Dutch contributions to the seventh International Congress of Slavists: Warsaw, August 21–27, 1973 9783111398426, 9783111035529

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SLAVISTIC P R I N T I N G S AND R E P R I N T I N G S

293

DUTCH CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE SEVENTH INTERNATIONAL CONGRESS OF SLAVISTS Warsaw, August 21-27, 1973

Edited by: A N D R É VAN HOLK University of Groningen

1973 MOUTON THE HAGUE • PARIS

© Copyright 1973 in The Netherlands Mouton & Co. N.V., Publishers, The Hague No part of this book may be translated or reproduced in any form, by print, photoprint, microfilm, or any other means, without written permission from the publishers

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGUE CARD NUMBER: 73-77201

Printed in The Netherlands by Mouton & Co., The Hague

PREFACE

Following the tradition of the last Congresses of Slavists, the present volume contains in summary form the papers to be read at the Vllth International Congress of Slavists in Warsaw. In addition to these, a number of other papers have been included in accordance with the aim of this publication, which is to give an impression of the actual state of Slavic studies in the Netherlands, especially within the younger generation. It may be hoped that these papers will also occasion that sort of private discussion that is perhaps the most fruitful product of international congresses. Although unfortunately not all Dutch Slavists have been able to contribute to this volume, it still may be regarded as reflecting each of the major fields of activity in contemporary Dutch Slavic studies. On this occasion I should like to express the wish that our Polish hosts, who have invested such an enormous energy in the preparation of this congress, will see their efforts crowned with unprecedented success. Finally, I want to acknowledge my indebtedness to the publishers, Mouton and Co., for their exertions in bringing out the preprints on time, and for having given so much care to the final edition. November 1972

A. G. F. van Hoik

CONTENTS

Preface

5 PART ONE: LINGUISTICS

T. H. Amse-de Jong Determination Pairs in Old Church Slavonic

11

A. H. van den Baar An Early Eighteenth Century Russian Dictionary (BijiiMa Ctßejia HcKyccTBo HeflepjiaHcicaro ilsbiKa)

19

A. A. EapeHmcen 'BH/],' h 'BPEMÜ' b npezuioMceHHHX coflepacamHX cjiobo noKa .

33

Jadranka Gvozdanovid Development of the Prosodic System in Serbo-Croatian . . . .

95

F. H. H. Kortlandt Optional Features in Contemporary Russian

107

H. Steinhauer On the Contemporary (?) Novi Dialect

115

W. A. L. Stokhof Notes on the Phonemic System of the Glöwczyce Dialect . . . William R. Veder Was ist Methods Väterbuch?

133

153

PART TWO: LITERATURE

J. Bujnowski Niektore uwagi o tzw. IV systemie wersyfikacyjnym

165

H. Hamburger The Function of the Time Component in Cexov's Na podvode . Jan M. Meijer Vjazemskij and Romanticism

237 271

Kees Verheul Iosif Brodskij's "Aeneas and Dido"

305

T. Voogd-Stojanova IJe3ypa H cji0B0pa3£iejiM B noaMe A. AxMaTOBOH PexeueM (K n p o 6 j i e M e H 3 y H e H H » B3aHMOOTHOIIieHHH p H T M a H T e M a T H K H ) .

.

317

PART ONE

LINGUISTICS

DETERMINATION PAIRS IN OLD CHURCH SLAVONIC T. H. AMSE-DE JONG

In this article a description of present form, imperfect form and aorist form of determination pairs like hoch(th), hec(th) and npHHOCH(TH), npHHtc(TH) is proposed, in which there is a one-to-one correspondence of formal elements and elements of meaning. I pass over verbs like x^A«1™» npHX^JKA4™ and other a-derivations from indeterminative verbs, in this case x ° A H T H and npnxoAHTH; and likewise the aspectual opposition as, to my mind, it does not occur in the verb forms interesting us here, but is limited to the formal opposition ~ .0. in pairs like HH-b/U-d-TH ~ hi^/im-th. For these and other facts cf. my forthcoming book, The meaning of the finite verb forms in the OCS Codex Suprasliensis: A synchronic study. In the verb forms interesting us in this article I discern the following elements: (a) a lexical element n£/0c 'to carry', for the meaning of which I can only refer to the existing OCS dictionaries. (b) a formal opposition t ~ o (in net ~ hoc) corresponding to the determination-opposition, the members of which are termed here DETERMINATIVE and INDETERMINATIVE (DET ~ INDET). Definition of DET: (to carry something) along the way A-B in one direction. A is the known starting-point, B the known end of the way A-B. INDET is the opposite partner of DET, to be defined: (to carry something) (1) without any direction, and/or (2) in (or: from) more than one direction. (c) a ternary tense opposition PRESENT ~ PAST ~ CONSEQUENCE' defined in the verb forms now a ~ Nomadx1^ nochxti ~ hoch/Hi as a ~ x ~ a, the last of which lies outside the scope of this article. For PRESENT ~ PAST I propose the following definition:

12

T. H. AMSE-DE JONG

PRESENT: the Narrated Period (NP) is lying, at least for part of its duration, posterior to the Orientation Period (OP). First I must introduce the terms NP and OP. NP: the part of the time line indicated by the verb form. By 'indicate' I mean: 'evoking the thought of x, provided there is a hearer understanding the language'. Any NP may be defined on the time line as prior, simultaneous or posterior in view of OP, THE KNOWN PERIOD. OP, 'the known Period', is interpreted as simultaneous with the Speech event Period ('the moment Now'), provided the context does not lead to another interpretation (variant). Of course, many interpretations (variants) of PRESENT are possible, e.g.: _ O P NP or: or:

OP

NP;

OP NP.

But relevant for PRESENT are only the facts mentioned in the definition. PAST: NP is lying prior to OP on the time line. Here, of course, several interpretations (variants) are possible, e.g.: NP

OP or:

NP

OP.

But relevant for PAST are only the facts mentioned in the definition. (d) a binary coextensivity-opposition, the members of which, termed here COEXTENSIVE ~ NONCOEXTENSIVE (COEXT ~ NONCOEXT), are defined in the verb forms NOLu-dd-xik ~ hoch-xti as -aa

0-.

This opposition occurs only where there is also PAST (-x-), and does not play a part with PRESENT. To define COEXT and NONCOEXT we must introduce the terms FE and NE for all cases where an event in objective reality is mentioned in an OCS verb form. FE, the FULL EVENT, is the event during the whole period of its existence; the part of the time line, covered by FE, is called FEP. NE, the NARRATED EVENT, is the part of the Full event (it may be smaller than the whole of FE, but it may also be as long as FE) indicated by the utterance i that part of FE the speaker wants to present to the hearer when using a certain verb form.

13

DETERMINATION PAIRS IN OLD CHURCH SLAVONIC

The part of the time line covered by NE is called NEP. The part of the time line indicated by the verb form was called NP (cf. (c) of this article). NP may contain parts of the time line where NE is absent, but NP must contain all of NE. (FE may lie partly outside NP.) NEP will always be the overlapping part of NP and FEP. (One further term MP, MARKED PERIOD, will be needed for a definition of COEXT ~ NONCOEXT when we want to incorporate also aspectually opposed verbs. But we do not need it here. Cf. our forthcoming book.) COEXT: NP = FEP ( = means: is just as long as). For COEXT there are several possible interpretations (variants), e.g.: FEP NP NEP

OP or:

FEP NP NEP

OP

So 'iterativity' has nothing to do with the choice COEXT ~ NONCOEXT, as Bunina (I. K. Bunina, Sistema

vremen staroslavjanskogo

glagola,

Moskva, 1959, p. 97) has proved. NONCOEXT: NP ^ FEP ( ^ means: is not as long as). There are several possible interpretations (variants) of NONCOEXT, e.g.: FEP NP NEP or:

OP or:

FEP NP NEP

FEP NP NEP

OP

OP

NP can be longer or shorter than FEP. (e) the prefix NPH, e.g. in IIPHHOCH(TH) and NPHNFC(TH). The prefixes form a limited inventory of meanings corresponding to the fields of meaning of the relations of 2 (or more) things meant, in this case X npw Y. In the verb forms interesting us here X is 'the carrying one', and the npH-relation (RELATION (ipn) exists to Y; in our case: the point to which the 'carrying' is directed. In the verb forms containing the element DET, Y coincides with point B (the end of the way A-B, cf. the definition of DET). In the verb forms containing the element INDET the same may be the case, but Y can also be interpreted otherwise, depending on the context.

14

T. H. AMSE-DE JONG

Examples of all combinations occurring of the elements of form and meaning mentioned above: HUH DET COEXT PAST H BkfbATk Oy/HO/trh npHI/MTiUlli C/tOB© H npOtAUlTd KfThWTf NHIS Bi^t Kro KTi BOA'fe- (Supr 25, 11). 'And when he had accepted the Word with all his mind, he [the angel] led him, who asked to be baptised, to the water'. From the original position A to the water B. i nvNduJA i CHyWONT*. i HHKHJi. T o >Ke c a M o e MONCHO CKA3ATB o nocueíioBaTeJibHOCTH E ( p f l f l e E ) . ECJIH B aaHHOM psmy Kaacflbiñ E B 0TflejibH0CTH ABjisieTCH eflHHHii,eH, TO 3flecb n o c j i e oxoHHaHHH n o c j i e / j H e r o E

lnpopa6oTaHo'

ripopa6oTKy KaK

CTOjibKO-TO E-eflHHHU, 3 f l e c b 'yHHHToaceH' Becb pxp, E .

K a K 0 r 0 - T 0 KOJiHHecTBa E-c/IHHHLI MONCHO paccMaTpHBaTb

'HCTOpHHeCKHH

CJlBHr',

xapaKTepH3yK>mHH

0Tpe30K

BpeMeHH,

Henocpe/iCTBeHHO c j i e f l y i o i U H H 3a E-E,nHHHueH (HJIH pa/iOM E - e f l H H H u ) . HMeHHO

3THM

CBOHCTBOM

3TOT

0Tpe30K

OTJIHHaeTCH

OT

OTpe3Ka

BpeMeHH, HenocpejiCTBeHHO n p e / i i u e c T B y K i m e r o KOHuy E-e/jHHHUbi ( p j m a E-eflHHHU). M b l HCXOAHM H3 T o r o , HTO B CeMaHTHHeCKOe OOflepacaHHe Bcex 4>OpM c o B e p m e H H o r o BHíta b x o a h t HCKHH 3JICMCHT P E R F , K 0 T 0 p b i i í HMCHHO C 3THM

npeacTaBJieHHeM

H

cbhíhh.

fla^HM

cjie/iyioiiree

onpeziejieHHe

coxiepKaiiHH 3 T o r o ceMaHTHnecKoro sjieMeHTa:

PERF

yKa3MBaeT

CHTyauHH A

Ha

CHTyauHH

A/R.

( " e m e He n p 0 p a 6 0 T a H 0 KOJIHHCCTBO n E-c/IHHHH")

nepe-

x o a h t B CHTyauHio R

TO,

HTO

npoHexoflHT

CMeHa

( " n p 0 p a 6 0 T a H 0 KOJIHHCCTBO n E - e ^ H H H u " ) .

lipa

STOM n o KpaHHeií M e p e o f l H a H3 STHX flByx CHTyauHH XOTH 6bi nacTHHHO c o B n a a a e T c T p e r b e ñ CHTyauHeñ, H3BCCTHOH H3 KOHTexcTa HJIH p e n e B o ñ CHTyauHH.

n

^0Ji«eH

óbiTb

orpaHHHeHHbiM

H

onpeaejieHHbiM.

OTCyTCTBHH npOTHBOnOJIOHCHblX yKa3aHHH CHHTaeTCH, HTO n =

1.3

Eípn

1.

r i o j i o a c e H H e , HTO B p y c c K O M «3biKe c y m e c T B y e T BH^OBaa o n n o 3 H i j H S ,

npeanojiaraeT

HajiHHHe TaKHX

nap

rjiarojibHbix

(jjopM,

xoTopbie

OT-

jiHHaiOTCJi ¿ i p y r OT /tpyra TOJibKO BH^OM, TO e c T b 'MHHHMajibHbix n a p ' . K TaKHM 'HHCTOBHflOBbiM n a p a M ' MO»CHO oTHecTH, H a n p H M e p : ecmaeamb;

omiiHT JIH6O, ITO E He HBJiaeTca uejioa eflHHHueií, JIH6O, HTO KOJiHiecTBO

36

A. A. BAPEHTCEH BHflOBaH o n n o 3 H i m » B03M0»CHa TOJibKO npH T e x j i e K c e M a x

hjih

coie-

TaHHHx jieKceM, KOTopbie cooTHOCHTca c KJiaccoM E t e l . B e f l b B o n p e f l e j i e HHH c o / i e p a c a H n a s j i e M e H T a P E R F

ohh

n r p a i o T p o j i b E-eaHHHiibi, a

pa3JiHHaioTCH TOJibKO y E t e l . 3HaHHT, P E R F MoaceT c o H e T a T b c a TOJibKO

c

TaKOH JieKceMOH

hjih

r p y n n o H JieKceM,

oahhm h3

npH3HaKOB KOTOpbix

a B J w e T c a npH3H3K ' n p e f l e j i b H o c r a ' : yica3aHHe Ha e f l m n m y .

IIoa

mm

'onno3HU,HeH'

noapa3yMeBaeM Tanoe

npoTHBonoCTaBJieHHe

4>OpM, n p H KOTOPOM BTOpa» opMw,

3HannT,

h

coxpaHHTbCH.

hjih c o n e T a H i M

4>opM, KOTopbie He

COOTHOCHTCH c C TOHKH 3peHHH BH/ja HBJIHKITCH HHflH(J((J)epeHTHbIMH. OHH BHe bhzioboh oihio3huhh h 'BHAOBbie n a p b i ' 3 ^ e c b He mhcjih.ZiaHHbIM

npH3HaKOM

H TaKHM

06pa30M

KJiaccoM E a t e l , HaxoflMTca

Mbi. OffHaKO, o h h cooTBeTCTByioT (J)opMaM, c o a e p » c a m H M

NONPERF

B TOM, HTO H OHH, KOHeHHO, He BbI3bIBaK>T npe^CTaBJieHHH, CB«3aHHOrO

IlosTOMy h sth

c sjieMeHTOM P E R F .

4>opMbi H a 3 b i B a i o T c a

'(J)opMaMH

H e c o B e p i u e H H o r o B H ^ a ' (Kaie h (JjopMbi, c o f l e p a c a m n e sjieMeHT

NON-

PERF).

1.4

O p H ycTaHOBJieHHH 'bh^oblix n a p ' j i y n u i e B e e r ò HCxoflHTb h 3 (J>opM

coBepuieHHoro

jieKceMbi

BHfla,

TaK

o6«3aTejibHo

KaK

3flecb

b

npncyTCTByeT

ceMaHTHHecKOM

npH3HaK

coaepxaHHH

'npe^ejibHocTH'.

B

n o f l a B J i J i i o m e M 6ojibiiiHHCTBe c j i y n a e B 3 t o t npH3HaK eMa. Cp. : OH nocudeA, OH npocudeA mpu naca. 3

38

A. A . BAPEHTCEH

HHe.

sacMeHmbCH-cMenmbCH',

IIpHMepbi:

Haeudemb-neHaeudemb; HeKOTopbie, oneHb inne

B 3Ty

rpynny,

no.imoumb-.nooumb;

eo3He-

cecmb-cudemb.

HeMHorne n i a r o j i b i c o B e p m e H H o r o BH^a, bxoa»HBjiaioTca TaKxce H J i e H a M H 'hhctobhaobbix n a p ' ,

H a n p H M e p : cecmb-cadumbcn.

C y m e c T B y i o T /ia>Ke T a i c n e ' n e n n ' n a p

cadumbcñ - cecmb - cudemb - nocudemb¡npocudemb ; AeMcamb - noneMcamb\nponeMcamb ;

KaK:

noMcumbcn - jieub -

ecmaeamb - ecmamb - cmonmb

-

nocmonmb/npocmoHmb.

1.5.3

OTflejibHOH r p y n n o i i

HecoBepmeHHoro

HOCTH, ho

r^e

moxcho

BHfla c a M n o

b HeKOTopbix

rjiarojra c oôbeKTOM.

Humamb ;

nanucamb-nucamb.

3THX n a p a x

B

Te n a p b i ,

y KOTopbix r j r a r o j i

npn3HaK BbiCTynaeT

IIpHMepbi

rjiaroji coBepmeHHoro

t3khx

BH^a

npouumamb-

nap:

HBjiaeTca

npe^ejib-

b coneTa-

nepexoflHbiM.

u n ^ a B C T p e n a e T c a KaK c o ö b e K T O M , T a K a 6 e 3

Tjiaroji HecoBepmeHHoro oöbeKTa.

stot

cjiynaax

HHH 3 T o r o

B

CHHiaTb

c e 6 e He co,nep>KHT n p H 3 H a K a

Tex cjiyiaax,

Kor^a

stot

rjiaroji

coneTaeTca

c

oôbeKTOM,

y K a 3 b I B a i O I I l , H M H a K O H K p e T H y i O e / I H H H I i y HJIH p « A T3KHX e / I H H H U , OTHOIIieHHH

MOKfly

COOTBeTCTBytOIUHMH

CJIOBOCOHeTaHHflMH

(J)aKTHHeCKH

T a K H e a c e , KaK y B H f l O B b i x n a p . C p a B H H T e n p H M e p b i :

(1)

OH npouumad

nucbMo.

(2)

OH uumaA

(3)

OH nepenuma/i nucbMo

nucbMo.

(4)

OH nepeuumbieaA nucbMo.

(5)

OH

(6)

OH nuca/I

Hanucan

nucbMo.

nucbMo.

(7)

OH nepenucan

(8)

OH nepenucbieaji nucbMo.

