é- > *CC-i̯é- was eventually
changed into *CC-i̯é/ó- by analogy with thematic paradigms in which the
accent had not been on the thematic vowel (cf. 10.39). Of course, none of
this is strictly provable, but neither does it seem implausible.
10.34 i̯-Presents and (In)transitivity

More importantly, we must still find out what the functional difference
was between the early imperfectives with and those without the i̯-suffix.
Enlightenment on this issue might come from the value of the i̯-suffix in
later times.
At first sight, the historical i̯-presents seem disappointingly uninforma-
tive as their semantic range is very broad.57 One point is however worth
noting. Unlike the reduplicated presents (4.33) or the s-presents (8.35), the
i̯-presents do not tend towards telicity/boundedness or high transitivity –
for instance in the sense that a semantically more transitive i̯-present would
be paralleled by a less transitive root present.58
On the contrary, if anything there are reasons to associate the i̯-suffix
with low transitivity. In Indo-Iranian, *-i̯e/o- is not only found among
denominal verbs and the primary verbs of the Sanskrit Class IV (e.g., Ved.
háryati ‘rejoices, is gratified’ < *g̑ her-i̯ e/o-, cf. Gr. χαίρω ‘rejoice’ < *g̑ hr̥ -i̯é/ó-;
Ved. mriyáte Av. miriiete ‘dies’ < *mr̥ -i̯ é/ó-, cf. Lat. morior ‘die’), but the
suffix is also standardly used to form passives (e.g., Ved. uhyáte ‘is carried’ <
*ug̑ h-i̯é/ó-, cf. act. váhati ‘carries’ < *u̯ ég̑ h-e/o-). Since *-i̯é/ó- does not have
the same passivising function elsewhere in Indo-European, this seems to be
an Indo-Iranian innovation.59 But it is hard to imagine that the suffix
would have developed in this way if it had not somehow been predestined
57
See Meillet (1900: 307): ‘So the suffix *-ye- is not a meaningful element, like for example the infix
*-ne- or the suffix *-ī̆ -, it is merely a formational element as in the secondary nominal types’; cf.
Kulikov (2012: 764).
58
As Kulikov (2012: 762–3) stresses, there is no basis for the claim that *-i̯e/o-, or Indo-Iranian *-i̯a-,
started specifically as a “marker of telic neuter intransitive verbs” (Klaiman 1991: 282 n. 29 (italics
added)).
59
Pace Erhart (1989: 51, 53–4); even the Armenian mediopassive present in -i- may be unrelated
(Klingenschmitt 1982: 9–11). The passive value is not yet firmly established in Vedic times (Kozianka
2000, Kulikov 2006: 69–72, 76–7).
to act in a valency-reducing manner. And in fact, it has long been known
that “intransitivity . . . unites the majority of ya-presents regardless of the
diathesis”,60 i.e., whether Class IV verbs inflect as middles (where intran-
sitivity is expected) or as actives.
Having said that, we also cannot maintain that there was ever a necessary
correlation between i̯-suffixation and intransitivity. Firstly, although in
Greek too some inherited i̯-presents are intransitive (cf. βαίνω ‘go’, χαίρω
‘rejoice’, etc.), there is a very large number of transitive ones as well (cf.
κάπτω ‘gulp down’, τύπτω ‘beat’, etc.); and since transitive ya-presents are
by no means absent from Indo-Iranian either, even the more distinct
intransitive tendency of the latter branch is not overwhelming.
Secondly, in his treatment of the Greek verbs in *-i̯e/o-, Barber has made
the following intriguing observation:
Denominatives based on adjectives with theme semantics (such as ποικίλος
‘multicoloured, manifold’) have factitive/causative semantics (i.e. ποικίλλω
‘make something elaborate’); the theme semantic role is spelled out as the
verbal object, and an agent argument is added, being realized as the verbal
subject.
On the other hand, in *-ye/o- verbs which are based on adjectives with
agent or experiencer semantics (such as στωμύλος ‘talkative’), the verbal
subject simply spells out the argument structure of the base (i.e.
στωμύλλω ‘be talkative’).61
From this, Barber infers “a constraint on the semantic role of the subject
of *-ye/o- denominatives: the active subject of a Greek *-ye/o- denominative
must be an agent or experiencer”. He then goes on to review briefly all the
Greek primary verbs in *-i̯e/o- that may be reconstructed for Proto-Indo-
European or that “lack word equations but have some measure of support
for the antiquity of the root”. Once again, he concludes
that there are no obvious examples of inherited theme subjects or impersonal
subjects among these formations. Of course even with the most careful of
60
Kulikov (2012: 761); cf. Delbrück (1874: 168; 1897: 435), Lazzeroni (2002c; 2004; 2009: 16–18), Alfieri
(2008: 44–6) (‘anticausative’, especially next to ‘causatives’ with nasal affix), and 2.13, fn. 34 (on
Hittite). For a list of PIE i̯-presents ‘with “fientive-stative” Aktionsart’, see García Trabazo (2011:
176–8), who nevertheless joins García Ramón (1993a: 123 n. 63), Rasmussen (1993: 481), Harđarson
(1998: 332), and Seržant (2011: 532) in postulating – against Occam’s Razor – a genetically separate
composite suffix *-h1-i̯é/ó- for the Indo-Iranian passives (and some Hittite verbs in -i̯e/a-; García
Trabazo 2012). Much more likely, parallel or secondarily differentiated *-h1i̯é/ó- and *-i̯é/ó- suffixes
will have arisen through the split of a single suffix, notably if an original laryngeal was lost in some
environments (e.g., after another laryngeal (*-H-h1i̯e/o- > *-H-i̯e/o-) or through ‘Pinault’s Rule’
(5.44)). See also 10.38, fn. 76.
61
Barber (2013: 344–5).
studies, we could never prove that such examples did not exist. Nevertheless,
the evidence of the inherited verbs and the more plentifully attested and
better understood denominative verbs points in the same direction. It seems
reasonable to hypothesize that the active *-ye/o- verbs inherited by Greek did
not allow theme subjects or impersonal subjects, but required an agent or
experiencer.62
While there is nothing odd about a prototypically intransitive formation
featuring an experiencer subject, it is somewhat surprising if such a forma-
tion at the same time rejects ‘theme’ subjects and readily admits ‘agent’
subjects (cf. βαίνω ‘go’, κάπτω ‘gulp down’, σχίζω ‘cleave’, τύπτω ‘beat’,
etc.). It will be recalled that, according to the Transitivity Hypothesis
(3.35), agency normally correlates with high transitivity.
In other words, the joint evidence makes us diagnose for the PIE
i̯-presents a strange combination of
(a) a leaning towards intransivity and, as suggested by the Indo-Iranian
passives, valency-reduction, and
(b) no sign of any dislike of agentive subjects (but, if anything, rather the
contrary).63
10.35 The i̯-Presents as Pre-PIE Antipassives?

One way to make sense of this situation would be to operate with
two different *-i̯e/o- suffixes. In this vein, Kulikov has suggested that the
Indo-Iranian active and middle Class IV presents have separate origins.
The middle ones – and with them the passives in -yá- – would contain a
suffix that “served merely for additional characterization of some middle
presents (above all, media tantum) without rendering any particular seman-
tics”, though “foregrounding some [of the meanings of the Indo-European
middle] (intransitivization, passivization) and backgrounding some others
(reflexive, self-beneficent)”. By contrast, the majority of the active ones
would belong with the denominal verbs.64 Since a multiplicity of source
62
Barber (2013: 345–6).
63
This analysis is also compatible with the “typologically remarkable” findings of Schrijver’s (1999b:
esp. 152) study of nasal-present-derived i̯-presents in Indo-Iranian and elsewhere: “the basic nasal
presents, all of which, incidentally, are transitive, have a meaning of the type ‘S leaves O’, where S
performs the ‘leaving’ and is in control, while their *ye-derivatives, all of which are at least optionally
transitive, reflect a meaning ‘S lets O go’, where O performs the leaving but S remains in control”.
This amounts to saying that the subject of the i̯-suffixed variant is an agentive/controlling
experiencer.
64
Kulikov (2012: 763–4), who cites as forerunners Saussure (1877: 280–1), Brugmann (1913–16: 178–
82), and W. P. Schmid (1963: 79–86), but at the same time finds “[v]ery attractive” the idea of
Kortlandt (1981: 127–8) that the yá-passives are ultimately denominal too (Kulikov 2012: 759).
categories can never be disproved, this thesis is unassailable. However, it
constitutes a last resort when there is no formal evidence to back up a
separation of *-i̯e/o-1 and *-i̯e/o-2.65
But is there an alternative? As long as we consider the matter exclusively
within the framework of an accusative alignment system, the circle is
indeed difficult to square.66 For point (a) in 10.34, one may then compare
any other joint intransitive/passive marker, such as the formant *-(d h)eh1-
> -(θ)η- of the classical Greek intransitive/passive aorist (1.10). More or less
by definition, the subjects of such forms are either experiencers or patients,
but not agents, as stipulated by point (b).
Yet, once we look at the matter from an ergative perspective, it appears
in a new light. In 9.22, mention has been made of the antipassive trans-
formation many ergative languages use for a variety of purposes. Since an
underlying A becomes a surface S in the antipassive, this transformation is
as valency-reducing as the passive of an accusative language. However,
unlike the S of a passive, which represents an underlying O and is therefore
prototypically inagentive, the S in an antipassive construction is very often
an agent. So, even if we had no other reason to suspect a Pre-PIE ergative
stage, the i̯-presents’ ‘contradictory’ behaviour alone might suggest such
a stage, in which the suffix *-i̯e/o- operated as a derivational antipassive
formant.
With the transition to the accusative system of Proto-Indo-European,
certain parameters of course changed. Also in 9.22, we have seen that in an
antipassive construction an underlying O can either be demoted into a
Target role (expressed for example by a dative/directional case) or disap-
pear altogether. Then, in 9.24, the PIE accusative in *-m has been identi-
fied as a likely earlier Target case (directional). Thus, antipassive sentences
with demoted O would end up, after the alignment change, as ‘normal’
65
Kulikov’s central arguments are weak: (1) that “[s]ome root types follow distinct morphophonolo-
gical patterns in the middle vs. active -ya-presents” can easily be ascribed to secondary splits in Indo-
Iranian, (2) that “the core of the middle -ya-presents consists of formations built on the ‘aoristic’
verbal roots, which formed transitive nasal presents”, whereas “a number of active -ya-presents were
derived from roots that had no other old present formations” points to an old incompatibility of
nasal presents with middle inflection (so that middle i̯-presents had to fill the gap) but says little
about the i̯-suffixed presents as such, (3) that “all middle -ya-presents”, unlike the active ones, show a
“paradigmatic association with ‘medio-passive’ -i-aorists” is unrevealing as one should not normally
expect an active present type to correlate with a mediopassive aorist type, and (4) that “all middle
-ya-presents denote situations which are not controlled by the subject” whereas “a number of active
-ya-presents . . . are intransitive activities and transitives” just explains why the former do and the
latter do not inflect medially (cf. below).
66
But see already Lazzeroni (2004: 152–3), who stresses that the semantic transitivity of Indo-Iranian
active verbs in -ya- tends to be low, even when they are syntactically transitive.
transitive sentences with an A (= the former S of the antipassive sentence)
and an O (= the former Target in *-m of the antipassive sentence). And
with that, it makes perfect sense if we find many transitive verbs in PIE
*-i̯e/o-. But at the same time, antipassive sentences with omitted O would
end up as ‘normal’ intransitive sentences in the new accusative system –
though still mainly ones with an SA.67 Only in a subsequent step, the
type would then be extended to SO’s, not necessarily but commonly
accompanied by the selection of middle instead of active inflection in
accordance with the normal pattern for SO’s (9.20).
In the end, we should therefore ideally find active presents in *-i̯e/o-
as either transitives or intransitives with (mainly) SA’s, but middle
presents in *-i̯e/o- with SO’s. And indeed, not only does this predic-
tion fit the Greek evidence feeding into Barber’s semantic survey,68 it
also squares with Kulikov’s finding for Indo-Iranian that “all middle
-ya-presents denote situations which are not controlled by the subject
(semantically, Patient or Experiencer)”, whereas “a number of active
-ya-presents (mostly old formations that probably belong to the ear-
liest layer of this morphological type) are intransitive activities and
transitives”.69
Finally, one more point deserves highlighting. In 9.22, reference has
been made to the typological rule that the use of antipassives is most
common in non-perfective/non-past contexts. This agrees with the corre-
lation of low transitivity and imperfectivity according to the Transitivity
Hypothesis (3.35, 9.26). So if *-i̯e/o- indeed originated as an antipassive
formant, its restriction to the imperfective domain of Proto-Indo-
European again meets every expectation. Whatever ‘durative’ or ‘cursive’
semantics the stems in *-i̯e/o- may sometimes appear to have70 are thus not
67
‘Mainly’ because some experiencing verbs might have been construed transitively at the ergative
stage and therefore feature an ‘experiencer’ S in the antipassive transformation (e.g., ergative
Maryerg. hears Johnabs. → antipassive Maryabs. hears). However, prototypical experiencing roots
such as *derk̑ - ‘see, look’, *u̯ ei̯d- ‘see’, and *k̑ leu̯ - ‘hear’ do not show traces of a i̯-present, unlike the
more agentive *spek̑ - ‘look at’.
68
Barber (2013: 345–6) lists only four middle verbs in *-i̯e/o-: ἀτύζομαι ‘am bewildered’, μαίνομαι ‘rage,
am mad’, ἅλλομαι ‘leap’, and ἐλελίζομαι ‘tremble’. Of these, only ἅλλομαι can (but need not: see LSJ
70, s.v. ἅλλομαι, sub 3.) have a controlling subject. By contrast, the two dozen active verbs in *-i̯e/o-
assembled by Barber all have agentive (controlling) subjects (including μύσσω, which means ‘blow
the nose’, not ‘sneeze’).
69
Kulikov (2012: 761); cf. Vekerdi (1961: 253–5) and Lazzeroni (2004: 141–2) with the observation that
presents in -ya- tend to inflect medially when they occur next to other present stems of an agentive
type, but not when there is no stem polymorphy. If the Old Iranian active inflection of passives in
PIIr. *-i̯á- were inherited (cf. 8.25), it might go back to a time when the valency-reducing force of
*-i̯e/o- was strong enough on its own to allow its use with SO’s.
70
Delbrück (1897: 26); cf. Kuryłowicz (1928: 208) and critically Kulikov (2012: 761–2).
due to the suffix per se. Instead, they merely reflect (some of) the pragmatic
uses that are frequently associated with the grammatical structure in which
the suffix originally served: for instance, to underline the only partial
affectedness of an underlying/implied object or to focus on the general
inclination of a subject to carry out the activity (9.22).
Summing up, we can distinguish the following stages:
I. Pre-PIE *-i̯e/o- (or its ancestor) as an antipassive formant
II. PIE *-i̯e/o- (active) as a present-stem formant with A or SA subjects
III. PIE *-i̯e/o- (usually middle) as a present-stem formant also with SO
subjects
IV. Indo-Iranian *-i̯e/o- as a passive formant (by extension of Stage III)
10.36 On Denominal i̯-Presents

With this result, we may further refine the form/function analysis of the PIE
i̯-presents in two respects. Firstly, if the above argument is accepted, it is no
longer appropriate to treat the suffix *-i̯e/o- of the primary i̯ -presents as either an
offshoot of, or as unrelated to, the suffix *-i̯e/o- of the denominal verbs. Instead,
‘deverbal’ *-i̯e/o- must come first. But as soon as *-i̯e/o- had been converted from
an antipassive formant (Stage I) into a general – though formally distinctive –
imperfective marker (Stage II), it naturally offered itself for the creation of
denominal verbs. Because of the non-individuated nature of prototypical
nouns as opposed to prototypical verbs (5.29), denominal verbs at least initially
also tend to have more generic meanings, and indeed often occur only as
imperfectives. Thus, *-i̯e/o- could easily be adopted as a denominal formant,
presumably long before any alternative imperfective-stem marker was on the
horizon. In fact, we must not even exclude the possibility that denominal *-i̯e/o-
already existed when the same suffix was still an antipassive element as well.
10.37 Antipassives and Relativisation

Secondly, the derivation of *-i̯e/o- from an antipassive formant opens up an
attractive way of etymologising the suffix. In order to realise this, we must
first look once more at the general typology of antipassives.
In our discussion of Pre-PIE ergativity, we have so far only dealt with
‘intra-clausal’ or ‘morphological’ ergativity, “relating to ways in which S
and O are marked in the same manner, and A in a different manner, within
a single clause”. However,
[i]n some languages there are syntactic constraints on clause combination,
or on the omission of coreferential constituents in clause combinations. If
these constraints treat S and O in the same way and A differently, then the
language is said to be ‘syntactically ergative’, with an S/O pivot; if they treat
S and A in the same way and O differently, then it is said to be ‘syntactically
accusative’, with an S/A pivot.71
Although not every morphologically ergative language also has to be
syntactically ergative and impose pertinent constraints, many are – just as,
vice versa, English is not only morphologically, but also syntactically
accusative, as it features a (weak) S/A pivot:
In the case of coordination we can say (i) John returned and saw Mary (where
S1 =A1) or (ii) John returned and Mary saw him (where S1 = O1). But there is a
constraint on the omission of the second occurrence of a common NP – it
must be in S or A function in each clause. Thus (i) satisfies this pivot condition
and the occurrence of John from the second clause has been omitted; but (ii)
does not satisfy it and here we had to retain the pronoun him in O slot. If we
wished to fully omit mention of John from the second clause in (ii) then this
must be passivised, putting underlying O into derived S function, and the
pivot condition is now met, i.e. John returned and was seen by Mary.72
Mutatis mutandis the same strategy to create acceptable clause links may
be seen in syntactically ergative languages. If the passive transformation can
act as a ‘pivot-feeder’ in English and other syntactically accusative languages,
so can the antipassive transformation in ergative ones, thereby adding a
syntactic dimension to the semantic functions of antipassives mentioned
in 9.22.
Now, one of the most common environments in which the use of
antipassives is due to clause-connection requirements of this kind is relati-
visation. In the article in which he established the animacy hierarchy (9.8),
Silverstein also outlined a syntactic hierarchy of co-reference, suggesting
that, in ergative languages, relative clauses are among those constructions
for which the probability of antipassivisation is highest.73 Although
71
Dixon (1994: 143). 72 Dixon (1994: 158).
73
Silverstein (1976: 163). Still higher are only constructions where co-reference is established by a
second clause expressing a possessive relationship or predicating someone as a habitual actor/agent
(e.g., John saw the dog; the dog (is) Peter’s/the dog (habitually) bites people → John saw the dog [which]
(is) Peter’s/John saw the dog [which] (habitually) bites people); but here fully nominal ways of
expression are often used anyway (e.g., John saw Peter’s dog/John saw the biting dog). In the wider
context, it is intriguing that “the construction marker on lexical noun possessors [in Dyirbal] is -ŋu,
of exactly the same shape as the verbal suffix in relative clauses” (Silverstein 1976: 158), and that a
similar relation between genitive and relative exists in Basque (Lewy 1938: 32, Watkins 1963: 16 n. 1),
when a connection of the PIE o-stem genitive ending *-osi̯o, analysed as *-os-i̯o, with the PIE relative
pronoun stem *i̯o- has long been suspected (e.g., Schleicher 1855: 55–6, Knobloch 1950–2, Watkins
1963: 16, 28 n. 2, Poultney 1967: 877, G. Schmidt 1977a: 70–3, W. P. Lehmann 1981: 184–7; contra
Bader 1991: 147–9, Beekes 1990[92], Erhart 1993: 75–6, Dunkel 2014: 2.384). With our ergative
framework, we can take *-i̯o in *-osi̯o to represent the endingless absolutive case of the pronoun,
“[r]elatively few languages have been thoroughly studied at the syntactic
level”, this intuition seems to be borne out by a variety of idioms from
around the world. For example, in many Mayan languages “nominals may
only be relativised . . . if in S or O function, so that an NP in underlying A
function must be brought into derived S function through antipassivisation
to undergo one of these operations”, in Chukotko-Kamchatkan Alutor “an
S/O pivot is employed for relativisation and in conjunction reduction”, and
in Australian Yidiny “relative clauses . . . work strictly in terms of an S/O
pivot” so that NPs which are shared between main and relative clause “must
be in S or O function in each clause”.74 Moreoever, the principle also makes
sense from a pragmatic point of view because relative clauses are typically
used to provide background information, and backgrounding equally corre-
lates with low transitivity (including aspectual imperfectivity).75
10.38 Suffixal *-i̯e/o- and Relative *i̯e/o-

Given these typological data, it is difficult to believe that the similarity between
the presumptive antipassive marker *-i̯e/o- and the stem of the relative pronoun
*i̯e/o- is just a coincidence.76 We may hypothesise that the i̯ -marked antipas-
sives, which eventually turned into i̯-marked imperfectives, originated from
sequences of verb + relative pronoun used in ‘background’ environments.
For the sake of illustration, let us take an example used before (9.29), but
add a second clause:
*di̯eu̯ -serg. gu̯ hen h2ner-Øabs. *h2ner-serg. teu̯ p h1ek̑ u̯ o-Øabs.
by god strike man + by man beat horse
‘God strikes the man’ ‘the man beats the horse’
If Pre-PIE had a syntactic S/O pivot, the second clause could be relativised
on the first – notably to characterise the second eventuality as the (perhaps
added to a standard genitive in *-os (Peter’s dog = the dog which [is] Peter’s; contra Nikolaev 2000:
295), and we thus avoid the objection that “phonologically neither the *-yo of *-osyo nor Hittite =ya
[‘and’] could continue an inflected form of the pronoun *yo- or *Hyo-” (Probert 2014: 148).
74
Dixon (1994: 175–80), with further examples. Silverstein (1976) mainly referred to Australian
Dyirbal as well as Chinookan in North America.
75
See Hopper and Thompson (1980: 280–94); cf. Hopper (1979a; 1979b).
76
That *i̯e/o- was at one point a relative pronoun throughout Proto-Indo-European, either next to
*ku̯ i-/ku̯ o- or before the latter became an alternative, has been doubted (Porzig 1954: 173, 191, W. P.
Lehmann 1981: 186–7, Szemerényi 1996: 210–11), but for no good reason (cf. Probert 2014: 146–9).
More plausibly, either *i̯e/o- and *ku̯ i-/ku̯ o- once had different relative functions (Sturtevant 1930:
148–9, Hahn 1946, C. Lehmann 1980, Hajnal 1997: 58–64, Luján 2009) or, better still, originally
interrogative *ku̯ i-/ku̯ o- ousted relative *i̯e/o- in some areas/branches (G. Schmidt 1977a: 62; cf.
Schmitt-Brandt 1973: 128–36). That *i̯e/o- itself may be a thematic version of demonstrative *i- (cf.
Lat. i-s, i-d, etc., Brugmann 1911: 347, Szemerényi 1996: 210; contra Dunkel 2014: 2.320) is of little
importance for our purposes. If one posits *h1i- for the latter, the oldest shape of the suffix has to be
*-h1i̯e/o-, from which *-i̯e/o- can have developed in a second step: cf. 10.34, fn. 60.
causally responsible) background for the first – on condition that antipassive
case marking was introduced in it (i.e., through demotion of *h1ek̑ u̯ o- from
absolutive to directional Target case). The repetition of *h2ner- ‘man’ was
then no longer necessary and the pronoun *i̯e/o- could be used instead:
*di̯eu̯ -serg. gu̯ hen h2ner-Øabs. teu̯ p=i̯e/o-Øabs. h1ek̑ u̯ o-mdir.
by god strike man beat=who horse
‘God strikes the man who beats the horse’
Initially at home in such relativising contexts, the form in *-i̯e/o would
regularly occur next to nominal constituents with antipassive case marking.
This made the suffix liable to (re)interpretation as a general antipassive
marker on the verb, to be used also in contexts where an antipassive
construction was not employed to feed a syntactic pivot but for other
purposes (like the semantic ones referred to in 9.22).
10.39 Paradigm Constitution

As a corollary, the 3sg. will once again represent the nucleus of an entire
paradigm. It need not have been strictly impossible to say things like ‘God
strikes me, who beat the horse’, but such (by definition, non-restrictive)
relative clauses with a first-person or second-person antecedent must
have been as rare in Pre-Proto-Indo-European as they are in English.
Consequently, our starting point should be third-person forms like the
above *teu̯ p-i̯e/o, or structurally *CeC-i̯e/o. With the accent placed on the
‘derivational’ element, *CC-i̯é will result from the accent-conditioned
reduction of unstressed vowels (10.33). In due course, such an endingless
3sg. would also acquire the person marker *-t (→ *-ti) (cf. 9.30).
Already before that, however, distinct first-person and second-person
forms were needed as soon as *CC-i̯é had turned from a relative into a
general ‘antipassive’ type. In the 1sg. and 2sg., such forms could be built quite
easily, by adding the ‘absolutival’ endings *-h2 and *-t respectively (10.3), as
required by the antipassive context. The 2sg. *CC-i̯é-t would of course
eventually be replaced by *CC-i̯é-s(i) (cf. 10.3). In the 1sg., meanwhile, the
actual *CC-i̯ ó-h2 which is presupposed by the historical paradigms (e.g., Gr.
τύπτω < *tup-i̯ó-h2) may owe its suffixal o-vocalism to the influence of other
thematic paradigms in which the thematic vowel was not accented, in
particular the thematic root presents.77 Similarly, all the plural forms mirror
77
Where it was phonologically able to survive, the e-variant of the thematic i̯-suffix prevails in Old
Hittite; this might reflect an archaism (Yoshida 2009: 271–3; 2010a), but a “secondary generalisation
of PIE *-e-” is also possible (Kümmel 2012a: 207; cf. Oettinger 1985: 306–8 and 6.7, fn. 29, on
Armenian).
those of other thematic paradigms and will have developed in parallel with
them (cf. 10.24).
10.40–10.41 Alignment Change and PIE Aspectual Shifts

10.40 Building Blocks of the Pre-PIE Verbal System
With the addition of a derived antipassive, our picture of the Pre-PIE
verbal system gains in coherence. It now contains all the elements we may
expect in a language whose split-ergative characteristics are not condi-
tioned nominally (by animacy), but verbally (by tense/aspect) (9.27).
The main building blocks we are positing are the following:
(i) prototypically transitive root verbs with personal endings stemming
from pronouns with ergative case marking (1sg. *CeC-m, 3sg. *CeC-Ø
→ *CeC(-s));
(ii) prototypically intransitive root verbs with personal endings stemming
from pronouns with absolutive case marking and thus contrasting
with (i) in a kind of voice opposition (1sg. *CeC-h2, 3sg. *CeC-Ø →
*CeC(-t));
(iii) a formally marked perfective aspect, contrasting with the imperfective
base forms under (i) and (ii), characterised by initial reduplication and
featuring ‘ergatival’ endings;
(iv) a derived antipassive, marked with suffixal *-i̯é/ó- and featuring
‘absolutival’ endings, potentially to be used to convey tense distinc-
tions (1sg. *CC-i̯ó-h2, 3sg. *CC-i̯é-Ø → *CC-i̯é(-t)); and
(v) a deverbal class of derived (participial) nominals, marked with suffixal
*-e/o- and containing two subtypes whose accentual differentiation
correlates with their semantic (in)agentivity (*CéC-o ~ *C(o)C-é).
Though fairly simple, not least when compared with what developed out
of it in later Proto-Indo-European, such a system is not unrealistically
poor. It contains morphological encodings at least for the categories of
person, voice, and aspect. In addition, there is the possibility that mood
also had some place in it. The existence of a separate (endingless) 2sg. ipv.
can be taken for granted, and nothing speaks against the ancestor of the
later optative in *-i̯eh1-/-ih1- also already being in place.78 Moreover, there
78
One might for instance speculate that the optative suffix descends from an instr. sg. of demonstrative
*(h1)i- (10.38, fn. 76). As such, *(h1)i̯eh1 would have meant ‘in this way, so’, and since words for ‘so’
often appear as conditional conjunctions (e.g., Germ. so ‘if’) and in the apodosis of conditional
constructions, pertinent forms could have developed into a means of expressing contingency (e.g.,
*gu̯ hen-yéh1 ‘so he/she strikes’ = ‘if he/she strikes/struck’, ‘he would strike’; differently e.g. Eichner
1994: 80–4 (periphrasis with a ‘request’ verb), Tichy 2002: 196–7 (‘approximative’ derivation)). The
10.40–10.41 Alignment Change and PIE Aspectual Shifts 591
may of course have been complexities that escape our eye because they were
affected by restructuring processes which over the course of time made
them inaccessible to both comparative and internal reconstruction. But
since it has not been our aim to write an actual grammar of Pre-Proto-
Indo-European, this reservation should not worry us. What we have been
able to recover is sufficient to understand the basis underneath the verbal
systems of later Proto-Indo-European and its successors.
However, as pointed out in 10.2, one question still awaits an answer.
What systemic earthquake triggered the far-reaching morphosyntactic
changes described in the preceding chapters, by causing the shift of
segmentally unmarked, and therefore imperfective, stems into the perfec-
tive domain? While the mutations summarised in 10.15–10.31 follow their
own internal logic, this ultimate key to the evolution of Indo-European
aspect and tense has not so far been turned. But it has already been sitting
in the keyhole for a while. It is, once again, the change in alignment
structure which led from ergatival Pre-Proto-Indo-European to accusatival
Proto-Indo-European.
10.41 New Perfectives through Alignment Change

In 9.21–9.25, we have seen that two interlocking mechanisms may be
responsible for the ergative → accusative alignment change: the extension
of A marking (Pre-PIE erg. *-s) to S function, leading to a formally identical
case in *-s for A’s and S’s, and the reanalysis of antipassive structures with a
Target as underived transitive structures with an O (whence a reinterpreta-
tion of the Target case marker *-m as an accusative ending). With the latter
process completed, two parallel transitive patterns were in existence:
Phase I (ergative)
(a) ergative base structure *di̯eu̯ -serg. gu̯ hen h2ner-Øabs.
by god strike man
‘God strikes the man’
(b) antipassive structure *di̯eu̯ -Øabs. gu̯ hn̥ -i̯éantipass. h2ner-m̥ dir.
god strike at/towards man
‘God strikes (at) the man’
Phase II (accusative)
(a') transitive structure 1 *di̯eu̯ -snom. gu̯ hen(-t) h2ner-m̥ acc.
god strike man
fact that the optative suffix ablauts (Jasanoff 2009: 47–9, Harđarson 2012: 73–4) in any case suggests
an early origin of the mood (cf. Harđarson 1994: 31–2).
(b') transitive structure 2 *di̯eu̯ -snom. gu̯ hn̥ -i̯é(-t) h2ner-m̥ acc.
god strike man
Put like this, Phase II is undeniably marred by systemic redundancy.