1.6

B

onpeAeJieHHH

nucbMo.

co/iepacanna

3JieMeHTa PERF yKa3aHa b03M03k-

HOCTb C M e H b i C H T y a u H H n p n n p o p a ö o T K e p a ^ a e z i H H M j (n >

1). O x i H a K O ,

B T a K O M c j i y n a e r j i a r o j i b H a a e K T B 4 > o p M e e / i H H C T B e H H o r o HHCJia 6 e 3 K O J i H i e c T B e H H o r o y K a 3 a H H « y K a 3 b i B a e T

na oflHy eflHHHiiy : (9)

OH omKpbiA OKHO.

0 6 i > e K T B 4>opMe MHoacecTBeHHoro (10)

OH

omxpbiA

racjia

BO 4>pa3e

OKHÜ.

y i c a 3 b i B a e T H a p a a eflHHHii. H 3 - 3 a T o r o , ITO KOJIHHCCTBO CAHHHII coBepmeHHOM BapnaHT

3TOT

B H ^ e AOJIJKHO 6 H T b noapa3yMeBaeT,

H3BeCTHOM p H f l e eflHHHU.

fljIH

npn

onpe^ejieHHbiM H

orpaHHieHHtiM,

O6

ONPEAEJIEHHOM,

ITO

PENI

HAÖT

yTOTOeHHH KOJIHHCCTBa eflHHKU. M03KHO

y n o T p e ö j i H T b HHCHHTejibHoe:

(11) OH orrtKpbiA dea orna. (12) OH omKpbiA nnrnb OKOH. (13) OH omKpbiA necKOAbKo OKOH. B T3KHX c j i y i a s x B C T p e n a e T c a H (14)

OH nponumaA

MHOZO

MHOZO:

KHUZ.

B TaKHx npefljioxceHHHX, KaK (15) OH npouumaA Maccy KHUZ. (16) OH npouumaA tcyuy KHUZ. cjiOBa

Macca H xyna M O N C H O P A C C M A T P H B A T B KAK y K a 3 a H e e H a H O B y i o

E/IHHHUY — EFLHHHUY 6 o j i e e B H C O K O H c r e n e H H .

2.1

CyTbK) KaTeropHH

'BPEM5I' HBjiaeTCH y K a 3 a H H e H a p a c n o j i o s c e H H e

CHTyaiIHH BO B p e M e H H .

PacnojioxceHHe B O B p e M e H H o n p e a e j i a e T c a n o c p e A C T B O M OTHOineHHH K o n p e A e J i e H H O M y O T p e 3 K y B p e M e H H , c j i y a c a m e M y

YKA3AHHH BpeMeH-

HblM O p H e H T H p O M . 3 t O T BpeMeHHOH O P H C H T H P 0 6 0 3 H a H H M C H M B O J I O M O P . O P HACTO, H O HE o ö s n a T e j i b H o , COBNA^AET C T E M O T P E 3 K O M B P E M E H H , KOrfla npOH3BOAHTCH BbICKa3bIBaHHe. 3 T O T 0 T p e 3 0 K o 6 o 3 H a H H M BOJIOM

SP.

IiAeHTH(J)HKAUNA

O P

HBJIHETCH

HACTBK)

CHM-

HHTEPNPETAUHH

BbICKa3bIBaHHH.

2.2

Mbi Hcxo^HM H3 Toro, HTO rjiarojibHa« $opMa Bcer^a HTO-TO

c o o ô m a e T o K a K O M - T O onpejjejieHHOM OTPE3KE B P E M E H H . 3 T O T N E P A O A

A. A. BAPEHTCEH

40

o 6 o 3 H a H H M N P . r j i a r o J i b H a a ( j ) o p M a C B « 3 b i B a e T STOT n e p H o a c KaKHM-TO onpeaejieHHbiM

E

(HJIH PSAOM E ) H TAKHM 0 6 P A 3 0 M

'xapaicTepH3yeT'

3TOT N P . KaK

xapaKTepH3yeTCfl

NP,

3aBHCHT

OT BHfla

aairaoH

rjiarojibHOH

4 > o p M b i . Y r j i a r o j i b H o ñ opMbi c o B e p m e H H o r o B H a a N P x a p a K T e p H 3 y e T c a CMeHoii CHTyauHH, o i m c a H H O H B o n p e a e j i e H H H P E R F :

nepexoflOM

H3

CHTyauHH A B C H T y a u H i o R . B TaKOM c j i y n a e N P p a 3 A e J i e H Ha flBe n a c r a : B nepBOH n a c r a HaxoflHTca CHTyamw A , B c j i e ^ y i o m e ñ n a c r a H a x o g n T C « CHTYAIÍH» R . 3 T O He 3HAHHT, HTO BHe N P

CHTYAUHH A

H R

HE B c r p e -

HaroTCH. ECJIH n e p H o a , B K o r o p b i i í c y m e c T B y e T c i r r y a i i H J i A , o 6 o 3 H a H H T b Mepe3 A P , a n e p n o A , B KOTOPMH c y m e c T B y e T C H T y a u n a R , n e p e 3 R P , TO MOXHO c K a 3 a T b , HTO H a n a j i o N P HaxoflHTCH MEXMY H a n a j i o M H KOHUOM A P , a KOHeix N P M e « / i y H a n a j i O M H KOHUOM R P . Y

rjiarojibHbix

o p M a M o a c e T y K a 3 b i BATB Ha

P«n

E , TO y n o T p e Ô H M TepMHH T E P

pjix

o6o3HaneHH$I n e p H o a a

OT H a n a n a n e p B o r o E P flo KOHua n o c j i e f l H e r o E P . I l p H HajiHHHH TOJIBKO OflHOrO E P M05KH0 C K a 3 a T b , HTO T E P = Y

EP.

r J i a r o J i b H b i x (JtopM c o B e p i n e H H o r o BHfla T E P —

OT H a n a j i a n e p B O H e^HHHUTI a o

0 T p e 3 0 K BpeMeHH

KOHIIA n o c j i e a H e f t eaHHHUbi. T a K

K a n a a n e / m H H u a OKOHnaTejibHO ' n p o p a ô a T b i B a e T c a ' , KOHeu K a a c A o r o 3flecb

HBJiaeTca

Meacfly

AP

H

TERM. RP.

T E R M

3TOT

nocjieflHero

nocjieÄHHii

EP

T E R M

HBJiaeTca

KaK EP

rpaHHiieñ

o6a3aTeJibHo

aojiaceH

BXOflHTb B N P .

2.4

N P H T E P O6MHHO He c o s n a i i a i o T . I l p H r j i a r o j i b H o ñ cJ)opMe c o B e p -

u i e H H o r o BH.ua T a K o e c o B n a f l e H H e a ô c o j n o T H o H e B 0 3 M 0 x c H 0 , T a K KaK N P B c e r f l a AOJiaceH c o a e p s c a T b XOTH 6 b i n e p B y r o nacTb c j i e ^ y i o m e r o 3 a

TEP

n e p H o a a ( R P ) . T e p M H H O M N T E P o 6 o 3 H a H H M 0 T p e 3 0 K B p e M e H H , OÔIHHH FLJIA N P H T E P .

2.5

FoBopa

o

KaTeropHH

'BPEM.H'

M U HMeeM B BUAY

onno3HunK>

PRET : NONPRET. Gneayioiioie

(JíopMbi

HBJIJHOTCX

CEMAHTHHECKHH 3JIEMEHT P R E T : Cjieayiomne

(fiopMbi

SJIEMEHT N O N P R E T :

npHMepaMH

Human,

HBJUHOTCH

nponuman,

npHMepaMH

(})opM, nec, opMbi, coflepacameii PERF H PRET HHor.ua H a 3 b i B a i o T lnep(J)eKTHbiM 3HaHeHHeM'. Kor\aa rjiarojibHaH (J)opMa ynoTpeôJiaeTca B KOHTeKCTe c .upyrHMH rjiarojJbHbiMH 4>opMaMH, Kaxcflaa H3 CHTyaUHH, Ha KOTOpbie yica3biBaK>T 3TH (J)OpMbI, MOHCeT B npHHUHne nOCJiyaCHTbflJIHHACHTHtjlHKaUHH COP, XOTFL H 3fleCb OCTaeTC» B03M0îKH0CTb COBDafleHHH COP C OP H SP. Pflfl 4>opM, coflepacamax PERF, nacTO yKa3biBaeT Ha Taie Ha3biBaeMyio 'uenb COÔMTHH'. B TaKOM cjiynae RP nepBOH rnarojibHOH opMbi coBna^aeT (nacTHHHo) c AP cjie^yiomeH opMbi. B CBOIO onepeflb RP BTOPOH 4>opMbi coBnaaaeT (nacTHHHo) c AP TpeTbeii 4>opMbi, H T.A. 3.0 B npeflJioaceHHax co CJIOBOM noKa6 Baamyio pojib HrpaioT npejmKaTbi c OTpHuaTejibHOH nacTHueS He. Bonpocw, CBa3aHHbie c (JiyHKUHOHHpOBaHHeM OTpHUaHHa B a3bIKe, ABJIHIOTCHflOBOJIbHOCJI03KHMMH H, K coacajieHHio, noKa He^ocTaTOHHO ocBemeHHbiMH. IIpHAeTca ocTaHoBHTbCH Ha 3TOM BOnpOCe. OrpaHHHHMCa 3^ecb HeKOTOpWMH HeOÔXOflHMblMH yKa3aHHaMH. MacTHua ne coneTaeTca KaK c ruarojibHOH 4>OPMOH HecoBepuieHHoro BHfla, T a K H c r j i a r o j i b H o â 4 > o p M o i i coBepmeHHoro BH,na. 5

OTMeiaeTc» Tax*e ynoTpeôneHHe cjioBa noKa Kax npomantHoro cnoBa. 17 Ak. ~ Hy noxa. IJpocmopev. J\o CBHflaHM. 3TOT cnyiaô ynoTpeÔJieHHH cnoBa nom b HacroameS CTane He paccMaTpnBaeTca. CJX. :

42

A. A. EAPEHTCEH MONCHO pa3JIHHHTb flBe pa3HOBHflHOCTH, B 3aBHCHM0CTH OT 'OXBaTa'

oTpHijaHHa: (а)

OTpHuaHHe 'oxBaTbiBaeT' jiHiiib JieKCHHecKyio nacTb rjiarojibHoñ 4>OpMbI.

(б)

OTpnuaHHe

'oxBaTbiBaeT' bcio

(})pa3y: coneTaHHe npeziHKaTa c

cy6beKTOM, o6i>eKTOM h pa3HbiMH aonojiHeHHHMH h onpeaejieHHHMH. ripHMepw cjiynas ( a ) : (17)

OH ue Human, a cnaA.

(18)

OH ne yóuA, a ziuuib mnMceAO panuA eeo.

üpHMepbi cjiynaa ( 6 ) : (19)

OH ne numaA.

(20)

OH ne yóuA ezo.

Mbi orpaHHiHMca paccMOTpeHHeM cjiynaeB THna (6). B cjiynaax 3Toro Tana OTpHuaeTca Bce npeACTaBJieHHe, CBasaHHoe c AaHHoií pa3a yKa3biBaeT Ha

t o , h t o N P xapaKTepH3yeTca HajiHHHeM, no KpaiÍHeH Mepe, nacra E (npa

BHfla) hjih cmchoh CHTyauHH A/R, C OflHHM E U 1 HJIH OnpeACJieHHblM pSflOM E t e l ( n p H TJiarOJIbHOH opMe coBepmeHHoro BHAa), t o moncho CKa3aTb, hto cooTBeTCTBytoiuaH oTpHiiaTenbHaa pa3a yKa3biBaeT Ha to, hto NP xapaKTepH3yeTca cooTBeTCTBeHHO OTCyTCTBHeM E hjih CMeHbi A/R. To ecTb b nojioacHTejibHoñ 4>pa3e c rjiarojiOM HecoBepmeHHoro BH^a NP xapaKTepH3yeTca HajiHHHeM, no KpaiÍHeH Mepe, nacra E, b t o BpeMa Kan b cooTBeTCTByiomeñ OTpHuarejibHOH (J)pa3e NP xapaKTeprayeTca OTCyTCTBHeM E, t o ecTb bo BceM NP He BcrpenaeTca hh oahoh nacra E.

rjiarojibHoñ (})opMe HecoBepmeHHoro CBH3aHHOH

B nojioacHTejibHoií pa3e c rjiarojibHoñ cJjopMoíí coBepmeHHoro BH^a

NP

xapaKTepH3yeTca

cmchoh

CHTyaimií

A/R, b to

BpeMa KaK

b cootbct-

CTByiomeH OTpHuaTejibHOH (j)pa3e N P xapaKTepH3yeTca OTCyTCTBHeM

cMeHbi A/R. 3 t o

He

3HaiHT, hto hh A hh R He

cymecTByioT

b NP.

CHTyaiiHa A — 3 t o Ta CHTyamia, icoTopaa noepeACTBOM npopaóoTKH

E-cahhhu mokct nepeiíTH b CHTyaumo R. CMeHbi yKa3biBaeT, hto TaKoñ nepexo^ He ocymecTBjiaeTca,

onpeaejieHHoro KOJiHnecTBa ChpHHaHHe

t o ecTb 3flecb OTppriiaeTca, hto 3a A cjie^yeT R. N P xapaKTepH3yeTCH

npncyTCTBHeM A h OTCyTCTBHeM R.

HHTepecHO,

hto

3/jecb H H H e r o

He

43

'BHFL' H ' B P E M H '

cooGmaeTca o HÍUIHRHH E . ÍICHO TOJibKO, HTO, ecjiH E yace cymecTByeT, TO OH He floxo^HT a o cBoero

TERM.

ECJIH CHMBOJTOM S o6o3HaHHM HeKOTOpyiO CHTyaiIHK), TO CHTyaiIHH, KOTopaa

xapaKTepH3yeTca

TEM,

HTO

oHa

HE

S

6YQET

o6o3HaHaTbca

CHMBOJIOM S .

ÜOFLBOFLH HTOTH, MOHCHO CKa3aTb, HTO B OTpHUaTejTbHOH pa3e c rjiarojibHOH 4>opMoír

HecoBepmeHHoro

BHJXÜ

NP

coziepacHT

E,

a

B

cooTBeTCTByiomeH (Jipare c r:iarojibHoií CJ)OPMOH coBepmeHHoro BHFLA N P

COAEPACHT C M E H Y C H T Y A U H H

A/R.

OnpejjeJieHHe 3jieMeina P R E T

3.2

NTEP'.

Kor^a

HMEETCA

JIH

4>PA3A

BOOSME

»ajiacTca

TEP,

H

ocHOBbiBaeTca Ha n o n a r a n 'KOHeu 0TpnuaTejibH0H,

C00TBETCTBEHH0

6biBaeT

NTEP.

HeacHo,

ÜOSTOMY

MW

flOJixcHbi 3flecb o c o G o onpe^ejiHTb noHaTHe 'KOHeu N T E P ' . B OTpHuaTejibHOH cj)pa3e c rjiarojibHOH (jjopMoñ HecoBepmeHHoro BHua KOHEU N T E P

—

3 T O KOHEU

NP.

B OTpnuaTejibHOH (J)pa3e c rjiarojibHoií (jDopMoñ coBepmeHHoro BH^a KOHeu N T E P — STO iianajio R P .

riepefl/ieM K onHcaHHio co/jepacaHHa cjioBa

4.1

noxa.6

KaK H3BecTHO, no Ka BbicTynaeT B pa3Hbix CHHTaKCHHecKHX no3HUHax. 0 6 H H H O pa3JiHHaioTca ^Be (JJYHKUHH:

(а) (21)

Haperae. HanpHMep: Bom

EbiKoey

(Б)

1. (22) 2. (23)

nona ee3em — nuneeo

He cKaMceuib.

A da/ibuie

nmo

(CaaHOB) ( 4 A K . C J I . ) .

6ydem? C0103.

BbipaaeaioiUHH OflHOBpeMeHHOCTb. H a n p H M e p : IIoKa

OHU

cna/iu, H deMcypu.i

y Kocmpa.

(RCPJIÍT: 731).

BbipaacaioiuHH npe^eji aeftcTBHa. H a n p H M e p : Eo/ibHOMy cmanoeuAocb

xyxce,

nona ne npuiue/i

epan.

( X a j i H 3 e B a , 1969: 77). ( C M . TaKJKC npHMenaHHa 5 H 6). K

BapnaHTy ( a ) , OHCBH^HO, MOXCHO OTHCCTH cjiynaH yiioTpeGjieHHa

noKa n p n npHHacTHax. H a n p H M e p :

6 B jmTepaType BCTpeyHKUHeH ( 6 ) , X O R ^ a MONCHO p a c c M a T p H B a T b n p H f l a T O H H o e n p e f l J i o a c e H H e KaK o n p e ^ e j i e H H e K KaKOMy-TO c j i o B y HJIH c j i o B o c o H e T a H H i o , B t i p a a c a i o m e M y n e p H O f l BpeMeHH.

(26) (27)

HanpHMep:

Ona doAMCHa peMOHm deAamb, man pa3ee Mbi o6n3anbi nAamumb 3a mo epeMH, norn He DKueeM? ( C o j i o r y 6 : 4 7 ) . 3a me HecK0AbK0 dneü, nona OH doópaAcn do CxoóeeeKU, OH npouieA

ifeAbiü ynueepcumem

napmu3aHCKoü

(afleeB)

6opb6u.

(Costello, 1962: 254). CjiOBOCOHeTaHHH

mo epeMH

h

me HecKOAbKo dneü

3 / i e c b KaK 6 w

'npea-

CTABJISIOT' n p H a a T O H H o e n p e a j i O H c e i m e B r j i a B H O M n p e f l j i o K e H H H . K o r y j a n p H f l a T o q H o e n p e a J i o a c e H a e c j i y a c H T ¡mu npewioaceHHH

nacro

BCTpenaioTCsi

yicasaHHJi n p e a e j i a , B r j i a B H O M

cjioBoeoqeTaHHa

c

npefljioroM

do.