However, because of their different origins in Phase I, there is an important
difference between (a') and (b'). While both are transitive in syntactic
terms, on a scale of semantic transitivity (a') will still be more transitive
than (b'). In line with the Transitivity Hypothesis (3.35), this may manifest
itself in a number of ways. For example, the volitionality of the subject’s
action might be greater or the direct object might be more thoroughly
affected. But perhaps the most natural implicature of the greater transitiv-
ity of (a') would be that the eventuality is complete(d) (punctual), whereas
(b') is non-complete (ongoing). The continued classification of (b') as
imperfective in the pre-existing aspectual system would therefore be
unequivocal. For (a'), on the other hand, things would be less clear.
Because of the completeness implicature, it would come dangerously
close to its perfective (subjectively bounded) counterpart (c') (cf. 4.6):
(c) = perfective variant of (a) *di̯eu̯ -serg. gu̯ hé-gu̯ h(e)npfv. h2ner-Øabs. (pfv.)
by god strike man
(c') = perfective variant of (a') *di̯eu̯ -snom. gu̯ hé-gu̯ hn̥ (-t) h2ner-m̥ acc.(pfv.)
god strike man
As a consequence, the redundancy that had resulted between (a') and
(b') could be resolved not only by abandoning either one or the other, but
also by treating (a') as a new perfective variant of (b') – while getting rid of
(c'), which then became the fifth wheel on the wagon.
It should be clear that the process just envisaged is the transformation
of a ‘root imperfective’ into a ‘root perfective’ (or ‘root aorist’). From
3.33, it will be recalled that the root used in the above examples (*gu̯ hen-)
is one to which, somewhat unexpectedly, this did not happen so that a
transitive root present survived next to a reduplicated aorist. In this
particular case, it will therefore have been the former antipassive which
pulled the short straw when the (a')/(b') redundancy was remedied.
More commonly, however, the old reduplicated perfectives were not
resilient enough to resist the incoming new root perfectives (or, where
applicable, their even more distinctly transitive companions with s-
suffix: 8.55, 9.30). In fact, the innovation was so successful overall that
in the end the default assumption for an athematic root formation can
no longer have been that it was imperfective, but rather the opposite; for
by the time of later Proto-Indo-European, athematic root presents will
already have been much rarer than root aorists.
In sum, we may conclude that the imperfective → perfective shifts of the
later root aorists and s-aorists resulted from a certain overcrowding in the
imperfective domain. But this overcrowding did not come out of nothing.
It was a direct consequence of the change from an older ergative system to a
younger accusative system. Once more, the theory of Pre-PIE ergativity
thus sheds light on an otherwise inexplicable feature of Indo-European
verbal grammar.
10.42 Conclusion
10.42 Conclusion
In Chapter 9, it was shown why we should reconstruct for Pre-Proto-Indo-
European a (split) ergative system and how such a system could be
transformed into the accusative one of later Proto-Indo-European. One
task of the present chapter has now been to detail the ways in which this
process affected the verbal categories discussed before. In order to do so, we
first had another look at the personal endings. This enabled us to uncover –
mainly by internal reconstruction – various structural relationships both
among the endings themselves and between them and the corresponding
personal pronouns (10.3–10.14). In the same context, it proved possible to
elucidate, with the help of the ergative theory, the long-suspected but never
truly explained connection of the 3pl. ending *-nt with the participial stem
formant *-nt-.
That the next section, on the categorial histories themselves (10.15–
10.31), could often only be tentative has been stressed at the outset. But as
noted there, the detail of the changes described is in some ways less crucial
than the fact that an economical and internally consistent description is
feasible at all. Minimally, the section should thus have demonstrated that
the formal conclusions reached in earlier chapters are all compatible with
the ergative theory as each step had to be plausible, motivated, and
concurrent with natural language behaviour.
Considerations of systemic plausibility were also paramount in 10.32–
10.39. Acknowledging that the existence of a formally distinct antipassive is
extremely likely in a split-ergative language of the type envisaged here for
Pre-Proto-Indo-European, we have made out an ideal candidate for this
role in the precursor of the PIE i̯-presents. Not only are the syntactic and
semantic characteristics of these presents remarkable within an accusative
system, but their identification as former antipassives also allows us to
relate the suffix *-i̯e/o- to the formally identical stem of the PIE relative
pronoun.
Finally, 10.40–10.41 have picked up the last loose thread of our study.
Following the claim that verbal reduplication constituted the oldest per-
fectivity marker in Indo-European, earlier chapters had adduced a shift of
ancient imperfectives into the perfective domain as the principal reason
why Proto-Indo-European also possessed non-reduplicated perfective (aor-
ist) stems. However, a real trigger for this shift can only be detected if we
recognise that the transformation of ergatival Pre-Proto-Indo-European
into accusatival Proto-Indo-European led to formal overcrowding in the
imperfective domain, as previous antipassives turned into imperfective
base verbs.
Epilogue
The following ten theses, one for each chapter, try to distil the essence of all
that precedes:
1. The variety and rich attestation of the verbal system of Ancient Greek
make it an ideal starting point for the reconstruction of the verbal
system of the Indo-European ancestor language. Virtually everything
that is found in Greek has a recognisable linguistic pedigree, and few
things that are found elsewhere have not left at least some trace in
Greek as well.1
2. Although there is a sea of literature on the Indo-European verb, only
few scholars have sought to capture the systemic relationships
between the reconstructed data. Where pertinent attempts have
been made, these are often marred by incongruities and a certain
disregard for typological insights and/or general principles of linguis-
tic change.
3. Since the most basic verbal forms of Indo-European are found in
both imperfective and perfective root paradigms, and since there is
no coherent way of explaining the genesis of PIE aspect by reference to
the objective boundedness (telicity) of many root aorists, it is likely
that the latter have been perfectivised secondarily, because of their
boundedness. Consequently, there must have been earlier perfectives,
1
One significant exception is constituted by finite passive forms in *-r. Since the distribution of these
(in Celtic, Italic, Anatolian, Tocharian, Phrygian) speaks against a common innovation of non-
Central Indo-European (pace Porzig 1954: 83–6, Kammenhuber 1961: 42–4, and Justus 2000; cf.
Cowgill 1975: 561–2, Stempel 1996: 65–6), it may be that mainly impersonal forms in *-or (type
*bhero-r ‘is (being) carried’ or impersonal ‘one carries’; 4.35) were once built on the basis of ‘stative’
middle forms in *-o throughout the family (cf. Jasanoff 1977: 166–9, Hart 1988: 91–3, H. Katz 1988).
While expanding elsewhere, they would have been given up in favour of innovated *-(e)to(i̯) in most
of the central languages once *-to had established itself as the ‘standard’ 3sg. mediopassive ending
(4.42, 10.14). Ultimately, their *-r is no doubt the same as in the impersonally used noun behind the
3pl. perfect (5.50; cf. e.g. Meid 1977: 119, G. Schmidt 1977b: 106–7, Hart 1988: 92, and H. Katz 1988,
contra Watkins 1969: 194–7, Di Giovine 1999: 43).
595
596 Epilogue
a role into which the historically marginal reduplicated aorists fit
well.
4. If reduplication once served as a marker of aspectual perfectivity in
Proto-Indo-European, the existence of non-perfective reduplicated
stems must be justified. Among these, the reduplicated presents
represent secondary imperfectives built on the model of the equally
imperfective simple thematic presents. For the latter, a nominal
ancestry has rightly been postulated.
5. A similar non-verbal background is reflected by the PIE perfect’s
stative character, which is cognitively prior to any nactostatic value.
After the nominal type involved had been verbalised, it too acquired a
perfective (reduplicated) counterpart; and it is this innovation which
accounts for the prominent generic semantics of many of the earliest
perfect forms.
6. The most widespread thematic aorist type is not, as is usually
thought, a thematised version of the root aorist, but a descendant
of the reduplicated aorist with a simplified and generalised reduplica-
tion syllable. Refunctionalised as the ‘augment’, the latter has spread
to other formations with past-tense reference.
7. That the augment was no past-tense marker to begin with is unam-
biguously shown by its distribution in the earliest texts. The philo-
logical data in all the relevant languages concur with the notion that
its original function was that of a pre-radical perfectiviser.
8. The s-aorist as the last major aorist type of Indo-European must have
competed with the root aorist already in the proto-language, the
principal difference being its more pronounced semantic transitivity.
Diachronic explanations of it which presuppose intransitive leanings
are therefore unsustainable.
9. Any reconstruction of the earlier layers of the Indo-European verb
should address the question of (Pre-)PIE alignment structure. A
variety of independent arguments concerning both nominal and
verbal morphology support the idea that a (split) ergative system
preceded the accusative system of later Proto-Indo-European.
10. Once the mechanism of the Pre-PIE ergative → PIE accusative
alignment change is identified, it becomes possible to understand
not only some of the intricacies in the system of verbal endings but
also the logic behind the evolution of the individual stem categories
and verb forms. The fact that many previously unexplained details
now fall into place indirectly corroborates the correctness of the
reconstruction as a whole.
Epilogue 597
For all the breadth of the investigation, it cannot of course be claimed that
every issue worth addressing has been addressed. That there will be room for
discussion and, presumably, disagreement has been anticipated in the Preface.
At the same time, it must be stressed again that what has been offered is a
grammatical framework, not a grammar. Even when we look at Greek alone,
there are matters that have been consciously ignored. For example, while we
have touched on the origins and development of the subjunctive, the optative
has hardly been mentioned; and although we have had occasion to say
something about nearly all the major2 tense-stem formations, nothing has
been said on the intransitive/passive aorist in -(θ)η- and, even more
prominently, on the varied hypostases of the nasal presents.
These omissions are not due to a wish to ‘forget’ about potentially
recalcitrant evidence. In each case it is possible to sketch genetic hypotheses
which accord with what is presented here and which do not contradict what
the data tell us. Thus, we are free to join those scholars who have connected
the intransitive/passive aorist in -(θ)η- with the ‘stative’ suffix *-eh1- encoun-
tered in 5.44 and 8.36, and to hold that a form like 3sg. aor. (ἐ)μάνη ‘was/
became mad’ (< *(h1e-)mn̥ -eh1-t) either represents something very old – say,
an archaic PIE tense/aspect-stem type which does not as such survive else-
where – or an inner-Greek innovation that was backformed from a still
nominal Proto-Greek stem *mn̥ -eh1-nt- (> ptcpl. μανείς) and secondarily
assigned a full paradigm.3 Either way, nothing precludes a further analysis of
the basic *CC-eh1 structure involved as a verbalised, and in the end
2
As opposed to the minor present-stem classes in *-de/o-, *-dhe/o-, *-te/o-, and *-u- (or *-u̯ e/o-?) also listed
in LIV 14–20. For some remarks on the u̯ -presents and a suggestion to derive them from the i̯-presents,
see Willi (2014a: 220–1), responding to Jasanoff (2003: 141–3), García Ramón (2007b: 97, 108–9)
(distinct suffix), and Rasmussen (2011) (*-u- as a root component), for detail about the largely
intransitive presents in *-dhe/o-, Chantraine (1925), Benveniste (1935: 188–96), Magni (2008; 2010),
and Bock (2008: 48–67). The four entries for *-de/o- in LIV (?*bhréu̯ H-de/o- > ON brjóta ‘break’,
?*kléu̯ H-de/o- > ON hljóta ‘obtain (by lot)’, ?*u̯ élH-de/o- > ON velta ‘roll’, ?*u̯ érH-de/o- > Lith. 3sg.
vérda ‘boils’) are confined to Germanic and Baltic, and the two for *-te/o- may well be hypercorrect
backformations to the corresponding s-aorists (*pek̑ -te/o- > Lat. pectō ‘comb, card (wool)’, OHG fehtan
‘fight’ ~ *pek̑ -e/o- > Gr. πέκω ‘comb, card (wool)’, cf. Gr. aor. ἔπεξα ~ Lat. perf. pexī; *plek̑ -te/o- > Lat.
plectō, OHG flehtan, OCS pletǫ ‘plait’ ~ *plek̑ -e/o- > Gr. πλέκω ‘plait’, cf. Gr. aor. ἔπλεξα ~ Lat. perf.
plexī; Table 8.1). On the acrostatic root presents (type (1b) in LIV 14–15), see 3.40.
3
For the latter opinion, see Jasanoff (2002/3: esp. 161–5), for the former e.g. Cowgill (1963b: 265–6)
and Harđarson (1998: 323–8); cf. also 5.44, fn. 174. A separate issue is the origin of the dental
element in -θη-. If -θη- represented -θ-η- with ‘stative’ -η-, a connection with the present-stem
morpheme -θε/ο- < *-dhe/o- could be sought (Chantraine 1925: 105–6, Prévot 1935: 94–100,
Jasanoff 2002/3: 166–7, Ruijgh 2004b: 62–3, Magni 2008), but Wackernagel’s (1890: 302–13)
derivation of -θη- from a 2sg. in -θης < *-tha-es < *-th2a-es remains equally attractive (cf. 5.11, fn.
38). More questionable are reanalytical scenarios, whether involving *dheh1- ‘put’ (Hermann 1951:
57–64, Skomedal 2005) or a 3sg. in *-C-s-to > *-Ctho → *-th-ē (Peters 2004c: 178–81). On the
function of -(θ)η- within Greek, see especially Prévot (1935), Allan (2003: 126–47), and Tronci
(2005).
598 Epilogue
aoristified, predicative instrumental, and thus as ultimately belonging to the
same nominal type as the *CC-é form discussed in 5.42.4
Similarly, whatever we may think about the mutual relationships
between the subtypes of the nasal presents, including the antiquity (or
not) of the type’s partial thematicity (1.11), we can agree with the long-
standing notion that what ended up as a nasal root infix must have begun,
as infixes commonly do, as a root affix.5 This will then permit a reformula-
tion of Kronasser’s idea that what is ultimately at stake here is an object
pronoun fossilised from a time when the personal endings were still
independent (subject) pronouns.6 Given our identification of the nasal
nominal ending *-m as an old Target case, this would square with a
hypothesis that the generally telic and semantically (high-)transitive7
nasal present stems also go back to antipassive structures, particularly
ones used in contexts with non-prototypical (animate) O’s.8
However, the systemic relevance of any such theory is different from
that of the theories we have explored in greater depth. The interconnect-
edness of the latter is such that non-trivial alterations would have
4
The question why such a ‘stative’ instrumental form was integrated into the aorist system is
rightly emphasised by Jasanoff (2002/3: 161) and García Ramón (2014: 151–2). However,
Jasanoff’s (2002/3: 164) idea that a nominal form in *-eh1-nt- replaced an aorist participle in
*-mh1no- because “[s]emantically, the two formations were very close” is unsatisfactory since the
latter assumption is problematic, Ruijgh’s (2004b: 59–61) proposal that Gr. -η- continues aoristic
*-ēs- is morphologically awkward, and García Ramón’s (2014: 162–9) claim that *-eh1- is a
“redundant marker of state with telic transformative lexemes” is grounded in the disputable
notion that “the component state . . . is inherent in even the aorist stem of such lexemes”. Perhaps
one may compare predicative instrumentals in Russian, which are used preferentially in non-
permanent contexts, for temporarily bounded states (e.g., on byl svideteleminstr. ‘he was a witness’
vs. on byl duraknom. ‘he was a fool’; cf. Nichols 1981: esp. 140–82, Timberlake 2004: 286–8).
Similarly, PIE predicative *mn̥ -é might have qualified someone as ‘mad’ (‘a madman’) in general,
and *mn̥ -éh1 as (being) ‘mad’ in a specific, temporarily bounded, context only; this would have
predestined the form in *-eh1, despite its ‘stative’ semantics, to become a (bounded) aorist.
5
Kuiper (1937: 9–10) cites, among others, Bopp (1837: 717) and Schleicher (1855: 56); cf. later e.g.
Vaillant (1946: 79–80), Rasmussen (1990: 192–5), and now Milizia (2004). On the typology of
infixation, see Yu (2007: esp. 139–48).
6
Kronasser (1960: 19–23), developing the approach of Kretschmer (1947); for a partial parallel within
Indo-European, see Garrett (1991) and Adiego (2015) on the Lycian nasalised preterite. Contrast the
more recent but unconvincing hypothesis of Steer (2013/14) (reanalysis of suffixed *nū̆ →
*neu̯ ‘now’).
7
See especially Kuiper (1937: 214–18), Kronasser (1960: 6–16), Lazzeroni (1980: 41–2; 2002c; 2009),
and Meiser (1993b); on the telicity of the type, cf. also Delbrück (1897: 40), Vendryes (1924) (on
punctual -ανε/ο-), Kuiper (1937: 202–11), Poultney (1937), and Strunk (1979b: 250). The intransi-
tive (anticausative) specialisation of the nasal presents in Germanic and Balto-Slavic is innovated
(Kuiper 1937: 219–24, Rasmussen 1997b: 251–2, Lazzeroni 2009: 15–17, Villanueva Svensson 2011,
Scheungraber 2014: 181–99) and pertinent lexemes are often recent (cf. Sadnik 1962, Scheungraber
2014).
8
In other words, the nasal consonant would be a relic of the ending of (something like) ‘directional’
*e-m, not of a ‘pronominal stem *e-no-/no-’ (Kronasser 1960: 22).
Epilogue 599
substantial repercussions. To be sure, doubting our explanation of the
origins of, for instance, the s-aorist or the i̯-present would not by itself
bring down the ergative theory or our model of formal rejuvenation among
the Indo-European perfective stems. But it would remove one building
block which adds stability without being created purely ad hoc.
Not each of our ten theses is equally unorthodox, or equally incompa-
tible with Indo-Europeanist orthodoxy. This is as it should be since the
linguistic facts are not negotiable. And of course ‘orthodoxy’ itself is a
slippery concept. Even where we did find reason to depart from a communis
opinio, we were never the only ones to do so. Yet, small differences can add
up, and that is why our end result, as diagrammed in Fig. A, bears little
resemblance to the earlier big-picture theories reviewed at the outset.
In this respect, it is two points in particular that deserve final high-
lighting. Firstly, we have firmly subscribed to the idea that aspect is prior
to, not a by-product of, tense in Indo-European. Like other peoples with
non-tensed languages, the Proto-Indo-Europeans certainly knew how to
keep apart past, present, and future eventualities, but their linguistic
ordering system was not primarily geared towards such temporal cate-
gories. And secondly, the dogma of all-important PIE Aktionsart distinc-
tions is nothing but a convenient way of avoiding reconstructive
commitment. Again, different Aktionsarten will have existed in Proto-
Indo-European no less than they do in modern English, French, or
German – but there is no reason to believe that their grammatical status
was at any point more pivotal than that of corresponding semantic group-
ings in the modern European languages.
*
To reconstruct a proto-language is a challenging enterprise, with difficul-
ties lurking behind every bend of the path. One may get lost in the forest of
data, glance back too often to where one is coming from, or mistake a gap
between the bushes for a track. From time to time other paths branch off or
meet one’s own, giving reassurance that someone has been there before but
also providing opportunity to take a wrong turn. And even at the end,
when one has arrived at a sunny clearing with a beautiful lake inviting to
rest, there is no signpost, no absolute certainty that this is the spot one has
been looking for.
On our path we set out with a detailed though incomplete set of
directions: the philological data of Ancient Greek. Under way we encoun-
tered other hikers with their own directions, written in other languages,
which they shared with us. Comparing these notes allowed us to choose at
perfective aspect imperfective aspect
REDUPLICATED PFV. TRANSITIVE IPFV. INTRANSITIVE IPFV. ANTIPASSIVE INAGENTIVE ‘PTCPL.’ AGENTIVE ‘PTCPL.’
˘
*C1é-C1C-m, -∅[-s] *CéC-m, -∅[-s] *CéC-h2 , -∅[-t] *CC-ié-h2 , -∅[-t] *CéC-e / oabs. (SO/O) *C(o)C-éabs. (SA)
Pre-PIE → PIE alignment change (split) ergative → accusative ( > gradual spread of *-t as 3sg. act. marker)
esp. unergatives
*-s > high-tr. suffix
used with 2
arguments morphologised
‘STATIVE’ MID.
HIGH-TRANS. ‘MIDDLE’ o-grade
ROOT IPFV.(ATELIC) IPFV.
S-TYPE ROOT IPFV.
*CéC-m, -t GENERAL IPFV. GENERAL IPFV. *CéC-o (3sg., S )
*CeC-s-m , -s (-t) *CéC-h , (-∅) O
2 (ACT.) (ACT.) NON-‘STAT.’ MID.
ROOT IPFV.(TELIC) *CC-ié-h2 , -t
˘ ‘NOMINAL VERB’
*CéC-e / o (3sg.) IPFV.
*CéC-m, -t *CóC-e (3sg.)
*CC-é (3sg., S )
A
(mostly) classified
as perfective
(mostly) classified coordination into middle paradigm (not diagrammed further)
as perfective
‘NOM. VERB’
PFV. creation of pfv. counterpart
*C1e-CóC-e (3sg.)
REDUPLICATED
AOR.
*C1é-C1C-m, -t ROOT IPFV.
ROOT IPFV. ˘
I-IMPERFECTIVE
(ATHEM.) ˘ ˘ (THEM.)
S-AOR. ROOT AOR. *CC-ié-h2 , -ié-t
*CéC-m, -t *CéC-o-h2 , -e / o(-t)
−́
*CeC-s-m , -t *CéC-m, -t REDUPL.IPFV.(THEM.)
*C1é / í-C1C-o-h2 ,
creation of secondary ipfv. -e/o(-t) ˘
SK-IMPERFECTIVE ˘
*[C1í-]C1C-skó-h2 ,
˘
creation of secondary ipfv. -ské(-t)
introduction of morphological tense (gradual spread of ‘primary’)*-i)
thematised cont. mainly Anatolian

partially REDUPL. PRES.
ROOT PRES. athematised ˘
PRES. IN *-IE / O-
(THEM.) RELIC ‘STATIVES’
THEM.AOR. PERFECT (ATHEM.)
˘ ˘
*CC-ió-h2 , -ié-ti
RED.AOR. *C1í-C1C-o-h2 , -e-ti *CéC-o(i), CC-é / ó(i)
˘ ˘
*h1é-C1C-e-t ˘
*C1é-C1C-e-t *C1e-CóC-h2e, -e *CéC-mi, -ti ‘HI-CONJ.’ PRES.
REDUPL. PRES. PRES. IN *-SKE / O- ˘ ROOT PRES. ˘
(ATHEM.) (THEM.) *CóC-h2e(i), -e(i)
˘ ˘
S-AOR. ROOT AOR. *[C1í-]C1C-skó-h2 ,
˘
−́
*CeC-s-m , -t *CéC-m, -t *C1é / í-C1eC-mi, -ti -ské-ti *CéC-o-h2 , -e-ti
(partial) merger through optional thematisation
(after functional merger)
Fig. A. Origins of the Greek verb (master diagram)

Epilogue 601
the next crossroads where our own indications would not have sufficed.
But the deeper the woods became, the fewer people we met; for many had
chosen to return as crossroads continued to appear. At that point, then, the
best we could do was to make inferences, to replace comparative with
internal reconstruction, to opt for those paths which seemed to point in the
right direction. No doubt, our intuition alone might well have led us astray
here or there, but more often than not there was something else to guide us:
the safest path was the one most travelled. So we steered away from the
fainter trails, the ones typological considerations advised against. And thus
we finally reached ‘our’ clearing. Beyond it the forest continues, but to
venture there we shall leave to others whose spirit of adventure is even
greater. We know that we have already gone further than many are
prepared to go, and we can only hope that some at least will follow us –
or tell us where else to head next time.
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Index of Forms
The lists below follow the usual alphabetisation and lemmatisation practice for each language. Thus,
except in corpus languages with very few entries, individual verb forms may be arranged under the root
(Avestan, Old Persian, Vedic/Sanskrit, Tocharian), the stem (Hittite), the 1sg. pres. (Albanian,
Armenian, (alphabetic) Greek, Latin), the 3sg. pres. (Old Irish), or the infinitive (Gothic, Lithuanian,
Old Church Slavonic, etc.) even when the lemma itself does not occur in the text. Exceptions are made
for defective verbs but suppletive forms are generally listed as in the standard lexica.
Within the lemmata, entries follow the general order (1) pres. – impf. – aor. – fut. – perf. – plupf. – fut.
perf., (2) act. – med. – pass., and (3) ind. – subj. – opt. – ipv. – inf. – ptcpl.
Numbers refer to paragraphs (and, where superscript, to footnotes within paragraphs); T refers to a
Table (e.g., T3.1 = Table 3.1).
Albanian eku-zi : akuu̯ ant- 10.10

cleh 6.16, T8.2 epp-zi : apteni 5.33131, ēp 5.33131, ēpten 5.33131, ēpta
djerr T8.1 8.31, appant- 10.10
gjerb T5.4 eš-zi : ēšzi 2.9, 4.13, ašanzi 6.625, ešun 7.11,
mb-ledh T8.1, mb-lodhi 3.25 ēšta 8.31
n-den T4.2 eš-a(ri) 2.14, eša 4.44159, 4.52179, 5.42161
njoh T8.4 hala-i 4.9, T4.2
pa 8.34164 ˘halihla-i 3.1324, 4.9
për-typ 10.33 ˘hallanna-
˘ i
6.16
pjek T8.1 ˘halzai-i 2.9
˘hamešha(nt)- 10.12
sjell T8.2
˘hanna- ˘ i/a(ri) 4.925, hannari 4.44159
Anatolian ˘
˘hane/išš-zi 8.33, hane/išzi 8.33, hane/iššanzi 8.33
Hittite ˘happ-zi T3.1 ˘ ˘
āk-i 2.9, akkant- 10.10 ˘happinahh- 8.36 i 166
ānš-i 8.33, ānši 8.33 ˘happinēšš- ˘ ˘ zi 8.36166

ar-tta(ri) 2.14, arta(ri) 2.9, arant- 10.10 ˘hāš-i 2.9, haššant- 10.10
ār-i 2.9 ˘hink-zi : h˘inkzi T3.1
ārk-i 2.9 ˘huek-zi :˘huekzi 5.44
ārr-i 2.9 ˘hulhulii̯e˘/a-zi 4.9, 4.13
ašāš-i 4.9, 4.11, aše/iš- 4.929, 4.13 ˘hulle-
˘ zi : hullezi 4.9
āššu- 6.24, 10.12 ˘ huu̯ ant- 10.10
˘huu̯ ai-i 2.9,
āššuu̯ ant- 10.12 ˘huiš-zi : huišzi ˘ T4.1
atta- : attaš 9.46 ˘ii̯a-tta(ri)˘4.1249, 4.1256, ii̯atta(ri) 4.1256
au-i 2.9, ūhhi 8.34163, autti 8.34163, aušzi 8.34163, ii̯e/a-zi : ii̯ami T4.1, iezzi T4.1
uu̯ ant- ˘10.10
˘ irmala(nt)- 10.12
ed-zi : ēdmi 4.44159, adant- 10.10 išhai-i 2.9, 4.934
˘
677
678 Index of Forms
Hittite (cont.) nē-a(ri) : nei̯ahha 4.36, nei̯atta 4.36, nē(i̯)a(ri)
išhamai-i : išhamihhi 2.9 4.12, 4.34,˘ 4.36,
˘ 4.38
˘ ā- : išhāš 5.27
išh ˘ ˘˘ pahš-i 8.33–8.35, pahhašhi 8.33, pāhši 8.33, 8.37,
˘ ii̯e/a-˘zi 4.13
išh ˘10.29, pahšanzi ˘8.33 ˘ ˘ ˘
˘ uu̯ ai-i 4.934
išh ˘
pahš-a(ri) 8.33–8.35, pahša(ri) 8.33,
˘
išpānt- i
: išpānti 4.12, 4.39, išpantanzi 4.12, ˘pahšanta(ri) 8.33 ˘
šipant- 2.9, 4.925, šipānti 2.11 pahh˘ur 9.16
ištamašš-zi : ištamaššant- 10.10 ˘ ˘i 2.9, piyant- 10.10
pai-
ištu-a(ri) : ištuu̯ āri 5.42161 pa(i̯)i-zi 8.40, paiške/a- 8.40, pānt- 10.10
idālu- 8.36 papparš-i 4.9, 4.1046, papparši 4.933, papparašzi
idalau̯ ēšš-zi 8.36, idalau̯ ēšzi 8.36, idalau̯ ēšta 8.36 4.933, papparšanzi 4.11, paparašhun 4.933
itar 5.50190 paprahh-i 4.925 ˘
kal(l)išš-zi 8.33, kallišzi 8.33, kališšanzi 8.33 paprant-˘ ˘ 4.925
kane/išš-zi 8.33, kane/išzi 8.33, kane/iššanzi 8.33 parai-i : parēhhi T4.1, parāi T4.1,
kānk-i 2.9 parii̯anzi ˘T4.1˘
karmalaššai-i 2.9 parip(p)ara-i 3.1324, 4.9, 4.1250, T4.1, 4.19–4.20,
karp(ii̯e/a)-zi 2.13, karp- 2.13 papra-i 4.1250, parip(p)arai T4.1
karš(ii̯e/a)-zi 8.33, karšzi 8.33, karšanzi 8.33, parkēšš-zi 8.40
karaššii̯e/a- 2.13, karaš- 2.13 parkii̯e/a-zi 2.13, parkiške/a- 8.40
ki-tta(ri) 2.14, 8.34163, kitta(ri) 2.9, 4.34 park- 2.13
kikkiš-tta(ri) 4.9, 4.13 parku- 8.40
gimmant- 10.1225 parši-a(ri) : paršii̯ant- 10.10
kīš-a(ri) 4.10, 4.13, 8.34163, kīša(ri) 4.12, 4.34 pāš-i 8.33, pāši 8.33, pašanzi 8.33
kue(n)-zi : kuenzi 2.9, T3.1, 3.33, 4.46, T8.1 pei̯e-zi : pei̯ezzi T4.1, T6.1
kuer(š)-zi 4.10, 4.13, kuerzi 5.35138 peda- 5.41
kukkurš-zi 4.9–4.10, 4.13, kukkuršk- 4.13 pippa-i 4.9, 4.13, 4.19, pippanzi 4.12
kukuš-zi 4.9–4.10 šai-i 4.939
kurkurai-i 4.13 šākk-i 2.9, šākki 4.39150, 5.33, šaktē̆ni 5.33, šektē̆ ni
kuu̯ akuu̯ arške/a-zi 4.9 5.33, šekkir 5.33, šāk 5.33131, šekten 5.33131,
kuu̯ arške/a-zi 4.9 šekkant- 10.10
lahhilahhiške/a-zi 8.45195 ša(n)h-zi : šanhzi 2.10, 6.1661
˘ ˘u(u̯ ˘ai)-
lāh ˘ i 2.9, 4.13–4.14 šarāp- ˘ i : šarāpi˘ T5.4
˘ i 4.13, lāki 4.930
lāk- šeš(d)-zi T3.1, 4.9–4.10
lalukkai-i 4.13 šišša-i 4.9, 4.19, šiššanzi 4.12
lalukkišš-zi 4.9, 4.10 šišha-i 4.9, 4.13, šešhāi 4.12, šešhanzi 4.12,
lela- 4.925 ˘šišher 4.12 ˘ ˘
lelae-zi 4.925 šullē-˘zi : šullēzzi 8.36, šullēt 8.36
lelipa-i 4.9, 4.1251, 4.13 šumeš 10.614
lilakk-i 4.9, 4.11, 4.13 šuppii̯ahh-i 2.9
lilhuu̯ a-i 4.9, 4.13–4.14, lilhuu̯ ai 4.12, šuu̯ e/a-˘zi˘ 6.2888
˘ lelhuu̯ ai 4.12 ˘ dā-i 2.9, dāhhi 4.1252, dāi 2.1545, 4.12, T4.1,
˘ zi : li(n)kzi T8.1, linkanzi T8.1
li(n)k- danzi 4.12 ˘ ˘52, T4.1, dāš 8.31
lukke-zi 5.39150 dai- 2.9, 4.12–4.13, ti- 4.12, tēhhi 4.1252, T4.1,
i
malla-i : mallai 5.31, 5.33, mallanzi 5.31118 dāi 2.9, 4.12, T4.1, 4.40, 5.31, ˘ ˘ ti(i̯)anzi
māld-i 2.9 4.12, T4.1
mēma-i 2.9, 4.9, 4.1046, memii̯anzi 4.11, dākk-i 2.9
memanzi 4.11 tamāšš-zi 8.33
mer-zi : mar- 2.14 tamāšzi 8.33
mimma-i 4.9, 4.12–4.13, 4.1465, T4.1, tame/iššanzi 8.33
4.24, 4.38, 10.29, mimmai T4.1, tarra-tta(ri) : tarratta 4.39151
mimmanzi 4.12 tarh(u)-zi : tarhzi 2.13, tarhuzzi (taruhzi) 2.13
nāh-i : nahhant- 10.10 ˘ zi : tarukzi
tarku- ˘ T5.4 ˘ ˘
nai-i : nāi˘ ˘2.11, 4.1252, nēanzi 4.39151, T8.1,
˘ tarupp-zi : taruppant- 10.10
naiš T8.1 taštašii̯e/a-zi 4.9
nanna-i 4.9, 4.13 dašuu̯ ahh-i 2.9
˘˘
Index of Forms 679
tatrahh-i 4.925 gerem T3.1
tatrant-˘ ˘ 4.925 gitem 5.33, egit 6.4
tē-zi : tēzzi 2.1026, 2.17, T4.1, T6.1, 10.1840 dnem : ed T4.1, T6.1, 7.24
teripp-zi : teripzi T5.4 elanem : eli T6.2
tii̯e/a-zi 4.943, tii̯a T4.1, T5.5 ełanim : ełew 6.16, 6.27, 7.3, T8.2
tith(a)-a/i 4.9, 4.12–4.13, titha 4.12, tētha 4.12, ert‘am : ert‘a- T6.1
˘tethai 4.12 ˘ ˘ erknč‘im T4.2, T8.4
titta-˘i 4.9, 4.12, T4.1, 4.19, 4.32, tittai 4.12, 4.40, əmpem : arbi T5.4
tittii̯anzi 4.12 t‘ak‘č‘im 8.36168
tittanu-zi 4.13 t‘ołowm : t‘oł- 7.24
tittii̯e/a-zi 4.13 lam : lac‘- 7.24
tukk-a(ri) 5.42160 lnowm : elic‘ T6.1
ui̯e-zi : ui̯ezzi T4.1 lowcanem : lowc(e)- 6.519
ūk 9.17 lk‘anem : elik‘ 6.4, 6.6, 7.24, T8.2
u(u̯ )e/a-zi : uu̯ ant- 10.10 cnanim : cnaw T4.1
u̯ ai-i : u̯ āi 4.9 kam T4.1, kac‘- 7.24
u̯ āk-i 2.9, u̯ āki 5.31 keam 8.1981, keac‘- 7.24
u̯ akk-a(ri) : u̯ akkar- 2.9, u̯ akkāri 5.42161 hayim 8.34
u̯ alh-zi : u̯ alhzi T6.2 harkanem : har- 7.24
˘ zi : u̯˘aššezzi 5.39
u̯ ašše/a- harc‘anem : harc‘- 7.24
u̯ ašta-i 4.38, u̯ aštahhi 4.36, u̯ aštatti 4.36, u̯ aštai hecanim : hecaw T4.1
4.36, 4.38 ˘˘ čanač‘em T8.4
u̯ ekk-zi : u̯ ekzi 2.9 malem 5.33
u̯ ēš 9.16, 10.5 mr̄ mr̄ im/-am 4.1774
u̯ ešš-tta 2.14, u̯ ešta 2.9 yar̄ nem : ari T6.2
u̯ eu̯ akk-i 2.919, 2.1333, 4.9, 4.1046, 4.1148, 4.13, nerkanem : enerk T6.2
5.31, u̯ eu̯ akhi 5.31119, u̯ eu̯ akki 2.13, 4.11, nstim T4.1
u̯ eu̯ akkanzi˘ 4.11 tam : et T6.1
u̯ iu̯ a-i 4.9, 4.12, T4.1 c‘owc‘anem : c‘oyc‘- 7.24
Luwian
a- 7.12 Baltic
ā(i̯a)- T4.1 Latvian
(infra) a-ka 6.1244 tèst : tešu 3.3384
hišhii̯a- 4.934 Lithuanian
˘kuu̯˘ alīti T5.4 áugti 3.2, 8.29, 8.35
papparkuu̯ a- 4.13 bárti : barti 5.32, bãra 5.32
dama- 4.39151, T8.1 bė́gti T5.4
dūpiti 10.33 bezdė́ti T5.5
zīi̯ari 2.9, 4.34 bùsti : bundù 1.1114
Lycian bū́ ti : bùs 8.23107, busigu 8.23107
tadi T4.1, T6.1 darýti 8.933
dė́ti : dest(i) T4.1
Armenian dìrbti : dìrbu 6.2888
acem T8.2 dirt̃ i : derù 4.49175, T8.1
ałač‘em T4.1, T8.4 dúoti : dúosti T4.1, dúosiu 8.23, duõs 8.23, duõsis
ar̄ nem T3.1, arari T3.1, 3.11, T6.2 8.23107, dúosime 8.23
ar̄ nowm T3.1, ar̄ i T3.1 giñti : genù T3.1, T8.1
bam : bay 2.171, 4.44159, 8.43 kàkti : -kakti 5.32, -kañka 5.32
bar̄ nam : barj- 7.24 krùšti : krušù 6.2888
berem T5.4, T8.1, beren 6.729, eber 7.24, málti 2.15, 5.33
bereal 5.24 nérti 4.1781
bowcanem : bowc(e)- 6.519 nèšti 4.45162, nešù 4.45162
gam T4.1, ek- 8.43, eki T4.1, 7.24, ekn 8.43, penė́ti 4.25105
ekak‘ T6.1, ekic‘ 7.24, ek 7.24, ekayk‘ 7.24, pèšti : pešù T8.1
ekeal 7.24 pìnti : pinù 6.2888
gelowm T4.1, egel T4.1 pìsti : pisù 6.2888
680 Index of Forms
Lithuanian (cont.) lainn T4.2
sèkti : sekù T8.2 léicid : -léicius 8.21, -léic 8.21
senė́ti 8.36167 meilid 5.33
sė́sti : sė́dmi T4.1, sė́du T4.1, sė́dau T3.1, T4.1 mescaid 8.43187
siū́ ti : siuvù 6.2888 móraid 8.417, mórais 8.417
skrèbti : skrėbiù 6.2891 no- 7.14
stabýti T8.1 rí 8.54
svagė́ti T4.1 saidid : -said T4.1, sedait T4.1, seiss 8.1242
tandùs T4.2 -tá T4.1
trem̃ pti T5.5 teichid : tách 5.32122
vìrti : vérda Ep2 téit 8.21, tíagu T5.4, T8.1, téss- 8.21, -tíasat T8.1,
vèžti : vežù T5.4, T8.1 luid 6.4
votìs/vótis T6.2
žvelgtĩ 8.523 Germanic
Old Prussian English
enterpo T8.1 climb 6.2892
ertreppa T5.5 find T3.1
go : gone 10.10
Celtic slay : slain 10.10
Celtiberian wait 5.19
ambitiseti 8.2196 be : was T4.1
điđonti T4.1 will : would 4.43
kabiđeti 8.2196 German
sistat T4.1 bauern 5.37146
Gaulish Berg 4.4, Berge 4.4, Gebirge 4.4, 4.515
bueti(d) 6.11 erfinden T3.1
dede 3.23 gelangen T3.1
Lepontic gelingen T3.1
tetu 3.23 kehren 4.926
Middle Welsh kleben 6.2892
cymerth 8.2194 knechten 5.37146
ehed- T4.1, T8.2 mögen : möchte 4.43
rwyg- T8.2 so 10.4078
Old Irish Wasser 4.515, Gewässer 4.515
ad‧boind 1.1114 Gothic
ad‧fét : ad‧fiadat T8.1 aukan 3.2, 8.29, 8.35
aigid : -aig T8.1, T8.2, -acht T3.1, T8.1, bairan T5.4
8.2199, 8.47 bairgan T3.1
ar‧sissedar T4.1, 4.32, 4.33137 beidan T8.1
at‧raig T8.1, at‧recht T8.1, 8.47 beitan 4.49175, T8.1
baïd T4.1 bidjan T5.4
beirid 8.21, -beir T8.1, -berar 4.35, bera- 8.21, -dragan T8.1
birt T8.1, -biurt 8.21, -bert T8.1, 8.21, ganisan T4.1, 4.30
-(tu)bart 8.47 gaswogjan T4.1
cingid : cechaing 3.2352 gatairan 4.49175, T8.1
fo‧gaib : -fúair T3.1, 3.15, 3.23, fo‧fríth T3.1 gateihan T8.1
gainithir T4.1 gatiman T8.1
gníid : -gníth T3.1 giban : gaf 3.25, gebun 3.25
goinid : -géna 8.13 giutan 2.18
guidid 8.21, gess- 8.21 hafjan 10.33
ibid 4.19 hatis T3.1
-icc T3.1, -ánaic T3.1 hlifan 8.421
im‧soí 6.2888 jus 10.6
is : it 6.6, beith T6.1 lagjan 5.34
Index of Forms 681
leiƕan 4.49175, T8.2 sitja T4.1
ligan T6.2 súga 6.2888
malan 2.15, 5.33 unna : unnum 4.1566
niman T8.1 vega T8.1
qiman 4.46166 velta Ep2
rikan T8.1 þegn T4.1
saiƕan T8.2 Old Swedish
sigis T4.1 dīa 5.45177
sigqan T4.2
skaidan : skaískaiþ 3.13 Greek
slahals 5.24 Mycenaean
steigan T5.4, T8.1, staig 5.32122 a-pe-do-ke 7.20, 7.22
tekan : taítok T3.1 a-pe-e-ke T6.1, 6.12, 7.20, 7.22
unagands T3.1 a-pi-e-qe T3.1
-wagjan T5.4 a-pu-do-ke T6.1, 6.12, 7.20
waljan 5.34 a-pu ke-ka-u-me-ṇ ọ 5.9
waurkjan 8.421 a-ra-ru-ja 5.9
weis 9.16, 10.5 a-ra-ru-wo-a 5.9
wilwan T4.1 a-re-ta-to 5.932
wisan T4.1, sind 6.6 a3-ka-sa-ma 8.27
witan1 : wait T5.1 a3-ki-pa-ta 4.1784
witan2 5.44 de-de-me-na 5.931
Old English de-do-me-na 5.9
ceorfan 6.28 de-ka-sa-to T8.1
cuman 6.2888 de-ko-to T6.2
dōn T4.1 de-me-o-te 8.12
flōwan T6.1 do-ke 7.20, 7.22
gān T4.1 e-e-to 7.2090
lūcan 6.2888 e-pi-de-da-to 5.9
māwan 8.33 e-u-ke-to T8.1
smeortan 5.36, T8.1 ki-ti-je-si 6.6
sūcan 6.2888 qe-qi-no-to 5.932
swōgan T4.1 qi-ri-ja-to T6.2, 7.20
wīcan 8.523 le-wo-to-ro- 6.15
Old High German te-ke T6.1, 6.12, 7.20
degan T4.1 -te-to T6.1
fehtan T8.1, Ep2 to-ro-qe-jo-me-no T5.4
flehtan T8.1, Ep2 wi-de 7.20
gilangōn T3.1 wo-ze 8.421
jesan T8.1 Alphabetic Greek
klioban 6.28 ἄγαμαι 4.44159
miscen 8.43187 ἀγγέλλω 8.4, ἀγγειλα- 8.4
sizzen T4.1 ἄγγελος 8.4
slegil 5.24 ἀγείρω 8.421, ἀγερε/ο- 6.1972, ἀγέροντο 6.1972,
stehhal 5.24 ἀγέρεσθαι 6.1972, ἀγρόμενος 6.1972, ἀγειρα-
stēn/stān T4.1 8.421
stīgan : stigi 6.728 ἀγορά 8.4
tuon T4.1, teta T4.1 ἀγορεύω T3.1, 8.4, ἀγορευσα- 8.4
werc 5.41 ἀγρέω 5.44166
Old Norse ἄγω T3.1, 6.2892, T8.1, 8.6, T8.2, ἀγε/ο- 1.11,
aka T8.2, ók 3.23 2.6, ἄγει 4.45, ἀγαγε/ο- 1.10, 2.6, T3.1,
brjóta Ep2 3.14, T8.1, 8.5–8.6, ἤγαγον 3.23, T8.2,
hljóta Ep2 ἄγαγε/ἤγαγε T3.1, ἄξετε T3.1, ἀξα- 8.5,
rjóđa T8.1 ἦξα T8.1
682 Index of Forms
Alphabetic Greek (cont.) ἀμείβω 4.44, T8.1, ἀμείβομαι 4.44,
ἀείδω (ᾄδω) T8.1, 8.15, 8.17, ᾖσα/ἄεισα/ᾔεισα ἤμειψα T8.1
T8.1, 8.15, 8.1774, ἀείσω 8.17, ᾄσομαι ἀμέρδω 4.44, 5.36, T8.1, ἀμέρδομαι 4.44,
8.15, 8.17 ἤμερσα T8.1
ἀείρω T6.2, 8.421, 8.24, ἀειρα-/(ἀ)ερσα- 8.421 ἀμοιβή 3.41
ἀέξω 3.2, 4.44, 8.29, 8.35, ἀέξομαι 3.2, 4.44 ἀμφιβαίνω : ἀμφιβαίνεις 5.16, ἀμφέβης 5.16,
ἀεργός 5.16 ἀμφιβέβηκας 5.16, 5.18, 5.29, ἀμφιβέβηκε 5.16
ἄημι 4.44159 ἀναβέβροχα : ἀναβέβροχε T5.2
αἰδέομαι 5.44, αἰδεσ(σ)α- 5.44 ἀναβιβάζω 4.32136
αἴδομαι 4.44 ἀναβιβρώσκω : ἀνέβρωσα 6.16
αἰδώς 5.44 ἀναγιγνώσκω : ἀνέγνω T8.3, ἀναγνωσα- T8.3
αἰεί 5.16, 5.22, αἰέν 5.1662 ἀναδέδρομε T5.2
αἴθω 4.44, 6.2892, αἴθομαι 4.44 ἀνάθεσις 9.614
αἱρέω : εἷλε 6.16 ἀνάθημα 9.614
ἄιστος 8.39 ἀνακράζω : ἀνακραγε/ο- 6.22
αἰσχρός 8.4 ἀναπνέω T6.2, ἄμπνυτο T6.2, ἄμπνυε T6.2,
αἰσχύνω 8.4, αἰσχυνα- 8.4 ἀνέπνευσε T6.2
αἰχμή : αἰχμάς 8.27 ἀνατίθημι : ἀνέθηκε 5.14, ἀνέθε̄ T4.1, T6.1,
ἀίω 6.28, ἀϊε/ο- 6.22, 6.28 6.1246, ἀνέθεαν 6.625
ἀκαχίζω T3.1, ἀκαχίζομαι 5.1665, ἀκαχε/ο- ἁνδάνω T6.2, 8.24114, ἁδε/ο- 6.22, ἑαδώς 5.7
8.1137, ἄκαχε/ἤκαχε T3.1, ἀκαχεῖν T3.1, ἀνεφάλλομαι : ἀνέπαλτο T6.2
ἀκαχησα- 8.1137, ἀκάχησε T3.1, ἀκαχήσω ἀνήνοθα : ἀνήνοθε T5.2
T3.1, ἀκάχημαι T3.1, 5.1665 ἀνοίγω T8.1, ἀνέῳξα T8.1
ἀκούω T4.1, 8.17, ἤκουσα 8.1774, ἀκούσω 8.17, ἄντομαι 4.44
ἀκούσομαι 8.17 ἄνω : ἤνεσα 6.1661
ἀλαίνω 8.44189 ἀνώγω 5.12, 5.21, ἀνώγει 5.21, ἄνωγα 2.9, 5.12,
ἀλάομαι 5.16, 5.44166, 8.44189, ἀλάλημαι 5.16 5.21, 5.23, ἄνωγε 3.1221, 5.6, T5.3, 5.722,
ἀλδαίνω 8.37168, 8.44189 ἄνωγον 5.12, 5.1347, ἄνωγε 5.12, ἤνωγον
ἀλδήσκω 8.37168, 8.44 5.1349, 5.21, ἠνώγεον 5.1353
ἀλέγω 4.44160 ἀοιδός 5.27, 5.34
ἄλειφαρ 5.50 ἀπατηλός 5.2497
ἀλείφω 5.50, T8.1, ἤλειψα T8.1 ἀπαφίσκω T3.1, 8.44, T8.4, ἀπαφε/ο- T3.1,
ἀλέξω 3.2, T3.1, 8.29, 8.33, 8.41, ἀλαλκε/ο- 3.11, 3.14, T8.4, ἄπαφε/ἤπαφε T3.1, ἀπαφεῖν T3.1
8.1137, 8.29, ἄλαλκε/ἤλαλκε 3.2, T3.1, ἀπέρχομαι : ἀπελήλυθα T5.2
ἀλαλκεῖν 4.1462, 5.50, ἀλεξ(ησ)α- 8.1137, ἀπογέμω : ἀπόγεμε T6.2
ἀλέξασθαι T3.1, ἀλεξῆσαι T3.1 ἀποδιδράσκω : ἀπέδρα T6.1, T8.3,
ἀλέομαι 4.44, T8.1, 8.1984, ἠλε(υ)άμην T8.1, ἀποδρᾶναι T6.1, ἀποδράς 6.1138, T6.1
ἀλεύεται 8.1984, ἀλευόμενος 8.1984 ἀποδίδωμι : ἀπέδωκε 7.20, ἀπόδος 7.1464
ἀλέω 4.936 ἀπόερσε T6.2
ἀλθαίνω : ἀλθε/ο- 6.22 ἀποθνῄσκω : ἀπέθανε 5.14
ἁλίσκομαι : ἁλω- T6.2, ἑάλω T6.2, ἁλῶναι ἀποκείρω : ἀπεκείρατο T6.2
T6.2, ἁλούς T6.2 ἀπολαύω T4.2
ἀλιταίνω : ἀλιτε/ο- 6.22 ἀπόλλυμι : ἀπόλλυσι 5.36141, ἀπόλλυται 5.36141
ἄλκαρ 5.50 ἀπονίναμαι : ἀπόνητο T6.1, 8.933,
ἅλλομαι T4.2, 9.1865, 10.3568, ἁλλε/ο- 1.11, ἆλσο ἀπονήμενος T6.1
T6.2, ἆλτο T4.2, T6.2, πάλτο T6.2, 8.24114, ἀποπλέω : ἀπέπλω T6.1
ἅλεται T6.2, ἅληται T6.2, ἁλοίμην T6.2, ἀποσβέννυμι : ἀποσβείς T6.2
-αλμενος T6.2, ἁλόμενος T6.2 ἀποσκέλλω : ἀπέσκλη 6.16–6.17
ἄλλος : ἄλλον 9.2482, ἄλλο 9.2482 ἀποτμήγω 8.522, 8.523, ἀπέτμηξα 8.523
ἀλύσκω 8.44189 ἀπουρα- : ἀπηύρα T6.2, ἀπηύρων/ἀπηῦρον
ἀλύω 8.44189 T6.2, ἀπούρας T6.2, ἀπουράμενος T6.2,
ἀλφάνω : ἀλφε/ο- 6.22 ἀπουράμενοι T6.2
ἁμαρτάνω : ἁμαρτε/ο- 6.22, ἀμβροτε/ο- 6.22 ἅπτω T3.1, T4.2, 8.24, ἅπτομαι T3.1, T4.2,
ἀμάω 8.33 ἧψα T3.1
Index of Forms 683
ἀραρίσκω T3.1, 4.1777, 8.44, T8.4, ἀραρισκε/ο- 6.2178, βέβληκα 6.1248, T6.2, βέβληκε 5.7,
1.11, ἀραρε/ο- 3.6, T3.1, 3.10–3.11, 3.1220, 3.14, βεβολήατο 5.35138
8.1137, T8.4, ἤραρον T3.1, ἄραρε/ἤραρε(ν) βεβολημένος 5.35138
T3.1, T6.2, ἀρσα- 8.1137, ἦρσα T3.1, ἦρσε βαμβαίνω 4.17
T6.2, ἄρηρε 3.12, 3.1325, ἀρήρει 3.10, T5.3, βασιλεύς 8.4
ἀρηρώς T3.1, 3.10, ἀραρυῖα 3.1016 βασιλεύω T6.2, 8.4, βασιλευε/ο- 1.10,
ἄρδω 6.2892 βασιλευσα- 1.10, 8.4
ἀρήγω 4.44160, T8.1, ἤρηξα T8.1 βάσκω 2.18, 8.38, 8.43, βασκε/ο- 1.11
ἀριθμέω 8.4, ἀριθμησα- 8.4 βδέω T5.5, βδέσαι T5.5
ἀριθμός 8.4 βέλος T6.2
ἀρκέω 5.44166, ἀρκεσα- 5.44166 βιάομαι 5.8, βεβίηκεν 5.8, 5.15–5.16
ἄρμενος T3.1, T6.2 βιβάζω 4.32136
ἄρνυμαι T3.1, T6.2, ἀρόμην T3.1, T6.2, ἄρηται βιβάω 4.32136, βιβᾷ T4.1, βιβάς 2.6,
T6.2, ἀροίμην T6.2, ἀρέσθαι T6.2, ἠράμην βιβάντ- T4.1
T6.2, ἤρατο T6.2 βιβρώσκω : ἔβρω 6.16–6.17, βέβρωκα 6.17,
ἀρόω 5.44 βεβρωκώς 5.7, βεβρώς 5.7
ἁρπάζω 8.4, ἁρπασα-/ἁρπαξα- T3.1, 8.4 βιόω : βιω- 8.9, T8.3, 8.19, ἐβίω T6.2, T8.3,
ἅρπαξ 8.4 βιώτω T6.2, βιῶναι T6.2, βιωσα- 8.9, T8.3,
ἄρχω T3.1, 6.2892 ἐβίωσα T6.2, ἐβιώσαο T8.3, βε(ί)ομαι
ἄσβεστος T6.2 8.18–8.19
ἄσμενος T4.1, T6.2, 8.24114 βλάβομαι 6.2892
ἀστοχέω 5.35138 βλώσκω 6.21, 8.43, βλωσκε/ο- 1.11, ἔμολε 6.16,
ἀτάλλω 4.1670, ἀτάλλομαι 4.1670 6.21, ἔβλω 6.16–6.17, μέμβλωκα 6.17, 6.21,
ἀταλός 4.1670 μέμβλωκε 5.7
ἀτιτάλλω 4.1670 βολή 3.41, 5.42
ἀτύζομαι 10.3568 βόσκω 8.43, βοσκησα- 8.43186
αὐλή T4.1 βούλομαι 7.1360, 8.1356, 8.15, δήλομαι/δείλομαι
αὔξω 3.2, αὔξομαι 3.2 8.1356, 8.15, βόλομαι 8.1356,
αὐχέω 5.44, αὐχησα- 5.44 βέβουλα 8.1563
αὖχος 5.44 βραχε/ο- 6.22
ἁφή T3.1 βρέμω 4.44160, T5.4
ἀφίημι : ἀφέηκε 6.1246, 7.20 βρίθω 5.8, βέβριθε 5.8
ἄχθομαι 4.44 βρομέω T5.4
ἄχνυμαι T3.1 βροντάω 6.19, βροντησα- 6.19
ἄχομαι T3.1, 4.44, 6.2892 βρυχάομαι 5.2180, βέβρυχα 5.15, 5.21,
ἄω : ἄεται T6.1, ἆται/ἄαται T6.1, ἕωμεν T6.1, βέβρυχε(ν) 5.7, 5.17, 5.20
ἄμεναι 4.44159, T6.1, ἀσα- T6.1 βρύχω 2.18
βαίνω 2.18, 4.1780, 5.17, 6.1136, 8.933, 8.15, γαμέω 5.44166, 8.47, γημα- T6.2, 8.47
10.33–10.34, βαινε/ο- 1.11, 2.5, βη- 1.10, ἔβην/ γάνυμαι T6.2, γανόωντες T6.2
ἔβαν 5.17, T6.2, 8.933, 8.15, ἔβης 5.17, ἔβη/ γάρ 7.7
ἔβα 2.4, 2.6, T4.1, T6.1, T6.2, T8.3, 8.47, βῆ γαργαίρω 4.17
7.5, ἔβημεν 6.11, ἔβαν 6.11, T6.1, T6.2, βάτην γαργαλίζω 4.17
6.1136, T6.1, βήτην 6.1136, βᾶμεν T6.1, βάς γάργαρα 4.17
T6.2, βησα- T8.3, ἔβησα T6.1, 8.44191, γέγωνα 2.9, γέγωνε T5.2, 5.722,
βήσομαι 8.15, βέβηκα 5.7, 5.15, γεγωνώς T5.2
βέβηκας 5.17 γελάω : γελασ(σ)α- 6.19, ἐγέλασ(σ)ε 6.16,
βάλλω T4.1, T4.2, 6.20, 6.2178, 6.27, βαλλε/ο- ἐγέλασαν 6.16, γέλαν 6.16
1.11, ζέλλω 6.20, 6.27, ζέλλειν 6.20, ἔβλην γέμω T6.2, γέντο T6.2
T6.2, ἔβλης T6.2, 6.16–6.17, ἐβλήμην T6.2, γενέτωρ T4.1
(ἔ)βλητο T6.2, βλήεται T6.2, βλείης T6.2, γεύομαι 8.1983
βλεῖο T6.2, βλῆσθαι T6.2, βλείς T6.2, γηθέω 5.1665, 5.44, γέγηθα 5.15, 5.1665, 5.44,
βλήμενος T6.2, βαλε/ο- 6.20, 6.27, ἔβαλον γέγηθε 5.7
T6.2, ἔβαλε T6.2, 6.16, 6.20, 6.2178, 6.27, γηράσκω 8.44, ἐγήρα 6.1351, 8.44188, 8.47,
ζελε/ο- 6.20, ἔζελε T6.2, 6.14, 6.16, 6.20, γηράς 6.1351
684 Index of Forms
Alphabetic Greek (cont.) δέμω 4.39151, T8.1, ἔδειμα T8.1
γίγνομαι 1.12, 3.17, T4.1, 4.32, 4.33137, δενδίλλω 4.17
5.26, γιγνε/ο- 1.11, T4.1, γίγνεται T4.1, 5.9, δενδρύω 4.17
γίνεται T4.1, ἐγενόμην T4.1, 8.10, (ἐ)γένετο δέρκομαι 4.44, 5.926, T8.2, δρακε/ο- 6.22,
T4.1, T6.2, 6.16, γέντο T6.2, 6.16, γειν(α)- ἔδρακον T8.2, ἔδρακε 6.7, δρακείς 6.627,
8.1036, ἐγεινάμην 8.10, ἐγείνατο T4.1, γεγα- δέδορκα 5.926, 5.15, δέδορκε T5.2,
T5.1, γέγονα 1.12, 5.15, 5.26, γέγονε 3.1220, δεδόρκαμεν 1.6, δεδορκώς T5.2
4.32, T5.1, 5.9, 5.17, γεγάασι T5.1, δέρω 4.49175, T8.1, ἔδειρα T8.1
γεγαῶτα T5.1 δεύω T6.2, δευε/ο- T6.2,
γιγνώσκω T4.1, 4.16, T4.2, 6.17, 8.17, 8.44193, ἔδευσε T6.2
T8.4, γιγνωσκε/ο- 1.11, γνω- 1.10, 8.33, δέχομαι 4.44, T5.4, T6.2, T8.1, δέκομαι T5.4,
ἔγνων 8.17, ἔγνως 7.3, ἔγνω T6.1, 6.12, 6.17, T6.2, T8.1, δέχεται T6.2, 8.50220, δέχαται
ἔγνον T6.1, γνῶθι T6.1, γνῶναι T6.1, T6.2, T8.1, δέγμενος T5.4, T6.2,
γνούς 6.1138, T6.1, γνώσομαι 8.17 δεικνύμενος 4.1777, ἐδέγμην T6.2, (ἔ)δεκτο
γλάφω 6.2892 T5.4, T6.2, T8.1, 8.24114, 8.50220, (ἐ)δέξατο
γλίχομαι 6.2892 T6.2, T8.1, 8.24114
γλύφω 6.28 δέω1 T4.1, T5.5, ἔδησα T4.1, δέδεται 5.931
γραφή 3.41 δέω2 4.44, δέομαι/δεύομαι 4.44, 8.1983
γράφω 6.28, γραφε/ο- 1.10, γραψα- 1.10 δήω T4.1, 8.1876