HanpHMep: (28) (29)

fío ZAyóoKoü ocenu, nona ycmanoeuACH tfiponm na wze, AWÓU ece UIAU u UIAU nepe3 KpacHodon. ( O a / i e e B ) ( M H x a ñ j i o B , 1 9 5 2 a : 1 2 ) . H KOK MHe nomoM HU 6UAO mpydno, H NPODOAOKAAA ceoe deAo do mozo ÓHH u naca, HOKÜ eu ne 63HAU XapbKoea ... ( I I o j i e B O H ) (AKTp.:

308).

BbiCKa3biBaHHfl, c o f l e p » a u m e c o n e T a H H H do mex

nopbi, noKa (ne),

aBJiHioTca o6pa3iiaMH

T o r o , HTO CJIOBO TejibHMM

KaK

ñopa

Taxoro

nop,

»ce

nom

rana.

(ne),

HJIH do

OieBHflHO H3-3a

B c o B p e M e m i o M H3BiKe H B J i a e T c a M a j i o y n o T p e Ó H -

caMocTosiTejibHoe

CJIOBO,

yKasbmaiomee

Ha

nepaofl

B p e M e H H , a a a H H b i e c o i e T a H H » KaK p a 3 v a c r o B C T p e n a i o T c a , STH c o n e TaHHH

HHOrfla

CHHTaiOT

'CJI03KHHMH

COK>3aMH'.

Cp.

(28)

H (29)

co

oneayioiiuiMH npHMepaMH:

(30)

Tozda ezo omdaAU e pyKu &en6oHza u mep3aAu ezo do mex nop, noKa ne eupeaAu cfiaMUAWO TwAeHuiia. ( O a a e e B ) (AK.rp.: 3 0 8 ) .

45

'BHA' H 'BPEM»' (31)

OH cMompeji

ecned

HOHHbix meHHX. B

rpaMMaTHKax

oxommKy

do nopw,

noica

mom

ue ucuei

e

(TopbKHH) ( A K . r p . : 308).

6 o j i e e HJIH MEHEE NO^POGHO ONHCBIBAIOTCA

TOJIBKO

c n y i a H c (JJYHKIJHEH ( 6 ) . B cjioBapax FLAIOT xapaKTepncTHKy KAK c j i y i a e B c 4>YHKII,NEH ( 6 ) , TAK H cjiynaeB c

(JJYHKUHEÑ ( a ) . OFLHAKO, XOTH STO

AEJRAETCA B OAHOH cjiOBapHOH CTATBE, n o TOJIKOBAHHK) STHX cjiynaes HE HCHO, HfleT JIH peHb 0 6

OMOHHMaX

HJIH O pa3HbIX opMax, B b i c T y n a r o m H X B CONETAHHH c o CJIOBOM HOKÜ, .ÍOIIOJIHHIOT STO HCXO^HOE

3HAIEHHE

H

TSKHM

06PA30M

onpeflejiaioT

cyTb

pa3Hbix

BapHaHTO B.

4.2

' O G m e e SHANEHHE' cjiOBa nom

MONCHO o n p e a e j i H T b T a x :

Ilorn yKa3biBaeT Ha CBoeo6pa3Hyio KOMÓHHaiiHio Tpex CHTyauHH: X , Y H Z. üepHOflbi, B KOTopbie cymecTByiOT STH CHTyauHH (cooTBeTCTBeHHO X P , Y P H ZP), COOTHOCHTCH CJieflyiOmHM 06pa30M: Y P HenocpeacTBeHHo cjie^yeT 3a X P , a Z P oxBaTbiBaeTca nepHO^OM X P (TO ecTb rpaHHUbi ZP JIH6O coBnaflaioT c rpaHHuaMH X P , JIH6O HaxoASTCH BHyTpH X P ) . CxeMaTHHeCKH 3TO M03KH0 H3o6pa3HTb TaK: XP

YP

ZP

I l p n 3TOM Z P =

N T E P rjraBHoro NPEAHKATA. (rjiaBHbiií RRPEAHKAT

3TO npe^HKaT rjiaBHoro npe/yiOKeHH«.) /I,aHHbie o CHTyauHax X 3AKJIIOHAIOTCÍ( B KOHTEKCTE HJIH B peneBoñ CHTYAUHH. X

H

— Y

'BAACHEE' neM

Y : o CHTYAUHH X BCER^A AOJEKHO HMETBCS KAKOE-HH6Y,ZIB MHHHMAJIBHOE KOJIHieCTBO HH(^OpMaUHH. FLJM XapaKTepHCTHKH CHTyauHH Y

AOCTaTOHHO

yKa3aTb, HTO 3TA cHTyaima oTJiHMaeTCH OT X . H 3 TOTO 4>AKTA, HTO Z P HBJIHCTCJI N T E P , a He T E P rjiaBHoro npe^HKATA, BBITEKAET, HTO B NPHHUHNE He OTPMIAETCH B03M0»CH0CTB XOTS 6 b i nacTHHHoro coBnaaeHHa nocjie/iHeif nacTH T E P c Y P . (ECJIH rjiaBHbié npe^HKaT

coaepacHT

rjiarojibHyio

4>opMy

HecoBepmeHHoro

BH.ua.)

OüHaKo, B TaKOM cjiynae, KOHeu N P He MoaceT HaxoflHTbca B Y P (ecjiH 6BI 3TO Gbijio TaK, TO X P He oxBaTbiBajr 6BI Z P = N T E P ) , 3HaiHT, TAKAA

A. A. EAPEHTCEH

46 nacTb T E P

B BticKa3biBaHHH He ynoMHHaeTca,

06

3TOM HHHero He

cooSmaeTca.7 ECJIH rjiaBHbiìi npeziHKaT yKa3biBaeT Ha p a a E ,

cooTBeTCTByiomnfi

Z P ( = N T E P ) MoaceT 6biTb npepbiBHCTbiM. B TaKOM c j i y q a e , OTMeneHHaH KOM6nHauHJi Tpex CHTyauHH MoaceT cymecTBOBaTb npn Ka>K/iOH oT^ejibHOH nacTH N T E P , TO ecTb Kaxyiaa OTflejibHaa nacrb N T E P

BbiCTynaeT

KaK Z P . 3 T O T BapHaHT, OHCBHÌIHO, BcrpenaeTca T0JibK0 n p H ynoTpe6jieHHH cjioBa nona B KanecTBe coio3a (YHKIJHH ( g )

3xy

pojlb

HrpaeT

npH,ziaT0HH0e

npezuioaceHHe.

CxeMaTHHeCKH 3TO MCOKHO H3C>6pa3HTb CJle/iyiOIJUHM 0 6 p a 3 0 M : OyHKHH» (a) (Hapenne): npe^HRaT

+ nona +

KOH reKci /peneBaa CHTyaiiHa

I ZP ( = NTEP)

1 XP/YP

Ì>yHKHHa (6) (COK>3): npeflHKaT

+ nona +

iipe/iHKaT

TJI. npean.

npHfl. ripezui.

I ZP ( = NTEP)

I XP/YP

CHanaJia Mbi paccMOTpHM p a a npHMepoB ynoTpeGjieHHa c n o B a noma B C[)YHKHHH (a), HTO6I.I noKa3aTb, KaK B HHX peaiiH3yeTca ' o 6 m e e 3HaneHHe'. OcHOBHaa »ce n a c r b Hameii CTaTbH 6y,fl;eT nocBameHa paccMOTpeHHJO cjiynaeB c yHKUHeH ( 6 ) , TaK KaK 6 o j i b u i e Beerò Hac HHTepecyeT p o j i b pa3Hbix

KOMGHHAUHH 3jieMeHTOB

KaTeropnii

'BW/J'

H 'BPEM5T

B

MOflH(})HHHpOBaHHH ' o 6 m e r o 3HaneHHa' c j i o B a nona. 5.1

cpe,acTBOM Hapenna nona, co^epacHT '

nOflOÓHOe

rjiarojibHyK) SBJIEHHC

KH/iaeTca B03HHKH0BeHHe TaKofi CHTyaiiHH, K0T0paa 6yaeT OTjiHHaTbca OT CHTyauHH X. T o , MTO COO6maeTCH onpe/zejiHeMbiM npe/mKaTOM, CBa3biBaeTCH TOJibKo c CHTyaiiHefi X , TO ecTb c CHTYAUHEÌI, y » e H3BECTHOII H3 npeflbi^ymero KOHTeKCTa. Taxoe

yKa3aHHe O6MHHO HHTepnpeTHpyeTca

TaK, HTO o6i>HBJiCHHaa

nepeMeHa BJienei 3a co6oìi H3MeHeHHe Toro, HTO yKa3biBaeTCJi onpeflejiaeMbiM npe^KKaTOM. O^HaKO, s t o He Bcer/ia TaK. ITpHMep: (32)

JJey.w panenbiM

otfiuijepaM

Yiae/i

yexaAu. npucmam.

npuee/iu

u adbfomanm.

A

wseomuKa,

coAÒambi

nona

u OHU

momnac

ocmaeaAucb

Ha

(CIAMOKOBHH) (4AK.CJI.).

B nepBbix nByx 4>pa3ax flaHa xapaKTepacTHKa CHTyauHH X, TO ecTb TOH CHTyaiiHH, Ha meH UHTATE: (34)

IIoKa moAbKo

—

doKAaduuK 0mmbi.

nuuezo

ne

npuóaeuA

OM

ceón.

OH

u3AazaA

( M a p K O B ) (17AK.CJI.).

MO»CHO noMyBCTBOBaTb 3TOT 34>4>EKT ynoTpe6jiennfl Hapenna

yKa3aH«e

Ha nepeMeHy.

H

3/iecb ecTecTBeHHee Beerò

JXSLTÌ>

nona: TaKyio

HHTepnpeTaiiHio : 3Ta nepeMeHa noBjraaeT Ha CHTyaumo, yKa3aHHyio

48

A. A. EAPEHTCEH

onpeaejiaeMMM npe^HKaTOM. BmnoneHHe cjioBa eufe yCHJiHBaeT 3Ty HHTepnpeTaiiHio. IlpHMep : (35)

Majinpun nauam ocmaeAnmb Menn. BepnyAocb nyecmeo peanbHocmu. Ho H notca eufe ne ucnbimueaA om amozo ocoôozo eocmopza.

5.2

(riaycT. 5: 255).

Kor,aa onpeaejiaeMbm npeflHKaT coaepxcHT rjiarojibHyio (JiopMy

coBepmeHHoro BpeMeHH, T E R M 3Toro npe^HKaxa aojiaceH HaxoAHTbca BHyTpH X P . B TaKOM ciiynae H CHTyauHfl R MOACET HacTHiHO Haxo/jHTbc« BHyTpH X P . IlpHMep : (36)

Mepe3 mpu Muuymbi o6e MatuuHbi — u ezo u MOA — cmoHAU na zAaenoü KOAee. 3mo moMce 6MA ne ac(ßaAbm, u, MOMcem 6bimb, cKopo onxmb cudemb e zpa3u. Ho noKa Mbi euuzpaAu y dopozu nauie MaAenbKoe cpaotceHue. (CojioyxHH: 156).

KaK H3BecTHo, npeAHKaT Taicoro rana MoaceT HMeTb Tax HasbiBaeMoe 'nep4>eKTHoe SHaneHHe' (cjiynan coBnaaeHH» CHTyauHH R c O P ( = SP) [MOMeHT pena]). Eme npHMepbi:

(37) fi ezo noKa umo 3anep e eamoü Ko.wtame, umoôu MU MOZAU cnoKoÜHo noyotcuHamb. (rauieic: 164). (38)

—

¥ m o IMO

3uauum?

—

cnpocuA

CÜMOÜAUH.

— 3mo 3Hauum, — omeemuA 6opeif, — nmo nycmuAu nac na AMmxeA, HO ne nponycmam

noKa nmo npooópamno.

OHU

(riaycT. 5: 267). TaKoii BapHaHT 3HaneHHH BO3MO2KCH H npH OTpHuaTejibHoñ (J)opMe npeaHKaTa. B TaKOM cjiynae c O P ( = SP) coBnaAaer He R a R. IlpHMep : (39)

Haeepnoe, dyMaw, c omifOM umo-Huôydb cAyuuAocb. — noKa ne cAynuAocb, — omeemuA coAdam. (Tafijiap

I: 113).

IlepeMeHa, yicasaHHaa HeoTpimaTejibHOH (JjopMoií npe^HicaTa, — oôbirao HeacejiaTejibHaa nepeMeHa. 3aecb BbipaîKaeTC» onaceHHe, HTO KaK0e-T0 H3MeHeHHe CH'ryauHH, cymecTByiomeH B MOMCHT penn, MoaceT BBI3BATB 3Ty HeacejiaTejibHyio nepeMeHy. 5.3

B BapHaHTax ynoTpeöJieHH« Ha pen na noKa

B BbiCKa3biBaHHsx (37),

49

'BHA' H 'BPEMH' (38), (39) Y

CHTyarma X OToamecTBjraeTcn c

p e n e B o ñ cHTyaiíHeñ. C H T y a m u t

3Aecb TOHHO He yKa3biBaeTca. T a i c o n ace BapaaHT

OToxc^ecTBjieHHx

CHTyaiiHH X BCTpenaeTCH B Bbicica3biBaHHHX c onpeae^aeMtiM npe/uiKaTOM, coAepacamHM rjiarojibHyio opMbi HH(J)HHHTHBA B KanecTBe onpeflejiaeMoro npe^HKaTa: (44)

— CeeodiiH ommyda? — cnpocuA edn. — CeeoÓHM, c ympa eufe. — Hmo maM, ne CAbixamb SeAbix? (RAÑFLAP 1: 294).

— Ha mm, He CAbixamb noKa.

5.4.1 OnpeflejiseMbra npe/micaT MoaceT coaepacaTb h o

HeMHooKKo.

onpocmaeiub?

(MapKOB) (17AK.CJI.).

(Hexoß) (YmaKOB).

IlpHMep TaKoro ace BapHanra c jipyrHM THHOM rjiarojia : (52) 5.5

Bbi nocudume,

a h noxa cxootcy m eodoü.

(YmaicoB).

ECJIH cHTyauH» X OToxcflecTBJiHeTca c CHTyaimeö, cymecTByjomeñ

B MOMEHT peiH, TO He HCKJHONAETCH H Taicaa BO3MO»CHOCTI>, HTO onpeAejiaeMbiH npeflHKaT öy^eT coflepacaTb coneTamie c raarojioM 6ydy. IlpHMep: (53)

roda

Hepe3 dea y Menn ôydem

h eepnycb

cocmomue,

u cdeAato U3 (ßepMbi o6pa3tfoeoe

yeuduiub.

Bom

xo3nucmeo.

mozda A

nona

(O'HHJI I: 118).

ôydy eaM noMozamb.

H B 3TOM npHMepe nepexofl H3 XP B Y P NP0H30H^ET nocjie OP. EAHHCTBeHHaa pa3HHiia 3aKJiioHaeTCJi B TOM, HTO 3FLECB opMOH 6ydy YKA3AHO, HTO He TOJIBKO KOHeu, HO H Hanajio ZP = N T E P PACNOJIOACEHO nocjie OP. (CM. BapeHTceH, 1973: 4.4.1). 5.6

/JoBojibHo nacTO BCTpenaioTCH npeajioxceHHH c onpeaejiaeMbiM

npeflHKaTOM B 4>opMe noBejiHTejibHoro HaKJioHemifl HJIH B APYROÖ YHKUHH NOBEJIEHHA HJIH NOÔYAYIEHHFL. IIpHMepbi: (54)

[EepKymoe:] npoüdem

*Iepe3

Mcejie3nax dopoza.

mu MOAHu nom. (55)

Xopoiuo!

decnmb

Hdume

dneü

ebi ycAbiiuume,

3mo U3 eepnux

ucmomuKoe,

(OCTPOBCKHH) (17AK.CJI.). omdbixaüme

noKa.

imo

(IUßapu: 38).

3Òecb moAbKO

51

'BHFL' H 'BPEMH' (56)

[Hamaiua:} podnan,

(57)

[Ty3eHÔax:] noeudemb

opMy H e c o B e p m e H H o r o

B03M0acHa

rjiaBHoro

oxBaTbiBaeTCH nepHOflOM X P

cjieflyiomaa

HHTepnpeTauHa : N P

BHfla,

TeoperanecKH

rjiaBHoro

npefljioaceHHa

c o B n a f l a e T c X P , H n o c j i e f l H a a nacTb E P HaxoflHTCs B Y P . T a K , H a n p H M e p , B BbICKa3bIBaHHH ( 5 8 ) He HCKflKJHaeTCH B03M05KH0CTb, MTO flO>Kflb HfleT H

B TOT

nepHofl,

BbicKa3biBaHHH

Korfla r o B o p a m H H

npeflCTaBJieHHe o

y»ce He CHHT.

floacfle

OflHaKo,

CBH3bißaeTca

TOJibKo

B

STOM c

TeM

nepHOflOM, B KOTopbTH r o B o p a m H H c n a j i . XoTa

caMa

KOHCTpyKuna

CBa3b Meacfly X P , Y P

H ZP,

3flecb yKa3bmaeT TOJibKO Ha

BpeMeHHyio

c o o T H o m e H H e JieKCHHecKHx 3Jie.\ieHTOB B

r j i a B H O M H npHflaTOHHOM npefljioaceHHax MoxceT óbiTb TaKHM, MTO 3Ta CBa3b n o j i y i a e T M O f l a j i b H t m OTTCHOK. T o r f l a X P

p a c c M a T p H B a e T c a He

TOJibKo KaK BPEMEHHOÑ 4>OH, HO H KaK NPHHHHA T o r o , I T O yKa3biBaeTca npHflaTOHHbiM npeflJioaceimeM. IlpHMepbi:

53

'BUa' H 'BPEMH'

(62)

TloKa jmo npoucxoduAO,

ece cmon/iu KÜK cKoeamue.

(rpHH)

(MoTHHa, 1 9 6 1 : 110).

(63)

TloKa eopeA Kocmep, Gbi.io ceemno u menno. (MoTHHa, 1961: 114).

(64)

IIoKa öbiAO ceemAo,

MOOKHO

6buo numamb.

(HenaeBa: 271).