δαιδάλλω 4.17 διάκονος 5.35138
δαίδαλος 4.17, δαιδύσσομαι 4.17, δαδύσσομαι διατάσσω T3.1
4.17, δαιδύσσεσθαι 4.17 διαφθείρω 5.10, διαφθείρομαι 5.10, διέφθορα
δαίνυμι T5.5, δαισα- T5.5 5.10, 5.14, διέφθορας T5.2, 5.10, διέφθαρμαι
δαίομαι T5.5, 5.46 5.10, διέφθαρται T5.2, διεφθορός T5.2,
δάκνω : δακε/ο- 6.22 διεφθάρμην 5.10
δαμά(ζ)ω 6.18 διδάσκω T3.1, T4.2, 4.32135, T8.4, δεδαε/ο-
δάμνημι 6.18, 8.33, δαμνη-/δαμνα- 1.11, δαμασ- 3.11, T8.4, (ἐ)δέδαε T3.1, δεδάασθαι T3.1,
(σ)α- 6.16, 6.18, 8.33, ἐδάμασ(σ)ε 6.16, ἐδίδαξα T3.1, ἐδάην 5.8, δαῆναι T3.1,
ἐδάμην 6.18, δέδμηται 6.16 διδάξω T4.2, δεδαώς 5.8
δάπτω 4.17 δίδημι 4.22, 4.24, T5.5, δίδησι T4.1
δαρδάπτω 4.17 διδράσκω 8.44191
δαρθάνω : δραθε/o- 6.22 δίδωμι 1.3, 4.20, 4.31, 4.51, 5.14, διδω-/διδο-
δέ 7.7, 7.13 1.11, δίδωσι T4.1, διδοῖ T4.1, διδόασι 1.3,
δέατο 4.44159 δίδωθι T4.1, (ἐ)δίδου 4.31, 8.43185, δωκ(α)-
δε(ι)δίσκομαι T4.2, 4.1777, 8.44190, 8.44191, 1.10, ἔδωκα 4.31, 6.1247, 6.1248, ἔδωκε(ν) 2.3,
T8.4, δειδισκε/ο- 4.1777, δειδέχαται 4.17, 2.17, T4.1, 5.14, T6.1, δῶκε 7.22, ἔδομεν
δείδεκτο 4.17, ἐδεδίσκετο T4.2 T6.1, ἔδοσαν T6.1, ἔδον T6.1, ἔδοτο T6.1,
δειδίσσομαι T4.2, 4.32, T8.4, δεδίττομαι T4.2, δοίην 1.8, δοίη 1.8, δοῖμεν 1.8, δοίημεν 1.8,
δειδίσσεται T4.2, δεδίττεται T4.2, δε(ι)- δοθη- 1.10, δοῦναι 1.15, δόμεν T6.1, δόσκε
διξα- T4.2, ἔδδεισεν T4.2, δε(ι)δίξομαι T4.2 7.6, 8.43, δωσε/ο- 1.13, δοθησε/ο- 1.13,
δείδω T4.2, T5.1, 5.15, 8.35, 8.44191, δειδι- T5.1, δέδωκα 5.14
δε(ί)δια T4.2, δε(ί)δοικα T4.2, 4.32, δείδιε δίεμαι 4.17, 4.44159
T5.1, δείδιμεν T5.1, δίε T4.2, δείσομαι T4.2 διερείκω : διερικε/ο- 8.8
δείκνυμι 4.1777, δεικνῡ-/δεικνυ- 1.11, δεικνύοι δίζημαι T4.1, δίζηται T4.1, διζησ- T4.1,
1.8, δειξα- 1.10, 1.13, 2.5, 6.21, 8.1, 8.18, 8.46, διζησόμεθα T4.1
(ἔ)δειξα 3.9, 8.2, T8.1, (ἔ)δειξας 1.810, 8.2, δικάζω 8.4, δικασ(σ)α- 8.4
(ἔ)δειξε 1.810, 8.2, δεῖξε 7.5, (ἐ)δείξαμεν 8.2, δικε/ο- : ἔδικε 6.2176
(ἐ)δείξατε 8.2, (ἔ)δειξαν 1.810, 8.2, δίκη 8.4
(ἐ)δειξάμην 8.2, (ἐ)δείξω 8.2, (ἐ)δείξατο 8.2, δινέω 4.17
(ἐ)δειξάμεθα 8.2, (ἐ)δείξασθε 8.2, (ἐ)δείξαντο δοκέω T5.4, 5.36, 5.38, δοκεε/ο- 1.11, δοκεῖ (μοι)
8.2, δείξειας 1.810, δείξειε 1.810, δείξειαν 1.810, 9.1545, 9.16–9.17
δειχθη- 1.10, δειξε/ο- 1.13, 8.18, 8.23106, δείξω δολιχός T3.1
8.12–8.13, δείξει 8.13, δειξεε/ο- 1.13, δειξέω δουπέω 5.35138, δεδουπώς 5.35138
8.12, δειχθησε/ο- 1.13 δοῦπος 5.35138
Index of Forms 685
δραίνω 8.933 ἐλπίς 8.4
δράκων 6.627 ἔλπω 4.44, (ἐ)έλπομαι 4.44, 5.27, 5.21, 8.15,
δράω 8.933, δρασα- 8.933, T8.3, δρασείω 8.15, ἔολπα 5.27, 5.15, 5.21, 5.2395, 5.26, ἔολπε T5.2
8.23106 ἐμέω 6.1664, ἐμεσα- 6.1664
δρέπω 4.17 ἐμπίμπλημι : ἔμπλησο T6.1, ἐμπλήμενος T6.1
δύναμαι 7.1360 ἐνίπτω T3.1, 4.1669, ἐνιπαπε/ο- T3.1, 3.11,
δύω 5.8, T6.2, 6.2894, δύομαι 5.8, T6.2, δυ- 4.1669, ἐνίπαπε/ἠνίπαπε 3.69, T3.1,
8.9, ἔδυ T6.2, T8.3, ἔδυτε T6.2, ἔδυν T6.2, ἐνενιπε/ο- T3.1
δύμεναι T6.2, δύς T6.2, δυσα- 8.9, T8.3, ἐνίσσω T3.1, 4.1669, 4.30122
δέδυκε 5.8 ἐν(ν)έπω 4.30122, ἐνισπε/ο- 6.2282
ἔαρ 5.50 ἕννυμι 5.50
ἑάφθη T4.2, ἐάφθη T4.2 ἐντεσιεργός 6.1661
ἐάω : ἔασα 7.1360 ἐξίημι : ἐξέμεναι T6.1
ἐγείρω 8.421, ἔγρετο 3.13, ἐγειρα- 8.421, ἔοικα 2.9, 8.44191, οἶκα 5.30115, ἐϊκ- T5.1, ἔοικας
ἐγρήγορε 3.13, T5.2, ἐγρηγόρθασι T5.2, 5.17, ἔοικε T5.1, 5.10, ἔϊκτον T5.1, εἰκώς
ἐγρήγορθε T5.2 5.30117, ἐῴκει 5.1034, ἔικτο 5.10
ἐγκονέω 5.35138 ἐπαυρίσκω T3.1, 8.44189, T8.4, ἐπαυρίσκομαι
ἐγώ 9.13, 9.28, με 9.13 T3.1, T6.2, 8.44189, T8.4, ἐπαυρε/ο- T3.1,
ἔδω 8.19, ἔδμεναι 4.44159, 8.19, ἔδομαι 3.15, T6.2, T8.4, ἐπαύρετο/ἐπηύρετο T3.1
8.18–8.19, ἐδήδοται 5.15, ἐδηδώς T5.3 ἐπεί 7.33146
(ἐ)έλδομαι 4.44, 8.15 ἐπενήνοθα : ἐπενήνοθε T5.2
(ἐ)έργω T6.2, T8.1, εἴργω T8.1, εἶρξα T8.1 ἐπέχομαι 5.613, ἐπώχατο 5.613
ἕζομαι T3.1, 8.19, ἑζε/ο- 3.14 ἐπιβιβάσκω 8.44191, T8.4, ἐπιβασκέμεν T8.4
(ἐ)θέλω 4.44160, 7.1360, 7.1680, 8.15 ἐπιδέδρομε T5.2
ἔθω : εἴωθε T5.2, 5.722, εἰωθώς T5.2 ἐπιέννυμι : ἐπίεσται 2.9
εἴβω T8.1 ἐπιλήθω 8.10, ἐπιλήθομαι 8.10, ἐπελαθόμην
εἴδομαι 4.44, T8.1, 8.24, εἴσατο T8.1 8.10, ἐπιλησα- 8.1137, ἐπέλησα T8.1, 8.10,
εἴκω 8.522, 8.523, 8.828, εἰξα- 8.828, εἶξα 8.523 ἐπέλησε T3.1
εἰλέω T4.1, ἐλλέω T4.1, εἴλησα- T4.1 ἐπιπέτομαι : ἐπιπτέσθαι T6.2
εἰλύω T4.1, ἐλύσθη T4.1 ἐπιπλέω : ἐπέπλως T6.1, ἐπιπλώς T6.1,
εἴλω : εἰλόμενοι T4.1 ἐπιπλώσας T6.1
εἷμαι 4.44159 ἕπομαι T3.1, 4.44, T8.2, ἑσπε/ο- 3.14, 6.2282,
εἰμί 4.44159, 8.19, ἐσ- 1.11, ἐστί 1.3, 2.3, 2.9, 4.46, ἑσπόμην T8.2, ἕσπετο T3.1, ἕσπωνται T3.1,
εἰσί 6.6, εἴην 1.8, εἴης 1.8, εἴη 1.8, εἶμεν 1.8, σπεῖο T3.1, ἑσπέσθαι T3.1, σπέσθαι T3.1,
εἴημεν 1.8, εἶτε 1.8, εἴητε 1.8, εἶεν 1.8, εἴησαν ἑσπόμενος T3.1
1.8, ἐοντ-/ὀντ-/ἐντ- 1.14, 6.627, ἐασσα- 1.14, ἔραμαι 4.44159
ἦα 8.211, ἦσθα 1.6, ἦεν 1.3, 8.211, ἦν 1.3, ἦσαν ἔργον 5.41
1.3, ἔσομαι 4.46164, ἔσται 4.46164, 8.19, ἔρδω 8.421, ἐρξα- 8.421, ἔοργα 5.15, ἔοργε(ν)
ἔσσεται 8.12, 8.19, ἐσσεῖται 8.12 T5.2, 5.14, 5.16, 5.18, 5.22, ἐοργώς T5.2, 5.16
εἶμι 4.44159, 4.46, 6.6, 7.1360, 8.1876, 9.1440, εἰ-/ ἐρείδω 4.44, T8.1, ἐρείδομαι 4.44, T8.1, ἤρεισα
ἰ- 1.11, εἶσι 2.3, ἴμεν 4.46164, ἴασι 6.6, ἴω 6.6, T8.1, ἠρεισάμην T8.1
ἴωμεν 1.78, 4.46, ἴομεν 1.78, 4.46, ἴοιμι 6.6, ἴοι ἐρείκω 4.44, T8.2, 8.8, ἐρείκομαι 4.44, T8.2,
1.8, ἰέναι 1.15, ἰοντ- 6.6 8.8, ἐρείκεται 6.1770, ἐρικε/ο- 6.22, 8.7,
εἰσάλλομαι : ἐσήλατο T6.2 ἤρικον T8.2, ἤρικε 6.1770, ἐρειξα- 8.8, ἤρειξε
ἐΐσκω 8.44190, 8.44191, T8.4 6.1770
(ἐ)κεῖνος 7.1463 ἐρείπω : ἐρείπεται 6.1770, ἐριπε/ο- 6.22, ἤριπε
ἐκτιτρώσκω 6.17, 8.44191, ἐξέτρω 6.16–6.17 6.1770, ἤρειψε 6.1770
ἑκών 2.9, 2.13 ἐρεύγομαι 4.44, ἐρυγε/ο- 6.22
ἐλαύνω 4.1359, T6.2, ἐλασα- 6.18, ἤλασε 6.16 ἐρεύθω T8.1, ἤρευσα T8.1
ἐλέγχω T8.1, ἤλεγξα T8.1 ἐρέω : ἤρετο 6.16, ἐρέσθαι 6.16
ἐλελίζω : ἐλελίζομαι 10.3568 ἕρπω 4.44160, T8.1, ἧρψα T8.1
ἑλκέω 5.46 ἔρρω 4.44160
ἕλκω 5.46 ἐρύκω 3.69, ἐρύκακε/ἠρύκακε 3.69, ἔρυξε 3.69
ἐλπίζω 8.4, 8.15, ἐλπισα- 8.4 ἐρύω : ἔρυμαι 4.44159, ῥῦσθαι 4.44159, ἐρύω 8.18
686 Index of Forms
Alphabetic Greek (cont.) θείνω 2.9, T3.1, 8.421, T8.1, 10.3356, θεινε/ο- 1.11,
ἔρχομαι 4.44, T5.4, 5.35, 8.12, 8.43186, ἐλθε/ο- θένε/ο- T3.1, πεφνε/ο- 1.10, 3.6, 3.14, 3.1527,
6.2282, 8.43186, ἦλθες 5.1767, ἐνθε/ο- 6.2282, 8.5, (ἔ)πεφνον 3.9, (ἔ)πεφνε T3.1, 3.15,
ἐλυθε/ο- 6.4, 6.22, 8.12, ἐλευσε/ο- 1.13, πεφνεῖν 4.1462, θεινα- 1.10, 8.5, ἔθεινα T8.1,
ἐλεύσομαι 8.12, εἰλήλουθα 5.15, εἰλήλουθας ἔθεινε T3.1, θένω T3.1, 8.421, T8.1, θένε T3.1
5.1767, εἰλήλουθε T5.2, 5.17, θέλγω 8.522, 8.523, θέλγεσκε 7.6, 8.43185,
εἰλήλουθμεν T5.2 ἔθελξα 8.523
ἔτι 5.1662 θεόγονος 5.41
εὕδω 4.44160 Θεοκλύμενος T6.2
εὑρίσκω T3.1, 8.44, T8.4, εὑρε/ο- T3.1, θεοτόκος 5.41–5.42
3.14–3.15, T8.4, εὗρε T3.1, εὕρηκα T3.1 θέρω 4.44, θέρομαι 4.44, 8.12, θερσόμενος 8.12
εὐστοχέω 5.35138 θέσσομαι : θέσσεσθαι T5.4, θέσσασθαι T5.4,
εὔχομαι T6.2, T8.1, εὔχεται T6.2, ηὔγμην 8.313
T6.2, εὖκτο T6.2, T8.1, θέω 4.44160
ηὔξατο T6.2, T8.1 θήγω T8.1, ἔθηξα T8.1
εὕω T8.1, εὗσα T8.1 θηλέω 5.44, τέθηλα 5.15, 5.44, τέθηλε 5.7
ἐφέπομαι : ἐπισπε/ο- 6.2282, ἐφεσπόμενος θνῄσκω 8.15, 8.43–8.44, θνη(ι)σκε/ο- 1.11,
T3.1, ἐπισπόμενος T3.1 θανε/ο- 6.19, 8.1248, ἔθανον 8.15, ἔθανε 6.16,
ἐχθρός T5.4 6.21, θανοῦμαι 8.1248, 8.15,
ἔχθω T5.4, ἔχθομαι T5.4 τεθνηκ(α)-/τεθνα- 1.12, τέθνηκα 5.7, 5.15,
ἔχω1 3.17, 4.1567, T4.1, 4.30, 4.32, T5.4, T8.2, τέθνηκε/τέθνακε 5.7–5.8, 5.14, 5.17, 6.21,
ἔχε/ο- 1.10–1.11, ἔχει 4.39150, ἔχειν T4.1, εἶχε τεθνάμεναι 5.720, τεθνηώς 5.7–5.8,
7.3, ἔχε 7.3, σχε/ο- 1.10, T4.1, 6.2282, ἔσχον τεθνηξε/ο- 1.13, θνητός/θνατός 6.21
3.17, 7.3, T8.2, 8.827, ἔσχες 7.3, ἔσχε 7.3, σχές θρέομαι T5.4
4.1567, ἑξε/ο- T4.1, σχησε/ο- T4.1, θροέω T5.4
σχήσω 4.1567 θρῴσκω 6.21, 8.43, ἔθορε 6.16, 6.21
ἔχω2 5.46, ϝεχέτω T5.4, T8.1, ἔϝεξε 8.1, T8.1 θύνω : θυνε/ο- 1.11
ἑψέω 5.46 θύω 6.2894
ἕψω 5.46 ἰαίνω T4.1
ζεύγνυμι : ζεύγνῡ- 1.11, ζευξα- 6.2281, ἔζευξε 8.3 ἰάλλω 4.9, T4.1, 4.1670, T4.2, 4.32,
ζέω 4.44160, T8.1, 8.828, ζεσσα- 8.828, ἰαλλε/ο- T4.2, ἰάλλει T4.2,
ἔζεσ(σ)α T8.1 ἴηλα T4.2
ζητέω T4.1 Ἰάλμενος T4.2
ζώω 8.1979 ἰάομαι T4.1, ἰᾶται (ἰάεται) T4.1, ἰασα-/
ἦ 7.13–7.14 ἰησα- T4.1
ἡγέομαι 5.44 ἰάπτω T3.1, T4.1, 4.1670, T4.2, 4.32, ἰαπτε/ο-
ἠδέ 7.13 T4.2, ἰάπτει T4.2, ἰαψα- T4.2
ἤδη 5.1662 ἰαύω T4.1, ἰαύει T4.1, ἴαυον T4.1, ἄεσα T4.1,
ἥκω T4.1, 4.32, 4.44160, ἰαυσ- T4.1
6.1245, 8.39 ἰαχέω T4.1, 5.46
ἠλάσκω 8.44189 ἰάχω T4.1, 5.46, ἰάχει T4.1, ἰάχουσα T4.1, ἴαχε
ἧμαι : ἧσται 4.25105, 4.44159, 4.52179, T6.2, T4.1, ἰαχησ- T4.1
ἧστο T6.2 ἵεμαι 4.33137, 4.44159, ἵεται T4.1, (ἐ)είσατο T4.1,
ἡμεῖς 9.16 εἴσεται T4.1
ἠμί 6.1351, ἦ 3.1221, 4.44159, 6.1351 ἵημι 4.1256, T4.1, 4.22, 7.2090, ἵησι T4.1, ἕηκα/
ἠχή T4.1 ἧκα 6.1248, 8.312, 8.39, ἕηκε/ἧκε T4.1, T6.1,
θάμβος 5.7 εἷμεν T4.1, T6.1, εἷτο T6.1
θαρσέω 5.44, 6.19, θαρσησα- 5.44173, 6.19, 8.36, ἵζω T4.1, 4.32, ἱζε/ο- 1.11, ἵζει T4.1, 4.21, ἷζε(ν)
8.37168 T4.1, ἑζε/o- 6.2282, ἑζόμην 8.1035, ἑσα- 8.1035,
θάρσος 5.44173 εἷσα T4.1, ἕσσαι T4.1
θάρσυνος 8.4 ἱκάνω T4.1, T6.2, ἱκάνει 5.1664
θαρσύνω 8.4, θαρσυνα- 8.4 ἴκμενος T6.2
θαρσύς 8.37168 ἱκνέομαι T4.1, T6.2, ἱκε/ο- 6.22, ἱκόμην T4.1,
θαυμάζω 8.1672, θαυμάσσεται 8.1672 ἵκετο T6.2, ἷκτο T6.2
Index of Forms 687
ἵκω T4.1, 4.32, T6.2, ἵκει T4.1, ἷξε T6.2 κατατίθημι : κατέθηκε 7.3,
ἱλαρός T4.1 κατάθηκε 7.3
ἱλάσκομαι T4.1, 4.32135, T8.4 κατείργω : ka-te-wo-ro-ko-ne 6.2180
ἵλεως/ἵλαος T4.1 κατεφάλλομαι : κατέπαλτο T6.2
ἵλημι 4.22, ἵληθι/ἵλαθι T4.1, ἵλαμαι T4.1, κατέχω : κατέσχον 7.1464
ἱλάονται T4.1, ἱλασσα- T4.1, ἔλλαθι T4.1, κεῖμαι 1.11, 4.44159, 8.1983, 8.35, κεῖται 2.9, 4.34,
ἔλλατε T4.1 4.46164, 4.52179, 5.11, 5.40151, T6.2, κείσομαι
ἴλλω T4.1, ἴλλει T4.1 8.1983
ἴπτομαι T4.2 κείρω T6.2, 8.33, ἔκερσεν T6.2
ἵστημι 3.13, 4.9, T4.1, 4.19–4.20, 4.22, 4.24, κεκαδε/ο- T3.1, 3.14, κεκάδοντο T3.1,
4.32, 8.9, ἱστη-/ἱστα- 1.11, ἵστησι 2.5, T4.1, κεκαδέσθαι T3.1, κεκαδών T3.1, 3.23,
ἵσταμαι 4.33137, 8.9, ἵσταται T4.1, ἱστάμην κεκαδήσει T3.1, ἐκεκήδει T3.1
T6.2, ἵστατο T6.2, στη- 1.10, T6.2, ἔστην/ κελεύω T3.1
ἔσταν 4.32, T6.2, ἔστης 7.3, ἔστη 2.3, 2.17, κέλλω : ἔκελσα T3.1
T4.1, T6.1, T6.2, 6.26, 8.9, T8.3, 8.47, 10.17, κέλομαι T3.1, 4.44, T5.5, 5.46, T8.2, κεκλε/ο-
στῆ 7.3, ἔστημεν 6.11, ἔσταν 6.11, T6.1, στάν 6.27, 8.33, 8.44193, T8.4, ἐκεκλόμην T8.2,
7.3, στῆθι T6.2, στᾶμεν T6.1, στάς T6.2, (ἐ)κέκλετο T3.1, T5.5, 10.20
στησα- T8.3, ἔστησα T6.2, 8.9, στήσει 8.16, κεράννυμι : κερασ(σ)α- 6.1768, 6.18,
στήσεται 8.16, ἑστα- 5.7, ἕστηκα/ἕστακα ἐκέρασ(σ)ε 6.16, 6.19, κρησα- 6.1768,
5.7, 5.15, T6.2, 8.932, 9.1866, ἕστηκε 5.7–5.8, κέκρημαι/κέκραμαι 6.1768,
5.17, 5.19, ἕστατε 5.7, ἑστᾶσιν 5.7, κρατός 4.1567
ἑστήκασιν 5.7, ἕσταμεν 5.12 κεύθω T3.1, 5.8, κυθε/o- 6.22, κύθε T3.1,
ἰσχανάω T4.1 κεκυθε/ο- 3.14, κεκύθωσι T3.1, (ἐπι)κεύσῃς
ἰσχάνω T4.1 T3.1, κέκευθε 5.8
ἴσχω 3.17, T4.1, 4.30, 4.32, ἴσχει T4.1, κήδω 4.44, κήδομαι T3.1, 4.44, 9.48,
ἴσχειν T4.1 κεκαδησόμεθα T3.1, κέκηδα T3.1
καθαίρω 8.4, καθηρα- 8.4 κῆδος T3.1
καθαρός 8.4 κηλέω 5.44
καθέζομαι T4.1, 6.2894, 8.19, καθέζετο T3.1, κί(γ)κραμι 4.1567
T4.1, καθεδοῦμαι 8.19 κί(γ)χρημι 4.1567
κάθημαι T4.1, 4.52179 κικλήσκω T3.1, 8.44193, T8.4
καθιζάνω T4.1 κινέω T4.1, κινησα- T4.1
καθίζω T4.1, καθίσ(σ)αι T4.1, κιχάνω T4.1, κιχε/ο- 6.22, (ἔ)κιχε T4.1
καθίσ(σ)ασθαι T4.1 κίχημι 4.22, κίχῃσι T4.1, κιχείω T4.1, (ἐ)κίχη
καίνυμαι : κέκασμαι T3.1, 5.46186 T4.1, (ἐ)κίχημεν T4.1, κιχῆναι T4.1,
καίνω T6.2, 8.421 κιχήσομαι T4.1
καλέω T3.1, T5.5, 5.44, 5.46, 8.33, καλῶ/καλέω/ κίω 6.28, κιε/ο- 6.28, ἔκιε T6.2, 6.16
καλέσω 8.12 κλάδος T3.1
κάμνω 6.19, 6.21, ἔκαμον T5.4, ἔκαμε 6.16, κλάζω : κεκληγώς 2.9, 5.7
κέκμηκε 5.7, κμητός/κματός 6.21 κλαίω 8.17, ἔκλαυσα 8.1774, κλαύσομαι 8.17
κάπτω 10.33–10.34 κλάω T3.1
καρκαίρω 4.17 κλε(ί)ω 4.44, κλέομαι 4.44
κάρφω 6.28 κλέπτω 8.421, κλεψα- 8.421, κεκλοφ(α)- 1.12
καταβιβρώσκω : κατέβρως 6.16 κλύω T6.2, 6.28, κλῦθι T6.2, κλῦτε T6.2,
κατακαίνω T6.2 κλυε/ο- T6.2, 6.14, 6.28, 8.35, ἔκλυε 6.7,
κατάκειμαι : κακκείοντες 8.23106 T6.2, -κλύμενος T6.2, κέκλυθι T3.1, 3.9,
κατακτείνω : κατακτάς T6.2 3.3993, κέκλυτε T3.1, 3.9, 3.3993
καταλείπω : κάλλιπε 7.49 κοικύλλω 4.17
καταλέχομαι : καταλέχθαι T6.2, κομέω T5.4, 5.35
καταλέγμενος T6.2 κοπή 3.41
καταπήγνυμι : κατέπηξε T6.2, κορέννυμι : κορεσ(σ)α- 6.19, ἐκόρεσ(σ)ε 6.16,
κατέπηκτο T6.2 κεκόρημαι 5.15
καταπτήσσω : καταπτήτην T6.2 κορέω 5.35138
κατασβέννυμι : κατασβῆναι T6.2 κόρυς 8.4
688 Index of Forms
Alphabetic Greek (cont.) T8.2, ἔλιπε 3.3, 6.4, 6.6, λίπε 7.5, λιπεῖν 3.42,
κορύσσω 8.4, κορυσσα- 8.4 λιποντ- 6.6, λελοιπ(α)- 1.12, λέλοιπα 5.3,
κουρά 8.33 5.15, 5.26, λέλοιπας 5.3, λέλοιπε 5.3, T5.2,
κράζω : κραγε/ο- 6.22, κέκραγε 5.27107 5.17, λελοίπαμεν 5.3, T5.2, λελοίπατε 5.3,
κρέμαμαι 4.44159, 6.1663, κρέμαται 6.1663 λελοίπασι 5.3
κρεμάννυμι 6.20, κρεμασ(σ)α- 6.18, 6.20, λευκός 5.41156, 9.2482
ἐκρέμασ(σ)ε 6.16, κρεμάω/κρεμῶ 8.18, λέχομαι T6.2, 8.24, λέχεται T6.2, (ἔ)λεκτο
κρεμᾷ 8.18 T6.2, λέξο T6.2, λέξεο T6.2, ἔλεξα T6.2,
κρίζω : κρικε/ο- 6.22 ἔλεξε T6.2, (ἐ)λέξατο T6.2
κρίμνημι 6.20 λήγω 8.522, 8.523, ἔλ(λ)ηξα 8.523
κρύπτω : κέκρυπται 1.12, κεκρυψε/ο- 1.13 λήθω T3.1, 4.44160, T8.1, 8.10
κτάομαι 5.44169, ἔκτημαι 5.15 λιάζομαι 6.1661, λίασσε(ν) 6.1661, λίασθεν
κτείνω T6.2, 8.421, κτείνεσκε 8.43185, ἔκτα 6.1661
T6.2, 7.3, ἔκταμεν T6.2, ἔκταν T6.2, 7.3, λιλαίομαι 4.16, T4.2, λιλαίεται T4.2,
-κτάμην T6.2, -(έ)κτατο T6.2, κτέωμεν λελιημένος T4.2
T6.2, κτάμεν(αι) T6.2, κτάσθαι T6.2, -κτάς λιμπάνω : λιμπανε/ο- 1.11, T4.1
T6.2, κτάμενος T6.2, ἔκτανε T6.2, λίσσομαι 6.28, λιτε/ο- 6.22, 6.28
ἔκτεινε T6.2 λίτομαι 6.28
κτυπέω : κτυπε/ο- 6.22 λόγος 5.34
κυέω T5.5, 5.46 λόγχη T3.1
κύλα 4.1782 λόετρον 6.15
κυρέω 5.35138 λούω T5.4, λοέω T5.4, 6.16, λοεσ(σ)α- T5.4,
κύρω 5.35138 ἐλόεσ(σ)ε 6.16, ἔλουσε 6.16
κύω : ἔκυσα T5.5, κυσαμένη T5.5 λόω T5.4, λόε T5.4
κωκύω 4.17 λύκος : λύκε 9.7
λαγγάζω 8.523 λύω T6.2, 6.2894, λυε/ο- T6.2, λύει T6.2,
λαγχάνω T3.1, 8.17, λαχε/ο- 6.22, ἔλαχον 3.69, ἔλυε(ν) T6.2, λύμην T6.2, λύτο T6.2, λύντο
8.17, ἔλαχε T3.1, (ἐ)λέλαχε T3.1, λελαχεῖν T6.2, λῦθι T6.2, ἔλυσε T6.2
3.69, λήξομαι 8.17, λέλογχα 5.15, λέλογχε λῶ 8.15
T3.1, T5.2, λελόγχασιν T5.2, μαιμάω 4.17
λελάχασι T5.2 μαίνομαι 5.1973, 10.3568, μαινε/ο- 1.11, μανη-
λάζομαι : λαζε/ο- 1.11 1.10, (ἐ)μάνη Ep, μανείς Ep
λαμβάνω 8.1565, 8.17, λαμβανε/ο- 1.11, λαβε/ο- μανθάνω : μαθε/ο- 6.22
1.11, 6.22, ἔλαβον 3.69, 8.17, ἔλ(λ)αβε T3.1, μαρμαίρω 4.17
λελαβε/ο- 3.14, λελαβέσθαι 3.69, T3.1, μάρμαρος 4.17
λήψομαι 8.1565, 8.17, εἴληφ(α)- 1.12 μαστίζω 8.4, μαστιξα- 8.4
λανθάνω T3.1, 8.10, λανθανε/ο- 1.11, μάστιξ 8.4
λανθάνομαι T3.1, λαθε/ο- T3.1, 6.22, μαχέομαι 5.44, 5.46, μαχεσ(σ)α- 5.44,
ἐλαθόμην T3.1, ἐλάθετο T3.1, λελαθε/ο- T3.1, μαχησα- 5.44
3.14, 8.1137, (ἐ)λέλαθε T3.1, λελάθετο T3.1, μάχομαι 4.44, 5.44, 5.46, 6.2892, 9.1865
λελαθέσθαι T3.1 μεδέω 5.46181, μεδέων 5.46181
λάσκω 6.1248, λακε/ο- 6.1248, 6.22, ἔλακον 3.69, μέδω 4.44, 5.46181, 8.523, μέδομαι 4.44, 5.46181,
λελάκοντο 3.69, T3.1, λέληκα 5.15, 6.1248, 8.523, 8.47, μέδων 5.46181
λεληκώς 5.7, λελακυῖα 5.7 μείγνυμι : μειξα- 8.43, ἔμειξε T6.2, (ἔ)μικτο
λέγω 1.10, T3.1, T6.2, T8.1, λεγε/ο- 1.11, ἔλεγε T6.2, μιγη- T6.2
T6.2, ἐλέγετο T6.2, ἐλέγμην T6.2, λέκτο μείρομαι : εἱμαρ- T5.1, ἔμμορε T5.1, 5.10,
T6.2, λεξα- T6.2, ἔλεξα T8.1, εἰπε/ο- 1.10, εἵμαρτο T5.1, 5.10
T3.1, 3.14, (ἔ)ειπον 3.9, (ἔ)ειπε T3.1, 3.9, 3.15, μέλδω 4.44, μέλδομαι 4.44
3.32, 6.26, (ἔ)ειπα T3.1, 3.9, T6.2, (ἔ)ειπας μέλλω 7.1360
3.9, εἴπατε 3.9, ἐρρήθη T3.1, λεξε/ο- 1.13, μέλπω 4.44, μέλπομαι 4.44
ἐρεε/ο- 1.13, ἐρέω T3.1, εἴρηκα T3.1, εἴρηκε μέλω 4.44160, μέλει 5.7, 5.1665, μέμηλε 5.7,
5.7, εἴρηται 1.12, 5.7, 5.15 5.1665, μεμηλώς 5.7, μέμβλετο 5.722
λείβω T8.1, ἔλειψα T8.1 μέμονα : μεμα- T5.1, μέμονα 5.15, 5.21, μέμονε
λείπω 4.49175, 6.2, T6.2, T8.2, λειπε/ο- 1.11, T5.1, 5.19, μέμαμεν 1.6, T5.1, μεμαώς 5.4, 5.19
ἔλειπε 3.3, λιπε/ο- 1.10, 6.22, ἔλιπον 6.2, μέμφομαι 4.44, T8.1, ἐμεμψάμην T8.1
Index of Forms 689
μένος 5.19 ὀλολύζω 4.17
μένω T4.1, 4.30, 4.32, 4.40, 4.44160, 5.19, T8.1, ὀνίνημι 4.1566, ὀνίναμαι T6.1, ὤνατο T6.1,
μενε/ο- 1.11, ἔμεινα T4.1, T8.1, μενῶ/μενέω ὀνησα- 8.933, 8.1035, ὄνησα T6.1,
1.13, 8.12 ὄνησο T6.1
μήδομαι 4.44, 8.522, 8.523, 8.47, μηδε/ο- 8.523, ὄνομαι 4.44159
μησα- 8.47, ἐμήσατο 8.523, 8.47 ὀπιπεύω 4.1670
μηκάομαι : μακε/ο- 6.22, μεμηκώς 2.9, 5.7, ὁράω : ἰδε/ο- 1.10, 6.4, 6.22, εἶδον 8.827, εἶδε
μεμακυῖα 5.7, μέμηκον 5.12 6.26, ὄψομαι 8.1669, ὀψείοντες 8.15, 8.23106,
μιμνήσκω 4.32135, 8.44191, T8.4, μιμνήσκομαι ὄπωπα T5.3, 5.15, 5.18, ὄπωπε 5.14
T8.4, 8.44191, μνήσκεται T8.4, μέμνημαι ὀρέγω T8.1, ὀρεξ(α)- 8.13,
8.44191 ὤρεξα T8.1
μίμνω 4.9, 4.12–4.13, 4.1465, T4.1, 4.24, 4.30, ὄρνυμι T3.1, ὦρτο 2.9, T3.1, 4.28, T6.2, 9.2072,
4.32, 4.40, 5.19, μιμνε/ο- 1.11, μίμνει T4.1 10.17, ὤρετο T6.2, ὄρηται T6.2, ὄροιτο
μίσγω 8.43, μειξα- 8.43 T6.2, ὄρσο T6.2, ὄρσεο/ὄρσευ T6.2,
μολπή 5.35137 ὄρμενος T6.2, ὄρθαι T6.2, ὀρορε/ο- 8.1137,
μορμύρω 4.17 ὄρορε/ὤρορε T3.1, T6.2, ὀρσα- 8.1137, ὦρσε
μυκάομαι 5.2180, μυκε/ο- 6.22, μέμυκα 5.15, T3.1, T6.2, ὄρωρε 5.613, T5.3
5.21, μέμυκε 2.9, 5.23, μεμυκώς 5.7, 5.20 ὄρομαι : ὄρονται 5.613, (ἐπì) ὄρωρει 5.613
μύσσω 10.3568 ὀρύσσω 6.2892
μῶμαι 4.17 ὀρύχω 6.2892
ναίω T4.1, T6.2, ναίεσκε 7.6, νασσα- T4.1, ὀρχέομαι T5.4, 5.35
νάσσατο T6.2, 8.313 οὔπω 5.1662
νεικείω 8.4, νεικεσ(σ)α- 8.4 οὐρέω T5.4, 5.43
νεῖκος 8.4 οὐτάω : οὖτα T6.2
νείφω 4.44160 οὐτάμεναι T6.2, οὐτάμενος T6.2, οὔτασε T6.2
νεμεσ(σ)άω 6.19, νεμεσ(σ)ησα- 6.19 ὀφείλω : ὀφελε/ο- 6.1972, ὤφελε 6.934, 6.1972,
νέμω T8.1, νεμε/ο- 1.10, νέμομαι T8.1, νειμα- ὦφλε 6.1972
1.10, ἔνειμα T8.1 ὀχέω1 T5.4, 5.46, ὀχέομαι T5.4
νέομαι T4.1, 4.30, 4.44, T6.2 ὀχέω2 T5.4
Νέστωρ T4.1 ὀχθέω T5.4, 5.35
νεύω 8.522, 8.523, νευσα- 8.523, ἔνευσα 8.523 παιδεύω : ἐπαίδευσα 7.1464, παιδεῦσαι 7.1464
νίζω 8.4, νιζε/ο- 1.11, νιψα- 8.4 παιπάλλω 4.17, παιπάλλειν 4.17
νίσ(σ)ομαι T4.1, 4.30, νίσ(σ)εται T4.1 παίπαλος 4.17
νομίζω : νομιῶ 8.18 παιφάσσω 4.17
νοστέω 5.35137 παλαίω T5.5, 5.46
νόστος T4.1 παλάσσω : πεπάλαχθε T3.1, πεπαλάχθαι T3.1
νύγω 6.2892 πάλλω T3.1, 3.8, 4.17, T6.2, 6.27, 8.24114,
νῦν 5.1662, 7.8 πεπαλε/ο- T3.1, 3.8, 3.39, 6.27, πεπάλεσθε
νύσσω 6.2892 T3.1, πεπαλέσθαι T3.1, ἀμπεπαλών T3.1,
ὁ 9.4, ἡ 9.4, τό 9.4, τόν 9.4, 9.14 3.8, ἔπηλα T3.1
ὁδέω : ὁδεῖν 5.35138 παμφαίνω 4.16–4.17
ὄζω : ὀδώδει T5.3 παπταίνω 4.17
ὄθομαι 4.44 παραβλώσκω : παρμέμβλωκε 5.16
οἴγω T8.1, ἔῳξα T8.1 παραφθάνω : παραφθάς T6.2,
οἶδα 1.12, 2.9, 5.825, 5.1353, 5.15, 5.42, ἰδ- T5.1, παραφθάμενος T6.2
οἶσθα 1.6, 8.32160, οἶδε 2.9, T5.1, 5.26, 5.30, παρειά T4.1
ἴδμεν 1.6, T5.1, ᾔδεα/ᾔδη 5.1353, ἠείδεα 5.1350, πάσχω 8.933, 8.12, 8.15, 8.43, παθε/ο- 6.22,
ἠείδης 7.1360, ᾔδη/ἤδει/ἤδεε 5.1353 8.12, ἔπαθον 8.15, πείσομαι 8.12, 8.15,
οἰκέω 5.35137 πεπαθ- T5.1, πέπονθα 5.16, πέπονθε T5.1,
οἴχομαι 4.44 πεπαθυίῃ T5.1
ὀκέλλω T3.1 πατέομαι 8.24
ὀλισθάνω : ὀλισθε/ο- 6.22 πατήρ 8.52226, πάτερ 9.7
ὄλλυμι : ὄλλυμαι 8.932, ὠλόμην 8.932, 8.1035, παύω : παύομαι T6.2, παῦε T6.2
ὤλετο 6.16, ὀλεσα- 8.1035, ὤλεσε 6.16, παφλάζω 4.17
ὄλωλα 5.15, 8.932, ὄλωλε T5.3 πέδον 5.41
690 Index of Forms
Alphabetic Greek (cont.) πίπτω T4.1, 4.32, T6.2, πίπτει T4.1,
πείθω T3.1, 4.44, 5.36141, T8.1, πείθομαι T3.1, πιπτόντων 4.31, πεσε/ο- 6.14, 8.1240,
4.44, 5.926, 5.36141, 5.39, T8.1, πιθε/ο- 6.22, ἔπεσον/ἔπετον T4.1, ἔπεσε/ἔπετε T6.2,
ἐπίθετο T3.1, πεπιθε/ο- 1.10, T3.1, 3.11, ἔπτατο T4.1, πεσοῦμαι 8.1240, 8.1565
3.1220, 3.14, 8.5, 8.11, (ἐ)πέπιθε T3.1, πεπιθεῖν πίτνημι 8.44192
3.36, 3.42, πεπιθέσθαι T3.1, πεισα- 1.10, 3.14, πιφαύσκω 4.32135, T8.4
5.36141, 8.5, 8.11, ἔπεισα T3.1, T8.1, ἔπεισε -πίφρημι 4.1567, (εἰσ)πιφράναι 4.1567, (ἔκ)φρες
T3.1, πεπιθήσειν T3.1, πείσειν T3.1, 4.1567, -φρήσω 4.1567
πεποιθ(α)- 1.12, πεπιθ- T5.1, πέποιθα 5.926, πλέκω T8.1, Ep2, ἔπλεξα T8.1, Ep2
5.15, 5.26, 5.39, 5.42, πέποιθε T5.1, πλέω 4.44160, T6.2, ἔπλευσε T6.2,
πεπεικ(α)- 1.12, πεποίθεα 5.13, ἐπέπιθμεν πλευσόμεθα 8.12, πλευσούμεθα 8.12
T5.1, 5.12 πλήσσω : πεπληγώς 5.7
πέκω T8.1, Ep2, ἔπεξα T8.1, Ep2 πλύνω 1.1114
πελάζω T6.2, πελασ(σ)α- T6.2, 6.18–6.19, πλώω T6.1, πλωσα- 8.933
(ἐ)πέλασ(σ)ε T6.2, 6.16 πνέω 4.17, 4.44160, T6.2, T8.1, ἔπνευσα T8.1,
πέλω 4.44, T5.4, T8.2, πέλομαι 4.44, T5.4, ἔπνευσε T6.2
6.27, T8.2, πέλε(ν) 7.3, πέλοντο 7.3, πλε/ο- ποθέω T5.4
6.27, ἔπλε 6.16, 6.27, 7.3, T8.2, ἔπλεο/ἔπλευ πόθος 5.34
7.3, ἔπλετο 6.16, 6.27, 7.3, T8.2 ποικίλλω 8.4, 10.34, ποικιλα- 8.4
πέμπω 4.25105, T8.1, 9.25, πέμπομαι 9.25, ποικίλος 8.4, 10.34
ἔπεμψα T8.1, 9.25, ἐπέμφθην 9.25 ποιπνύω 4.17
πένομαι 4.25105, 4.44 ποιφύσσω 4.17
πεπαρε/ο- T3.1, 6.16, 6.21, πεπαρεῖν T3.1 πόλεμος 4.1784, πτόλεμος 4.1784
πέπνυμαι T6.2 πολέω T5.4, 5.36, πολέομαι 5.36
πέρθω T5.4, T6.2, T8.1, πέρθετο T6.2, πέρθαι πόλις 4.1784, πτόλις 4.1784
T6.2, πραθε/ο- T6.2, 6.22, περσα- T6.2, πομπός 5.27
ἔπερσα T8.1 πορε/ο- T3.1, 6.19, 6.21, ἔπορον T3.1, ἔπορε
περιστείχω : περίστειξας T8.1 6.16, 6.22, πορεῖν T3.1, πεπορε/ο- T3.1,
πέρνημι 6.20, περνη-/περνα- 1.11, περασ(σ)α- πεπορεῖν T3.1, πορεσ(σ)α- 6.19,
6.20, ἐπέρασ(σ)ε 6.16 πέπρωται 6.21
πέσσω 8.4, πεψα- 8.4, ἔπεψα T8.1 πορθέω T5.4
πέτομαι 3.19, T4.1, 4.32, 4.44, T5.4, T6.2, πορφύρω 4.17
T8.2, πέταμαι T6.2, πτε/ο- 6.2282, ἐπτόμην ποτάομαι 5.35137
3.19, T4.1, T8.2, ἔπτετο T6.2, ἐπτάμην 3.19, ποτέομαι 5.35137, T5.4
T6.2, T8.2, (ἔ)πτατο T6.2, πτάμενος T6.2, πρέπω 4.44160
ἔπτην T6.2 πρια- : ἐπριάμην T6.2, ἐπρίω T6.2, ἐπρίατο
πεύθω 4.44, πεύθομαι T3.1, 4.44, 8.12 T6.2, ἐπρίαντο T6.2, πρίασθαι T6.2,
πήγνυμι : ἔπηξε 8.3, ἐπάγη T6.2, πέπηγα 5.15, πριάμενος T6.2
πέπηγε 5.7, πηκτός T6.2, 8.3 προβούλομαι : προβέβουλα 8.1563,
πίλναμαι T5.5, (ἔ)πλητο T5.5, T6.2, 6.16, προβέβουλε T5.2
(ἔ)πληντο T6.2 πτήσσω 5.717, 5.35139, πεπτηώς 5.717
πίμπλημι T4.1, 4.20, 4.22, πίμπλησι T4.1, πτοάω 5.35139
πίμπλαμεν T4.1, πιμπλᾶσι T4.1, πίμπλεισι πυνθάνομαι 1.1114, T3.1, πυθε/ο- 1.10, 6.22,
T4.1, πίμπλαται T4.1, πιμπλεῖσαι T4.1, 6.2585, 8.12, ἐπυθόμην T3.1, (ἐ)πύθετο 6.412,
πλησα- 8.933, 8.1035, ἔπλησα T6.1, ἔπλησε 10.1736, πύθοιτο T3.1, πεπυθε/ο- 3.14,
T4.1, ἐπλήμην T6.1, πλῆτο T4.1, T6.1, 8.933, (ἐ)πεπύθετο T3.1, πεπύθοιτο T3.1,
πλῆντο T6.1 πεπυθέσθαι 3.6, πεύσομαι 8.12,
πίμπρημι 4.9, T4.1, 4.19–4.20, 4.22, 4.24, πέπυσμαι 5.15
πίμπρησι T4.1, πιμπράντες T4.1, πῦρ 9.16
ἔπρησε T4.1 πῶς 5.1767
πίνω 8.934, πώνω 8.934, πιε/ο- 8.18, ἔπιον ῥαίνω : ἐρράδαται 6.2892
6.626, πῖθι 8.934, T8.3, 8.33, πῶ(θι) 8.934, ῥέζω 8.421, ῥεξα- 8.421
πίομαι 8.18–8.19 ῥέπω 4.44160
πιπίσκω 4.32135, 8.44192, πισα- 8.9, T8.3, ῥέω 4.44160
8.44192 ῥήγνυμι : ἔρρηξα 8.47201, ῥαγη- 8.47201,
πιπράσκω : πιπράσκομαι 8.44191 ῥηκτός 8.47201
Index of Forms 691
ῥιγέω 5.8, 5.44, ῥιγησα- 8.36, ἔρριγα 5.44, στοιχέω T5.4
ἔρριγε 5.8 στόρνυμι 6.20, στορεσα- 6.1768, 6.19–6.20,
ῥίπτω T4.1 ἐστόρεσε 6.16, 6.19, στρωσα- 6.1768,
ῥοφέω T5.4 ἔστρωμαι 6.1768, στρωτός 6.1768
σβέννυμι T6.2, ζείναμεν T6.2, ἔσβη T6.2, 7.3, στοχέω 5.35138
σβῆτε T6.2, -σβῆναι T6.2, -σβείς T6.2, στόχος 5.35138
ἔσβεσεν T6.2, σβέσατε T6.2, σβέσσαι T6.2, στρεύγω : στρεύγει 4.44, στρεύγομαι 4.44
ζόασον T6.2 στρέφω 4.44, T5.4, 6.28, T8.1, στρέφομαι 4.44,
σέβω 4.44, T5.4, σέβομαι 4.44, T5.4, T5.4, T8.1, στράφω/στρόφω 6.28, ἔστρεψα
σέβεται 5.37 T8.1, ἔστραπται 1.1215, ἐστράφαται 1.1215
σείω 8.1983, σεισα- 8.1983 στροβέω T5.4
σέομαι T5.4, 8.523, σοῦνται T5.4 στροφέω T5.4, 5.35
σεύω T5.4, T6.2, 8.522, 8.523, σεύομαι T5.4, στυγέω T5.5, 5.46, στυγε/ο- T5.5, 6.22,
T6.2, 8.522, 8.523, 9.1865, ἐσσεύοντο T6.2, ἔστυγον 8.1035, στυξα- 8.1035, στύξαιμι
ἔσσευα T5.4, T6.2, 8.523, ἔσσευε/σεῦε T6.2, 8.1035
ἐσσευάμην 8.523, σεύατο T6.2, ἐσσεύαντο στωμύλλω 10.34
T6.2, ἐσσύμην T6.2, ἔσσυο T6.2, στωμύλος 10.34
ἔσσυτο/σύτο T6.2, σύθι T6.2, σύμενος σύ : τύ 9.28, σε 9.13, 9.28
T6.2, ἔσσυται 5.931 συμβάλλω T6.2, ξυμβλήτην T6.2,
σῆμα 8.4 ξύμβλητο T6.2, ξύμβληντο T6.2,
σημαίνω 8.4, σημηνα- 8.4 ξυμβλήμεναι T6.2
σήπω 4.44, σήπομαι 4.44, σέσηπε 5.7 συνάγω : συνῆγον 7.3, σύναγον 7.3
σιγηλός 5.2497 συνέχω 5.613, συνοχωκότε 5.613
σκέπτομαι T5.4, 8.4, 10.33, σκεψα- 8.4, σφαραγέομαι T5.5
ἐσκέψατο T5.4 σχάω 5.44
σκέλλω 6.17, σκέλλομαι 6.17, σκηλα- 6.17, σχίζω 10.34
ἔσκηλε 6.17 τάλαντον : τάλαντα T6.2
σκίδνημι 4.1566, 8.44192 τάλας 6.1138, T6.2, τάλαν T6.2,
σκοπέω T5.4 τάλαινα T6.2
σμύχω 4.44, σμύχομαι 4.44 τάνυμαι : τάνυ- 1.11, τάνυται T4.2
σοβέω T5.4, 5.36–5.37, σοβεε/ο- 1.11 τανύς : τανυ- T4.2
σοέω T5.4, 5.35 τανύω T4.2, 8.421
σπάργω 6.2892 ταράσσω : τέτρηχε 5.7
σπείρω 8.421, σπειρα- 8.421 τάσσω T3.1, τέταχε 1.12, τέτακται 1.12,
σπένδω 2.11, T8.1, σπένδει 4.39, ἔσπεισα T8.1, τεταξε/ο- 1.13
ἔσπεισαν 2.11, σπείσασκε 7.6 ταφε/ο- 6.22, ταφών 6.22
σπέρμα 9.10 τε 7.7
σπέρχω 4.44, σπέρχομαι 4.44 τέθηπα : τέθηπε 5.7, τεθηπώς 5.7
σπεύδω 4.44160, T8.1, 8.828, σπευσα- 8.828, τείνω 1.11, T4.2, 8.4, 8.12, τεινε/ο- 8.1245, ἔτεινε
ἔσπευσα T8.1 8.1245, τεινα- 1.10, 8.3–8.4, 8.1245, ἔτεινε
σπουδή 5.35137 T4.2, 8.1245, ταθη- 1.10, τενῶ/τενέω
στέγω T8.1, ἔστεξα T8.1 8.12–8.13, 8.18, τέταμαι 5.15, τεταμένο- 1.14,
στείχω 4.44160, T5.4, 6.28, T8.1, στίχω 6.28, τατό- 1.14, τατέο- 1.14
στιχε/ο- 6.22, 6.28, (ἔ)στιχες 6.728, ἔστιχε τείρω 4.1671, 6.2179
6.934, ἔστειξα T8.1 τεκμαίρομαι 8.4, τεκμηρα- 8.4
στέλλω 8.421, στειλα- 8.421, στελεε/ο- 1.13, τέκμαρ 8.4
ἔσταλκ(α)- 1.12 τέκνον T4.1
στένω 4.44160 τέκτων 3.3354
στερέω T5.4, 6.1664, στερέομαι 6.1664, στερεσ- τελαμών T6.2
(σ)α- T5.4, ἐστέρεσε 6.16, στερησα- 6.1664, τελευτάω 8.4, τελευτησα- 8.4
ἐστερήθην 6.16 τελευτή 8.4
στέρομαι : στέρεται 6.16 τελέω T6.2, τελείω T6.2, 8.4,
στεῦμαι : στεῦται 4.42154, 4.44159, 8.50220 τελεσ(σ)α- 8.4
στέφω T8.1, ἔστεψα T8.1 τέλλομαι 6.27
στίλβω 6.2892 τέλος 8.4
692 Index of Forms
Alphabetic Greek (cont.) τιταίνω 4.16, T4.2, τιταίνει T4.2
τέμνω T3.1, 6.17, 6.20, 6.27–6.28, τεμνε/ο- 1.11, τίτρημι 4.1567
ταμνε/ο- 1.11, τάμνω 6.20, 6.2178, 6.27, τιτρώσκω 6.2179, 8.44191, ἔτρωσεν 3.69, ἔτορε
τεμε/ο- 1.10, 6.20, 6.28, ἔτεμον T3.1, 3.69, 6.412, 6.16, 6.2179, τετορε/ο- 6.16,
ἔτεμε 3.33, T6.2, 6.16–6.17, 6.1971, 6.2178, τέτορεν 3.69
6.22, ταμε/ο- 6.20, 6.27, ἔταμον T3.1, τιτύσκομαι T3.1, 4.32135, T8.4, τιτυσκε/ο- 8.44
ἔταμε 3.33, 6.16, 6.2178, 6.22, 6.27, τεμῶ/ τίω : τετιημένος T4.2
τεμέω 8.12 τλη- (τελα-) T6.2, ἔτλην/ἔτλαν T6.2, 7.3,
τέμω T3.1, τέμει T3.1 (ἔ)τλη/(ἔ)τλα 6.12, T6.2, 6.16–6.17, 8.47,
τένων 8.4 (ἔ)τλημεν T6.2, (ἔ)τλητε T6.2, ἔτλαν T6.2,
τεός 5.27 τλῆθι T6.2, τλῆτε T6.2, τλήμεναι T6.2,
τέρετρον 6.2179 τλῆναι T6.2, τλάς T6.2, τελασ(σ)α- T6.2,
τέρπω T3.1, 4.44, T8.1, τέρπομαι T3.1, 4.44, 6.18, τελάσσαι T6.2, 6.16, ταλασ(σ)α- T6.2,
T8.1, ταρπώμεθα T3.1, τεταρπε/ο- T3.1, 6.18, ἐτάλασσας T6.2, ἐτάλασσε 6.16,
3.14, (ἐ)τετάρπετο T3.1, ἔτερψα T3.1, T8.1, ταλάσσῃ/-ς T6.2, τετληκ(α)- 1.12, τετλα-
ἐτάρπην T3.1, ταρπείομεν T3.1, ἐτάρφθην 1.12, τέτληκα/τέτλακα T6.2, τέτληκε 5.7,
T3.1, ἐτέρφθην T3.1 τέτλαμεν 5.720, τετληώς 5.720, T6.2
τέρσω 4.44, τέρσομαι 4.44 τμήγω 8.522, 8.523, τμηγε/ο- 8.523, τμηξα- 8.523,
τεταγε/ο- : τεταγών T3.1 ἔτμηξα 8.523
τετανός T4.2 τομός 5.41
τετμε/ο- 3.14, 6.16, 6.27, (ἔ)τετμε T3.1, 3.33, τόμος 5.41
τετμεῖν T3.1 τορέω 3.69, 5.35138, (ἀντι)τοροῦντα 3.69,
τετραίνω 4.1567, 4.1671, 6.16, 6.2179, τετρηνα- τορησα- 3.69, (ἀντ)ετόρησεν 3.69, (ἀντι-)
6.16, 6.1768, 6.2179, τερεσσα- 6.16, τορήσας 3.69
(ἐ)τέρεσσε(ν) 6.16, 6.2179, τρησα- 6.16, τραπέω T5.5
6.1768, ἔτρησα 4.1567, τέτρημαι 6.1798, τρέμω 4.44160, T5.4, 5.46
τέτρηται 6.16, τρητός 6.1798 τρέπω 4.44, T5.4, 6.1770, 6.28, T8.1, T8.2, 8.8,
τεύχω 6.2892, T8.1, τετυκε/ο- T3.1, 3.14, 8.5, 8.10, τρέπει 4.41, τρέπομαι 4.44, T5.4, T8.1,
8.11, T8.4, (ἐ)τέτυκε T3.1, τετυκεῖν T3.1, T8.2, 8.8, 8.10, 8.25, τρέπεται 6.1770,
τετυκέσθαι T3.1, τευξα- T3.1, 8.5, 8.11, τρεπόμενος 4.41, τράπω 6.28, τραπε/ο-
ἔτευξα T3.1, T8.1, τέτυκται T3.1, 1.10, 6.22, 6.28, 8.8, 8.10, ἔτραπον T8.2, 8.8,
τυκτός T3.1 ἔτραπε 6.1770, ἐτραπόμην 8.8, 8.10, 8.25,
τήκω 4.44, 6.1245, T8.1, 8.39, τήκομαι 4.44, τρεψα- 1.10, 8.8, 8.10, ἔτρεψα T8.1, 8.8, 8.10,
6.1245, T8.1, 8.39, ἔτηξα T8.1 ἔτρεψε 6.1770, ἐτρεψάμην 8.8, 8.25, τραπη-
τίθημι 4.9, T4.1, 4.19–4.20, 4.22, 4.2397, 5.14, 1.10, 8.830, τραφθη-/τρεφθη- 8.830,
τιθη-/τιθε- 1.11, 2.6, τίθησι T4.1, τίθει/τιθεῖ τραπησε/ο- 1.13, τέτραπται 5.11,
T4.1, τίθεμεν 4.22, τίθει 4.31, τετράφαται 1.1215
θη(κα)- 2.6, θηκ(α)- 1.10, ἔθηκα 6.1248, 8.312, τρέφω 4.44, T5.4, 6.1770, 6.28, T8.1, T8.2, 8.8,
8.39, ἔθηκε 2.3, 2.17, T4.1, T6.1, ἔθεμεν T6.1, 8.10, τρέφομαι 4.44, T5.4, T8.1,
6.1241, ἐθήκαμεν 6.1241, ἔθεσαν 6.625, T8.2, 8.8, τρέφεται 6.1770, τράφω 6.28,
ἔθετο T6.1, θέμεν T6.1, θεντ- 6.627, τραφε/ο- 6.22, 6.28, 8.8, ἔτραφον T8.2, 8.8,
θήσω 8.12, τεθηκ(α)- 1.12, ἔτραφε 6.1770, θρεψα- 8.8, 8.10, ἔθρεψα
τέθηκα 5.14 T8.1, ἔθρεψε 6.1770, ἐθρεψάμην 8.8, τραφη-
τίκτω 3.33, T4.1, T6.2, 8.17, τίκτει T4.1, τίκτε 8.10, ἐτράφην 8.8, τέτροφα 5.15,
4.31130, τεκε/ο- 6.934, ἔτεκον 3.33, T4.1, 8.17, τέτροφε T5.2
τέκε(το) 4.31130, ἐτεκόμην T4.1, τεκών 5.14, τρέχω 4.44160, 6.28, T8.1, τράχω 6.28, ἔθρεξα
τέξομαι 8.17, τέτοκα 5.14 T8.1, δραμε/ο- 6.22
τιμάω 5.10, 8.4, 8.933, τιμησα-/τιμασα- 6.1768, τρέω 4.44160, T8.1, 8.828, τρεσσα- 8.828, ἔτρεσ-
8.4, 8.933, 8.18, τιμησε/ο- 8.18, τετίμηκε 1.12, (σ)α T8.1
τετίμακεν 5.14, τετίμημαι 5.10, 6.1768, τρίζω : τέτριγε 5.7
τετίμηται 1.12, τιμητός 6.1768 τρομέω T5.4, 5.46
τιμή 8.4 τροπέω T5.4
τίνω T4.1, 8.1983, τινε/ο- 1.11, τεισα- 8.1983, τροφέω T5.4, 5.35
τείσω 8.1983 τροχός 5.41
τίς : τέο/τοῦ 9.49 τρόχος 5.41
Index of Forms 693
τυγχάνω T3.1, 8.15, τυχε/ο- 6.22, ἔτυχον T3.1, φόβος 1.11
8.15, τεύξομαι 8.15 φορέω T5.4, 5.37, 5.45, φορεε/ο- 1.11
τύκος T3.1 φορός 5.41
τύκω 6.2892 φόρος 5.41
τύπτω 10.33–10.34, 10.39 φράζω T3.1, φράζομαι T3.1, πεφραδε/ο- 3.8,
ὑγρός 8.29136 3.14, 8.1137, (ἐ)πέφραδε T3.1, φρασ(σ)α- 3.14,
ὑμεῖς 9.16 8.1137, ἔφρασα T3.1, ἐφρασ(σ)άμην T3.1
ὑποφθάνω : ὑποφθάς T6.2, φρήν T3.1, φρένες T3.1
ὑποφθάμενος T6.2 φυγή 3.41, 5.42
φαλίζω : φαλίζει 7.1680 φύλαξ 8.4
φαγε/ο- 6.22 φυλάσσω 8.4, φυλαξα- 8.4
φαίνω 1.1114, 4.17 φῦλον 9.18
φάσκω 7.6, 8.43, φασκε/ο- 7.518, (ἔ)φασκε 7.6, φύρω 4.17
8.43185 φῦσα 4.17
φέβομαι 4.44, T5.4, 5.36–5.37, 5.46, 9.1865 φύω : φύομαι T6.2, φυ- T6.2, ἔφυν 9.18, ἔφυ
φείδομαι T3.1, 4.44, 4.49175, T8.1, πεφιδε/ο- T6.1, T6.2, T8.3, ἔφυν T6.1, φῦναι T6.1, φύς
8.1137, (ἐ)πεφίδετο T3.1, φεισα- 8.1137, T6.1, φυσα- T8.3, πέφυκα 5.15, 9.1866,
ἐφεισάμην T8.1, ἐφείσατο T3.1, πέφυκε 5.7
πεφιδήσομαι T3.1 φωσφόρος 5.41153
φέρω 1.7, T3.1, 4.1567, 4.28, T5.4, 5.37, 6.6, χαίρω T3.1, 3.8, 5.8, 10.34, χαιρε/ο- 1.11,
T8.1, φερε/ο- 1.11, φέρεις 1.7, φέρει 1.7, κεχαρε/ο- T3.1, 3.8, 3.14, (ἐ)κεχάρετο T3.1,
φέρομεν 1.7, φέρετε 1.7, 4.45, φέρουσι 1.7, ἐχάρην T3.1, 3.8, 5.8, χήρατο T3.1,
φέροντι 6.6, φέρεται 9.20, φέρω 1.7, φέρῃς κεχαρηώς 5.8, κεχαρήσε/ο- T3.1,
1.7, φέρῃ 1.7, φέρωμεν 1.7, φέρητε 1.7, κεχαρησέμεν T3.1
φέρωσι 1.7, φέροιμι 1.8, φέροις 1.8, φέροι 1.8, χαλεπαίνω 8.4, χαλεπηνα- 8.4
φέροιμεν 1.8, φέροιτε 1.8, φέροιεν 1.8, φέρτε χαλεπός 8.4
4.29, 4.45, φέρειν 1.15, φεροντ- 1.14, 6.6, χανδάνω : χαδε/ο- 6.22, κεχόνδει T5.2
ἔφερον 6.6, ἐνεγκε/ο- T3.1, 3.13–3.14, 3.32, χάσκω : χανε/ο- 6.22, κεχηνώς 5.7, 5.15
T8.1, ἤνεγκον 3.9, ἤνεγκε T3.1, 3.9, 3.13, 3.15, χειμών 10.1225
ἐνεγκεῖν T3.1, ἤνεγκα 3.9, ἤνεγκας 3.9, χέω T6.2, 8.522, 8.523, χευε/ο- T6.2, χεύω T6.2,
ἐνεικε/ο- 3.14, ἔνεικε/ἤνεικε T3.1, 3.9, 8.523, ἔχε(υ)α 3.9, T6.2, 8.312, 8.522, 8.523,
ἐνεικέμεν 3.9, ἐνεικα- T3.1, ἤνεικα T3.1, 3.9, ἔχε(υ)ε T6.2, 8.1875, ἐχεάμην T6.2, -χέας
T6.2, ἐνεῖκαι T3.1, ἐνήνοχε 3.13 T6.2, χυ- 1.10, ἔχυτο T6.2, ἔχυντο T6.2,
φεύγω 1.12, 4.44160, 5.8, T8.2, 8.15, φυγε/ο- -χύμενος/-η T6.2, χέω 8.13, 8.19
6.22, ἔφυγον T8.2, 8.15, φεύξομαι 8.15, χρή 4.1567
πέφευγα 1.12, 5.15, πέφευγε 5.8, πεφευγώς χρήομαι 4.1567, ἔχρησα 4.1567
5.10, πεφυγμένος 5.10 ψεύδομαι 4.44, T8.1, ἐψευσάμην T8.1
φημί 1.3, 4.44159, 6.1351, T6.2, 8.43, φη-/φα- 1.11, ὠτειλή T6.2
7.518, φησί 2.171, ἔφης 8.32160, ἔφησθα 8.32160,
ἔφη/ἔφα 6.1351, 8.43185, φῆ 7.3, T6.2, φάν 7.3, Indo-Iranian
(ἔ)φατο 2.171, 6.1351, T6.2, 7.8, φάς T6.2, Avestan
φάμενος T6.2 aoj- : aogǝdā T6.2, T8.1
φθάνω T4.1, T6.2, (ἔ)φθη T4.1, 6.12, T6.2, ar- : viiāraiieite 3.18, uzārǝšuuā T6.2
8.47, ἔφθημεν T6.2, (ἔ)φθαν T6.2, ἔφθασε az- : azaiti T8.1, T8.2
T6.2, ἔφθασαν T6.2, φθαίη T6.2, φθάς ah- 7.26
T6.2, φθάμενος T6.2, φθήσομαι T4.1 i- 7.26
φθέγγομαι 4.44, T8.1, ἐφθεγξάμην T8.1 (i)riš- : raēšaiia- 3.1838
φθείρω : ἔφθαρκα 5.14, ἔφθαρμαι 5.14 kar- : kāraiieiti T5.4
φθίνω T6.2, ἔφθιτο T6.2, 8.1035, ἐφθίατο T6.2, gan-/jan- : jainti T8.1, nijaγnǝnte 3.15,
φθ(ε)ίῃς T6.2, φθίεται T6.2, φθῖτο T6.2, auuajaγnat̰˙ T3.1, 3.15 ˙
-φθίσθω T6.2, φθίσθαι T6.2, φθίμενος T6.2, gam-/jam- : jǝ̄ nghati 8.27
ἔφθιεν T6.2, φθ(ε)ισα- 8.1035, ἔφθεισε T6.2 gā- : gāt̰ T4.1,˙T6.1
φιλέω 8.4, φιλησα- 8.4 car- : caraitī T5.4, T8.2
φίλος 8.4 ci- : cikaiiat̰ 4.22, 4.2397
φοβέω T5.4, 5.36, φοβεε/ο- 1.11, φοβέομαι 1.11, cit- : cikōitǝrǝš 5.50195
5.10, T5.4, 5.36–5.37, 5.46, πεφόβημαι 5.10 jad- : jaiδiiemi T5.4
694 Index of Forms
Avestan (cont.) šiyav- : ašiyava T6.2
tac- : tacaiti 8.29136, taxšaiti 8.29136 xšnā- : xšnāsātiy T8.4
tar- : titarat̰ 4.27, 6.29102 Vedic/Sanskrit
taš- : tāšt 3.33, tašat̰ 3.1528, 3.33 áka- T4.2
daŋh- : didąs T3.1, dīdaiŋ́hē T3.1 agní- 9.16
dā-1 : dadāiti T4.1, dazdē T4.1, -dāt̰ T6.1 aj- : ájati T3.1, 4.28, 4.45, T8.1, T8.2, ī́jate
dā-2 : daδāiti T4.1 T3.1, 4.28
dā-3 : aibī daintī T4.1 átandra- T4.2
dis- : dāiš 6.21,˙ 8.1, T8.1 ad- : átti 2.34, 4.44159
pac- : -pacaiti T8.1 am- : amīsi 3.18, āmáyati 3.18, ā̆ mamat
pat- : pataiti T4.1, T5.4, T8.2 ˙
3.1118, 3.18
par- : hąm.pāfrāite T4.1 as- 4.47, ásti 2.9, 4.44159, 4.46, syām 1.8, syāh
pā(s)- : pāiti 8.33–8.34, pišiiant- 8.34 1.8, syāt 1.8, syāma 1.8, syāta 1.8 ˙
fras- : pǝrǝsā 8.38 ˙ ah- : ā́h- 5.21, 5.23, āha 2.9, 5.23, āhúr 5.23
bar- : baraitī 4.29, barətū 4.29 ahám 9.13, 9.28, mā(m) 9.13
barǝg- : bərəjaiiat̰ T3.1 ā́ 7.13–7.14
bud- : baoδaiieti 3.16 ās- : ā́ste 4.52179
nas-/as- : nąsat̰ T3.1, 3.13, 3.15, 3.1630, 3.32, i- : émi 9.1440, éti 4.28, 4.44159, ī́yate 4.1249,
frąštā T3.1 4.1256, 4.21, 4.28, 4.33137
nī- : naiieiti T8.1, naēšat̰ T8.1 is- : ísyati T4.1, isnā́ ti T4.1
man- : mantā 2.13, 5.19 ˙ - :˙ ī́ksate 8.1669
īks ˙˙
˙
mar- : miriiete 10.34 ˙ ˙
īs- : ī́sate T4.1
mard- : mōrǝndat̰ 5.36 ˙ - ˙: uksati 8.29136
uks
˙
yā- : yāsaiti T4.1 us˙- : ósati ˙ T8.1
yūš/yūžǝm 10.6 ˙ : ˙óhate T6.2, T8.1
ūh-
vaxš-/uxš- : uxšiieitī 3.2, vaxšt 3.2 r -1 : r ccháti 8.43186, r nóti T3.1, r nós T3.1, íyarti
vac- : -vaocat̰ T3.1, 3.15 ˙ T3.1,˙ 3.18, 4.28, 4.32,˙ ˙ ˙ 3.11,
ī́rte T3.1, ˙ 4.28117,
vat- : vaotāt̰ 3.1630 arta 10.1941, (prá) ārta 2.9, T3.1, 4.28, 4.32,
var- : vāura- T3.1, 3.15, vāurāite 3.15, vāuraiiā T6.2, arīta T6.2
3.15, vāurōimaidī 3.15 r -2 : (sám) aranta T6.2
varz- : vǝrǝziieiti 8.421, vauuarǝza T5.2 ˙kars- : kársati 6.29102, kr sáti 6.29102
vaz- : vazaiti T5.4, T8.1, vazǝnt- 10.1020, ˙ 5.41˙
kāmá- ˙˙
uzuuažat̰ 8.1, T8.1 ˙ kā́ ma- 5.41
vah- : vaŋhaiti T4.1 kū- : kokūyate 4.17
vā- : vāiti 4.44159 kr - : kr nóti 2.17, 5.35138, karóti 5.36, kārayati
vid- : vaēdōdūm T8.1, frauuōizdūm T8.1, vida- ˙ 5.36, ˙ ˙ákar 2.17, 6.5, 8.49, ákarma 6.5, ákran
6.4, vista- 8.39 6.5, akrata 6.2687, kranta 6.2687, ákaram 6.5,
vī- : vaēiti T4.1 ákaras 6.5, ákarat 6.5, 6.10, ákaran 6.5,
sad- : -šhiδaiti T4.1 kárat(i) 8.49
sand- : saδaiieiti 5.46 kṝ- : ákārīt 8.26
˙ : starāna- 6.16
star- kram- : ákramam 8.26, ákramīt 8.26,
stā- : hištaiti 3.13, hištənti T4.1, stā̊ ŋhat̰ 8.1138 ákramisam 8.26
stu- : stāumī 8.50220 ˙ ˙
krudh- : krodháyati 3.1838, ácukrudhat 3.18
sru- : sraotā T6.2 ksan- : ksanisthās T6.2
zan- : zīzanənti 3.17, T4.1, zīzanat- 3.1733, ˙ i- : ksidhī́
ks ˙ ˙ ˙T6.2,
˙ ksáyati 5.44169, ksināti T6.2
zaiieiti T4.1˙ ˙
gam- :˙gácchati 2.17–2.18,
˙ ˙ ˙gā̆ máyati
8.38, 8.43,
zā- : zazāiti T4.1, zazāite T4.1, zaēmā T4.1, 5.36, ágan 2.17, 3.21 , 3.22, 6.5, 6.1136, 8.43,
50
frazahīt̰ T4.1 áganma 6.5, ágman 6.5, ágamam 6.5, ágaman