K o r f l a r j i a B H o e HUH N P H ^ a T O H H o e NPEFLJIOACEHHE COCTOHT H3 HECKOJIBKHX

npe/iHKaTOB, X HJIH Z aBjiaioTca KOM6nHauHeH, nepenjjexeHHeM yica3aHHblX CHTyaUHH. ripuMepbi: (65)

IIoKa 3aKymaHHbm ManbuuK, cud H Komopbiü

OH

oneiib

AWÔUA,

HÜ BÒICOKOM

MceeaA

U

cmyjie, nu A Kecßup,

ÊYÔAUK,

otta

AuxopaòoHHo dyMamb, nino Mee òeAamb òaAbuie? (66)

HyÒHyw ÒAUHHyto Kocy,

CUHUMU 2AÜ3ÜMU.

(67) B

(KaTaeB: 122).

floKa MdAbHUK eoeopuA, ona ece epeMH pacnAemaAa ceow

ZAHÒH

npodoAMcana u

3anAemaAa

e AUtfo eMy npexpacHbiMU

(IIIA (a) 1: 379).

TÌOKa OH numa/i nucbMO, MM cudeAu u MedaAU.

(HenaeBa: 271).

BbicKa3bmaHHH (66) npeAHKäTM rjiaBHoro npe£Jio»ceHHa yica3biBaioT

Ha psm qepe^yiomHxca

CHTyarmñ.

TjiaBHoe npe/ui05KeHHe C OAHHM

npeflHKaTOM To»ce MoaceT yKa3biBaTb Ha p a a E. ripHMepbi :

(68)

Kaxcdoe

ympo, noKa

HOMepa

iunauda

H 6UA

ÔOACH, npuxoduAa

&edopoena,

nmoobi

KO

U3

ceoeeo

numb

KO(ße.

MM

eMecme

( H e x o B ) (4AK.CJI.).

(69) 7.2.2

TJoxa OHU cnaAu, deaotcdbi npuxoduAu

cocedu.

(TCPJlil : 731).

ÜHTepecHbi cjiynaH c OTpHuaTejibHbiM npe/iwcaTOM B rjiaBHOM

npeflJioxceHHH. B TaKOM c j i y n a e N T E P M O M O , o m c b h ä h o , OToamecTBHTb c N P . ( C M . 3.2). ripe/mojioacHM, HTO 3/iecb N P B CBOIO onepeflb c o B n a -

jx&eT c X P ( = E P HJIH T E P npnaaTOMHoro npeflJioaceHH«). 3HanHT, X P xapaKTepH3yeTca

oTcyTCTBHeM

E

rjiaBHoro

npeflJioaceHHa.

Kaic

MM

y B H f l H M h ziajibiue, BBeAeHHe o T p n u a H H a IIOHTH Bcer/ja BJieneT 3a c o ô o i î MOflajibHyK) OKpameHHOCTb OTHOUICHHH Meamy CHTyamïflMH X , Y

H Z.

T O T (J)3KT, HTO Ha (J)OHe xaKOH-TO OAHOH CH ryauHH yKasbiBaeTCa o T c y T -

CTBHe a p y r o H , oHeBHflHO, co3^aeT upeacTaBjieHHe, HTO nepBaa CHTyauna KaKHM-TO 06pa30M npenaTCTByeT BTopoñ CHTyaiiHH. ri03T0My, OÔHHHO

05KHziaeTCH,4T0 E rjiaBHoro npe^JioaceHHa noaBHTca B Y P . ripHMepbi :

(70)

IIoKa OH paccKü3bieaA 1961:

114).

o my ucmopuw,

H ne yxoduA.

(MoTHHa,

54

A . A . EAPEHTCEH

(71)

TloKa

OKHO

6biJio 3aKpbimo,

e KOMHame ne

6MAO

XOAOÒHO.

(IinC: 181). (72) (73)

[Co(fiuÙKa:] Tenepb H cnoKouna. IIoKa OH XOÒUA na zyjiHHKu, N He 3Ham, nmo co MHOU òeAaemcn. (¿Jpyip: 58). Mu ne MOZAU examb ddAbiue, noKa npodoA.-ncamcb MemeAb. ( n n C : 180).

B pa,ae cjiynaeB coieTaHHe npeflHicaTa c OTpmiaTejibHOH HacTHueii ne «BJiaeTca 6ojiee HJIH MEHEE jieKCHKajm30BaHHWM. TaKoe coneTaHHe Be^ei ce6a npHMepHO TaK ace, KaK nojioacHTejibHbiH npeflHKaT. Mo/jajTbHbw OTTeHOK TOrfla MOXCeT OTCyTCTBOBaTb. OieBHflHO, Hejlb3fl npOBeCTH NETKOIL rpaHH Meayjy 'HHCTOOTpHixaTejibHbiMH' npeAmcaTaMH H TaKHMH JieKCHKaJIH30BaHHbIMH COHeTaHHHMH. Mo»CeT 6bITb, (72) H HBJiaeTCH npHMepoM TaKoro BbicKa3biBaHHfl. /JpyrHMH npHMepaMH, HaBepHoe, MoryT nociiyacHTb cjieayiomHe: (74)

IJoKa ìeAÒa SbiAa .ytcuea, MMyAUK zopn ne 3HOA: nepeóueaAcn u KdK ece dpyzue e Md3enosKe. (1IIA (a) I: 361). IJoKa Andpeii, ceecue uy6, nuA U3 eedpa nepe3 Kpau, Mapuuxa He cnycKdAa 03opnozo 63ZARÒd c ezo 3dnomeeuieù cnwHM.(Ey6eHHOB) OKUA,

(75)

(4AK.CJI.).

(76)

IJoKd Mbi c Kocmeù MdAUHUHUM tuenrridAU mnepezoHKu cAoed 3dKAUHdHUH U COCpedomdHUBdAUCb, KOIUKU 80 zAdee c naiueu MycbKou moMce ne mepnAu dapoM epeMem. (MeflBe^eB : 53).

7.3 rAdeHoe npeÒAOMceuue c noAOMcumeAbHbiM npeduKdmoM, codepncdUfUM ZAdzoAbHyfo (fiopMy coeepuieHHozo eudd. Tax KAK 3neMeHT PERF npeanoJiaraeT, HTO KOHCU, N T E P ecTb T E R M flaHHoro E (HJIH nocjieflHHH T E R M paaa E), TO y TaKoro BapnaHTa T E R M rjiaBHoro npeajioxceHHa HaxoaHTca BHyTpn XP. ripHMep : (77)

TloKd H cndA, nouieA dootcdb.

(YrnaKOB).

3aecb nepexoA H3 CHTyauHH A ",IJ,o»cflb He H,aeT" B CHxyauHio R ",fl(o5KAb HfleT" ocymecTBjiaeTca Ha (})OHe CHTyauHH X ( = E npHaaTOMHoro npeflJio»ceHH5i) "ft cnjiio". Eme HecKOJibKO npHMepoB : (78)

IIoKd OH u fluiKd ommdAKuedAU maxceAbiù, nAom, Mbi C TUMKOÙ Hd cmdpoM cydeHbiiuxe npuHmeAW Hdnepepe3. ( f a i t a a p I: 109).

nenoeopomAuebiu nycmuAucb ne-

55

'BHÜ' H 'BPEMH'

(79)

TIOKÜ OKeua eomoeu/ia

3aempoK,

ffanunoe

ebiiueA e

ozopod-

(NAHOBA) (AK.RP.: 301). (80)

TIOKÜ UX cen3ueam,

3mu mpu cKayma ucKycanu eoceMb KpecmbHH.

(raiueic: 60). Koraa rjiaBHoe npeanoaceHHe coaepacHT 6ojiee oflHoro npeflHKaTa, TO oTHomeHH»

CHTyaiiHH,

yica3aHHbix

STHMH

npe^HKaTaMH,

O6BIMHO

HHTepnpeTHpyiOT Kaie 'uenb COÖHTHH'. T E R M Toraa pacrionoaceHbi apyr 3a apyroM. Bee T E R M pacnojioxceHbi BHyTpn X P , 3HaHHT, H BCH uent Co6bITHH HaXOflHTCH BHyTpH XP. IIpHMepw: (81)

ITOKÜ TÜHH pa3dyMbieam,

umo 3Hcmum omo cmpamoe

deepb omKpbiJiacb u moAcmbiü MOMHUK, nyzAueo eoiueA e anmexy. (82)

A

(KaßepnH: 19).

HOHbH), noKa n cnaA, nauuAacb cuAbuan

ommeneAb,

pacmaHA, u n He3üMemno onycmuAcn HÜ 3eMAW. (83)

TIOKÜ

HUKOAÜÜ

cjtoeo,

ozAftdbieancb,

HuKumim

pasdyMbieaA

coAHife u nepenoA3Aü uepe3 peKy.

Had smuM,

cnee

(Pacna: 8). my na

3ÜKPUAA

(IlaycTOBCKHÜ) (I1I1C: 180).

,D,OBOJibHO peflKO BCTpenaioTca BbiCKa3biBaHH5i, B KOTopwx T E R M flByx HJIH 6onee npeflHKaTOB rjiaBHoro NPEIÜIOXCEHH« coBnaaaioT. IIpHMep: (84)

HycmoA

u nodpoe, KOKÜ UCKÜA eeo ÖOM.

(Paffen: 1272).

üpmiaTOHHoe npeflJio»ceHHe MoaceT co/tepacaTb 6ojiee oflHoro npe^HKaTa H B Tex cjiynaax, Koraa rjiaBHoe npewioxceHHe co^epxcHT OJIHH HJIH HecKojibKO npeflHKaTOB coBepuieHHoro BHfla. IIpHMepbi: (85)

TIOKÜ OH pajfiupa/i öazüotc, Ü H, cee e KpecAo, deAüA eMy yKü3üHUH, Mbl nOHCMHOZy pü32060pUAUCb. (FpHH) (MoTHHa, 1961: 111).

(86)

TIoKyda no CXOÖHHM cKambieüAu nyiuKu HÜ necoK do eo3UAucb c ynpHMCKüMU, — mynu yzacAU, u pem

(87)

CAUAücb c nomeMHeeiuuMU

( A . H . TOJICTOH) (FBOS^CB, 1958: 227).

öepezaMu.

TIOKÜ MM C HeHHH 3 T o r o p a 3 f l e j i a npHBexteM pa,n n p H M e p o B C ' 3 a M e -

H H I O m H M ' CJIOBOM (CJIOBOCOHeTaHHeM) B TJiaBHOM n p e A J i o x c e m r a ( C M . 4 . 1 ) : (99)

Kan

ebincHUAocb

HaKanyne zopode

ôbiA

e nocAeàcmeuu, nocaotcen

u yxumpuACH

na

ocmambcn

nepcoiiaA zaynmeaxmy maM

na

amoü 3a

noAeeoü àeôoiuupcmeo

Bce BpetvLa, noxa

KyxHU e ezo

A. A. EAPEHTCEH

58

(rauieic: 570).

Mapiueean poma npoe3Mcana no Bempuu. (100)

Bce BpeMa, noKa n exa/i no maùee, 3aAuea/iucb nmuifbi, OfcyatcOKOAU

(101)

(MexoB) (I1I1C: 180).

HaceKOMbie.

MoHMopeHcu

BÒIA

He nepecmaeax

Bce BpeMH, nona JlMcopòoK

uepaA. (/JacepoM: 211). (102)

M

noKa

HyK

XOÒUA

om

óeepeù

K

deepHM

u

3HQKOMUACM

C

naccaotcupaMU (...), — rete 3A STO epeMA yeudeA iepe3 OKHO HeMaAo.

(RAIIFLAP 3: 41).

npaMepe npHflaTOHHoe npefljioaceHHe Hejib3a cHHTaTb Henocpe^cTBeHHbiM onpeAejieHHeM K yica3aHHio nepnoAa B RJIABHOM NPE/LNOJKEHHH, H B HCM CJIOBOCONETAHHE amo epeMfi yicasbiBaei Ha TOT nepHOfl, KOTopuii xapaKTepH3yeTca npeflHKaTOM npHflaToiHoro npeffnoaceHHa (XP). BnpoHeM, cjioBoconeTaHHe ece epeMH MoxceT HMeTb H Apyryio (JjyHKUHio. (Cp. (99), (100) H (101) c BbiCKa3biBaHHeM (66)). XOT»

B

NOCJIEFLHEM

ConeTaHHH THna do mex nop HJIH do (moù) nopu o6Hapy»ceHbi H S M H TOJIbKO B TaKHX BbICKa3bIBaHHHX, Tfle TJiaBHblH npeflHKaT COflep»CHT rjiarojibHyio (JjopMy HecoBepiueHHoro BHfla. IIpHMepbi: (103)

Tlemn ( . . . ) 6UA no HenpiinmeAbCKUM BUIEAONAMfloTex nop, nona

xeamaAo CHapndoe. (KaTaeB) (Costello, 1962: 256). (104)

Honbw e OKHO Moeii Keapmupbi nocmyuaAu. CmyK npodoAMcaAcn flo Tex nop, noKa e KOMHame zopeAa i,taMna.

(105)

IJOUMOAU

ezo, XOPOUIENBKO

( G r . R . : 316).

noòuAu. M cudeA OH RO TOH nopbi

muxo, nona eiye 6biA cAaó, a KOK moAbKo neMnoeo yweA ceóe nodaAbtue. 8.0

nonpaeuACH,

(yKp.CK.JT. : 47).

IJpudamoHHoe npeÒAOMceHue c npedmamoM,

codepjtcaufUM

eAaeoAb-

nyto (fìopMy coeepuieHHoeo euda.

QpeflHKaT, coflepacauiHÌI TJiaroJibHyio (J)opMy coBepmeHHoro BHjja, yKa3biBaeT Ha CMeHy CHTyauHii A/R, n03T0My ecTecTBeHHO npeflnojio»HTb, HTO 3Ta CMeHa OTOHmecTBJiaeTca co CMCHOH X / Y , TO ecTb, HTO T E R M npHAaTOHHoro npefljioxceHHa aBjiaeTca nepexo,aHbiM nyHKTOM Mexciiy X P H YP. OflHaKo 3Ta npocTaa KapTHHa ocjioacHaeTca pjiflOM oócTOHTejibOTB. TaK, HanpHMep, H B Tex cjiynaax, Kor^a X H Y OTO»CfleCTBJiaiOTCa COOTBeTCTBeHHO C A H R, B ÓOJIbUIHHCTBe BbICKa3bIBaHHH npeflHKaT coflepxcHT OTpnuaTejibHyK> nacTHixy ne. IIpHMep : (106)

EoAbHOMy

cmanoeuAocb

(XajiH3eBa, 1969: 77).

xyotee,

nona

ne

npuiueA

òoKmop.

'Bim' H 'BPEMH* COBEPMEHHO HCHO, HTO

3/iecb

HE

59

OTpmiaeTca nepexoa H3 CHTyauHH

A B

CHTyauHio R, KaK STO aeJiaeTca B ripocTOM npeanoaceHHH. CpaBHHTe (106) co cjieayiomHM npHMepoM: (107) 3TOT

JJoxmop He nputueA.

4>aKT, BepoHTHo,

H

3acTaBJiœT öojibiiiHHCTBo HccjieaoBaTeJieñ

CHHTaTb oTpimaHHe B (106) nacTbio coK)3a, H B rpaMMaTHKax ynoMHHaeTCH 'COK)3 nom ne\ /I,e{icTBHTejibHO, B noaoÖHbix cjiynaax HMeeTca cneuH(})HHecKaa CBH3b MEACAY C0K)30M nom H oTpnuaHneM npH npe^HKaTe. OflHaKO cjie^yeT OTMeTHTb, HTO H 3Aecb onHcaHHoe Bbiuie 'o6mee 3HaneHHe' cjiOBa nom coxpaHaeTca. ByaeM CHHTaTb, HTO 3aecb coneTaHHe c OTpnuaTejibHbiM npeflHKaTOM jiHiub Moan({)nuHpyeT, aonojiHaeT sto o6mee 3HaieHHe. CJIE^yeT OTMeTHTb, HTO npe^HKaT npHflaTOHHoro npe,zyio>KeHH$i He Bceraa BbicTynaeT B oTpHuaTejibHoñ AKT, HTO TaKaa 3aMeHa OTpHuaTejibHoro npeaHKaTa HeoTpimaTejibHbiM, HJiH HaoöopoT, He Bcerüa B03M0»Ha, npeflnojiaraeT, HTO 3,aecb peHb H/IET o AByx pa3Hbix KOHCTpyKunax, XOTH pa3HHua Meamy HHMH HHor^a noHTH HeyjiOBHMa. Ilo HarneMy MHCHHK», pa3Hnua B 3HaneHHH 3THX KOHCTpyKUHH OÔyCJiaBJIHBaeTCH MOflajIbHblM OTTeHKOM, CBOHCTBeHHblM, OHeBHflHO, OTpHIiaHHIO B KOHCTpyKUHHX CO CJIOBOM nom. (CM. 7.2.2). 8.1

KpoMe cjiynaeB, rae cMeHa X/Y oToxcAecTBjiaeTca co CMeHOH A/R,

BcrpenaioTca TaKHe cjiynaH, Korna X 0T0)K,ziecTBJiaeTCH co BTopoä CHTYAUHEÑ

CMeHbi,

YKA3AHHOÑ

aaHHbiM

npe^HKATOM. 3 T O

He

TAX

yac

H

yflHBHTejibHo, TaK KaK 3Ta cHTyauH» aBjiaeTca 'caMoñ BaxcHoñ' h3 asyx CHTYAI^HH

nepeMeHbi. R npeflCTaBjiaeT co6oii

TO HOBOE, HTO CO3AAHO

NPOPAÖOTKOH AAHHORO KOJiHHecTBa E-e/IHHHU. OANAKO, npn TaKOM Buae OToayiecTBJieHHa X, oTpniiaTejibHbiH npeaHKaT AeHCTBHTenbHo yKa3wBaeT Ha oTpHnaHHe nepeMeHbi, TO ecTb Ha CMeHy A/R. 3HaHHT, npH nojioacHTejibHOM npe^HKaTe X OTOHcaecTBJiaeTca c R, a npn OTpHiiaTejibHOM NPE^HKATE X OTOACFLECTBJIAETCA C R .