hac- : hacaitē T8.2 6.5, ágamat 6.5, T6.2, ágaman 6.5, gamat(i)
Middle Persian 4.46166, 8.43184, gámāma 6.521, gaméma 6.521,
dr’y- T5.4 jígām sa- 8.1350, jígamisa- 8.1350, jagan- 3.22,
Old Persian jagáma˙ 1.6, 5.4, jagā́m˙a 1.6, 5.4, 5.28,
hr d- : avahr [da] 7.25106 jaganmá 1.6, jagmá 1.6, jagmúh 5.4, 5.28,
˙ : avājaniyā
jan- ˙ 7.25 jaganvás- 5.4, ájagan 3.21, 5.12˙
kar- : akunauš 8.31 gar- : jāgarti 4.21, (a)jīgar 3.21, jāgā́ra 3.13, T5.2
Index of Forms 695
gavisá- 5.42 duh- : duhé 5.42, 10.1941, duhré 5.50194, duhaté
gā- ˙: jígāti 2.6, T4.1, 4.24, (á)gāt 2.6, T4.1, T6.1, 5.50194
ágāma 6.11, jágat- T4.1, 4.24 dr ś- : darśáyati 3.16, 5.34, adīdr śat 3.16, ádarśam
gir- : girati 6.2888 ˙ 6.5, ádarśma 6.7, ádarśat 6.5, ˙ 6.9–6.10,
car- : cárati T5.4, T8.2 dídr ksa- 8.1350, dadárśa T5.2
cit- : citáyati 5.46 drā- :˙drāhi
˙ T6.1, drā́ tu T6.1, drāsat 8.1138
cyu- : cyávate T5.4, T6.2, 8.523, cyávam T6.2, dru- : drávati 4.1781
cyāváyati T5.4, cucyuvé 5.931 dvis- : dvésti 8.35
chad- : chadáyati 5.46 ˙ 1 : dádhāti
dhā- ˙˙ 2.17, T4.1, 4.19–4.20, 4.22,
chid- : -chyáti 5.44169 4.2397, 4.24, dádhati T4.1, dádhanti 4.2192,
jan- : jánati T4.1, 4.32, 7.30, janat 7.30, ajanat dádhat(i) 4.48174, dhā́ ti 2.17, T6.1, 10.1840,
7.30, jā́ yate T4.1, janáyati 3.17, 5.34, ajanayat ádhāt 2.17, T4.1, T6.1
3.17, jījana- 3.1839, 3.21, T4.1, ajījanat dhā-2 : dháyati 5.45177
3.17–3.18, T4.1, ajani T4.1, 6.16, jajā́ na T5.1 dhr - : didhr tām 3.21, adīdhar(at) 3.21
jánitar- T4.1 ˙ s- : dhr˙sánt- 5.44171
dhr
jas- : jásamāna- T6.2 ˙˙ : námate
nam- ˙˙ T8.1, (abhi) anān T8.1
jīv- : jī́vati 8.1979 naś- : ā́ nat T3.1, 3.32, neśat 3.1530, ānám śa T3.1,
jñā- : jñeyā́ s T6.1, jñās- T6.1 ˙ ānāśa 3.13
3.13, 5.22, ˙
jyók 7.29 nas- : násate T4.1, nasīmahi T4.1, T6.2
taks- : 8.48215, tāsti 3.33, 8.48215, taksati 3.33, nāyá- 5.27
˙8.48215, taksa-˙˙3.3382, átaksat 3.15˙28, 3.33, ním s- : ním sate T4.1, nim sata T4.1
ataksma 8.48 ˙ 215, atasta 8.48
˙ 215 ˙ 4.28, ˙(nir)nijānáh 4.28,
nij- ˙ ninikta 4.28,
taksan-˙ 3.3354 ˙˙ nenikté 4.28˙ ˙
tan-˙ 1 : tanóti T4.2, 8.421, átan T4.2, 8.3, 8.26, nī- : náyati 2.11, T8.1, naista 2.11, nináy- 4.25104,
átān T4.2, 8.3, 8.26 anait T8.1 ˙˙
tan-2 : atatanat 3.1942 nūnám 5.22
tand- : tandate T4.2 pac- : pácanti T8.1, pácyate 8.4, páksat T8.1
tar- : tárati 4.27, 6.29102, tiráti 6.3, 6.29102, ˙
pat- : pátati 3.19, T4.1, 4.32, T5.4, T8.2,
tarute 2.13, títrat- 4.27 patáyati T5.4, 5.46184, pātáyati 3.19, T5.4,
táva- 5.27 papta- 3.20–3.22, (á)paptat 3.19–3.20,
tuj- : tujánt- T5.5, tujáyant- T5.5 (á)paptuh 3.20, apīpatat 3.19
tud- : tudáti 3.34, 6.2–6.3, 6.28–6.30, padá- 5.41 ˙
8.23, 10.21 pan- : pánipnat- 4.25105
tr p- : tr pnóti T3.1, tr mpáti T3.1, átr pam T3.1 par- : píparti 3.21, apīparat 3.21, pūrdhí 6.16
˙ s- : tr˙ ś yant-
tr ˙ 5.36 ˙ ˙ pā-1 : pā́ ti 4.1784, 8.33–8.34, pāsati 8.34164,
˙˙ :˙tyajati
tyaj- ˙ T5.4 pāsatas 8.34164
trap- : trapate T5.4, T8.1, T8.2 pā-2 : píbati 2.5, 4.19–4.21, 4.24, 8.33, ápāt 2.4,
tras- : trásati T8.1, trāsīs T8.1 8.934
tvám 9.28, tvā(m) 9.28˙ pā-3 : (ud-/vi-)pipīte 4.9, 4.13, 4.19
tvis- : tvesati 8.1983 pālá- 5.2497
dam˙ s- : dam ˙ sáyas T3.1 pitar- : pítar 9.7
day-˙ : dáyate ˙ T5.5, 5.46, (áva) adāt 5.46, purā́ 5.22
dīsva 5.46 pustimbhará- 5.41153
dar-˙: dárt 4.49175, dársat T8.1, 8.27 ˙˙ : pávate 8.25124, pavista 8.25124
pū-
das- : dasat T6.2, dásamāna- ˙ T6.2 ˙˙
pr c- : pr ccháti 7.24105, 8.38
dah- : dáhati T6.2, daghnuyāt T6.2, dhak T6.2 ˙ : pr
prā- ˙ nā́ ti T4.1, ápiprata T4.1, 4.20, aprās
dā-1 : dádāti 2.17, T4.1, 4.20, 4.2295, 4.24, T4.1,˙ ˙T6.1, 8.31158, aprāt T4.1, 8.31158
dádate 4.2192, ádāt 2.17, T4.1, T6.1, dāt 8.27, bandh- : babándha T5.1
dāsat 8.27, dāsyáti 8.23, dātā́ smi 2.10, dātā́ budh- : bódhati T3.1, bodháyati 3.16, budhánta
2.10, 4.47, adāsyam 7.1681 T3.1, 6.412, abūbudhat 3.6, T3.1, 3.16
dā-2 : dyáti T4.1, T5.5, abhi-dā́ ti T4.1, dadé 5.931 brū- : bruvé 5.42
dāś- 8.48215, dāsti 3.40, 4.1777, T5.4, 6.1247, bhid- : bhinátti T3.1, ábhet T3.1, 4.49175, 6.8,
T6.2, 8.48215˙˙, dāśnóti 4.1777 abhaitsam T8.1
dās- : abhidā́ s- T4.1, abhidā́ sati T4.1 bhī- : 4.28, bháyate 4.27112, 4.28, bibheti 4.21,
diś- : ádista 6.21, 8.3 4.27112, bíbhyat- 4.27112, 4.28, bibháy- 5.21,
dīrghá- T3.1 ˙˙ bibhā́ ya 4.27112
696 Index of Forms
Vedic/Sanskrit (cont.) avidam 8.24, ávidat 6.26, vidat 7.28119, avitsi
bhū- : bhávati 4.49175, bhūsati 8.29136, ábhuvam 8.24, vidé 5.42, véda 2.9, T5.1, 5.26, 5.30,
˙ ábhūvan 6.5,
6.517, 9.18, ábhūt 6.5, T6.1, 5.42158, avedam 7.1360, vitta- 8.39
babhū́ va 5.7, 9.1866 viś- : viśáti 6.3, 6.2999, (ā́) vivéśa T5.1
bhūtá- 9.18 vī- : véti T4.1, vésat T4.1
bhr - : bhárati 4.29, 4.45, T5.4, T8.1, bháradhyai vr - : āvar T6.2 ˙
˙1.15, bhárti 4.29, 4.45, bhartám 4.29, bíbharti ˙ t- : vártate 3.19, vartáyati 3.19, vavr t(a)- 3.19,
vr
4.29, ábhār T8.1, 8.26 ˙ 3.22, vavr tat 3.19, 3.23, ávavr tran˙3.19,
man- : mányate 2.13, 5.1973, ámata 2.13, 5.19, ávavarti˙3.19, vīvr ta- 3.19, avīvr
˙ tat 3.19,
mamán- 5.21, ámaman T5.1 vāvart-/vāvr t- 3.19,˙ vāvárta 3.19,˙ vāvr tuh
mánas- 5.19 ˙ 3.19
3.19, ā́ vavarta ˙ ˙
marīci- 4.17 vr dh- : vardháyati 3.16, avīvr dhat 3.16
mā́ 7.28, 7.30, 7.34 ˙ s- : vársati T5.4, varsáyati˙T5.4, 5.43,
vr
mā- : mīm ̆ áy- 5.21 ˙˙ ávarsīt˙ T5.4 ˙
mi- : minóti 4.931 ˙
vyā- : vyáyati 5.45177
miś- : micchamāna- 8.43187 śad- : śaśāda T3.1
miśrá- T6.2 śam- : śamáyati T5.4, aśamīt T5.4, 6.16,
mī- : mayante 4.28, mimītah 4.28, mimīyāt 4.28 śaśāma 5.7
muc- : amok 6.4, ámucat 6.4 ˙ śāká- 5.27
mr - : mriyáte 2.13, 10.34, amr ta 2.13 śā́ka- 5.34
mr˙ j- 8.48215, mr jánti 8.48215 ˙ śās- 8.48215
yā- 4.2191, yā́m˙i T4.1, yā́ ti 4.28, ī́mahe T4.1,
˙ śis- : (út) śisas 8.35
4.28, iyāná- T4.1, yāsat T4.1 ˙ : śáye 2.9,
śī- ˙ 4.34, 5.3, 5.11, 5.40, 5.42, 5.50191,
yuj- : ayuksata 8.24, ayujran 8.24 8.35, 10.1429, 10.24–10.25, śéte 2.9, 4.34,
yūyám 10.6 ˙ 4.52179, 5.11, 10.1429, śére 5.50191, 5.50194
raks- : ráksati 3.2, T3.1, 8.29, 8.33 śus- : aśusat 6.412
ram- ˙ : rámate˙ 8.25, rāmáyati 8.25, áram sta 8.25 ˙ : śváyati
śū- ˙ T5.5, 5.46
rā́ j- 8.54 ˙ śoká- 5.41
ric- : rinakti 1.11, rikthās 4.49175, 6.4, 6.9, śóka- 5.41
˙ 6.5, áricat 6.4, árican 6.5, rireca T5.2
áricam śram- : śramat 6.16, śramisma 6.16
riś- : riśáte 8.826 ˙
śri- : śrayate 3.22, śiśrā́ ya 3.22, áśiśret 3.22
ris- : resáyati 3.1838, rīr̆ isat 3.18 śru- : áśrot 6.7, T6.2, 8.35, 9.2072, śrudhí T6.2,
˙ : rócate
ruc- ˙ ˙ 5.36
5.36, rocáyati śrutá T6.2, śrótā T6.2, śruva- T6.2, śruvat
ruj- : rujáti 6.3, 6.2888, 6.2999, rók 6.2999 T6.2, śrava- T6.2, áśravan T6.2, áśrausīt
ruh- : ruruhur T5.2 T6.2, śúśrūsa- 8.1350 ˙
las- : lasati T4.2 ˙
śrus- : śrósan 8.35
˙ : lasati
las- ˙ T4.2, lālasa- T4.2 sac-˙ 4.28,˙ sácate T3.1, 4.28, T8.2, sísakti T3.1,
lip- : alipat 6.412 4.24, 4.28, sáścati T3.1, 4.24, sáścat˙ T3.1
liś- : liśáte 8.826 satrā́ 5.22
lū- : lunā́ti T6.2 sad- : sī́dati T4.1, 4.21, 4.24, 4.32, ásadat T3.1,
vac- : vívakti T3.1, (á)vocat T3.1, 3.9, 3.15, 3.32, T4.1, sasā́ da T4.1
6.26, vocati 3.9, 3.15, vocāti 3.9 san- : sanóti 2.1026, ásanat 2.10, 6.1661
vayám 9.16, 10.5 sah- : sáhate T4.1, T5.4, T8.2, asāksi T4.1
vaś- : váksi 4.24100, vásti 2.9, 4.24100, 4.27112, sáhas- T4.1 ˙
vivasti˙4.24100, 4.27˙˙112, vaváksi 4.24100, sū- : suváti 6.2888
4.27˙˙112, vāvaś- 5.21 ˙ sr - : (pra-)sísarti T4.2, 4.32, ásarat T6.2
1
vas- : váste 2.9 ˙ j- : sr játi 6.3, 6.2999, asr gran 8.24
sr
vas-2 : vásati T4.1, avātsīt T4.1 ˙ p- : ˙sárpati T8.1
sr ˙
vah- : váhati 2.6, T5.4, T8.1, 10.34, vāhayati ˙
star- : astarīs 6.16
T5.4, váhat 2.6, ávahat 2.6, uhyáte 10.34, stu- 8.48215,˙stuvanti 8.48215, astaut 8.50220, stáve
ávāksam 8.26, ávāt 8.1, T8.1, 8.26, 4.34–4.35, 4.42154, 4.44159, 8.50220
˙ īt 8.26
(á)vāks ˙ sthā- : tísthati 2.5, 2.17, 3.13, T4.1, 4.19–4.21,
vā- : vā́ ti˙ 4.44159 4.24,˙4.32,
˙ ásthāt 2.17, T4.1, T6.1, 6.26,
vid- 4.1776, vévedmi 4.1776, vévetti 4.1776, ásthāma 6.11, ásthita 6.11, tastháu 3.13, 5.19,
vévidati 4.1776, vindáti 7.28119, vida- 6.4, 9.1866, tasthivás- 5.4
Index of Forms 697
(s)paś- : páśyati T5.4, 8.4, spāśayasva T5.4, dīcō T8.1, dīxī 3.23, 6.21, 8.1, T8.1, 8.20,
áspasta T5.4 dīxtī 8.20
sphūrj-˙˙: sphū́rjati T5.5, 6.2888, sphūrjáya- 5.46, discō T8.4, 8.45
sphūrjáyant- T5.5 dō T4.1, dat T4.1, dare T4.1, dedit 3.23
sru- : (á)susrot 3.21 doceō 5.34, T5.4, 5.36, 5.38
svap- : sisvap 3.21 dolō 4.17, dolāre 4.17
han- 4.17˙ 76, hánti 2.9, T3.1, 3.33, 4.27112, 4.28, dōnō 8.417, dōnārunt 8.20
4.46, 4.51178, T8.1, jíghnate T3.1, 3.15, 4.21, dūcō 4.17
4.27112, 4.28, 4.33137, 4.51178, jaṅghan- 3.1527, edō : edim 2.34, ēdī 6.24
jáṅghanti 4.1776, jíghām sa- 8.1353, ego 9.13, 9.28, mē(d) 9.13
jíghām sati 8.13 ˙ emō 8.20, ēmī 3.25, 6.24, 8.20
˙
har- : háryati T3.1, 10.34 ēvidēns 10.1020
hā- : jáhāti T4.1, 4.24, jíhīte T4.1, 4.24, expergīscor 8.44192
ahāt T4.1, 8.31158, ahās T4.1, 8.31158, faciō 3.2559, T4.1, 6.1243, faxō 8.20, faxim 1.8,
ahāsata 8.24 8.20, fēcī 3.2559, T4.1, 5.27, 6.1243, 7.35, 8.39,
hās- T4.1 factus 5.27
hu- : juhóti 4.2397, júhvati 4.2397 fax 4.17
hū- 4.28, hávate 4.27112, 4.28, 5.46, juhūmasi ferō 4.28, T5.4, T8.1, fert 4.45, tulam T3.1, tetulī
4.27112, 4.28, hváyati 5.46 T3.1, 3.23
hr - : ahār 6.518, ahārsīt 6.518 ferv(e)ō 4.1785
˙ ˙ fīdō T3.1, T8.1
Italic figulus 5.24
Faliscan findō T3.1
fifiked 3.23, fifiqod 3.23 flectō 8.47, flexī 8.47
peparai 3.23 frīgeō 5.44171
Latin fundō 2.18
abdō : abdere T4.1, 4.19 gemō T5.2
adipīscor 8.40, adipīscī T3.1, adeptus sum genitor T4.1
T3.1, 8.40 genō T4.1, genuit T4.1
adnuō 8.523 gerō : gessī 8.47, gessus 8.47
afferō : attulās T3.1, attulat T6.2 gignō 3.17, T4.1, 4.32
agō T3.1, T8.1, T8.2, agit 4.45, ēgī 3.23, 6.24 glūbō 6.28
albeō 8.36 (g)nōscō T8.4, (g)nōvī T6.1
albēscō 8.36 habeō 7.35, habēre 7.35
albus 8.36 hiems 10.1225
apiō T3.1, T4.1, 8.40, -ēpī T4.1 iaciō T4.1, 6.1243, iēcī T4.1, 6.1243, 8.39
aptus T3.1 ignis 9.16
arceō 5.44166 inciēns T5.5
arō 5.44 inquam: inquit 6.2282
attingō : attigās T3.1 īnserō 4.939
audiō : audīvistī 8.2088, audīstī 8.2088 intellegō 8.2091, 8.47, intellēxi 8.2091, 8.47
augeō : auxī 3.2 iter 5.50190
bibō 4.19–4.20, bibit 2.5 langueō 8.523
bibulus 5.24 lascīvus T4.2
cadō T3.1, cecidī T3.1, 3.23, cāsus 8.47208 lateō T3.1
capiō 10.33 lavō T5.4, lavere T5.4
clepō 8.421, clepsī 8.421 legō 8.1, T8.1, 8.2091, lēg- 3.25, lēgī 3.25, 5.22132,
coepī: coepit T3.1 8.1, 8.20, 8.47
colō T5.4, T8.2 linquō 1.11, linque/o- 1.1114
cōnfaciō : cōnficit 3.41 longus T3.1
coquō T8.1, coxī T8.1 luō T6.2, 6.2888, lūit T6.2
coquus 5.27 maneō T4.1, T8.1, mānsī T4.1, T8.1, 8.20
crēdulus 5.24 medeor 5.46181, 8.523
currō 6.2888 meminī 3.23, 5.4, T5.1, 5.24
dēmō : dēmpsī 8.20 mens 5.19
698 Index of Forms
Latin (cont.) sistō 3.13, T4.1, 4.19–4.20, 4.32, sistit 2.5,
misceō 8.43187 stetī 3.13
mittō : mīsī 8.20 solvō : solūtus T6.2
molō 5.33, 6.2, molit 5.33 sorbeō T5.4
moneō 5.34, 5.45 spargō 6.2888
mordeō 3.2354, mordēre 5.36, memordī 3.27, speciō T5.4, 8.4, 8.47, spexī T5.4, 8.4, 8.47,
momordī 3.2354, 3.27 spectus 8.47
morior 10.34 spondeō 3.2354, 5.34, T8.1, spopondī 3.2354,
murmurō 4.1774 spōnsī T8.1
nanciō T3.1, 3.23, nancior T3.1, 3.13 stō T4.1, stāre T4.1, stetī 5.19, 9.1866
nancīscor T3.1 suffiō 6.2894
nāscor 8.40, nātus sum 8.40 sum : est 4.46, sunt 6.625, siēm 1.8, sim 1.8,
neglegō 8.2091, neglēxī 8.2091 siēs 1.8, siēt 1.8, sīmus 1.8, sītis 1.8,
nigrēscō 8.42181 sient 1.8, erit 4.46164, fuī T6.1, fuās T6.1,
nōs 9.16 foret 8.1670
nuō 8.523 sūmō : sūmpsī 8.20
occīdō : occīsus 5.26 suō 6.2888
ōdī 5.24 tangō T3.1, tagam T3.1, tetigī T3.1, 3.23, 8.20
operīo T6.2 tegō T8.1, 8.47, tēxī T8.1, 8.47, tēctus 8.47
opus 8.47205 tendō T4.2, tetendī 3.2354
parcō 6.2888, 8.20, pepercī 8.20, parsī 8.20 terō 4.1671
parentēs 6.16 tondeō 3.2354, totondī 3.2354
pariō : peperī 3.23 torqueō T5.4
pāscō 8.37 torreō : torrēre 5.36
pāstor 8.34 trahō T8.1, trāxī T8.1, 8.47
pectō T8.1, Ep2, pexī T8.1, Ep2 tremō T5.4
pēdō T5.5 tū 9.28, tē(d) 9.13, 9.28
pellō T3.1, pepulī T3.1, 3.23 tundō : tutudī 3.23
penus 4.25105 ūrō T8.1, ussī T8.1, 8.20
petō 3.19, T4.1, T5.4, T8.2 vāgiō T4.1
pirum 9.614, 9.16 vehō T5.4, 8.1, T8.1, 8.47, vehit 2.6, vēxī 8.1,
pirus 9.614, 9.16 T8.1, 8.20, 8.47, vectus 8.47
plectō T8.1, Ep2, plexī T8.1, Ep2 vellō : vellī T6.2
-pleō : -plēvī T6.1, -plēvit T4.1 veniō 10.33, vēnī 3.25, 8.1, 8.20
poscō 7.24105, 8.38 vertō : vertor 3.19, vertī 3.23, vortī 3.23
procus 5.27 videō 5.44, vidēre 5.44174, vīdit 6.8–6.9,
prōficiō 8.40 vīsus 8.39
proficīscor 8.40, profectus sum 8.40 vieō 5.45177
pudeō 9.48, pudet (me) 9.4, 9.1545, 9.16–9.17 vīsō 8.1356, vīse 8.1356
putō : putāstī 8.20 vīvō 8.1979
quaesō 8.1356 volō : vīs T4.1
reddō T4.1, reddit T4.1, reddere T4.1 volvō T4.1
referō : rettulī T6.2 vōs 9.16
regō T8.1, 8.47, rēxī 8.13, T8.1, 8.20, 8.47 Oscan
rēx 8.54 cadeis T3.1
saliō T4.2 deíkum T8.1
scindō : scicidī 3.13, 4.25103 didest T4.1
scrībō : scrīpsī 8.20 fifikus 3.2355
sedeō T4.1 fusíd 8.1670
seneō 8.40 sent 6.6
senēscō 8.40, 8.42, senuī 8.40 spentud T8.1
sequor T3.1, T8.2 staít T4.1
serō 4.9 úpsed 8.2086, uupsens 8.47205
serpō T8.1, serpsī T8.1 Paelignian
sīdō T4.1, 4.21, 4.32, sēdī 3.25 lexe 1.66
Index of Forms 699
Umbrian *dek̑ - 1.11, 3.4097, 4.1777, T5.4, T6.2, T8.1,
apelust T3.1 T8.4, 8.45
dersicust 8.15 *del(H)- 4.17
dirsa T4.1 *dem(h2)- T8.1, 8.12
eest 8.20 *demh2- 1.11, 6.16, 6.18, 8.33
entelust T6.2 *denk̑ - 6.22
fere/o- 8.20, ferest 8.20 *dens- T3.1, 3.14, T8.4
kařetu T5.5 *der- T8.1
peřum 5.41 *derbh- 6.2888
pir 9.16 *derdh- 6.22
sent 6.6 *derk̑ - T5.2, 6.5, 6.7, 6.22, T8.2, 10.3567
sestu T4.1, 4.32 *deu̯ h1- T6.2, 6.2894, 8.9, T8.3
sistu T4.1, sesust 8.2086 *deu̯ k̑ - 4.17
vutu T5.4 *dlengh- T3.1
Venetic *dreh2- 6.11, T6.1, 8.933, T8.3
donasto 8.417, 8.2086, 8.24114 *drem- T5.2, 6.22
doto T6.1, 8.24114 *drep- 4.17
vhagsto 8.2086, 8.24114 *dreu̯ - 4.1781
Vestinian *du̯ eH- T6.2, T8.3
didet T4.1 *du̯ ei̯- T4.2, T5.1, 8.35, T8.4
*du̯ ei̯s- 8.35
Phrygian *dhal(h1)- 5.7
αδδακετ 6.1244 *dhegu̯ h- T6.2, 6.2282
edaes 7.23 *dheh1- 1.10–1.12, 2.3, 2.6, 2.9, 2.17, 4.9,
eneparkes/ενεπαρκες 7.23 4.12–4.13, 4.1463, T4.1, 4.19–4.20, 4.2192,
εσταες 7.23 4.22, 4.32, 5.29, 6.11–6.12, T6.1, 7.23,
estat 7.23 8.39, Ep3
*dheh1i̯- 4.1252
Proto-Indo-European *dheh2g- T8.1
(verbal roots only) *dhembh- 5.7, 6.22
*bhag- 6.22 *d henh2- 1.11–1.12, 5.7, 6.16, 6.19
*bhegu̯ - 1.11, T5.4 *dher- 3.21
*bheh2(u̯ )- 1.11, 2.171, 4.17, T8.4 *d herh3- 6.16
*bhei̯d- T3.1, 3.14, T8.1, 8.1137 *dheu̯ - 1.11
*bhei̯dh- 1.10, 1.12, T3.1, 3.14, T5.1, 5.42, *dheu̯ gh- T3.1, 3.14, 6.22, T8.1, T8.4
6.22, T8.1 *dhghu̯ eng- T8.1
*bhei̯h2- 4.28 *dhgu̯ hei̯- T6.2, 6.14, 8.1035
*bhendh- T5.1, 6.22 *dhgu̯ her- T5.2
*bher- 1.11, 1.15, 4.29, 4.35, 4.42, 4.45, T5.4, *dhrebh- T5.2, T5.4, 6.22, 6.28, T8.1, T8.2, 8.8
T8.1, 8.21, 8.26, 8.52, 8.55 *dhregh- 6.28, T8.1
*bherd- T3.1, 3.8, 3.14, 8.1137 *dhreh2gh- 5.7
*bherdh- T5.4, T6.2, 6.14, 6.22, T8.1 *dhreu̯ - T5.4
*bherg̑ h- 2.13, T3.1 *d hu̯ eh2- 6.2894
*bheru̯ - 4.1785 *g̑ elh2- 6.16
*bheu̯ dh- 1.10, 1.1114, 3.6, T3.1, 6.22 *g̑ enh1- 1.11, T3.1, 3.17, T4.1, 4.32, T5.1, 6.16
*bheu̯ g- 6.519, 6.22, T8.2 *g̑ erh2- 8.47
*bhuh2- (*bhu̯ eh2-) 5.7, 6.11, T6.1, 7.11, T8.3, *g̑ eu̯ s- 4.9
9.16, 9.18 *g̑ neh3- 1.10–1.11, 6.11, T6.1, 8.9, T8.3,
*deh1- T4.1, T5.5 8.33, T8.4
*deh2- T5.5 *g̑ heh1- T4.1, 4.24
*deh3- 1.10–1.11, 1.13, 1.15, 2.3, 2.9, 4.1252, T4.1, *g̑ her- 1.11, T3.1
4.1988, 4.2192, 4.47, 6.11–6.12, T6.1 *g̑ heu̯ - 1.10, T6.2, 6.14, 8.523, 8.19
*dei̯h1- 4.17 *g̑ hu̯ eH- 4.28
*dei̯k̑ - 1.10–1.11, 2.5, 4.1777, 6.21, 6.2281, 8.3, *g̑ hu̯ elgh- 8.523
T8.1, 8.16 *geh2dh- 5.7
700 Index of Forms
Proto-Indo-European (cont.) *h1nek̑ - (*h1enk̑ -) T3.1, 3.9, 3.13, 3.1630, 3.23,
*gei̯s- 4.9, 8.34163 3.32, 4.45162
*gem- T6.2, 8.47 *h1reh1- 6.16
*gem(s)- T5.2 *h1rei̯d- T8.1
*gen(s)- T5.2 *h1rei̯k̑ - 6.22, T8.2, 8.8
*gerbh- 6.2890 *h1rei̯p- 6.22
*glei̯bh- 6.2892 *(h1)rei̯s- 3.18
*gleu̯ bh- 6.2890 *(h1)rep- 10.24
*gneh1- 8.33161 *h1reu̯ dh- T8.1
*ghan- 5.7, 6.22 *h1reu̯ g- 6.22
*ghed- T5.2, 6.22 *h1u̯ egu̯ h- T6.2
*gheh1- T4.1 *h1u̯ er(g̑ )- T6.2, T8.1
*ghend- T5.2 *h2eg̑ - 1.10–1.11, 2.6, T3.1, 3.1221, T5.3, 5.44176,
*ghrebh- 6.2891 6.24, T8.1, T8.2, 8.21
*gu̯ eh2- 1.10, 2.4, 2.6, 4.1, T4.1, 4.24, 5.7, 6.11, *h2egh- T3.1, 8.1137
T6.1, 7.24, T8.3, T8.4 *h2eku̯ - T3.1, 3.11, 4.1669, T4.2, 4.30122
*gu̯ ei̯h3- T6.2, T8.3, 8.19 *h2eldh- 6.22
*gu̯ elh1- 1.11, 5.7, T6.2, 6.14, 6.16–6.17, *h2elgu̯ h- 6.22
6.20, 8.9 *h2el(H)- T4.2
*gu̯ elh3- T5.2, 8.1563 *h2elh2- 8.44189
*g els- T5.2, 8.1563
u̯
*h2emh1- (*h2meh1-) 8.33
*gu̯ em- 1.11, 2.5, 3.22, 6.1136 *h2emh3- 3.18
*gu̯ ergh- 6.22 *h2ep- T3.1, T4.1, T4.2, T8.4
*gu̯ erh3- 5.7, 6.16, 6.2888 *h2er- 1.11, 3.6, T3.1, 3.11–3.12, T5.3, T6.2, 6.14,
*gu̯ es- T6.2, 6.14 6.1663, 8.1137, T8.4
*gu̯ g̑ her- T5.2 *h2eu̯ - 8.34163
*gu̯ i̯eh3- T6.2, T8.3, 8.1979 *h2eu̯ g- 3.2, 8.29, 8.35
*gu̯ rem- T5.4 *h2ger- 8.421
*gu̯ hedh- T5.4, 8.313, 8.21 *h2leh1- 4.9
*gu̯ hen- 1.10–1.11, 3.6, T3.1, 3.11, 3.14, 3.33, 4.21, *h2lei̯bh- T8.1
4.35, 8.421, T8.1, 8.13, 9.14, 9.25, 9.29, 10.11, *h2lei̯(t)- 6.22
10.38, 10.41 *h2lek- (*h2elk-) 3.2, T3.1, 3.14, 8.1137, 8.29
*Hi̯eh1- 4.1256, T4.1, 6.11–6.12, T6.1, 8.39 *h2leu̯ - T8.1, 8.44189
*Hi̯eh1k- T4.1, 8.39 *(h2)mei̯- 4.28
*Hu̯ er- 3.15 *h2mei̯gu̯ - T8.1
*h1ed- 2.34, T5.3, 6.24, 8.19 *h2merd- 5.36, T8.1
*h1eg̑ - 3.1221 *h2mert- 6.22
*h1ei̯- 1.11, 1.15, 2.3, 4.1256, T4.1, 4.21, *h2nek̑ - T3.1
5.50190, 7.27 *h2reh1g- T8.1
*h1eh1s- 4.9, T4.1, 4.52179 *h2u̯ ei̯d- T8.1
*h1ei̯s(h2)- T4.1 *h2u̯ ei̯s- 6.22, 6.28
*h1elh2- 6.16, 6.18 *h2u̯ elh1- 4.9
*h1em- 4.931, 6.24 *h2u̯ er- T3.1, 3.15, T6.2, 6.14, 8.421, T8.4
*h1erg̑ h- T5.4 *h2u̯ ers- T5.4, 6.2892
*h1erh1- 6.16 *h2u̯ es- T4.1
*h1es- 1.11, 2.3, 4.9, T4.1, 4.46164, 4.52179, 5.2, *h3ed- T5.3
5.1971, 6.2483, 7.11, 7.27, 8.19, 9.16, 9.18 *h3eku̯ - T5.3
*h1eu̯ - 8.34163 *h3elh1- T5.3, 6.16
*h1eu̯ gu̯ h- 4.52179, T6.2, T8.1 *h3er- T3.1, 3.11, 3.14, 3.18, 4.28, T5.3, T6.2,
*h1eu̯ s- T8.1 6.14, 6.24, 8.1137, 9.16, 9.18
*h1ger- 3.13, T5.2, 8.421 *h3neh2- 4.1566, T6.1, 8.933
*(h1)gu̯ hel- 7.1680 *h3reg̑ - 8.13, T8.1
*h1lengh- T8.1 *h3slei̯dh- 6.22
*h1leu̯ dh- 1.13, T5.2, 6.22 *h3u̯ ath2- T6.2
*h1nedh- T5.2, 6.2282 *h3u̯ ei̯g- T8.1
Index of Forms 701
*i̯eh2- T4.1 *meh1d- 8.47201
*i̯es- T8.1, 8.828 *meh2- 4.17
*i̯eu̯ g- 6.2281, 8.3 *mei̯- 4.931
*k̑ ad- T3.1, 3.23 *mei̯k̑ - T6.2, 6.14, 6.2281
*k̑ eh2d- T3.1 *mel(h1)- 5.7
*k̑ ei̯- 4.35, 8.35, 9.16, 9.18 *melh2- 2.15–2.16, 5.33
*k̑ ei̯s- 8.35 *melh3- 1.11, 5.7, 6.16
*k̑ emh2- 5.7, T5.4, 6.16, 6.19 *membh- T8.1
*k̑ end- 5.46186, 8.33161 *men- 1.10–1.11, 4.9, 4.13–4.14, T4.1, 4.35, 4.52,
*k̑ erh2- 4.1567, 6.16, 6.18 T5.1, 5.19, T8.1
*k̑ erh3- 6.16 *mendh- 6.22
*k̑ leu̯ - T3.1, 6.7, T6.2, 6.14, 6.28, 8.35, *mer- 4.17
10.3567 *mneh2- T8.4
̑
*kleu̯ s- 8.35 *mregh- T5.2
*k̑ remh2- 6.16, 6.18 *nei̯gu̯ - 1.11, 4.28, 8.4
*k̑ u̯ eh1- T5.5, 5.46 *nei̯H- 4.9, 4.25, T8.1
*kei̯h2- T6.2, 6.16, 6.28 *nek̑ - 3.1630, 8.30, 8.53
*kei̯t- 5.46 *nem- T8.1
*kelh1- T3.1, 3.8, T5.5, T8.2, 8.33, T8.4 *nes- T4.1, T6.2, 8.313
*kens- 8.33161 *neu̯ - 8.523
*kerH- 8.26 *peH- 4.9
*ker(s)- 6.2888, 8.33 *peh2(s)- 4.1784, 8.33
*keu̯ dh- T3.1, 6.22 *peh2g̑ - 5.7, T6.2, 8.3
*ki̯eh2p- 5.7 *peh3(i̯)- 2.4, 4.19–4.20, 8.934, T8.3, 8.33, 8.35,
*k(u̯ )i̯eu̯ - T5.4, T6.2, 6.14, 8.523 8.44192
*kleh2g- 5.7 *peh3s- 8.35
*klep- 1.12, 8.421 *pei̯s- 6.2888
*kreu̯ s- 6.2888 *pek̑ (t)- T8.1
*ku̯ elh1- T5.4, 6.16, T8.2 *peku̯ - 8.4, T8.1
*ku̯ endh- T5.1, 6.22 *pelh1- T3.1, 3.8, 3.14, 3.23, 4.17
*ku̯ er(s)- 4.9, 5.35138 *pelh2- T3.1, T5.5, T6.2, 6.14, 6.16, 6.18
*ku̯ rei̯h2- T6.2, 6.14 *pemp- T8.1
*las- T4.2 *pen- 4.25105
*leg̑ - 1.11, 1.13, T6.2, T8.1 *per- 3.21
*legh- 4.9, 4.49175, T6.2 *perh2- 1.11, 6.16, 6.18
*leh2- T3.1 *perh3- T3.1, 3.8, 6.16, 6.19
*leh2dh- 1.11, T3.1, 3.14, 6.22, T8.1, 8.1137 *perk- 6.2888
*leh2k- 6.22 *pers-/pres- 4.9
*leh2(u̯ )- 4.9 *pesd- T5.5
*leh2u̯ - T4.2 *pet- 3.19, 3.22, T4.1, 4.49175, 5.717, T5.4, T6.2,
*leh3(u̯ )- 4.937 6.14, 6.2282, 8.313, T8.2
*lei̯b- T8.1 *peth1- 3.1942, T4.1, T6.2
*lei̯g̑ h- 4.9 *peth2- 3.1942, T4.1, T6.2
*lei̯H- T8.1 *pi̯eh2- 5.717, 5.35139
*lei̯h2- 6.1661 *pleh1- T4.1, 4.20, T6.1, 8.933
*lei̯ku̯ - 1.10–1.12, T5.2, 6.4, 6.22, T8.2, 8.21 *pleh2g- 5.7
*lei̯t- 6.22, 6.28 *pleh3- T6.1, 8.933
*lengh- T3.1, T5.2, 6.22 *plek̑ (t)- T8.1
*leu̯ g- 6.519, 6.2888 *pneu̯ h1- 4.17, 4.49175, T6.2, 6.14, T8.1
*leu̯ H- T6.2, 6.2888, 6.2894 *preh1- 3.1324, 4.9, T4.1, 4.19–4.20
*leu̯ h3- T5.4, 6.16 *prek̑ - 8.30, 8.53, 8.55
*leu̯ k(s)- 4.9 *pseu̯ d- T8.1
*magh- 5.44167, 6.2892 *regh- 6.2892
*mar- 4.17 *sed- 1.11, T3.1, 4.9–4.10, T4.1, 6.2282,
*med- 5.46181, 8.523, 8.47 6.2894, 8.19
702 Index of Forms
Proto-Indo-European (cont.) *streb- T5.4
*seg̑ h- 1.10–1.11, T4.1, 4.39150, 5.613, T5.4, *strebh- T5.4, 6.28, T8.1
6.2282, T8.2 *su̯ eh1dh- T5.2
*seh1- 4.9, 4.19, 6.1246 *su̯ eh2d- 5.7, 6.22
*seh1k- T4.1 *(s)u̯ eh2gh- (*(s)u̯ ā̆ gh-) T4.1, 6.22
*seh2- 4.9, T6.1 *(s)u̯ er- T3.1
*seh2g- 5.44 *tag- T3.1, 3.23
*seh2p- T4.2 *teh2-1 8.39
*sei̯k- T3.1, T4.1, T6.2, 6.14, 6.22 *teh2-2 4.942
*seku̯ - T3.1, 4.1669, 4.24, 4.28, 4.30122, *teh2g- T3.1
6.2282, T8.2 *teh2k- T8.1
*sel- 1.11, 4.9, T4.1, T4.2, T6.2, 6.14 *tek̑ - 3.33, T4.1
*selh1- 6.16 *tek̑ þ- 3.33, 8.48215
*selh2- T4.1, T8.4 *telh2- 1.12, 5.7, T6.2, 6.14, 6.16–6.18, 8.9
*sengu̯ - T4.2 *telk- 6.2888
*senh2- 2.1026, 6.1661 *tem- T3.1
*sep- 6.2282 *temh1- 1.10–1.11, T3.1, 3.8, 3.33, T4.2, 6.16,
*ser- 5.613 6.20, 8.523
*serp- T8.1 *ten- 1.10–1.11, 1.14, T3.1, T4.1, T4.2, 4.25,
*ses- 9.16, 9.18 8.3, 8.13
*seu̯ h1- 6.2888 *tend-1 T4.2
*seu̯ k̑ - 6.2888 *tend-2 T4.2
*sh2ei̯- 4.9 *terh1- 4.1671, 6.16, 6.2179
*si̯eu̯ H- 6.2888 *terh2- 2.13
*(s)k̑ end- T3.1, 5.46 *terh3- 6.16, 6.2179
*sk̑ ei-d/t- 3.13, 4.25103 *terp- T3.1, T8.1
*skelh1- 6.16–6.17, 8.9 *ters- 5.36
*(s)kerb- 6.2891 *tetk̑ - 3.33, T4.1
*sleg- 8.523 *teu̯ k- T3.1, 6.2888
*sleh1g- 8.523 *teu̯ p- 10.38
*sleh2- T4.1, T8.4 *ti̯egu̯ - 1.11, T5.4
*sleh2gu̯ - 1.12, T3.1, 6.22 *tk̑ en- T6.2, 6.14, 8.421
*smer- T5.1 *treku̯ - T5.4
*(s)peh2- 4.9, 4.13, 4.19 *trem- T5.4
*spek̑ - T5.4, 8.4, 10.3567 *trep-1 1.10, 4.42, 5.11, T5.4, 5.38, T5.5,
*spend- 2.9, T8.1 6.22, 6.28, T8.1, T8.2, 8.8, 9.14,
*(s)penh1- 4.25105, 6.2888 9.25, 9.29
*sper- 8.421 *trep-2 T5.5
*sp(h)erh2g- T5.5, 6.2888 *tres- T8.1, 8.828
*speu̯ d- T8.1, 8.828 *u̯ edh- 8.14
*srebh- T5.4 *u̯ eg̑ h- T5.4, T8.1
*sreu̯ - 3.21 *u̯ ei̯d- 1.10, T5.1, 5.42, 6.8, 6.22, 7.1360, T8.1,
*stebh- T8.1 10.3567
*(s)teg- T8.1 *u̯ ei̯g- 8.523, 8.828
*steh2- 1.10–1.11, 2.3–2.4, 4.9, 4.13, T4.1, 4.20, *u̯ ei̯h1- T4.1
4.32, 5.7, 5.19, 6.11, T6.1, 7.23, T8.3, 8.16, *u̯ ei̯k̑ - T5.1, T6.2, T8.4
9.16, 9.18 *u̯ ek̑ - 2.13, 3.4097, 4.9
*(s)teh2- 4.9 *u̯ eku̯ - 1.10, T3.1, 3.9, 3.11
*stei̯gh- T5.4, 6.22, 6.28, T8.1, 8.21 *u̯ el- T4.1, T4.2, 4.25
*stel- 1.12–1.13, 8.421 *u̯ elh1- 3.1529
*sten- 4.942 *u̯ elh3- T6.2
*(s)tenh2- 4.9 *u̯ elp- T5.2, 5.1971, 5.2177
*sterh1- 6.16 *u̯ elu̯ - T4.1
*sterh3- 6.16 *u̯ emh1- 6.1664
*(s)teu̯ g- T5.5, 6.22 *u̯ erg̑ - T5.2, 8.421
Index of Forms 703
*u̯ erh1- 1.13, T3.1, 3.8, 3.15, 3.23, rešti : rekǫ 8.47, rěchъ 8.47
5.7, T8.4 stati : sta T6.1
*u̯ ers- T6.2 stojati T4.1
*u̯ ert- 3.19, 5.38 sъžęti T6.2
*u̯ reh1- T3.1, T8.4 sъsati : sъsǫ 6.2888
*u̯ reh1g̑ - 8.47201 sъxnǫ ti : -sъše 6.412
sěděti : sěditъ T4.1
Slavic sěsti : sędǫ T4.1, sědъ T3.1, T4.1
Old Church Slavonic tajati : tajǫ 8.39
blěděti : blědějǫ 8.36 tesati : tešǫ 3.3384
bogatěti : bogatějǫ 8.36 tlěšti : tlъkǫ 6.2888
bosti : bodǫ 8.47, basъ 8.47 trьti : -tьre 6.412, 6.2179
-buditi 3.16, 5.34 tъkati : tъkǫ 6.2888
bьrati : berǫ T5.4 uglьběti : uglьbъ 6.2892
byti : sǫ tъ 6.625, bě- 7.11, by T6.1, 8.22, bystъ jasti : jastъ 8.22103
8.22, byšęšt- 8.23112 Old Czech
bъděti 5.44175, bъditъ 5.44175, bъděchъ 5.44175 dím 2.1752
-běgnǫ ti : -běgъ T5.4 Russian
vesti1 : vedǫ 8.14, 8.47, věsъ 8.14, 8.22, 8.47, vede vrat’ : vru T3.1
8.22, vedochъ 8.22 zvat’ 4.515, pozvat’ 4.515
vesti2 : vezǫ T5.4, T8.1, vezetъ 2.6, otъvěsta se nesti 5.24, nesla 5.24
8.1, T8.1 pozapirat’ 4.4
viděti 5.44 pret’ : preju T4.1
vlьkъ : vlъče 9.7 čitat’ 4.6–4.7, počitat’ 4.515, pročitat’ 4.6–4.7,
voziti T5.4 pročityvat’ 4.7
vy 9.16 Serbocroat
věděti : vědě 5.1140 žȅti : žȇ T6.2
glagoliti : glagoljǫ 4.17
greti : grebǫ 6.28 Tocharian
gъnati : ženǫ T3.1, T8.1 Tocharian A
dati : dastъ T4.1, dachъ T6.1, 8.22, da T6.1, kän- : knatär T4.1
8.22, dastъ 8.22 käl- : kakäl 3.3075
dьrati : derǫ 4.49175, T8.1 ken- T5.2
dělati : dělajǫ 8.417, dělaxъ 8.417, děla 8.22 kñas- : kñasäst T6.1
děti : deždetъ T4.1 tā- T4.1 ˙
-žrěti : -žьrǫ 6.2888 tāk- : tās T6.1
zvęšti : zvęgǫ T8.1 ˙
täm- : tamät T3.1
znati : zna T6.1 täl- : cacäl 3.28, 3.30
173
lajati : lajǫ T3.1 nas- 8.39
-lьpati : -lьpe 6.412 ya(p)- T4.1, yas T4.1
my 9.16 läk- : lyāk 3.28,˙ 3.30
mrěti : mьrǫ 8.47, mrěchъ 8.47 lä(n)t- : läc 6.4
nebrěšti : nebrěgǫ T3.1 Tocharian B
nesti 4.45162, nesǫ T3.1, 4.45162, 8.47, něsъ T3.1, āk- : āśät 10.2448, āśäm T8.2
8.47, neslъ 5.24 eṅk- : eṅksate T3.1 ˙
nositi 5.34, 5.44175, nošǫ T3.1, nositъ 5.44174 er- : ersate T3.1
ognь 9.16 kän- : kantär T4.1, knetär T4.1
pasti1 : padъ 8.22, padochъ 8.22 käry- : käryām T6.2
pasti2 : pasǫ 8.34 käs- T6.2
pešti : pekǫ 2.17, T8.1 tätt- : tätta- T4.1
plesti : pletǫ T8.1, Ep2 täl- 3.28, cāla 3.28, 3.30
povesti : povede 2.17 näk- : nekwa 8.30, neksa 8.30
postignǫ ti : postiže 6.934 näm- : nemar-neś T8.1
prorokъ 5.27 nes- 8.39173
-pęti : -pьnǫ 6.2888 pāsk- : paskenträ 8.37
704 Index of Forms
Tocharian B (cont.) lä(n)t- : lac 6.4
pär- : paräm T5.4 lu- : lyuwa T6.2
plewe 5.27 ˙ lut- : lyautsa 8.47210
mäsk- : mäsketär T4.1 lyäk- : lyaśäm T6.2
yāsk- : yāstär T4.1 ˙
wäs- : wsi- T4.1
yäs- : yas˙tär T8.1 ˙ T6.2, sällatsi T4.2
säl- : salāte
˙ 8.13, T8.1
räk- : reksa soy- : soyem T6.1 ˙
läk- : lyāka 3.25, 3.28, 3.30 ˙
tsäm- : tsemtsa T8.1
General Index
ablative 9.4 and accent 5.41, 10.24, 10.40