CpaBHHTe npHMepw: (111)

EeMcuM, nom oceemuAu nymb.

(HnKHTHHa, 1964: 76).

60

A. A. BAPEHTCEH

(112)

EeoKUM, nOKa ne oceemuAU nymb.

(HmcHTHHa, 1964: 76).

B pa3jiHHeHHH O6OHX BapnaHTOB coneTaHH» cjiOBa nona c OTprajaTejibHOH HacTHüeñ ne H npeflHicaTOM coBepmeHHoro BHfla, onpeflejieHHyio pojib MoaceT HrpaTb KaTeropiw 'BPEM.H'. Tax, HanpHMep, nocjie/mHe BapHaHTH (X = R H X = K), OHeBHflHO, BCTpenaioTCfl TOJIBKO npH npe^HKaTax, coflepacamax rjiarojibHyio 4>opMy n p o m e ^ u i e r o BpeMeHH. CpaBHHTe npHMepw: (113) (114)

IIoKa OHa Mne ne omeemuAa, n nuuezo ne Mozy npednptiHfimb. He Mozy H menepb examb u ne Mozy npednpuHnmb nunezo, noKa OHa ne omeemum Mne. (JI. TOJICTOH) (MaxaibioB, 1952: 15) (Borras; Christian, 1971: 256).

OTMeieHHaa 3/iecb pa3HHqa B coneTaroiax nona -+- ne + npefl. COB. BHfla nporn. Bp., OHeBHÍTHO, 33BHCHT OT TOrO, KaKyiO (jjyHKUHIO BbinOJIHaeT OTpHuaTeJibHaH nacTHua ne: aBJiaeTca JIH OHa MOflH«|)HKaTopoM 3HaneHHa noxa, hjih B nepByío onepeflb coHeTaeTca c npe^HKaTOM. 3 T O MOJKHO H3o6pa3HTb TaK: 1-aa KOHCTpyKuna: (nona + ne) + npea. 2-aa KOHCTpyKiiH«: norn + (ne + npe/i.). 8.2 B HacToameñ cTaTbe oTMeneHHbie BapnaHTbi paccMaTpHBaioTca B cjieayiomeH nocjieflOBaTejibHOCTH: 1.

(nona + ne) + npe^. COB. BH^a nporn. Bp. (X = A, Y = R + MOA.

2. 3. 4.

norn + npefl. COB. BHfla nporn. Bp. (X = A, Y = R). noKa + npefl. COB. BH/ia n p o m . Bp. (X = R). noKa + (ne + npe,n. COB. BHfla n p o m . Bp.) (X = R).

OTTeHOK).

OcTaHOBHMca npeac^e Bcero Ha BapnaHTe 1, r a « icaic OH BCTpeiaeTca name ü p y r n x . 9.1 Bapuanm 1. KaK MW y »ce oTMeTHJiH, npeanicaT npH^aioMHoro npefljioaceHHa y i c a 3 b i B a e T 3 , a e c b H a CMEHY A / R

( a He A / E ) .

A

H R

COOTBETCTBEHHO

o T o a m e c T B J i f l i o T C f l c X H Y . OTPHNATEJIBHAA NACTHIXA ne BHOCHT HCKHH

MOAajibHbiñ OTTCHOK: OHa OTpHnaTejtbHo xapaKTeproyeT R. H o 3TO He 3HaiHT, HTO CHTYAUHA R He cymecTByeT: ne YKA3BIBAET Ha HecoHexaeMocTb CHTyaixHH R = Y c cHTyaiiHeH,yKa3aHHOH rjiaBHbiM npe/vioaceHHeM (E, E, R HJIH R). 06o3HaHHM 3Ty CHTyaUHK) M (MAIN CLAUSE

61

'BHH* H ' B P E M H '

riepexofl H3 X B Y (H3 A B R) KaK 6w JiHinaeT CHTyauHH M 'noHBbi', Ha KOTopoii oHa MoaceT cymecTBOBaTb. 3TO co3flaeT npeflCTaBJieHHe, HTO T E R M npHflaToiHoro npeanoaceHHH KaK 6bi 'oTceKaeT' CHTyaiiHio M, 'ocTaHaBjiHBaeT' ee. TaKoe 'oTceKaHHe' npeflnojiaraeT, HTO CHTyaiíH» M 3aHHMaeT BCIO nocjieflHK>io nacTb XP, BiuiOTb flo T E R M . 3HaHHT, KOHeii; M coBnaflaeT c T E R M npHflaTOHHoro npeajioxeHHH. Co6paHHbie HHMH npHMepw He npoTHBopenaT TaKOH HHTepnpeTaiiHH.8

SITUATION),

9.2.0 riepeHfleM K aHajiH3y npHMepoB. PaccMOTpHM BLicKa3biBaHHH, B KOTopbix rjiaBHoe npeaJioxceHHe coaepxcHT rjiarojibHyio opMy HecoBepnieHHoro Bima. CM. (106) H cjieayiomae npHMepw: (115)

yóawKueajia

(116)

Acco/ib CMompeAa

peóetiKd, eMy

nona

(YuiaKOB).

ne 3acHyA.

ecjied, noKa

OH ne CKpbincn

3a

noeopomoM.

( A . T P H H ) (XajiH3eBa, 1969: 78).

(117)

M u

cudeAu

doMa,

noKa

ne Komunacb

(MoTHHa, 1 9 6 1 :

6ypn.

113). (118)

Ezo

6pam

pañomaji

(119)

(120)

AneKcandp

pacmouaA

ne yceAcn

ApaKieee.

EbiAO

Ha

naiueM

3aeode,

nom

OH ne

KOHHUA

pndoM

c HUM

(HenaeBa: 271).

UHcmumym.

memo,

noKa

Aw6e3Hbie

yAbiÓKU,

(MapHH) ne CKpbiA0Cb

noKyda

( F B 0 3 A E B , 1 9 5 8 : 228).

( I i n C : 180)

coAHife.

(Gr.R.: 316). (121)

Bee

MJÜO

MopmaMU, MaMa (122)

TÜK

—

ecezda a noKa

ux

6UAU

—

ne ebiuiAa 3a nany.

OHU u nepezoeapueaAucb

KopaÓAu.

cpepMepaMU,

xcemifUHbi

a

CKommu

noumu

ymimeAbHuifaMU, (O'HHJI I:

(fiaaMCKaMu,

noKa

KOK

ece nauta

316). ne

pa30uiAucb

(IÜBapii;: 32).

TjiaBHoe npeflJioaceHHe MoaceT coaepxaTb yKa3aHHe Ha HHTeHCHBHOCTb HJIHflJIHTeJIbHOCTbfleHCTBH»(o6bIHHO 3TO IIOBTOpeHHe IMiarOJIbHOH (J)OpMbI HJIH CJIOBO ece). 8

Yica3aHne Ha coBnaflemie Komia M c TERM npH/jaxoHHoro npefljioacemw He BbrreKaeT aBTOManwecKH H3 coftmnreinw coflepacaHHa cJioBa noKa H lacxHUbi ue. BapnaHT 1, 3HaTHT, «BJweTca CBOero pofla HHHOMOS. BO3MOJKHO cjieayiomee HCTOJIKOBairae cBoeo6pa3Horo 3HaieHna S-roro coieTaHiw: H3-3a Toro, HTO ue ceMaHTHnecKH He OTHOCHTCa K npe^HKaTy npmiaTOHHoro npeAJioxeHH«, MOJKHO ciHTaTb, HTO 3Ta lacrima OTHOCHTCa K rnaBHOMy npeanoaceHino. OyHKUjw lacrauti He 3aKJuoKeHHe co,aep5KHT TaKxce rjiarojibHyio aöcTpaKTHoe yKa3aHHe, KaK HanpHMep, OpHCTHBKa no- HJIH npo-. 3TH npHCTaBKH TOJIbKO yKa3bIBaK)T, HTO E paccMaTpHBaeTCH KaK eflHHPrua, CB«3aHHaa c KaKoii-To nopuneÈ BpeMeHH. OflHaKO, ocoöeHHO B cjiynae npHCTaBKH no-, BejiHHHHy 3 T 0 h nopuHH

Heo6H3aTejibHO

yKa3biBaTb.

IlpHMepbi : (172)

YmpoM

CeAUífian ôecyeAbHo

noKpyxcuA

no

yAuifaM, noKa ne ouymuACH na napoxodnoü

COHHUM

muxuM

npucmanu.

(E. IlepMHTHH) (XajiH3eBa, 1969: 78). (173)

H nouumaA

eMy neMHozo,

nona

OH ne y cuy A.

(XaJiH3eßa,

1969: 78). (174)

riocAe

oôeda

yotee nmezo

ne nucaA,

HeMHozo nocuôapumcmeoeaA

HUKOKUX

ôyMaz,

a

max

na nocmeAU, noKa ne nomeMHeAO.

(rorojib) (XajiH3eBa, 1969: 78). (175)

OH nocudeA

(npocudeA)

y otcua, nona

coeceM

ne cmeMHeAO.

( r C P J l f l : 731). (176)

ffaxoHeif, y emanan, ona cem e nyxne na AaeKy u npocudeAa do nopbi,

noKa

( n n C : 181).

ne nputueA

c (ßaöpiiKu

ílaeeA.

man

(ropbKHñ)

69

'BHfl' H 'BPEMfl'

Mena

(177)

ejiade/ibifa

noKa

b 3TOÜ

MHoraa

Kapa3a, KaK (188)

ON cMompeA

McypnaA.

He HCKjiioHaeT BO3MO>KHOCTH HHTepnpeTauHH E KaK noBTopaiomeroca. ECJIH TaKOH pflfl HXteHTHHHblX E OCTaH&BJIHBaeTCH T E R M - C M npHAaTOHHoro npeßJioaceHH«, MCOKHO YKA3ATB, H3 CKOJIBKHX E 3TOT psia COCTOHJI. Il03T0My B03M0MCHa TaKax 4>pa3a: (189)

On npocMompeA ufyio ezo

McypnaA nnmb pa3, nona ne nauieA

unmepecyio-

cmambK).

CpaBHHTe cjieayiomHe npHMepbi : (190)

*OH

noemopuA

(191)

On noemopuA

(192)

BaAbKo

adpec, adpec

uecKOAbKo

noKa ne

3ameepduA.

nnmb pa3, nona ne pa3

ecAyx

noemopuA

3ameepduA. adpec

Oneza,

nona

ne

(«Pafleeß) (AnTp. : 307) (HHKHTHHA, 1964: 68). B 3aKjiK>HeHne npHBe^CM eme HecKOJibKO npHMepoB c KOJiHHecTBeHHbiM onpe^ejieHHeM npa o6i>eKTe. ( C M . Taofce (LLO)). 3ameepduA.

(193)

H nepecMompeA ufyio Atenn

Kyuy otcypnaAoe,

noKa

ne nauieA

unmepecyio-

cmambio.

(194)

Ona naiuuAa

(195)

Bemiuna

Maccy

max

HOM

KycKy, noKa c smuM MOUM 3naKOMblM

itAambee,

nona ne

nonpaeuAacb,

umo

3a6oAeAa. MU

OKOPOKOM ne CAynuAocb

nOHmOAbOHOM no (ßüMUAUU

ompesaAu

eufe

maK, xai< c

no

OÒHUM

Ko3eA.

(rauieK : 485).

(196)

(...)

OH

( . . . ) p a c c K a 3 b i e a A UM,

cbeA eKycHbix

eeufeü,

CKOMKO

on e ceoe epeMH ebinuA u

noKa ezo ne CKpymuAO.

(rauieK: 715).

71

'bha' h 'bpemh' 9.5 rAaeme npednoMcemie coeepuieHHozo euda.

codepjtcum

ompuifameMHbiü

npeduKam

KaK Mbi oTMeTHJiH, oTpmiaTejibHbiH npeaHKaT coBepmeHHoro BHfla yKa3biBaeT Ha CMeHy cHTyauHH A / R . 3 T a CMeHa npoHCxojiHT B X P . X P , cjieflOBaTejibHo, xapaKTcpmyeTca HajiHHiieM R , n o KpaHHeft Mepe,

b nocjieflHeií CBoeii nacTH. 3 t o t BapnaHT xapaKTeprayeTca TeM, h t o CHTyauHH M ccTb CHTyauwa R rjiaBHoro npefljioaceHHsi. 3HaHHT, T E R M npHAaTOHHoro npeajioaceHHH npeKpamaeT R rjiaBHoro npeanoaceHH», TO eCTb 'BbI3bIBaeT' R . 3HaHHT CMeHbl CHTyaUHH (cOOTBeTCTBeHHO R / R H A / R ) B TJiaBHOM H IipJWTOHHOM npeflJIOXCeHHHX npOHCXOAHT OflHOBpeMeHHo, h CMeHa, yKajaiiHaa npa/jaTonubiM npe/uioaceHHeM, npeA-

cTaBJiaeTCH KaK npHHHHa hjih ycjiOBHe CMeHbi, yKa3aHHoñ rjiaBHbiM npeflJioxceHHeM. IlpHMepbi : (197)

KUMAÜTFBI He omnycmuAu HOC, NONA He (ApceHbeB) (rB03fleB, 1958: 228).

(198)

Tom, zoeopnm, opaA npu jmoM max, CAoeuo ezo HOMCOM PE3AAU, u ne nepecmaA peeemb do mex nop, noKa ezo e nenpoMOKaeMOM MeiUKe ne côpocuAu c 3AUUIKUHCI Mocma. (raureK: 41). OH, KONEUHO, ne BUMOABUA HU cAoea, noKa H ne yjiootcun ueModan u ne 3ammyA peMHU. (flacepoM: 71).

(199) (200)

HÜKOPMUAU

KÜK

cAedyem.

M noKyda OH He cnycmuA nocAednezo pyÓAñ, OH ne ycnoxouAcn. (IllA (c) I: 197).

9.6 KaK mm OTMeTHJiH Bbime (4.1), b Tex cjiynaax, Kor^a npHflaToniioe npeflJioaceHHe cjiyacHT fljia yKasaHna iipeaena, b rjiaBHOM npeaJioxceHHH nacTo BCTpenaioTca cjroBocoHCTaHHfl c npeanoroM do. (Cm. npHMepw (28)-(31)). HmCHHO 3Ty ({)yHKUHK) h HMeeT paCCMOTpeHHblH b s t o m pa3flejie BapnaHT, h nosTOMy b npHBeaeHHbix Bbime npHMepax yace HecKOJibKo pa3 BCTpenajiHCb no/ioSnbie cjioBoconeTaHHH. (Cm. (150), (160), (166), (169), (176), (198)). B 3aKjnoieHHe 3Toro pa j^ejia npHBe^eM eme PM npHMepoB : (201)

OH cmpeAHA do mex nop, noKa uepmie cuAyambi yifeAeeutux maHKoe ne omnoA3AU OKomameAbm 3a cuneeiuyw e cyMepxax KpoMKy zopu30Hma. (IIojicboh) (MoTHHa, 1961: 113).

(202)

OH cMompeA ecAed oxommixy do nopu, nona mom ne ucuei e HOHHbix mennx. (ropbKHÜ) (AK.Fp. : 308).

(203)

Hoeyto Keapmupy oÔMbieaAU do mex nop, nom ona ne cmaAa noxoMceü na cmapyw. (KpoKO/iHJi) (Gr.R. : 316).

A. A. EAPEHTCEH

72 (204)

Houbto e OKHO Moeü Keapmupbi nocmynaAu. CmyK npodoAotcaAcn do mex nop, nona H ne ebiuieA na yAtiify. (I1ITC: 181).

(CpaBHHTe (204) c (104)). (205) (206)

OHU ne zoeopuAU do mex nop, nona KeAeÜHUK He npunec caMoeap. (HmcHTHHa, 1964: 78). H do mex nop He 3MA, umo AW6AK> me6n, noxaMecm ne paccmaACH c moóoü. (KynpHH) (AicXp.: 308).

10.1 Bapuanm 2. Tax xce, xaic h paccMOTpeHHbm Bwuie Bapnanr 1, BapnaHT 2 xapaKTepH3yeTCH TeM, HTO X H Y OTOJKfleCTBJWIOTC« COOTBeTCTBeHHO c A h R . OflHaKo, 3^ecb oTCyTCTByeT yKa3aHHoe nocpe/iCTBOM oTpmiaTejibHoñ HacTinibi ne OTHOiueHHe HecoHeTaeMoeTH Mexc^y Y ( = R ) h CHTyaiiHeñ M (toh cnTyaiineñ, KOTopaa yKa3biBaeTCH niaBHbiM npefljioxceHHeM). 3 t o noBbiuiaeT 3HaneHHe CHTyauHH X ( = A). OHa 3flecb caMocToaTejiBHo flOJiacHa cjiyacHTb '4>ohom', B TO BpeMx KaK B BticKa3biBaHHax BapHaHTa 1 OHa npocTo npe/iiiiecTByeT 'poKOBOü', 'npeRpamaiomeñ' CHTyauHH Y(=R). CaMa no ce6e CHTyaitaH A hohth Hnicaic He oxapaKTepiooBaHa. EflHHCTBeHHWM npH3HaKOM 3TOH CHTyaiJHH HBJMeTCH TO, HTO OHa AOJKKHa 6 m t l TaKoñ, hto6li flaHHaa cm-yaiura R Morjia cjieaoBaTt 3a Heñ. 3Toro, noacajiyá, Hefl0CTaT0HH0 ww Toro, hto6m cjiyacHTb ohom íyis cHTyaijHH (cHTyaiiHH), yKa3aHHoñ (yKa3aHHbix) rjiaBHbiM npe^jioaceHHeM. OflHaKo Hejib3H 3a6biBaTb, mto o6bihho b nocjieflHeñ lacra CHTyauHH A npoHcxoflHT Ta aeaTejibHOCTb, KOTopaa 'npoH3Bo,0HT' nepexofl H3 A b R. M m npe^nojiaraeM, hto hmchho ata lacn» CHTyauHH A b BWCKa3biBaHHflx BapHaHTa 2 cjiyxHT 4>ohom, to ecTb OTOHcaecTBjiaeTCH c X . H o ee Hejn>3H npocTo TaK OToxmecTBHTb c E rjiarojia npaaaTOHHoro npeftnoaceHH». 3 t o craHeT hchhm npn paccMOTpeHHH TaKoro rjiarojia, KaK naümu. PaccMOTpHM cjieayioiuyK) (j>pa3y: (207)

Mean HaiueA uiAxny.

3flecb npoacxoAHT CMeHa A/R, npH KOTopoñ R moncho napacf)pa3npoBan. npHMepHo TaK: "HBaH ctoht jihuom k jiHiiy co lujihiioh". ruaroji naümu, oflHaKO, He yKa3MBaeT, cjiynaHHO jih B03HHKJia 3Ta cHTyauaa R , hjih OHa »BjiaeTCH pe3yjibTaTOM KaKoñ-To c03HaTejn.H0H aeaTejibHOCTH. 'Bhaoblim napTHepoM' rjiarojia naümu CHHTaeTCH rjiaroji naxodumb. CorjiacHo Tpe6oBaHH«M, npeffbHBJiíieMbiM hhctobhaobhm napaM, jickchnecKHe 3HaneHHa 3thx AByx rjiarouoB .hojkkhm 6biTb HfleHTHHHbiMH.

'BHfl' H 'BPEMfl'

73

CjieAOBaTejibHo, naxodumb He MoaceT yKa3biBaTb Ha co3HaTejibHyio fleaTejibHOCTb, co3AaiomyK) cmryauHio R. Haxodumb, TaK xce KaK H naümu, yica3biBaeT Jinnib Ha caM nepexoa H3 A B R. (OcTaBHM 3flecb 6e3 BHHMaHHH ynoTpe6jieHHa rjiarona Haxodumb B KanecTBe CHHOHHMa rjiarojia cnumamb). B 3TOM cMbicjie OTHOineHHa Mexcay naümu H naxodumb OTJiHiaioTca OT OTHOIUCHHH Meac/iy peiuumb H petuamb. CpaBHHTe: (208) (209)

OH ÓOAZO peuiaA 3aáauy, u naxoneif peiuuA ee. *OH ÓOAZO naxoduA uiA.uny, u naKoneif nauieA ee.

OAHaico cymecTByeT rjiaroji HCKaTb, yKa3biBaiomHH xax pa3 Ha Ty co3HaTejibHyio AeaTejrbHOCTb, KOTOpaa MoxeT npOH3BecTH nepeMeHy A/R. CpaBHHTe (209) co cneAyioinHM npHMepoM: (210)

OH

ÓOAZO UCKOA uiAxny,

u naKoneif

nauieA

ee.

3flecb KOHTexcT (4>pa3a, coaepacamaa ruaroji ucKamb) yKa3biBaeT, HTO aaHHa« nepeMeHa CB«3aHa c co3HaTejibHoií fleHTejibHocTbio. 3Ta HH^opMauHH aBjiaeTca nacTbio jieKCHHecKoro 3HaneHHa y TaKHX rjiaroJIOB, KaK ombicKamb, noducKamb, pa3bicxamb H cbicnamb, TO ecTb rJiarojioB, CB»3aHHbix c rjiarojioM ucmmb oTHomeHaeM cji0B006pa30BaHHH. XOTH TaKHe napbi, KaK naümu-ucKamb, ombictcamb-uacamb H T.A. Hejib3a CHHTaTb 'HHCTOBHAOBMMH napaMH', OHH, KaK noKa3biBaeT cpaBHeHHe (208) H (210), HMCIOT C nocjieflHHMH MHoro o6mero. B TaKHx napax rjiaroji HecoBepmeHHoro BHfla KaK 6bi yKa3biBaeT Ha 'MOTOP', KOTopbiñ np0H3B0OTT nepeMeHy, yKa3aHHyio rjiarojioM coBepxueHHoro BH^a. 06WHHO B rjiarojie coBepmeHHoro BHfla nocpe/jcTBOM npHCTaBKH aaeTca eme aonojiHHTejibHaa HHopMaiuiH 06 3TOH nepeMeHe: cpaBHHTe, HanpHMep, omucKamb, nodbicKamb H pa3bicKamb. 'Bn/ioBbiMH napraepaMH' TaKHx rjiarojiOB coBepmeHHoro BH^a HBJIHKÍTCS TOJibKO Te raarojibi HecoBepmeHHoro BHfla, KOTopbie coAepacaT j y ace HH(})opMauHK>. MTaK, Mbi BHuejiH, HTO 'fleaTejibHOCTb', npoHCxoAaman B nocjieAHeñ nacTH cHTyaiiHH A , He Bcer^a MONCHO oToacflecTBHTb c E nnarojia coBepmeHHoro BHAa, aBjiaiomerocH npe^HKaTOM npHAaTOHHoro npeAjioaceHHa. PaccMOTpHM Tenepb cjieAyiomHH npHMep: (211)

MHOZO pa3 MenHA ceoe pycAO Kanpu3Hbiü yuaxan, nona naiueA ydoÓHoe. (KonraeBa) (AK.rp.: 307).

B KaiecTBe X P 3aecb cjiyxcHT A P npHAaTOHHoro npe/yio»ceHHa, H C06CTBeHH0 TOJIbKO Ta (nOCJieAHHa) HaCTb A P , B KOTOpOH npOHCXOAHT AeaTejibHocTb, npon3BOAamaa nepeMeHy. 3Ty AeaTejibHocTb MONCHO

74

A . A . EAPEHTCEH

onHcaTt

npHMepHO

HMeHHO 3 T 0 H

Tan:

"YnaxaH

fleaTeJIbHOCTH

npeflJioaceHHeM:

"YnaxaH

nmeT

yaoÖHoe

MHOTO p a 3

CTPYKUHFL HMEET MHOTO o 6 m e r o

MeHaeT cBoe

pycjro".

(|)OHe

3Ta

KOH-

BHfla. C p a B H H T e

(211)

npHMepoM:

M HOZO pa3 MCHHA ceoe pycAO xanpusiibiù Ynaxm, ydoÓHoe.

(212)

Ha

C KOHCTPYKUHEÑ B B b i C K a 3 b i B a H H » x C

npH^aTOHHbiM npefljioaceHHeM H e c o B e p m e H H o r o c o cjieaytoiUHM

pycjio".

n p O H C X O A H T TO, I T O y K a 3 b I B a e T C H r j i a B H b I M

nona UCKÜA

B ( 2 1 2 ) He y i c a 3 a H O , n p o H c x o ^ H T j i h n e p e x o f l B R , KaK 3 t o c ^ e j i a H O B (211).

A

HMeHHO

yKa3anne

Ha

nepeMeHy

HrpaeT

6ojibuiyio

pojib

B

KOHTeKCTe, O K p y a c a i o m e M BbiCKa3biBaHHe. B 3THX c j i y n a a x KaK 6 b i c y m e CTByeT

KOH(|)JIHKT

MOKfly

TpeÖOBaHHHMH,

CBSnaHHbIMH

npeflHKaTa npH/iaTOHHoro npeanoaceHHH BHyTpn c a M o r o H ero

»ce 4>yHKUHeñ n o

OTHOIHCHHIO K KOHTeKCTy.

C

4>yHKU;HeH

BbicKa3biBaHH» onpe/iejieHHa

B p e M e H H b l X O T H O H i e H H H B H y T p H B b I C K a 3 b I B a H H » , Ka3ajIOCb 6 b l , noflxoflHT

ruaron

HecoBepmeHHoro

BH^a,

OAHaKO,

ÔOJIbHie

OTHOUICHHA

c

n p e ^ H K a T a M H B i i p y r n x B b i C K a 3 b i B a H a a x H e p e ^ K O ( a HMCHHO, K o r f l a p e i b H^eT

o

'uenw

CO6MTHH')

TpeôyioT

rjiarojia

coBepmeHHoro

BHfla.

I l p e f l H K a T c o B e p m e H H o r o B H n a B n p n a a T O H H O M npezyioHceHHH O6WHHO ß o j i b u i e CBH3aH c ' n o B e c T B O B a T e j i b H O H JIHHHCH', i e M n p e ^ H K a T H e c o B e p meHHoro

B H ^ a . Pa3HHH;a M e a m y

nocudemb

H

BbicKa3biBaHHHMH

BbicKa3biBaHH»MH c n i a r o j i a M H c

cooTBeTCTByiomnMH

THna

ôecnpncTaBOH-

H b i M H r J i a r o j i a M H 6 b i B a e T OHera> H e 3 H a 4 H T e j i b H O H . C p a B H H T e c j i e a y i o m n e npHMepbi :

(213)

IJoKa H noHuma/i ecuemy, mamb npuzomoeum (rCPJDI:

(214)

ystcun.

731).

IIoKa H numan za3emy, uamb npuzomoeum yotcun. (rCPJLH:

ripeHMymecTBeHHO

731). B npHflaTOWOM

npeßjiOHceHHH

BCTpenaiOTca

rjia-

r O J I b l C KaKHM-JIHÖO p e 3 y j I b T a T H B H b I M O T T e H K O M . ITpHMep :

(215)

H

u3MyuuACH, noKa, naxcmeif, doôpaAc.i do meoezo

doMa.

(Xa^H3eBa, 1969: 79).

10.2.1 r/iasHoe npednoMcenue codepMcum coeepuieHHozo euda. Haute

Beerò

BapnaHT 2

no/ioMCumejibHbiü npeduKam

BCTpenaeTCH B BbiCKa3biBaHiwx,

B

KOTopbix

'BUA' H 'BPEMH' rjiaBHoe

npeflJioaceHHe

coAepacHT

75

npe^HtcaT

coBepmeHHoro

I l 0 3 T 0 M y CHaiaJia paccMOTpHM pap, npHMepoB 3 T o r o

(216) IloKa n ÒOÓUACR om nezo omeema, (rCPJIiI: 731). (217) (218)

BHfla.

Tana:

.H U3M)>HUACH.

OHeecbnp0M0K,n0Kanepe6eMcaAuepe3 yAuify. (rCPJTil : 731). IJoKa OHU nodnecAU Ky/imu npomepemb ux (ZM3a), Mepmeetfa u cAed npocmbiA. ( r o r o j i b ) ( A i c . r p . 2 : 3 0 8 ) ( H H K H T H H a , 1 9 6 4 : 71).

(219)

IJoKa CeMH àoi>pe/i do ceoeao Kocmpa, HOZU eeo NPOMOKJIU om pocu. ( « D a ^ e e B ) ( C o s t e l l o , 1962: 254). (220) IJoKa ona doópanacb ... do Kpan ÓAiiMcaùuiezo nAoma, MHH omnecAo K cAeàyioufeMy. ( K e T j i H H C K a a ) ( C o s t e l l o , 1 9 6 2 : 2 5 4 ) . (221) IJOKÙ M coópaAcn, ece ywAu. (IIFIC: 179). (222) IloKa Mbi odeAucb, notueA dootcòb. ( H e n a e B a : 2 7 0 ) . (223) TÌOKCI eoùcxa nenpunmeAn ycneAu onoMHumbcn, Haiuu opydun yoKe 3QHHAU ydoÓHbie no3uifuu.

I I p H f l a T O H H o e npe/XJioxceHMe M o x c e T c o f l e p a c a T b 6 o J i e e o a H o r o coBepmeHHoro HocTeii' MeacAy

BH.ua.

X

HJIH H3 ' u e n u ' A

h

R

coBepmeHHoro

Tor/ja

COCTOHT H3 c o i e T a H H «

3THX IIEATEJIBHOCTEH, a

cjiyacHT

nocjieflHHÌi

T E R M

npe^HKaxa

Bcex

'.uearejib-

nepexo^HbiM

aaHHoro

pima

nyHKTOM rjiarojioB

BH^a.

ripHMepbi: (224)

IloKa no3aempaKaAu u ynoMcuAucb — pacceeAo. (Forsyth,

(225)

Bo

Bcex

1970:

(UIOJIOXOB)

66).

Cepeotca ne ycneA omeemumb meM otce: nona ebidpaACR, ompnxHyACH, ÒOZHCIA, ocmaAbHbie yjtce ycneAu nodnnmbCH na 6yzop. (JleoHOB) (Costello, 1962: 254). 3THX c j i y n a a x T E R M r j i a B H o r o npe/UIOHCEHIW JIH6O p a c n o j i o a c e H

AO T E R M

(HJIH ' n y n K a '

T E R M )

NPHFLATOHHORO

NPE/UIOVKEHHH,

JIH6O

COBNAAAET C HHM.

10.2.2

ECJIH r j i a B H o e n p e f l J i o a c e H H e c o A e p a c H T r j i a r o j i T H n a

HHTepnpeTaiiHH

coBnaxteiiHH T E R M

nocudemb,

rjiaBHoro H npnflaTOHHoro

npea-

JIOXCeHHH, OHCBH7IHO, HBJIHeTCH e f l H H C T B e H H O B 0 3 M 0 H C H 0 H . ripHMepw :

(226)

Mbi

nocudeAU, noKa OH ycuyA,

(HejcpacoB) (HHKHTHHa, 1964:

71).

u pa30iuAucb

ocmopootcno.

76

A. A. EAPEHTCEH

Hmeao,

(227)

(228)

nona

mbi docmamoum nompyduAcx, nona na cnacmbe. ( H I A ( c ) 1 : 2 0 6 ) .

MaMoma,

dunAOM, HUM

sacnyA, mpu naca npoeoponaAcn

nonymui

C 6oKy NA 6OK.

(XajiH3eBa, 1969: 79). (229)

IJpouiAo mpu vaca, nom

(230)

IJpouiAo

HecK0AbK0

(XaJiH3eBa,

nputueA epan.

ÒHeù,

nom

h

e

neM-mo

1969:

79).

pa3o6paACH.

( I O . TpnaKT O6I>JICHHET, noneMy B TSKHX BwcKa3biBaHH»x, KaK (229)-(233) npeflHKaT n p r n i a T o r a o r o npe,zuioxceHHH Hejn.3H 3aMeHHTb oTpnixaTejibHOH (J)0pM0H. 3FLECB rjiaBHoe npefljioaceHHe Be;n> yKa3biBaeT Ha Tenemie BpeMeHH. ÍICHO, HTO nepexofl, yKa3aHHbin npHflaTOHHbiM npefljioaceHHeM, HE OCTAHABJIHBAET TEIEHUA BPEMEHH. (236)

Taxaa (jjpa3a, KAK

TIpouiAo mpu naca.

yica3MBaeT He Ha TO, HTO TeneHHe BpeMeHH OKOHHCHO, a Ha KOJIHHCCTBO BpeMeHH, npomefluiee c KaK0r0-T0 onpe^ejieHHoro MOMeHTa. CpaBHHTe, HanpHMep: (237)

IJpotuAo

mpu naca c ux ombe3Óa. Haiajio aejrrejibHOCTH, B pe3yjibTaTe

B (229)-(233) STOT MOMCHT —

KOTopoíí NPOHCXOAHT nepexoa, YKA3AHHBIÑ NPHAATOHHBIM npeflJioxceHHEM.

3HAIHT,

AEATEJIBHOCTB.

KAK aojiro

3,ziecb YKA3BIBAETC», TaK

HanpHMep,

B (229)

npo,nojraajiacb

yKasbiBaeTca,

3TA

HTO MOMCHT

BbooBa Bpana HA TPN naca 'OTFLAJIEH' OT MOMEHTA NPHXOAA Bpana.

TERM rjiaBHoro NPEFLJIOKEHH» c TERM npHflaTOHHoro npefljiojKeira», BCTpenaioTca B TaKHX

FLPYRHE cjiynan, RAE HCHO BHAHO, ITO coBnaflaeT

BBICKA3BIBAHHHX, RAE NPEFLHKAT rjiaBHoro NPEANOXCEHHH CONETAETC» c KOJIHHECTBEHHBIM onpeflejieHHeM. ripHMepw: (111)

fl

oñeza/i Bce Mara3HHbi, nona HaiueA nyMcuyio KHuzy. Bce necHH, nona OH 3acnyA.

(238)

Mamb

(239)

— Tu umo amo, Mean, demetub?

nepeneAa peóenxy

— fla H deAaw umo nado. H yotce MHoro BoñcKa nepeóuA, HOKÜ ebi npuiuAu. (240)

OH (coóma

(YKP.CK.JI. : 152). MonMopeucu)

(...)

deAaA eud, umo dyMaem,

e Kop3uny u

— amo Kpbicbi. E.wy ydaAocb npoHUKHymb

AUMOHM

óydmo

yóumb ux uejibix TpH HiTyKH, noKa, naKoney, rappuc U3A08HUACH nonacmb (241)

e nezo cKoeopodoü.

OH CTO pa3 noemopuA,

noKa

(/JacepoM: 74). 3anoMHUA.

3TH cjiynaH oneHb noxoacH Ha paccMOTpeHHbie Bbirne (9.4.2) BbicKa3biBaHHsi c OTpauaTejibHbiM npH/iaTOHHbiM npeanoxceHHeM.