ablaut Akkadian 2.10
operating in PIE 3.3, 3.41–3.42, 4.37, 5.27, Aktionsart 2.1, 2.5–2.8, 2.10–2.12, 2.15, 2.18,
5.34, 5.40–5.42, 6.26, 8.48–8.49, 10.9, 10.33, 5.18, Ep
10.39 diminutive 4.2
variation in endings 1.3, 1.5, 10.510, 10.1426, distributive 4.2, 4.4, 4.31, 5.46, 8.42181
10.15, 10.20 durative 2.3, 2.46, 2.5–2.7, 2.11, 2.1648, 2.17,
absolutive 4.35143, 4.44158, 9.1, 9.4–9.9, 9.11, 3.4097, 4.2, 4.13, 5.1–5.2, 8.42181, 10.35
9.13–9.15, 9.17, 9.22, 9.2481, 9.28, 10.510, essive 5.44
10.11, 10.1225, 10.19, 10.24, 10.30, 10.3773, fientive 5.44, 10.3460
10.38, 10.40; see also endings (nominal) inchoative 2.6, 8.42
accentuation 1.2, 3.42, 4.23–4.24, 5.27–5.28, intensive 2.6, 3.4097, 4.2, 4.5, 4.12–4.14,
5.49–5.50, 6.29, 7.1464, 8.18, 8.38, 8.50, 10.16, 4.16–4.17, 5.11, 5.36, 8.29132; see also intensive
10.19, 10.24, 10.32, 10.39 iterative 2.5–2.6, 2.11, 2.17–2.18, 3.4097, 4.2–4.3,
accusative 9.1, 9.4–9.8, 9.10, 9.1546, 9.17, 9.1865, 4.6, 4.13–4.14, 4.26, 4.27112, 4.27113, 4.30–4.31,
9.24, 10.11, 10.24, 10.35, 10.41; see also end- 5.36–5.37, 5.46–5.47, 8.29132, 8.42, 10.31
ings (nominal) momentative 2.3, 4.13–4.14
accusative alignment (accusativity) 9.1, 9.4–9.11, punctual/punctative 2.3–2.4, 2.6, 2.17, 3.35,
9.13, 9.15, 9.1649, 9.17, 9.19–9.24, 9.26–9.27, 5.1, Ep7
9.32, 10.2–10.3, 10.10–10.11, 10.2447, 10.31, stative 2.1648, 4.13–4.14, 5.1–5.2, 5.18, 10.3460
10.35, 10.37, 10.40–10.42, Ep telic vs. atelic 2.3, 2.4, 2.6–2.7, 2.10–2.11, 2.13,
split 9.9–9.10, 9.18 2.17–2.19, 3.1, 3.35–3.36, 4.3, 4.6, 4.14, 4.51,
acrostatic formations/paradigms 2.34, 3.11, 3.25, 5.18, 8.23, 10.3458, Ep7
3.28–3.29, 3.33, 3.40, 4.1777, 4.52179, 5.722, terminative 2.3, 2.6, 2.17
5.42161, 5.44167, T6.2, 6.1663, 8.523, 8.2195, Albanian 3.25, 5.34136, 5.51196, 6.728, 7.11
8.23107, 8.29, 8.30142, 8.33161, 8.47–8.50, alignment see accusative alignment, active
10.1941 alignment, ergative alignment
action nouns/nominals (nomina actionis) 3.41, alignment change 9.5–9.6, 9.13, 9.17–9.19,
5.34, 5.41–5.42, 8.53, 8.55, 10.18 9.21–9.25, 9.27, 9.30, 9.32, 10.1–10.2,
active (case) 9.16–9.17 10.10–10.11, 10.17, 10.19, 10.24, 10.30, 10.35,
active (voice) see voice 10.40–10.41, Ep
active (‘split-S’) alignment 9.15–9.20, 9.32, 10.1, alphathematic inflection 1.6, 1.8, 1.10, 1.12, T3.1,
10.1022, 10.2442, Ep 3.9, 5.12, T6.2, 8.2–8.3, 8.1875, 10.22
Aeolic 5.44174 Alutor 10.37
affectedness 3.35–3.36, 4.2 analogy
agency see agentivity among verbal endings 1.3–1.5, 1.8, 3.9, 5.1353,
agent nouns/nominals (nomina agentis) 2.10, 6.729, 8.2, 10.4–10.8, 10.14
4.47, 5.16–5.17, 5.24, 5.26–5.27, 5.29, 5.34, intraparadigmatic 1.6–1.8, 1.10, 1.12, 2.34, 3.1221,
5.38–5.42, 5.47, 5.51, 8.54–8.55, 10.24, 3.18–3.19, 4.12, T4.1, 5.4, 5.7, 5.33, 5.44,
10.30–10.31, Ep 6.11–6.12, 6.16–6.17, 8.9, 8.41180, 8.48,
agentivity 3.35, 9.1863, 9.22, 10.34 8.52–8.53, 10.16, 10.19, 10.22
705
706 General Index
analogy (cont.) special uses 5.29, 5.31, 7.15, 7.1680; see also aorist
principles 3.24, 3.32, 3.34, 4.12, 5.4, 5.7, 5.1353, (gnomic)
6.5, 6.7–6.9, T6.2, 6.20–6.21, 6.30, 8.2, 8.29, athematisation 1.1114, 4.20–4.21, 4.52–4.53, 6.7,
8.33161, 8.52, 10.4, 10.59 8.23105, 10.27
semantic 2.45, 2.57 Attic-Ionic 6.20
Anatolian 3.42, 4.9, 5.2499, 5.51, 9.821, 9.13, 9.2479, infinitives 1.15
10.5, 10.10; see also Hittite, Proto-Anatolian verbal endings 1.3–1.4, 5.13, 6.626, 8.211
verbal system 1.17–1.18, 2.8–2.15, 2.19, 4.10, augment 1.9, 7.1–7.38, 10.16, 10.20–10.21, Ep; see
4.12–4.13, 4.32, 4.38–4.40, 5.27, 5.31, 5.33, also Armenian, Avestan
5.39, 6.2888, 8.30, 8.36–8.37, 9.12, 10.1941, functional distribution 1.9, 2.6, 3.3, 6.26, 6.29,
10.2650, 10.29–10.30 7.1–7.38, Ep
Andi 9.47 geographical distribution 6.29, 7.1, 7.23
animacy 9.1, 9.5–9.11, 9.15, 9.17–9.18, 9.24, 9.26, in Homer 7.1–7.10, 7.21–7.22, 7.26–7.27, 7.31,
9.32, 10.10, 10.40 7.33146, 7.34, 7.38
animacy hierarchy 9.8–9.9, 9.11, 9.1337, 9.15, 9.22, in Mycenaean 7.2, 7.20–7.22, 7.34, 7.38
9.24, 10.37 in the pluperfect 5.12, 7.1, 7.3, 7.513
anticausative 10.3460, Ep7 in Vedic 6.3, 7.2–7.3, 7.21, 7.28–7.38
antipassive see voice long-vowel 7.1360
aorist 1.1–1.2, 1.9; see also Slavic origin 6.26, 6.29–6.30, 7.1, 7.3–7.4, 7.6,
gnomic 1.9, 5.29, 7.3, 7.8–7.9, 7.11, 7.11–7.15, 7.38, Ep
7.13–7.16, 7.38 Australian (languages) 9.47, 9.1337
intransitive/passive 1.10, 1.13, T6.1, 6.12, T6.2, Avar 9.47
8.8, 8.15–8.16, 10.19, 10.35, Ep Avestan 3.15, 4.16, 4.1775, 4.24, 4.48173, 5.931,
mixed T3.1, T6.2 5.35137, 5.36, 6.36, 8.12, 8.23111, 8.24113, 8.27,
resultative/with near-past reference 5.17, 7.37, 8.31, 8.46, 8.47204
7.516, 7.8–7.9, 7.11, 7.14, 7.1782, 7.21–7.23, augment 7.25107, 7.26–7.28, 7.31, 7.38
7.26–7.27, 7.29, 7.33–7.38 injunctive 7.30129, 7.30131
stem formation 1.10, 1.18, 2.7–2.8, 3.1; see also verbal endings 1.5–1.6, 5.50191, 8.25123
reduplicated aorist, root aorist, s-aorist, Aztec 4.2
thematic aorist, Vedic (is-aorist)
tragic/instantaneous 7.1680˙ backgrounding 8.42182, 9.2275, 10.35, 10.37–10.38
aoristic drift 5.24, 7.35–7.37 Baltic 5.32, 5.34136, 5.51, 7.11, 8.36167, 8.53228, Ep2;
applicative 5.37148, 6.29102 see also Balto-Slavic
Arcadian 1.8, 10.1427 future 8.23, 10.31
Arcado-Cyprian 1.4 verbal endings 1.54, 10.4, 10.2445
Aristarchus 7.4 Balto-Slavic 3.3384, 4.45162, 5.44174, 5.44175, 5.51196,
Armenian 1.1113, 3.11, 3.3075, 3.31, 5.24, 5.34136, 6.21, 6.28–6.29, 9.13, 10.5, Ep7
5.51196, 8.37168, 9.1233, 10.3459 Basque 9.25, 9.47, 9.6, 9.2791, 10.3773
aorist in -c‘- 2.1858, 7.24, 8.11 boundedness 4.4, 4.6, 4.14, 4.51, 7.4, 10.2, 10.41,
augment 7.1, 7.3, 7.24, 7.38 Ep; see also Aktionsart (telic vs. atelic),
thematic aorist 6.519, 6.7, 6.934, 7.24 telicity
aspect (perfective vs. imperfective) 1.9, 2.3, Brugmann’s Law 1.6
2.10–2.11, 2.15–2.19, 4.2–4.3, 4.4, 4.5–4.7, Bulgarian 4.619, 7.622, 7.15, 7.17
4.13–4.14, 4.31, 4.50–4.51, 7.14–7.19, 8.42, Burushaski 9.2688
9.21–9.22, 9.26–9.27, 9.32, 10.2, 10.18, 10.35,
10.37, 10.40–10.41, Ep Carib (languages) 9.47
antiquity in Indo-European 2.6–2.13, 2.15, Catalan 7.35
2.17–2.19, 3.1, 7.2297, 10.18, Ep Caucasian (languages) 9.12, 9.47, 9.1439, 9.17,
formal marking 2.5, 4.50; see also reduplication 9.1863, 9.21, 9.23, 9.2585, 9.2586
lexical see Aktionsart Celtiberian 8.2196
shift 2.17–2.18, 3.1–3.4, 3.25, 3.33, 4.6, Celtic 4.26, 4.32, 4.35, 5.34136, 7.1; see also
4.49–4.50, 6.1–6.3, 6.23, 6.28–6.30, 7.15, Proto-Celtic
8.54, 10.2, 10.17–10.18, 10.24, preterite 2.919, 3.23–3.24, 4.25, 5.1035, 5.24, 5.42,
10.40–10.42 8.1, 8.21, 8.47, 8.53
General Index 707
s-formations 8.1–8.2, 8.417, 8.524, 8.1242, 8.14, active 1.3, 1.5–1.6, 4.41–4.42, 5.33, 9.20,
8.21, 8.23109, 8.24114, 8.55 10.3–10.9, 10.11, 10.13–10.14, 10.16,
verbal endings 2.1440, 4.1255, 5.1138, 5.50191, Ep1 10.18–10.22, 10.24
Chinese athematic 1.2–1.6, 1.10–1.11, 1.18, 6.6–6.7, 8.2,
Cantonese 4.47169 10.4–10.9, 10.11, 10.13–10.14, 10.16,
Mandarin 4.5, 7.36, 7.15 10.18–10.20, 10.22
Chinookan 10.3774 imperative 1.23, 1.7, 8.27129
Chukchee 9.2688 middle 1.4–1.6, 2.918, 2.14, 4.41–4.42, 5.3,
Chukotko-Kamchatkan (languages) 9.47, 10.37 5.1034, 5.11, 6.5, 9.14, 9.20, 9.2481, 9.25,
collectivity (verbal/nominal) 4.24, 4.4–4.6, 4.10, 10.4–10.7, 10.13–10.15, 10.1736, 10.18–10.19,
4.14, 4.53, 10.2 10.22, 10.25, Ep1
comparative reconstruction 1.18, 2.16, 2.19, 6.10, primary 1.2–1.7, 1.9, 2.6, 2.10, 2.14, 2.17, 2.19,
10.40 5.11, 6.3, 7.30131, 10.4, 10.6, 10.13–10.14,
compensatory lengthening 3.25, 8.4, 8.47, 8.50 10.18–10.19, 10.21
conjunction reduction 7.7, 10.37 secondary 1.2–1.9, 2.6, 2.10, 2.19, 3.3, 5.11,
Cowgill’s Law 1.1112, 1.1416, 5.35138 7.30131, 10.4–10.9, 10.11, 10.13–10.15, 10.19,
Czech 7.1569 10.21–10.22, 10.2447
thematic 1.2, 1.5, 1.10–1.11, 1.18, 8.2,
dative 9.16–9.17, 9.22–9.23, 10.35 9.27, 10.4, 10.9, 10.11, 10.15,
deictic (pronoun/particle) 4.43157, 6.1245, 10.20–10.21, 10.24
7.10–7.11, 7.1463, 7.30131, 8.39172, 8.54232, English 1.16, 2.6, 2.16, 3.610, 4.37, 4.14, 4.51178,
9.29100 5.14, 5.25, 5.31119, 6.20, 7.516, 7.8, 7.10,
denominal verbs 1.11, 2.9, 2.18, 3.2, T3.1, 3.4096, 7.1572, 7.33, 7.35, 8.15, 9.17, 10.10,
T4.1, 4.1670, 4.1671, T4.2, 4.17, 4.53, 5.8, 5.10, 10.37, 10.39, Ep
5.34–5.35, 5.38, 5.44, 5.46–5.47, 6.2, 6.16, epanadiplosis 4.2
6.19, 8.4, 8.1672, 8.22, 8.37170, 8.54, 10.4, ergative 9.1, 9.4–9.15, 9.1862, 9.1863, 9.21, 9.24,
10.31, 10.34–10.36 9.28, 9.30, 10.510, 10.11, 10.24, 10.40; see also
deponents 4.41152, 5.36, 5.38, 8.21100; see also Latin endings (nominal)
dereduplication 2.1545, T3.1, 3.29–3.30, T4.1, 5.30, ergative alignment (ergativity) 9.1–9.32, 10.1–10.3,
5.32, 5.33125, 8.30 10.5–10.7, 10.10–10.13, 10.17, 10.19, 10.24,
desiderative 10.30–10.31, 10.35, 10.37–10.38,
in Greek (-σειε/o-) 8.15, 8.23106, 8.23111 10.40–10.42, Ep
in Indo-Iranian/Vedic 8.13–8.15 morphological vs. syntactic 10.37–10.38
in Proto-Indo-European 8.13–8.15, 8.2087, split 9.8–9.9, 9.11, 9.21, 9.26–9.27, 9.32, 10.40,
8.23107, 8.30, 8.35165, 8.45194, 8.53, 10.2952 10.42, Ep; see also Hittite
directional (case) 9.4, 9.6, 9.22, 9.24, 10.35, 10.38; Eskimo 9.47
see also endings (nominal) essive see Aktionsart
distributive see Aktionsart experiencing verbs 5.36, 6.12, 6.17, 9.16–9.17,
Doric 1.3, 1.15, 6.20 9.20, 10.34–10.35
Drewitt’s Rule 7.7, 7.13, 7.24104
dual see number factitivity 3.36, 4.32, 5.36–5.39, 8.9–8.11, 8.44191,
Dyirbal 9.47, 10.3774 10.34
fientive see Aktionsart
e-grade see ablaut Finno-Ugric (languages) 9.14
endings, nominal 4.35143, 5.28, 8.51223, 8.52226, First Law of Analogy 7.4
8.53230, 8.54, 9.1, 9.4–9.7, 9.9–9.10, 9.17, Fourth Law of Analogy 3.34, 3.36, 5.50193, T6.2,
9.24, 10.510, 10.11, 10.1225, 10.19, 10.24, 10.30, 6.25, 10.4–10.5
10.3773, 10.40–10.41, Ep French 4.3, 7.9, 7.1784, 8.53229, 9.1127, Ep
endings, verbal 1.1–1.6, 2.9, 2.14–2.15, 5.3, future 1.1–1.2; see also Baltic, Italic, Latin
5.48–5.50, 6.7, 9.1131, 9.12–9.14, 9.17–9.18, in Greek 1.1–1.2, 1.9, 1.13, 8.12–8.20, 8.23106,
9.20, 9.25, 9.27–9.30, 9.32, 10.2–10.22, 8.55, 10.22
10.24–10.25, 10.39–10.40, 10.42, Ep; see also in Indo-Iranian/Vedic 8.12, 8.15,
Attic-Ionic, Avestan, Baltic, Celtic, Hittite, 8.23, 10.31
Indo-Iranian, Italic, Latin, Tocharian, passive 1.13, 8.16
Vedic periphrastic in Sanskrit 2.10, 4.47
708 General Index
future (cont.) participles 5.2499, 10.10
stem formation 1.13, 8.12–8.19, 8.23106, 8.23107, reduplicated verbs 3.1324, 4.8–4.14, 4.40, 5.31,
10.22 5.51, 8.45195
suffix 1.13, 1.18, 8.12–8.19, 10.22 split ergativity 9.8
voice 1.13, 8.15–8.19, 8.55 split genitive 9.16
future perfect 1.1–1.2, 1.9 verbal endings 1.3–1.5, 2.9, 2.14, 4.12, 4.38,
periphrastic 1.13 4.42154, 5.3, 5.1140, 5.33, 5.49–5.50, 5.42160,
stem formation 1.13 8.30–8.32, 9.2794, 10.4–10.5,
10.14, Ep1
gender (nominal) 9.6, 9.9–9.10, Homeric Greek
9.16–9.17 artificial forms 3.6, T3.1, 3.1016, 3.14, T4.1,
genitive 9.4–9.5, 9.821, 9.16–9.17, 9.2487, 10.3773; T6.2, 6.14, 7.2, 8.19
see also endings (nominal) infinitives 1.15
Georgian 4.412, 4.619, 9.1863, 9.21, 9.23 past iteratives 7.6, 7.9, 7.1155, 7.13, 7.17, 7.24,
German 2.16, 4.4, 5.37146, 7.35, 9.17, Ep 8.37, 8.42182, 8.43
Germanic 2.9, 3.13, 4.515, 4.22, 4.41152, 4.46166, Hungarian 4.619
5.24, 5.27, 5.41152, 5.51, 6.21, 6.728, 6.28, 7.11, Hurrian 9.17, 9.1863
8.1, 9.13, 9.2071, 10.4–10.5, Ep2, Ep7; see also
Proto-Germanic imperative 1.1, 1.7, 2.15, 6.1137, 7.1, 7.16, 7.28115,
jan-causatives 5.34, 5.36 8.27129, 10.40
preterite 2.919, 3.25, 5.32 imperfect 1.1–1.2, 1.9, 4.31128, 7.36–7.37
preterite-presents 2.1128, 5.32 augmentation 6.26, 7.5, 7.17–7.19, 7.27, 7.33,
weak verbs (Class III) 5.44170 7.37–7.38
glottalic theory 1.1920 imperfective see aspect
Gothic 2.919, 4.515, 4.30, 4.46166, 5.2497, impersonal constructions/verbs 5.50, 9.4, 9.1545,
5.36 9.16–9.17, 10.8, 10.2445, Ep1
Graeco-Aryan (PIE) 1.4, 1.17–1.18, 2.2, 2.9, 3.5, inactive (case) 9.16–9.17
3.32, 5.11, 5.32122, 8.1 indicative 1.1, 2.15, 7.1
grammaticalisation 6.2584, 7.35 individuation 3.35–3.36, 9.14
Grassmann’s Law 5.613, 8.523 Indo-Hittite hypothesis 2.8–2.9, 2.13
Indo-Iranian 1.16, 2.2–2.3, 2.7, 2.9, 2.1330, 3.11,
habituality 4.3, 4.51178, 5.18, 5.22, 5.24, 5.29, 3.13, 3.3383, 3.40, 4.36, 5.27107, 5.34, 5.36, 5.41,
5.37–5.39, 7.622, 7.15, 7.17–7.18, 7.30131, 7.1, 7.13, 7.16, 7.27, 8.29136, 8.35, 8.45,
10.3773 8.50220, 9.12–9.13, 9.22, 9.26, 10.5, 10.1941; see
h2(e)-conjugation 2.15–2.16, 2.19, 4.12, 4.24, 4.41, also desiderative, future, intensive, i̯-present,
5.33, 5.49, 8.30, 9.12, 9.16, 9.18, 9.25, 9.32, perfect, pluperfect, Proto-Indo-Iranian,
10.1, 10.3–10.8, 10.13–10.14, 10.17, 10.19, reduplicated aorist, reduplicated present,
10.24 root aorist, s-aorist, stative, thematic aorist,
Hebrew 7.1569 tudáti present
Herodotus 7.6 passive in -ya- 2.1334, 8.25123, 10.3355,
Hindi 9.1233 10.34–10.35
Hittite 1.17, 2.8–2.11, 2.13, 2.17, 3.33, 3.3892, 4.34, verbal endings 1.3–1.7, 5.928, 5.1140, 6.5, 6.625,
5.31, 5.50190, 6.1137, 6.2888, 7.11, 8.31–8.36, 10.4–10.6, 10.14, 10.19
8.55, 9.46, 9.13, 9.1545, 9.16–9.17, 9.2072, infinitive 1.15
10.614, 10.12, 10.3773; see also Anatolian injunctive 2.6, 4.43156, 4.47169, 6.2687, 7.1, 7.3,
allative 9.1545, 9.2379 7.516, 7.517, 7.12, 7.1466, 7.21, 7.2295,
fientives in -ešš- 8.36, 8.55 7.25–7.34, 7.37–7.38, 8.2195, 8.23–8.24, 8.27,
hi-conjugation 1.17, 2.9–2.14, 2.1545, 2.1648, 8.46, 8.51; see also Avestan
˘ 2.19, 4.8–4.9, 4.12–4.13, 4.36, 4.38–4.40, 5.3, instrumental 9.4–9.6, Ep
5.27, 5.31, 5.33, 5.38, 5.39150, 5.50193, 5.51, 8.30, intensive 4.6, 4.9–4.10, 4.16–4.17, 5.21, 8.44191; see
8.54, 9.12, 10.5, 10.1941, 10.29–10.30, 10.3460, also Aktionsart
10.3977 in Indo-Iranian/Vedic 3.11, 3.1527, 3.41100, 4.621,
imperfectives in -šša-, -ške/a- 2.9, 2.12, 4.9, 7.6, 4.17, 4.21, 4.23
8.37, 8.40, 8.41180, 8.42181, 8.42182, 8.45195, internal reconstruction 1.18, 2.16, 2.19, Ep
10.29 Ionic 6.20, 7.6
General Index 709
Italian 7.1784, 7.35, 9.1127 Laz 9.1863, 9.2173
Italic 5.24, 5.44174, 6.21, 6.12, 6.28, 8.417, 8.524, Leskien’s Law 10.42
8.12, 8.14, 8.1670, 8.20, 8.27, 8.55, 9.13; see also locative 9.47, 9.1545, 10.18
Latin, Proto-Italic, Sabellic Luwian 2.13, 4.924, 4.1046, 5.39150, 6.12, 7.12
future 8.20 Lycian 5.39150, Ep6
perfect 2.919, 3.23–3.25, 4.25, 5.1140, 6.12 Lydian 5.50191
reduplicated present 4.19, 4.26, 4.32
verbal endings 2.1440, 3.23–3.24, 5.1140, Ep1 markedness 7.15, 9.7, 10.11
iterative see Aktionsart Mayan (languages) 9.2688, 10.37
iterative-causative present see present in *-ei̯e/o- m(i)-conjugation 2.15–2.16, 2.19, 4.24, 5.49, 9.12,
iterativity 4.3, 4.14, 8.42 9.16, 9.18, 9.25, 9.32, 10.1, 10.3, 10.5,
i̯-present (present in *-i̯e/o-) 2.9, 2.12–2.13, 2.18, 10.7–10.8, 10.11, 10.13–10.14, 10.17, 10.19,
4.9, 4.16–4.17, 4.49, 6.2, 8.4, 8.12, 10.24
10.31–10.39, 10.42, Ep; see also reduplicated middle (mediopassive) see voice
present (with suffix *-i̯e/o-) Middle Indic 4.24100, 7.3, 8.23110
accentuation 10.33 Middle Persian 9.12
in Greek 1.11, 10.33–10.35 Mingrelian (Megrelian) 9.1863, 9.21–9.23, 9.30
in Indo-Iranian/Vedic 10.3355, 10.34–10.35 Miwok 5.37146
productivity 1.11, 8.4, 8.23, 10.36 mood 1.1, 7.1, 7.16, 9.22, 10.40; see also imperative,
stem formation 1.11, 4.16–4.17, 6.29, 8.4, indicative, injunctive, optative, subjunctive
10.3254, 10.33, 10.35 Mycenaean 1.4, 5.9, 5.1245, 6.6, 6.15, 7.2,
transitivity and voice 4.17, 10.34–10.35 7.20–7.22, 7.34, 7.38, 8.1875, 10.1427
with compound suffixes 1.11, 4.17, 8.23, 8.39174,
10.3460 ν ephelkystikon 6.626, 8.2
Narten formations see acrostatic formations/
Jacaltec 9.511 paradigms
Japanese 4.5, 5.25 nasal infix 1.11, 2.6, 2.9, Ep
nasal present 1.11, 2.9–2.10, 2.16, 2.18, 4.49,
κ-aorist 1.10, 6.12–6.13, 8.211, 8.39, 10.16; see also 5.39149, 6.27, 8.827, 10.3463, 10.3565, Ep
root aorist neo-roots T3.1, 3.33, T4.1, T4.2, 4.25105
κ-perfect 1.12–1.13, 5.7–5.8, 6.12, 8.39 νεογνός-rule 3.812
k-present (present in *-ke/o-) 1.11, 6.1245, 8.39 Nepali 9.2687
Kartvelian (languages) see Caucasian nominal verb 2.921, 2.10–2.13, 2.19, 5.29–5.34,
kinesis 3.35 5.39, 5.48–5.51, 6.1, 8.30, 10.4, 10.6, 10.11,
Kuikúro 9.47 10.15, 10.29–10.30
̯
*k uetu̯ óres rule 4.22, 5.28 nominalisation 5.29
nominative 9.1, 9.4–9.11, 9.13, 9.17, 9.2481, 9.2482,
Lachmann’s Law 8.47208 9.28, 10.5–10.6, 10.11, 10.18; see also endings
Ladakhi 9.47 (nominal)
Lak 9.47 number 1.1–1.2, 4.24, 6.522, 7.5, 7.8, 10.11; see also
laryngeals collectivity, plurality
articulation 6.24
hardening 8.39 o-grade see ablaut
loss/weakening T3.1, 3.8, 3.39, 4.20, 6.24, 6.27, Old Irish 3.23, 5.1035, 7.14, 8.13–8.15, 8.21; see also
7.3, 8.13, 10.3460 Celtic
Latin Old Persian 7.25, 7.27, 8.25123, 8.31, 9.12
deponents 4.41152, 8.40, 9.1649 onomatopoetic formations 4.9, 4.16–4.17, 5.7,
future 1.7, 8.12, 8.20 5.21, 6.22
perfect 1.16, 3.23–3.25, 3.30, 4.514, 4.25, 5.4, 5.18, optative 1.1, 1.7–1.8, 2.15, 6.2997, 7.1, 7.16, 7.37162,
5.24, 5.42, 6.8, 6.24, 8.1, 8.20, 8.40, 8.47 8.13, 10.40, Ep; see also Vedic
subjunctive 1.8, 8.20 ‘Aeolic’ 1.810, 8.23106
verbal endings 1.3, 1.5–1.6, 5.1140, 5.49–5.50, 8.32 endings 1.2, 1.4, 1.7–1.8
verbal system 1.16 function 1.8, 8.1355, 10.4078
vowel weakening/syncope 3.41 marker 1.8, 6.5–6.6, 10.4078
Law of Limitation 7.1464 Oscan 8.20, 8.47205
710 General Index
Osthoff’s Law 3.11, 8.1, 8.46 Phrygian 5.50191, 6.728, 6.12, 7.1, 7.23, Ep1
Pinault’s Rule 5.44, 10.3460
Paelignian 1.66 Pindar 5.14
Pali 7.37164 Plautus 1.6
Papuan (languages) 9.47 pluperfect 1.1–1.2, 1.9, 2.15, 3.46, 4.1148, 5.927,
paradigmatic iconicity 10.11 5.10–5.13, 5.21, 10.30; see also augment
participle and reduplicated aorist 3.19–3.22, 5.1242
active 1.14, 5.26104, 5.41, 6.6, 10.9–10.12, 10.42 endings 1.4, 3.20, 5.10–5.13, 8.26
future 8.1356, 8.1357 in Indo-Iranian/Vedic 3.20–3.22, 4.2193, 5.927,
middle (mediopassive) 1.14, 4.35, 4.41, 4.45, 5.11–5.12, 5.50195
5.40–5.41, 10.12, 10.19, 10.24, Ep4 thematic 5.12, 5.1347, 5.1349, 5.1353
passive 1.14, 2.10, 4.35, 4.41, 5.41, 10.10 plural see number
perfect 1.12, 1.14, 5.4, 5.7, 5.10, 5.16, 5.20 plurality (verbal/nominal) 4.2, 4.4–4.6
passive see voice polymorphy 4.27–4.28, 4.30, 10.3569
perfect 1.1, 2.10, 2.13–2.16, 2.19, 5.1–5.51, 8.20, possession, alienable vs. inalienable 9.16–9.17
9.12, 9.18, 10.2, 10.24, 10.30, Ep; see also Pre-Proto-Indo-European 4.44158, 8.54, 9.1–9.32,
Italic, Latin 10.1–10.15, 10.24, 10.31, 10.35,
ablaut 1.12, 2.9, 3.23–3.24, 4.11, 5.1, 5.4–5.9, 5.14, 10.37–10.42, Ep
5.27, 5.49–5.51, 10.30 present 1.1–1.2, 1.9
accentuation 5.27–5.28, 5.49–5.50, 10.30 actual/progressive vs. general/habitual 2.6,
aspirated 1.12, 3.1325 2.17, 5.16, 5.29, 7.8, 7.13, 7.1466, 7.15, 7.28,
continuous 5.14, 5.16, 5.20, 5.22–5.23, 7.35 7.30, 10.18
endings 1.4, 1.6, 1.8–1.9, 1.18, 2.9, 2.14, 3.23, historical 7.10
4.41, 5.1, 5.3, 5.9, 5.48–5.51, 8.2, 8.30, 8.53, stem formation 1.10–1.11, 1.18, 2.6–2.8, 2.12;
9.14, 9.27, 9.30, 10.4–10.7, 10.13, 10.15, see also acrostatic formations/paradigms,
10.1839, 10.30 i̯-present, k-present, nasal present, present
in Greek 1.1, 1.4, 1.6, 1.8–1.9, 1.12, 5.2–5.9, in *-de/o-, present in *-d he/o-, present in
5.14–5.23, 5.51, 6.1248, 6.17, 8.44191 *-ei̯e/o-, present in *-sk̑ e/o-, present in
in Indo-Iranian/Vedic 5.2, 5.4, 5.9, 5.18, *-te/o-, reduplicated present, root
5.21–5.23, 5.28, 5.51, 7.36 present, s-present, thematic present,
intensive 5.11, 5.7, 5.20–5.21, 5.23, 5.51 u-present
long-vocalic 1.12, 3.1221, 5.7–5.8, 5.44 present in *-de/o- Ep2
merger with aorist 3.23–3.24, 5.17–5.18, 5.24, present in *-d he/o- Ep2, Ep3
5.51, 7.35, 8.30, 8.32 present in *-ei̯e/o- 1.11, 2.18, 3.2354, 5.34–5.39, T5.4,
middle 5.7, 5.9–5.11, 5.14, 6.1768, 10.30 5.43–5.47, T5.5, 5.51, 8.54, 10.31
nactostatic 3.20, 5.9, 5.17–5.25, 5.26, 5.51, Ep root vocalism 1.11, 5.34, 5.43, 5.45, 5.47, 10.31
present reference 1.6, 1.9, 2.15, 5.14–5.25 Sanskrit Class X 3.16–3.18, 3.22, 3.2354, 5.34,
reduplication syllable 1.12, 2.9, 3.10, 3.12, 4.25, 5.36, 5.46185, 8.25, 8.45
5.1–5.2, 5.29–5.30, 5.50–5.51, 6.2584 semantics 5.36–5.39, 5.46–5.47
resultative 1.12, 2.921, 5.14, 5.1348, 5.14–5.17, 5.22, present in *-i̯e/o- see i̯-present
5.51, 7.9, 7.35 present in *-ke/o- see k-present
stative/intransitive 1.9, 2.9, 2.15, 4.11, 5.1, 5.7, present in -νῡ-/-νυ- see nasal present
5.9–5.11, 5.14–5.24, 5.26, 5.44, 7.35, 10.30, Ep present in *-se/o- see s-present
stem formation 1.12, 2.9–2.10, 2.12–2.14, 3.6, present in *-sk̑ e/o- 1.11, 2.9, 2.18, 4.49, 8.23110,
3.23–3.24, 4.11, 5.1–5.2, 5.4–5.8, T5.1, T5.2, 8.28–8.29, 8.37–8.45, 8.55, 10.28–10.29; see
T5.3; see also κ-perfect also reduplicated present (with suffix
transitive 1.12, 2.921, 3.19, 3.22, 5.14, 5.927, *-sk̑ e/o-)
5.10–5.11, 5.13–5.17, 9.2071 in Greek 1.11, 8.43–8.44, T8.4
perfective see aspect semantics 8.42
perfectivity stem formation 8.29, 8.37169, 8.38,
and tense 4.6, 7.15 8.41, 10.28
and transitivity 3.36, 6.29, 9.30 present in *-te/o- Ep2
performatives see aspect (special uses) present in *-u̯ e/o- see u-present
person (verbal) 1.1–1.2, 1.18, 7.9, 8.2, 8.13, 10.4, preterite see Celtic, Germanic, Slavic, Tocharian
10.40 preverbation 2.17, 4.6–4.7, 6.29102, 7.4, 7.622, 7.15
General Index 711
primary *-i 1.2–1.6, 2.6, 2.9–2.11, 2.14, 3.1, 4.11, productivity 3.14, 3.16–3.17, 3.22
4.42, 4.45, 5.3, 5.1140, 5.31, 7.1, 7.30, 8.32, replaced by s-aorist T3.1, 3.14, 3.32, 4.51,
9.12, 9.27, 10.4, 10.11, 10.13–10.14, 8.5–8.7, 8.11
10.18–10.19, 10.24 stem formation 1.10, 3.4, T3.1, 3.8–3.13, 3.20,
progressive imperfective drift 4.3, 7.19, 7.30131 3.39, 3.41–3.42, 6.24, 6.27, 10.20
progressivity, focalised vs. durative 7.19, 8.42 reduplicated present 1.11, 4.1–4.53, 8.41, 8.44,
prohibitive 1.7, 3.20–3.21, 7.25, 7.28–7.30, 10.26–10.27, Ep; see also Hittite, Italic,
7.34, 7.37 reduplication
pronouns accentuation 4.23–4.24
demonstrative 4.42153, 8.54232, 9.4, 9.719, 9.11, Aktionsart and telicity 2.5–2.6, 3.17, 4.1, T4.1,
9.14, 9.28–9.30, 10.3254, 10.3776, 10.40; see T4.2, 4.26–4.33, 8.23
also deictic cognates in Anatolian 4.9, 4.12, 4.19, 4.40,
interrogative 7.24, 10.3776 4.53, 5.31
personal 5.50, 8.54232, 9.8, 9.11–9.14, 9.16–9.17, in Greek 1.11, 4.15–4.17, T4.1, T4.2, 4.18–4.20,
9.1865, 9.28–9.30, 9.32, 10.5–10.6, 10.1635, 4.22–4.26, 4.30–4.33, 4.53
10.1837, 10.24, 10.37, 10.40, 10.42, Ep in Indo-Iranian/Vedic 4.16–4.17, 4.20–4.29,
reflexive 4.42153 4.53, 6.38, 6.732
relative 10.3254, 10.3773, 10.38, 10.42 paired with root aorist T4.1, 4.20–4.23,
Proto-Anatolian 2.921, 2.11, 2.13–2.14, 8.36 4.49–4.52
Proto-Celtic 3.23–3.24 stem formation 1.11, 3.4, 3.21, T4.1, 4.18–4.25,
Proto-Germanic 5.32122 4.33, 8.14
Proto-Greek 1.5, 1.15, 2.68, 3.9, 3.11, 3.13–3.14, 3.21, thematic vs. athematic T4.1, 4.18–4.21, 4.24,
4.15, 4.23, 5.7, 5.9, 5.11–5.12, 6.6–6.7, 4.26, 4.33, 4.53, 10.27
6.9–6.10, 6.15, 6.21–6.22, 8.2, transitivity 4.32–4.33
10.14–10.16, Ep voice 4.28, 4.33
Proto-Indo-European phonology 1.19, 3.25, 3.38, with suffix *-i̯e/o- 4.16–4.17, T4.2
4.19, 4.25107, 8.39, 8.51–8.52, 9.13; see also with suffix *-sk̑ e/o- 4.16, 4.1777, 4.32,
ablaut 8.44–8.45, 8.55
Proto-Indo-Hittite 1.17, 2.8, 2.10–2.15 reduplication
Proto-Indo-Iranian 1.5, 3.15, 3.18, 3.21, 5.9, 6.5, Attic 3.10–3.13, 3.18, 3.3075, 5.5
6.28, 6.2995, 7.31, 7.37, 8.31 full 3.11–3.12, 3.41100, 4.6, 4.9,
Proto-Italic 3.23–3.25, 3.30, 3.40, 8.1, 4.16–4.17, 5.21
8.20, 8.32 function 3.4, 3.17, 3.43, 4.1–4.6, 4.14, 4.28, 4.33,
proto-middle 2.14, 2.16, 4.24, 8.30, 10.1, 10.14 4.51, 4.53, 5.1, 5.26, 5.29, 5.51, 6.1, 8.5, 8.7,
Proto-Slavic 5.24, 8.22104 9.27, 10.2, 10.40, 10.42, Ep
Proto-Tocharian 3.27–3.28, 3.30, 3.40, 8.29–8.30, iconicity 2.5, 4.2, 4.5–4.6, 4.14, 4.53
8.32, 8.39173, 8.45196 of initial clusters 3.13
vocalism 1.11–1.12, 3.4, 3.10, 3.15–3.19, 3.21, 3.27,
Quileute 4.2 3.30–3.31, 4.10–4.12, T4.1, T4.2, 4.18,
4.24–4.25, 4.51177, 4.53, 6.24, 8.44190, 10.510,
reduplicated aorist 1.10, 2.7, 2.18, 3.1–3.43, 10.26
6.1, 6.24–6.26, 6.29–6.30, 8.41, 8.44–8.45, relative clauses 10.37–10.39
10.20, 10.26, 10.28, 10.41, Ep; see also Rix’s Law 3.1841
reduplication root aorist 2.3–2.4, 2.7, 2.17–2.19, 3.1, 3.4, 4.43,
accentuation 3.42, 10.20 6.1, 6.4–6.23, 6.29–6.30, 8.30, 8.34, 8.41,
and pluperfect 3.19–3.22 8.43, 8.54, 9.30–9.31, 10.16–10.19, 10.22,
antiquity 3.14, 3.31–3.37, 3.40–3.43, 4.7 10.28, 10.41, Ep
athematic T3.1, 3.9, 3.1943, 3.21, 3.39–3.41, 4.10 ablaut (stem formation) 1.10, 6.5–6.6, 6.11,
factitive/causative 3.6, T3.1, 3.14, 3.16–3.19, 8.49, 8.51, 10.16
3.21–3.23, 3.26, 3.28–3.32, 3.34, 3.36, 6.25, in Greek 6.11–6.22, T6.1, T6.2, 8.3–8.4, 8.6,
8.11, 8.44–8.45 8.9, 8.11, 8.46–8.47
in Greek 1.10, 3.5–3.14, T3.1, 4.25, 8.5–8.7, 8.11, in Indo-Iranian/Vedic 6.4–6.5, 6.25, 6.29,
8.44–8.45 8.24, 8.26, 8.46
in Indo-Iranian/Vedic 3.15–3.22, paired with characterised present 2.6, 2.13,
8.45 4.49, 4.52, 10.26
712 General Index
root formations Slavic 5.1140, 5.32124, 5.34, 7.11, 8.827, 8.23111, 9.13,
endings 1.3, 1.10, 6.6 9.17; see also Balto-Slavic, Proto-Slavic
telic vs. atelic 2.3, 2.6, 2.17–2.18, aorist 3.2560, 6.7, 8.1, 8.417, 8.524, 8.22, 8.24114,
3.1 8.36, 8.47, 8.55
root nouns 2.10, 9.2482 aspect 2.1330, 2.17, 4.6–4.7, 4.26109, 4.31130,
root present 5.29, 5.31119, 7.622, 7.15, 7.2296
athematic 1.11, 2.3, 2.7, 2.10–2.11, 2.18, 3.1, 4.43, l-participle/preterite 5.24–5.25
4.44159, 4.45, 4.48, 5.33125, T6.2, 8.6, 8.33, Spanish 7.1784
8.48, 8.49220, 8.50, 10.17–10.19, 10.23, 10.26, stative see also Aktionsart
10.41 in *-eh1- 1.10, 5.824, 5.1353, 5.36, 5.44, 8.36, 8.42,
paired with characterised aorist 2.6, 8.5 8.55, 10.31, Ep
thematic 1.11, 2.7, 2.11, 4.27–4.28, 4.33–4.45, in Indo-Iranian/Vedic 4.34, 5.3, 5.42, 5.50191,
4.48–4.51, 4.53, 5.31, 5.33–5.35, T5.4, 5.46, 5.51, 10.19, 10.25
6.6, 8.4–8.8, T8.1, T8.2, 8.14, 8.29133, 8.39, in Proto-Indo-European 4.34–4.37, 4.41–4.42,
8.41, 8.49220, 8.55, 10.23–10.24, 10.26, 10.31, 5.2–5.3, 5.40–5.42, 5.50194, 5.51, 8.53, 9.2482,
10.39, Ep; see also tudáti present 9.30, 10.12, 10.14–10.15, 10.24–10.25, Ep1
voice 4.28, 4.44, 5.40151, 8.15, 8.25, 8.40 subjunctive 1.1, 1.7, 2.15, 6.29, 7.1, 7.16, 7.37162,
Russian 4.4, 4.515, 4.6–4.7, 4.51178, 5.31119, 8.12–8.19, 8.27, 8.49, 8.52, Ep; see also Latin,
7.15, Ep4 Tocharian
endings 1.2, 1.7, 4.47170
s-aorist 2.7, 2.11, 2.13, 2.18, 3.1–3.2, 3.4, 3.9, function 1.7, 4.46–4.47, 8.12–8.13,
8.1–8.55, 9.28–9.32, 10.22, 10.28, 10.41, Ep 8.15–8.16, 8.23
ablaut 8.2–8.4, 8.24, 8.26, 8.29–8.30, 8.38, marker 1.7, 1.13, 1.18, 4.43, 4.46, 4.48, 6.521, 6.6,
8.46–8.54, 10.22 8.2, 8.16
augmentation 7.5, 7.13 origin 4.45–4.48, 4.52, 10.24, 10.26
endings 1.3, 1.6, 1.8, 3.9, 5.13, 10.22 short-vocalic 1.7, 1.13, 3.9, 4.46, 8.2, 8.12, 8.1567,
in Greek 1.3, 1.6, 1.8, 1.10–1.11, 1.13, 8.2–8.11, 8.1670
T8.1, T8.2, T8.3, 8.16–8.17, 8.24, 8.36, Sumerian 4.2, 9.1759, 9.1863, 9.2688
8.46–8.47, 8.51–8.52, 8.55 suppletion 2.6, 4.50176
in Indo-Iranian/Vedic 2.18, 6.518, 8.2–8.3, Swahili 5.37146
8.1138, 8.24–8.27, 8.46, 8.55 Swedish 7.35155
paired with i̯-present 1.11, 8.4 Swiss German 7.35
paired with thematic root present 1.10, 8.4–8.5, Szemerényi’s Law 8.51–8.52
T8.1, 8.14, 8.25, 10.26
productivity 1.10, 3.2, 3.14, 3.32, 6.10, 6.12–6.14, telicity 4.6, 4.51, 7.4, 10.2, Ep; see also Aktionsart,
T6.2, 6.16, 6.18–6.22, 6.2999, 6.30, 7.5, 8.1, boundedness
8.5, 8.7, 8.24, 8.26 as a phrasal property 2.4, 5.19
stem formation 1.10, 1.13, 6.1768, 8.2–8.3, tense 1.1–1.2, 7.1, 9.21–9.23, 9.26–9.27, 9.32,
8.12–8.14, 8.18, 8.46–8.52, 10.22 10.2447, 10.40, Ep; see also aorist, future,
transitivity T6.1, 6.14, 6.19, 6.22, 8.7–8.12, future perfect, imperfect, perfect, pluper-
T8.3, 8.16, 8.19–8.27, 8.29–8.30, 8.35–8.36, fect, present
8.53–8.55, 9.30–9.31, 10.22, Ep introduction in PIE 2.11–2.12, 2.17, 2.19, 3.1,
s-present (present in *-se/o-) 1.11, 2.7, 2.13, 2.18, 7.1, 9.27, Ep
3.2, 8.1241, 8.1356, 8.2195, 8.23107, 8.28–8.29, tense stems 1.1, 1.9–1.13
8.33, 8.41, 8.49, 8.54, 10.23, 10.2951 thematic aorist 2.18, 3.1, 3.3–3.4, 4.43, 6.1–6.30,
Sabellic 3.23, 8.20 7.3, 8.2, 8.6–8.7, 10.1736, 10.21, Ep; see also
Saussure’s Law 10.42 Armenian
secondary imperfectives 4.7, 4.33, 4.51, accentuation 6.29, 10.21
4.53, 8.23, 8.37, 8.41–8.44, 8.55, in Greek 1.10–1.11, 6.6–6.7, 6.9–6.10,
10.26, 10.28, 10.32, Ep 6.13–6.14, T6.2, 6.15–6.23, 6.27–6.28, 6.30,
Semitic 2.10, 5.2496 8.6–8.8, T8.2, 8.11
Shina 9.2687 in Indo-Iranian/Vedic 6.4–6.5, 6.7–6.9, 6.25,
Shoshone 5.37146 6.29, 8.827, 8.24
sigmatic aorist see s-aorist origin 3.3, 6.2–6.10, 6.13–6.14, T6.2, 6.15–6.16,
singular see number 6.19–6.26, 6.30, 10.21
General Index 713
paired with nasal present 1.11 Vedic (Sanskrit) see also augment, desiderative,
stem formation 1.10, 3.3, 6.2, 6.5, 6.15–6.16, future, intensive, i̯-present, perfect,
6.19–6.22, 6.24–6.25, 6.27 pluperfect, present in *-ei̯e/o-, reduplicated
transitivity 6.17, 6.21–6.22, 6.25, 6.29, 8.8 aorist, reduplicated present, root aorist, s-
thematic conjugation 1.5, 1.7, 1.10, 1.18, 2.1544, aorist, stative, thematic aorist, tudáti present
3.38, 4.36, 10.2, 10.11–10.12, 10.24–10.25 is-aorist 3.17, 5.1350, 8.2197, 8.24,
thematic present see root present (thematic), ˙ 8.26–8.27, 8.46
tudáti present optative 6.5, 8.27
thematic vowel 1.5, 1.7–1.8, 3.3, 3.37–3.41, 4.19, precative 8.31
4.33, 4.36–4.37, 4.43155, 4.43157, 4.48–4.51, verbal endings 1.3–1.8, 5.3, 5.11, 5.49, 6.2687
4.53, 8.41, 10.28, 10.33, 10.39 verbal system 1.16, 2.2, 7.19, 7.36–7.38
thematisation 3.39–3.40, 4.10, 4.12, T4.1, 4.19, Venetic 8.2086, 8.24114
4.43, 4.45–4.46, 4.49, 5.12, 5.33, 6.4–6.7, 6.9, verbal adjectives
T6.2, 6.14, 6.19–6.21, 6.2585, 8.1241 in -τέο- 1.14
Thessalian 6.627 in -τό-/*-to- 1.14, 4.42153, 5.26–5.27, 6.1768,
Tibetan 9.47 8.2199, 8.47, 9.12, 9.26, 10.1021
Tibeto-Burman (languages) 9.47, 9.2687 verbal nouns see also action nouns/nominals,
tmesis 7.49, 7.7, 7.14 agent nouns/nominals
Tocharian 3.1323, 4.22, 4.39151, 4.42154, 5.2497, in *-r̥ 5.50, 10.8, 10.2445, 10.30, Ep1
5.34136, 10.2446; see also Proto-Tocharian vocative 9.7, 9.13; see also endings
a-umlaut 3.27, 3.29–3.30 (nominal)
imperfect 3.2665, 3.28–3.30 voice 1.1–1.2, 2.10, 2.14–2.15, 9.14, 9.18, 9.20, 9.30,
present 5.44170, 8.28–8.30, 8.45, 8.55 9.32, 10.24, 10.40; see also stative
preterite 3.17, 3.25–3.31, 3.42, 8.1, 8.28–8.30, active 1.1–1.3, 2.10, 2.14–2.15, 9.14, 9.18
8.45196, 8.47, 8.54–8.55 antipassive 9.17, 9.22–9.27, 9.30, 9.32, 10.2,
s-formations 8.28–8.30, 8.47, 8.54–8.55, 10.2952 10.24, 10.26, 10.35–10.42, Ep
subjunctive 3.3178, 5.32124, 8.28–8.29, 8.55 middle (mediopassive) 1.1–1.2, 1.4, 2.10,
verbal endings 1.54, 2.1440, 8.24114, 8.32, 10.14, 2.14–2.16, 2.19, 3.6, 4.12, 4.17, 4.28,
10.2448, Ep1 4.33–4.35, 4.42, 5.3, 5.9, 8.15–8.19, 8.24–8.27,
verbal system 3.26, 3.31, 3.34, 9.25, 9.1127, 9.12, 9.14, 9.1649, 9.18, 9.20, 9.30,
8.28–8.30, 8.55 10.2, 10.1426, 10.17, 10.19, 10.24–10.25, 10.30,
Tongan 9.511 10.35, Ep1
transitivity (scalar/semantic) 3.18, 3.26, 3.35, 3.36, passive 1.1–1.2, 4.35, 9.13, 9.1438, 9.16–9.17, 9.22,
4.2, 4.6, 4.11, 4.14, 4.32, 4.47, 4.53, 5.1, 7.1578, 9.25, 10.19, 10.35, 10.37
8.15, 8.35, 8.54, 9.26, 9.30, 10.17, 10.34–10.35, volitionality 3.35–3.36, 8.15, 10.41
10.37, 10.41 Vrddhi derivation 4.46165, 5.41155
Transitivity Hypothesis 3.35, 3.4097, 4.14, 4.47, ˙
8.15, 10.34–10.35, 10.41 Welsh 8.21
tudáti present 3.34, T3.1, 3.15, 3.40, 5.33, 6.2–6.3, West Circassian 9.2585
6.28–6.30 West Greek 1.3, 1.13, 8.12, 8.1672
semantics 6.2–6.3, 6.29, 8.23 Western Indo-European 2.68, 3.32, 3.43, 5.32122,
Tupi-Guarani (languages) 4.514 4.19, 8.1, 9.13
typicalisation 5.29, 5.46, 10.30 Wheeler’s Law 5.41
Tzeltal 9.2791 Winter’s Law T3.1
word order 9.1649
u-present (u̯ -present) 2.13, 8.19, Ep2 Wortumfang 7.3, 7.24, 7.27111
Umbrian 8.20
unaccusative verbs 5.40, 9.18 Yidiny 10.37
unergative verbs 5.40, 9.18
Uralic (languages) 9.1439 zero grade see ablaut
Urartian 9.1863 Zulu 5.37146