CpaBHHTe,

HanpHMep, (110) H (111). TeM He MeHee H Meacay HHMH ecTb pa3HHqa, KOTOpaa

3aKjnoHaeTCJi B TOM,

CHTyanHa

M

npouecca,

npoH3Boaamero

rjiaBHoro

HTO B BbiCKa3biBaHH»x

npeflJioxceHHH KaKyio-To

Bapnairra

paccMaTpHBaeTca nepeMeHy,

B TO

Ha

2

pa3bi "MM nyzmnocb t o BpeMH" npeAnojiaraex ynoTpeôjieHHe cJjopM HecoBepineHHoro Bnqa. BbicKa3biBaHHe (251) h b m c t c h CBoero poaa k o m h p o m h c c o m : o t h o i u c h k h coBnafleHHH no,nHepKHBaK>TCH nepBbiMH ziByMsi n p e a m c a T a M H , a o t h o rneHHH c 6ojiee i h h p o k h m k o h t c k c t o m yica3aHbi nocjieflHHM npeAHKaTOM B (J)opMe coBepmeHHoro Bima. liHTepecHo 3aMeTHTb, i t o (251) npeKpacHO HJijiiocTpHpyeT t o t 4>aKT, hto nona caMO no ce6e He OTpmiaer B03M0ÄH0CTH cymecTBOBaHHH E b YP. 3flecb YP nepBoro rjiarojia coBnaaaeT c XP BToporo rjiarona, YP BToporo rjiarojia c XP TpeTtero rjiarojia, a E rjiaBHoro npe/uioxœHHH cymecTByeT bo Bcex XP. 10.4 rdaenoe npedjtoMceuue codepotcum ompuifameAbHbiü npeduKam. ÜHTepecHo, h t o BapaaHT 2 i i o h t h He BcrpenaeTca b BMCfcasuBaHHax, rjiaBHoe npeaJioaceHne KOTopbix coaepacHT oTpauaTejibHbiH npeflHKaT. B c T a T b e H h k h t h h o h (HHKHTHHa, 1 9 6 4 : 7 7 ) HaxoflHM o a h h eziHHCTBeHHbiH npHMep: (253)

OHU ne cudeAu, nona OH y my A.

HHKHTHHa no noBoay 3Toro BbiCKa3biBaHH3i OTMenaeT, h t o ero Hejib3H HHTepnpeTHpoBaTb TaK, h t o c HacTynjieHHeM CHTyauMH R " o h ctht" npoHCxoflHT nepexofl b CHryauHio " o h h c h ^ h t " . BbiCKa3biBaHHe :

(254)

OHU ne cudejiu, noKa OH ne y cuyA.

Tfle npnaaTOHHoe npe^JioaceHHe coaepacHT o rpHuaTejibHyio nacxHuy «e, Haflo HHTepnpeTHpoBaTb h m c h h o T a x . 3 t o He ripoTHBopeHHT Hameii TeopHH. Ilo Hameñ TeopHH ( 2 5 3 ) npeacTaBjiaeT c o ö o h Bbicica3biBaHHe BapnaHTa 2. B HeM TOJibKO cooômaeTca, hto Ha OHe npoixecca 3acbinaHHX cymecTByeT E " o h h He c h a h t " . Ms 3Toro He BbiTeKaeT, h t o b YP c y m e c T B y e T E " o h h c h a s t " . ( 0 6 HHTepnpeTauHH TaKHX Bbicica3biBaHHH,

KaK (254) cm. 9.3.) B cjieayiomeM BbicKa3biBaHHH npe/iHKaT rjiaBHoro npeajioxceHH» nacTHuy

(255)

He a B j i a e T C »

oTpnuaTejibHbiM,

xots

oho

h

coaep*HT

ne

Bojibiue ceMu Aem nocne ceadbôbi ne 6WAO y Mena peôema. YMC dyMüAocb — ôecnAodna H. Rde moAbKO ne noôbieaAa, noua doMcdaAacb smoû ÔAaeodamu! (IllA (a) I: 446).

3/iecb ne HBjiHeTCfl nacTbio BbipaaceHH» ¿de moAbKo ne, KOTopoe m o î k h o 6biJio 6bi 3aMeHHTb HapenneM ee3de. IlpHMepoB c rjiaBHbiM npe/uioacenHeM, coflepacaiitHM npe^HKaT coBepmeHHoro Buaa Mbi Booôme He HauuiH. O h c b h / i h o , b TâKHX cjiynaax

81

'BHA' H 'BPEMH' npeanoHHTaeTca

KOHCTpyKiiH» c

npHAaTOHHbiM

acamHM npeflHKaT HecoBepineHHoro

(256)

H nepeee/I

*IIoKa

npe/uioxceHHeM,

BHfla. T a K ,

3my cmambio,

coflep-

KOHCTpyKUHH

H HU pa3y

ne nocMompen

e

n HU pa3y

He nocMompe/i

e

c/ioeapb. npeflnoHHTaeTCH

(257)

IIoKa

KOHCTpyKUHH

x nepeeoduA

3my cmantbio,

CAoeapb. BnponeM, 10.5

H T a x a » KOHCTpyKiiHH BCTpenaeTCfl p e r i c o .

Mbi

AByx,

HaaeeMCH,

BbiAejieHHbix

HTO H a M y a a j i o c b h

onHcaHHbix

^OKa3aTb

HaMH,

(CM.

7.4).

cymecTBOBaHHe

BapHaHTOB,

STHX

4>opMajibHO

0 X a p a K T e p H 3 0 B a H H b I X n p H C y T C T B H e M — O T C y T C T B H e M H a C T i m b l He.

3HaHHT,

' M H H H M a j i b H b i e n a p b i ' ( 1 0 8 ) - ( 1 0 9 ) H ( l l O ) - ( l l l ) COCTOHT H e H 3 CTHJIHCTHnecKHx BapHaHTOB,

a H3 BbiCKa3biBaHHH,

OTJiHHaiomHxca a p y r

CBOHM 3 H a n e H H e M . T a K , H B ( 1 0 8 ) H B ( 1 0 9 ) p e i b HfleT 0 6 jiecy"

H o CMeHe CHTyauHH A / R ,

"CTOflTb

J1HUOM

K JlHHy

rae

R

HTO E

h

R

npeKpamaerca

c HacTynjiemíeM

A/R.

CMeHa

aeaTejibHOCTH

"HCKaTb

B

E

E

apyra

KaK

BpeMH

6bi

KaK

(108)

B pe3yjibTaTe HBJiaeTca

KaK

"6eraTb

no

T o BceM

xce

caMoe

KOTopoií

pe3yjibTaTOM

onpeaejixeT

o

MONCHO C K A 3 A T B

Mara3HHaM"

npoHCxoflHT

E

Aeñ-

3Ty

fleírrejib-

HOCTb, YKA3AHHEM H a E HTO-TO COO6MAETCH o TOM, KaK n p o H c x o # H J i a FLEATEJIBHOCTB.

no

TaK:

H HTO n 0 3 T 0 M y

npeflCTaBJiaeTCH

R

3flecb

TO

íipyra

flexTejibHOcra,

OneBHflHO,

jiecHHKa".

apyr

B (109)

C T B H e , n p o H C X O / i a m e e H a (J)OHe TOH

npoH3omjia

OflHaKO,

HCKJiioHaiOT R,

OT

"njiyraTb

MOHCHO o n H c a T b n p H M e p H O

C JieCHHKOM".

noflHepKHBaeT,

E

3TA

nape (llO)-(lll). 3flecb

Ha

4>OHe

"HCKaTb

E

HyxcHyio

KHHry".

10.6

Pa3HHua

BapnaHTbi,

nHcaTejieñ X I X ne, 9

Mexcfly

OHCBHAHO,

BapHaHTaMH He

Bcei\na

1

H

2

He

(J>opMajibHo

oneHb

BejiHKa.9

pa3jiHHajmcb.

3TH

B

TeKCTax

BeKa nepe^KO BCTpenaiOTOi BbiCKa3biBaHH» 6 e 3

nacrimbr

K O T o p b i e , OHeBHflHO, H a / i o H H T e p n p e T H p o B a T b M H T e p e c H O OTMCTHTb, TTO B FLPYRHX SNBIKAX

ansí

KaK B a p n a n r

l.10

P A 3 J U N E H M OTTCHKOB 3 H a i e H H X ,

COOTBeTCTByMIUHX BEPHEHTEM 1 H 2 , OSBMHO y n O T p e S j W I O T C » p a 3 H B i e CJIOBa HJIH c j i o B o c o H e T a K H » . T a K , H a n p H M e p , B r o j u i a u n c i c o M H3BNCE 3TO COK>3 tot coio3 10

voor

(BapHaHT 1) H

(BapHaHT 2 ) .

CpaBHHTe: (MaxafijioB,

jioaceHHfi: c

noKa,

1952B:

14):

"3flecb

c n e a y e T 3aMCTHTb, TTO « J W

B KOTOPBIX FLEÑCTBHE r J i a B H o r o

orpairaieHO

MOMCHTOM,

H a c T y n a e T í i e f t c T B H e n p H f l a T o l H o r o , ue n e p e f l r j i a r o n o M - C K a 3 y e M W M CTAHOBHTCA

B

coBpeMeHHOM

j i o H t e m w 6 e 3 ne

JiHTepaTypHOM

H3bnce

«BjieHHeM

B c r p e i a i o T c s i Bce peace H pe»ce: B HayiHOñ H

npeflxoraa

npaaaToiHoro

oóbumbiM.

ripefl-

ny6jinancTH«fecKOÍ

82

A. A. BAPEHTCEH

IlpHMepM: (258)

IIocAe mozo OHU dpyotcecKu pa3¿oeapueam, ?.y.txH eMecme no jiecy do mex nop, notca JIu3a CKa3am eMy: ñopa. (üyiiiKHH) (HHKHTHHa, 1 9 6 4 : 76).

(259)

Cbm 6eoicaA 6e3 OZAHÓKU, noxa, naKonei/, nepecmaA c.ibixuamb 3a coóoü mnMceAbiü monom omifoecKux uiaeoe. (TypreHeB) (MnxaHJioB, 1952: 14).

OAHaKo, cpaBHHTe (259) c npHMepoM (260) Toro ace aBTopa: (260)

JlaepetfKuü ocmaAcn oduu na KpbiAbife u npucmaAbno 2 Ande a edaAb no dopoze, nona mapanmac He CKPBIACR U3 eudy. (TypreHeB) (Cji.Chh.).

npH HHTepnpeTaiIHH TaKHX BbICKa3bIBaHHH HH(|)OpMaHTOM, rOBOpaiUHM Ha coBpeMeHHOM pyccKOM H3biKe, oneBHflHo, ceMaHTHKa marojia npnAaToiHoro npeAJioaceHH» h b j i h c t c h pemaiomHM 3JieMeHTOM npa Bbi6ope Meacfly BapHHHTaMH 1 h 2 . ( 2 5 8 ) h ( 2 5 9 ) CKopee o t h o c h t c x k BapnaHTy 1 neM k BapHaHTy 2, Tax KaK npHflaToiHoe npeflJioaceHHe b 3thx BbiCKa3biBaHHií, Ka3ajiocb 6bi, He b c o c t o s h h h Bbi3BaTb npeflCTaBJieHH» AeflTejibh o c t h TaKoro oóbeMa, h t o 6 w OHa Morjia nocjiyacHTb (})ohom .zijiji E

rjiaBHoro npeflJioaceHHH. H 3 - 3 a T O r O , HTO BbICKa3bIBaHHH T H n a ( 2 6 0 ) COBpeMeHHblM HH(})OpMaH-

t o m BocnpHHHMaioTCfl Kax HopMajibHbiü cjiyiaH BapnaHTa 2, eme He BbrreKaeT, h t o b «3biKe nHcaTejieñ npooijioro BeKa n a c T H u a ne HMejia TOHHO TaKyiO X e was anterior to the beginning of the shift of short final accents, the reflex is: ije, ije. The (neo)circumflex gave prominence to the first part of the accented vowel and could, e.g., introduce the disyllabic reflex biSla > biela > bijela in definite forms of adjectives, so that after the beginning of the shift, the indefinite form could yield: biela > (bijela >) bijela. (b) Where (~) > (") was not completed before the end of stage 3, the reflex of the long accented /e/ became: ije, ije, i.e., in the indefinite form of adjectives: biela/biele g.s.; analogy caused shifting and lengthening (as to make the place of accent tenable) — bijela etc.; notice that this is more widely spread than the "kanovaCki" accent. (c) Where (~) > (") was still in process at the beginning of 4, the rising accented reflex is in all cases the -je-, because no disyllabic sequence could be developed, or it was not strong enough in the system as to cause analogy; the falling reflex can be in this case either the -je- or, to a great degree less frequently, the -ije- (i.e. bjela or bijela, def., and bjela, indef.). This interpretation proves the importance of relative chronology and gives independent support to the conception that the distinctive prosodic features of length and pitch are diachronically (and synchronically) not seen as suprasegmental, because their changes interact with changes of other inherent vocalic features so closely, that they must be investigated on the same level. University of Amsterdam BIBLIOGRAPHY Belie, A. 1914 Akcenatske studije, I (Posebna izdanja SAN, Knj. 42/11 Beograd). Delia Bella, A. 1728 Dizionario italiano-latino-illirico (Venezia).

106

JADRANKA GVOZDANOVIC

Ebeling, C. L. 1967 "Historical Laws of Slavic Accentuation", To Honor Roman Jakobson (The Hague), 577-593. Hamm J. 1949 "Stokavätina Donje Podravine", Rad, 275, 1-70. Ivic, P. 1956 Dijalektologija srpskohrvatskog jezika. Uvod u stokavsko narjecje (Novi Sad). 1958 "Osnovnye puti razvitija serboxorvatskogo vokalizma", V.fa, 7,1, 3-20. 1959 "Die Hierarchie der prosodischen Phänomene im serbokroatischen Sprachraum", Phonetica, 3, 23-39. 1961 "The functional yield of prosodie features in the patterns of Serbocroatian dialects", Word, 17, 293-308. 1961-1962 "Broj prozodijskih mogucnosti u reci kao karakteristika fonoloäkih sistema slovenskih jezika", JF, 25, 75-113. 1965 "Glavne linije razvoja prozodijskog sistema u srpskohrvatskom jeziku", Studia z filologii polskiej i slowianskiej, 5 (Warszawa), 129-144. Iväic S. 1911 "Prilog za slavenski akeenat", Rad, 187, 133-208. Lehiste, I., Ivic, P. 1963 Accent in Serbo-Chroatian. An Experimental Study (Michigan Slavic Materials, 4, Ann Arbor). Jakobson, R. 1963 "Opyt fonologiceskogo podxoda k istoriceskim voprosam slavjanskoj akeentologii", AmerContr., V, 153-178. 1965 "Information and Redundancy in the Common Slavic Prosodie Pattern", Symbolae linguisticae in honorem Georgii Kurylowicz (Wroclaw-WarszawaKrakôw), 145-151. Pollok, K. H. 1957 "Zur Geschichte der Erforschung des serbokroatischen Akzentsystems", WS1., 2, 267-292. Resetar, M. 1890-1891 "Zur Aussprache und Schreibung des ë im Serbo-Kroatischen", ASlPh, 13. 1900 Die serbokroatische Betonung südwestlicher Mundarten (Wien). Stankiewicz, E. 1966 "The Common Slavic Prosodie Pattern and its Evolution in Slovenian", IJSLP, 10, 29-38. Wijk, N., van 1921 "Du déplacement de l'accent en serbocroate", RES, I, 28-37.

OPTIONAL FEATURES IN CONTEMPORARY RUSSIAN F. H. H. KORTLANDT

1. CODE AND STYLE

Within the field of linguistics a sharp distinction must be made between three essentially different phenomena, all of which are sometimes loosely referred to as 'stylistic'. The first kind of 'style' derives from the coexistence of different idiolects. An informant may recognize a text as belonging to his own language even if he would never produce the text himself, viz. when it contains some phonetic, phonemic, morphemic, syntactic, or lexical peculiarities which are alien to his own speech. Secondly, a linguistic form may be characterized as 'stylistically marked' in an idiolect if there is an otherwise identical linguistic form which is stylistically neutral in the same idiolect. This seems to be the most appropriate use of the word 'stylistics' in the non-literary sense. Thirdly, there remains a range of variation possibilities in a single idiolect which do not NECESSARILY have a stylistic value. It is the latter kind of variants which I will be concerned with in sections 2 and 3 of this paper. Though the distinction between what I propose to call 'idiolectal', 'stylistic', and 'optional' variants has been made by previous authors, a commonly accepted terminology has not been reached. In his recent investigation of Russian phonetic variants and phonostylistics (1968) Shapiro distinguishes between 'code' and 'style'. His assertion that stylistics "necessarily presupposes the existence of and relatability to some linguistic standard" (1968:7) shows that he regards as 'stylistic' the first two kinds of phenomena mentioned here, leaving the term 'code' for the third kind of phenomena. Though this use of the word 'code' is quite in accordance with Jakobson and Halle's statement that in linguistic analysis "one must resort to the fullest, optimal code at the command of the given speakers" (1956:6), I think that it is contrary to the generally prevailing notion of a 'code'. A LINGUISTIC CODE should rather be defined as the body of rules according to which "a group of persons interpreting

108

F. H. H. KORTLANDT

in the same way all linguistic utterances [...] builds its own texts and interprets those of others" (Ebeling 1960:9), i.e. the set of rules underlying the linguistic activity of an idiolectally homogeneous collection of individuals. Within a linguistic code so defined there may exist stylistic as well as optional variants. I would put it even stronger: since " a person's interpretation of a bit of material as stylistically colored characterizes this person as the carrier of a certain language system" (Ebeling 1960:11), a linguistic form can only be stylistically marked within a given linguistic code. The existence of stylistically marked forms pertaining to the linguistic competence of a native speaker must be distinguished from the actual use which is made of these forms in his linguistic performance. The actual use depends not only on the presence of such forms in the speaker's linguistic code but also on psychological factors and on his personal literary taste. This is the main reason why information about stylistic forms should be drawn from the informant's decoding habits rather than from his own speech production. From the point of view outlined here, Osgood's definition of 'style' as "an individual's deviations from norms for the situations in which he is encoding, these deviations being in the statistical properties of those structural features for which there exists some degree of choice in his code", (1960:293) is liable to the following criticism. First of all, "an individual's deviations from norms" may be either idiolectal or stylistic, depending on whether the 'norm' is a social or an individual one. This difference corresponds to the difference between the first and the second kind of 'style' discussed in the first paragraph of this paper. Secondly, the requirement that "there exists some degree of choice in his [sc. the informant's] code" holds for stylistic and optional variants only, i.e. for variants which are 'stylistic' in the second and the third sense discussed above. Thus, Osgood actually defines 'style' as a person's relative use of stylistic features in his production of speech, where 'stylistic' is to be understood in the sense which I proposed above as corresponding to the most appropriate use of the word. This brings us to the third, and most important, objection: Osgood's 'style' is not the existence of stylistically marked forms in the informant's linguistic code or the property of being stylistically marked, but the use of such forms in the informant's linguistic performance. Consequently, the concept reflects certain psychological and literary, rather than linguistic, qualities: it characterizes a person's speech behaviour from a non-linguistic point of view. Though [ reject Shapiro's use of the word 'code' (see above), his

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distinction between 'code' and 'style' seems to coincide with my distinction between 'optional' and 'stylistic' variants, respectively. In Jakobson's terminology, optional variants are characterized by a difference in their 'phatic' information value, whereas stylistic variants diifer in respect to their 'poetic' information. 1 The phatic information value of a linguistic form can be called its 'explicitness'. Thus, Shapiro distinguishes between "two basic phonological codes", the 'explicit code' (EXC) and the 'elliptic code' (ELC), which he explains as follows (1968:8). EXC may be crudely defined as that variety of speech in which all the segments present in the morphophonemic representation (...) of lexical and grammatical items are maintained in the phonetic representation of a given utterance in which these items participate. ELC, on the other hand, may be crudely defined as that variety of speech in which the morphophonemic representation of lexical and/or grammatical items is mutated in such a way that the phonetic representation contains a reduced number of segments in relation to the phonetic representation of EXC. Shapiro points out correctly that "EXC may be utilized in any speech style, though it is the formal style that resorts to it almost exclusively. On the other hand, ELC is practically limited to the informal style" (1968:10). Thus, optional variants do not NECESSARILY have a stylistic value. In particular, from a set of optional alternatives none of the variants can per se be regarded as 'neutral' in relation to the other variant(s). 2.