Andreas Willi - Origins of The Greek Verb (2018, Cambridge University Press)

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ORIGINS OF THE GREEK VERB

Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge.

Situated at the crossroads of comparative philology, classics, and

andreas willi is Diebold Professor of Comparative Philology at

Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge.

Situated at the crossroads of comparative philology, classics, and

andreas willi is Diebold Professor of Comparative Philology at

Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge.

List of Figures page xix

1 The Greek Verbal System 1

3 The Reduplicated Aorist 58

4 The Reduplicated Present 118

5 The Perfect 207

6 The Thematic Aorist 286

7 The Augment 357

8 The s-Aorist 417

9 From Proto-Indo-European to Pre-Proto-Indo-European 504

10 From Pre-Proto-Indo-European back to Greek 547

1.1 The distribution of ‘tense’ stems in classical Greek page 13

3.1 Greek reduplicated aorists page 63

Умный любит учиться, дурак учить.

Authors and Texts

Dialects and Languages

A logical subject in a transitive clause

The Greek Verbal System

1.2–1.6 Verbal Endings

1.3 Athematic Endings: Active

1.5 Thematic Endings: Active and Middle

1.7–1.8 Modal Stem Markers

1.9–1.13 ‘Tense’ Stems

perfective aspect imperfective aspect stative domain

future tense future stem future perfect stem

present tense – [except ‘gnomic’ aor.] present stem perfect stem

past tense aorist stem present stem perfect stem

Fig. 1.1. The distribution of ‘tense’ stems in classical Greek

1.10 Aorist Stems

1.11 Present Stems

1.12 Perfect Stems

1.13 Future and Future Perfect Stems

1.14–1.15 Non-ﬁnite Forms

1.16–1.18 Approaching Prehistory

1.17 The Anatolian Challenge

1.18 Systemic (Internal) Observations

From Greek to Proto-Indo-European

2.2–2.7 The ‘Hoﬀmann–Strunk Model’

2.3 Root Formations and Root (A)telicity

2.4 Radical or Phrasal Telicity?

2.5 Characterised Stems and Aktionsarten

2.6 Strunk on the Genesis of Tense and Aspect

2.7 A Special Role for the s-Aorist?

2.8–2.12 Cowgill’s Model and ‘Proto-Indo-Hittite’

STAGE II formation of derived Aktionsarten

recognisable Aktionsart values, in Hittite and other Anatolian languages,

2.9 Cowgill on the Hittite hi-Conjugation

2.10 Cowgill’s ‘Nominal Verbs’ and PIE Aspect

2.11 Some Obstacles

2.13–2.16 Early Aspect I: Jasanoﬀ on the ‘Proto-Middle’

2.14 The ‘Proto-Middle’

2.15 Jasanoﬀ’s ‘h2e-Conjugation’

2.16 Reconstructive Aims and Ideologies

2.17–2.18 Early Aspect II: Kuryłowicz’s Framework

2.18 Shortcomings of Kuryłowicz’s Model

STAGE II introduction of tense (addition of ’primary’ *-i)