OPTIONALITIES

In 1967 Ebeling introduced the term 'heavy phoneme' to designate a phoneme which contains an optional feature. Thus, the final vowel in the explicit realization of the Polish word biorç [bjore, bjorê] 'I take' is a heavy phoneme, its nasality constituting the optional feature which distinguishes the latter variant from the former. The [e] in the elliptic realization of the word, which is the only admissible vowel in the word chore [xore] 'sick (nom.pl., no male persons)', is a 'basic phoneme' in Ebeling's terminology. Other examples are Dutch vee [fe, vc j 'cattle' but fee [fe] 'fairy' ; French pécher [pese, pese] 'to fish' but péché [pese] 'sin', and tête [tet, te:t] 'head' but te tie [tet] 'teat' ; Italian pesca [peska, peska] 'peach' but pesca [peska] 'fishing'. 2 1 The use of the term 'poetic' seems a bit awkward in view of the fact that literary poetics is rather concerned with the use of stylistic means in works of art than with the existence of stylistic variants in the language system. * Cf. Chapter 9 of my dissertation (1972).

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In these examples the elliptic pronunciation of a word which has two possible realizations coincides with the only admissible pronunciation of another word. In other cases, the optional neutralization in elliptic speech yields a third form, which does not occur in explicit speech. This is the situation which Fillmore labelled 'multiple free variation' (1962:63). Examples are American English latter [laeDar, laetar] and ladder [laeDar, laedar], or writer [raiDar, rajtar] and rider [rajDar, rajdar]; and Russian domovoj [damavoi, damavoi] 'brownie' and dymovoj [damavoi, dimavoj] 'smoke (adj.)'. Not only the presence or absence of a feature, but also the presence or absence of a segment can be optional, cf. e.g. French million 'million', with either [lj] or just [j], and Dutch zinkt [zirjt, ziqkt] 'sinks' (versus zingt [ziqt], not *[ziqkt] 'sings'). Most often the explicit/heavy variant is characterized by the presence of the optional segment and the elliptic/basic variant by its absence, but this is not necessarily so. An example of the opposite relationship is Dutch melk [melak, melk] 'milk' (versus billijk only [bitak] 'fair, reasonable'). The distinction between 'elliptic' and 'explicit' variants or between 'basic' and 'heavy' forms does not imply that there are maximally two forms opposed to each other by a difference in their phatic information value. In fact, there exist in some languages a number of triplets, where the middle form is heavy in relation to the most elliptic but basic in relation to the most explicit realization. An example from Russian is koze [ko2a, koii, koie] 'skin (dat.)' versus kozi [ko2a, koii] 'skin (gen.)' and koza [koza, koia] 'skin (nom.)' (Ebeling 1967:137). The same relationship holds for segments in Avar keje [l:e, X:ei, X,:eii] 'water (dat.)' versus hej [he, hej] 'that (fem.), she' and the prohibitive particle ge. An extra complication arises from the existence of what I called 'joint features' in my dissertation (1972:148f. and 159f.). In the Avar word hwe [hoi, hue] 'dog' (versus doj [doj] 'she', which admits only a single pronunciation) either the rounded or the unrounded segment is relatively open, the other being consonantal. This openness, which is not linked t© a definite segment, distinguishes the word from kwi [kui, kui] 'ram' (versus xaduj [Xaduj] 'after (fem.)' with one possible realization).

3. RUSSIAN PHONETIC VARIANTS

Now I shall review Shapiro 1968 in terms of the pdrece ingsections. I shall not take into account lexical doublets.

OPTIONAL FEATURES IN CONTEMPORARY RUSSIAN

3.1

111

Vowels

In my dissertation I argued that junctures are optional (1972:163f.). The distinction between open [E] and close [e] between sharp consonants at word boundaries, which Shapiro regards as a distinction between EXC and ELC, is optional and subphonemic: po gore li [pagar'dl'i, pagar'sl'i] 'along the hill?', but pogoreli only [pagotr'el'i] 'they burned up'. Unstressed o seems to be a heavy phoneme in loanwords such as konsome, bolero, kredo, veto. The same holds true for unstressed e in dedukcija, detektor, ekzamen, poetessa, etc. However, it seems that these sounds are close to having attained a full-fledged phonemic status already, even if the use of the resulting phonemes is marginal to the language system. Posttonic vowels show an intricate variability which requires further investigation. The case of koza, koie, kozi has been mentioned already. A similar example is offered by the flexion of such words as pole 'field' and zdanie 'building'. Postvocalic o is a full-fledged phoneme in posttonic syllables, though it occurs in loanwords only: kakao, radio, xaos. Any timbre distinctions between vowels in non-final posttonic syllables tend to be neutralized according to Shapiro's observations: sinjuju [s'in'iju, s'in'uju] 'blue (fem.acc.sg.)', novuju [novaju, novuju] 'new (fem. acc.sg.)', borjutsja [bor'oca, bor'uca] 'they struggle'. Syncope of unstressed vowels is especially common in non-final posttonic syllables, cf. e.g. pozalujsta [paMlsta, pazdlists] 'please', tysjaca [ti§':s, tis'tS'a] 'thousand', dostatocno [dastac':na, dastdtaC'na] 'enough', minutocka [m'iniic'ika, rn'inutsS'ka] 'minute (dimin.)'. Other examples of syncopated forms are: xolodno [xoldna] 'it's cold', sdelala [z'd'ella] 'she did', objazatel'stvo [ab'izat'l'stva] 'obligation', novogo [novva] 'new (gen.)', vsovyvat' [fsovvat'] 'stick in', ivovyj [ivvij] 'willow (adj.)', carstvovat' [carstvvat', carstavat'] 'reign'. As a tentative rule it can be stated that vocalic segments are optional in non-final posttonic syllables (1) in the immediate environment of sonorants: sudoroga [sudargo] 'spasm', sutoloka [siitalka] 'crowding', zavoronok [idvranak] 'starling', skovorodu [skovradu] 'frying pan (acc.)', rtavoloka [ndvalka, navtaka] 'pillowcase', provoloka [provalka, provlaka] 'wire', xolodno, sdelala, objazatel'stvo; (2) after dentals and before palatals: tysjaca, dostatocno, minutocka; (3) between [v]'s: novogo, vsovyvat', ivovyj. In verbs ending in -.stvovat' (e.g., carstvovat' 'reign', vlastvovat' 'rule', mudrstvovat'

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'philosophize', xozjajstvovat' 'keep house') either the vowel or the first [v] can be syncopated. Syncope of unstressed vowels occurs in pretonic syllables also. More precisely, it can be stated as a tentative rule that vocalic segments are optional in non-initial antepretonic syllables (1) in the immediate environment of sonorants: pomolodel [pamlad'él] 'became young-looking', molodozény [maldaíóni] 'newlyweds', poxoronit' [psxran'it'] 'bury', molokosos [malkasós] 'tenderfoot', zelenovatyj [z'tl'navátijj 'rather green', perevernut' [p'TrVirnút'] 'turn over'; (2) after [n] in certain cases: administrativnyj [adm'in'strat'ivnii] 'administrative', iniciativa [m'ciat'íva] 'initiative'. Unstressed vowel chains are optionally reduced to a single segment: voobSce [vaps':é] 'generally', soatveísívovat' [sat'v'éctvvat'] 'correspond', violonceV [v'ilan'c'él'] 'violoncello', special'nyj [sp'icál'niji] 'special', neizvestno [n'iz'v'esna] 'unknown', po imenam [pim'inám] 'by names'. In these cases the first vowel of the chain is optional, whereas the phonetic realization of the second depends on the preceding consonant in the elliptic variant of the word. Shapiro remarks that the semivocalic segment [j] is optional postconsonantally before an unstressed vowel and preconsonantally when preceded by an unstressed [i]: /?er'evo/[p'tr'(j)ivói] 'pertaining to feathers', bycac'ix [bic'ác'(j)ix] 'bull (adj., gen.pl.)', kazriju [káz'n'(j)u] 'punishment (inst.)', ljubov'ju [l'ubóv'(j)u] 'love (inst.)', svejcar [sv'i(i)cár] 'doorman', dejstviteVno [d'i(i)s't'v'it'(l)l'n3] 'really'. 3.2

Consonants

The difference between [s':] and [s'c'] is dialectal, the former variant pertaining to the standard language. In elliptic speech the length of [§•':] is lost in word-final and pre- and postconsonantal positions: tovarisc [tavár'is'(:)] 'comrade', voobsce [vaps'(:)é] 'generally', moscnyj [mós'(:)ni¿] 'powerful'. The difference between [£':] and [z:], which is subphonemic, is optional in the standard language (though some speakers use exclusively either the first or the second variant): ezzu[jéí('):u] 'I ride', pozze [póz('):a] 'later', vizzat' [v'i2('):át'] 'scream'. The opposition between /5/ and /§/ is no longer neutralized before /n/ in contemporary standard Russian, cf. konecnyj [kan'éc'nij] 'final' and konecno [kan'ésna] 'of course', but there remain a number of doublets such as gornicnaja 'chambermaid' where both pronunciations are admitted. Syncope of [t] after [s] is optional before [k] and regular before [sk]

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and [n]: turistka [tur'is(t)ka] 'tourist (fem.)', turistskij [tur'is(:)k'ij] 'tourist (adj.)', ustnyj [usnij] 'oral', cf. also pozdno [pozna] 'late'. Syncope of [t] after [n] is optional before [k] as well as [sk]: studentka [stud'en(t)ka] 'student (fem.)', gigantskij [g'vgan(t)sk'ii] 'gigantic'. Concerning the simplification of geminates Shapiro remarks that "more regularly maintained are geminates in position immediately following a stressed vowel", e.g. in massa [s:], gruppa [p:], summa [m:], "whereas immediately preceding stressed vowels they are more susceptible to simplification", cf. alleja [1'], terror [r], kommunist [m], apparat [p], effekt [f'], annaly [n]. The optional voicing before sonorants at word boundaries (e.g., bumag ne bylo [bumdk/g n'ebila] 'there were no papers', gorod Moskva [gorat/d maskva] 'city of Moscow') is subphonemic because a word-final obstruent is an archiphoneme. So is the optional suspension of sharping rules at morpheme boundaries. The standard language has distinctive sharping of labials at word boundaries: krov' [krof'] 'blood' versus krov [krof] 'shelter'. However, many speakers do not usually maintain sharp labials at word boundaries. The desinence of the plural imperative must be regarded as a clitic in this respect, cf. e.g. prigotov'te [pr'igatof(')t'i] 'prepare (imp.pl.)', where the variant with a sharp labial fricative is the heavy one. Hard consonants before e have attained a full-fledged phonemic status quite recently. In older loanwords (e.g., tema, tekst, termin, tnuzej, konkretnyj, demon) there is a soft dental before e, whereas recent borrowings (e.g., oteV, parter, deVta, tonneV, rekviem) are pronounced with a hard dental in the standard language (cf. Panov 1967:328). There remain a large number of doublets with two possible realizations, e.g., intensivnyj, inercija, sekans, leksema, Sonet, genetika. According to the traditional norm, a word-final hard consonant before a word-initial [i] remains hard and occasions the appearance of wordinitial [i]. "In modern Russian speech, however, the pronunciation is spreading whereby the consonant is nondistinctively sharped before i despite intervening boundaries" (Shapiro 1968:37), e.g., ot Ivlieva [ativl'i(i)iv3, at'ivl'i(i)tv3] 'from Ivliev', k Igorju [kigsr'u, k'igar'u] 'to Igor'. This is additional evidence in support of the view that the softness of a consonant before [i] is a joint feature in contemporary Russian (cf. Kortlandt 1972:148). University of Leiden

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KORTLANDT

REFERENCES Ebeling, C. L. 1960 Linguistic units (Mouton, The Hague). 1967 "Some premisses of phonemic analysis", Word 23, 122-137. Fillmore, C. J. 1962 A system for characterizing phonological theories (Ann Arbor). Jakobson, R., and M. Halle 1956 Fundamentals of language (Mouton, The Hague). Kortlandt, F. H. H. 1972 Modelling the phoneme: New trends in East European phonemic theory (Mouton, The Hague). Osgood, C. E. 1960 "Some effects of motivation on style of encoding", in: T. A. Sebeok (ed.), Style in language (MIT and Wiley, New York and London), 293-306. Panov, M. V. 1967 Russkaja fonetika (ProsveSienie, Moskva). Shapiro, M. 1968 Russian phonetic variants and phonostylistics (University of California Press, Berkeley and Los Angeles).

PE3IOME 0aKyAbmamueHbie

npumaxu

e coepeMennoM

pyccKOM H3biKe

Tpex NO cymecTBy «BJieHHfi, KOTopue HHoraa Ha3HBaioT 'cTHJiHCTHiecKHMH'. NEPBBIII •ran 'CTHJIH' npoHCxoflHT H3 cocymecTBOBaHHa pa3jm>mbix muiojieKTOB. HmjxjpMaHT MoaceT ono3HaBaTb TexcT KaK npHHawiexaniHft k ERO poflHOMy asbucy, AAACE ecjra caM HHKorfla He NPOH3BEN 6bi 3Toro xeKCTa, a HMCHHO, ecJiH B TeKCTe coaepscaTCJi onpeAeJieHHbie (jwHeTHiecKne, (})0H0Ji0rH?ECKHE, MopcJionorHiecKHe, CHHTAKCNIECKHE HUH jieKcmecKHe OCO6CHHOCTH, HECBOFICTBEHHBIE ERO CO6CRBEHHO8 pe™. BO-BTOPBIX, MblKOByK) 4>OpMy MOHCHO 0XAPAKTEPH30BATB KAK 'CTHJfflCTHieCKH MapKHpOBaHHyK)' B HeKOTopoM HnHOJieKTe, ecjiH B flaHHOM HflHOJieKTe cymecTByeT TOKflecTBeHHaH «3bncoBaa B03Moaoaofi BapnaTHBHocTH, He HMeiomefi no Heo6xoAHMOCTH ONPEAENEHHORO cTHjmcTHiecicoro SHaieim«. B cTan>e paccMaTpnBAIOTCH '. In all sources except SIGr Lorentz writes between a nonsyllabic preposition and the noun. I shall use a dash

150

W. STOKHOF

PT 27-1 (I) [srti43nkI] a proper name /sman£/. [jjl/t"] in does note have a phonemic status. See 11. 30. In KI, Si, WW, Wa, Sz, Wy, R /s/ and /z/ are realized before [n, v] as [s, z]: PGr 508 *[svja3t] 'light' (see PT XV). 31. ly/ occurs in loanwords and in a few genuine Slavic words: PGr 472 [mo2rx], [myi§*rya] gen.sing. 'morning'. PT 30-3 (G) [paryu 2 ] 'doorstep' loc.sing. No instances of /y/ are attested in SlGr. 32. /k/ has two allophones: [k] and [(,] (SlGr), [k1] (other sources). The latter occurs only before a pause (PT XIV, SlGr 385, PGr 596): PT XIV (I, L) [ruQ4k"] 'year', SlGr 380 [ruQ4^] (Gl ncKyccTBO coieTamm caMOBHrax CJIOB, cjioB0-0ßpa30B. ITosTBraecKoe npoH3Be«eHne — HenpepbiBHBiö pHÄ 0Ôpa30B". O tej ewolucji poglqdów pisze Nils Âke Nilsson, "The Russian Imaginists", s. 40 i s. 67-68. " Por. przypisek 46. Zagadnienie rytmu dia Szerszeniewicza jest wazne od samego pocz^tku jego rozwazan teoretycznych. We wspomnianym artykule ("2 x 2 = 5") poswiçca temu zagadnieniu cafy rozdzial. 60 Ezra Pound. Mówi o tym S. K. Coffman, Imagism, s. 9, 134. 51 Zinaida Wengerowa w r. 1915 w artykule "Anglijskije futuristy" zamieszczonym w czasopismie Strelec, interview z amerykanskim poet^ Ezra Poundem. O tym interview wspomina Ezra Pound w Gaudier-Brzezka (London, 1960), s. 85. " Georges Duhamel et Charles Vildrac, Notes sur la technique poétique. Pierwsze wydanie: Paris, Chez les Libraires et chez les Auteurs, na okladce MCMC na str. tytulowej MCMX, co jest dat$ poprawn^. Cytaty i numeracja stron bçdq dalej podane wedhig wydania z 1925 roku (Chez Champion). 53 O tym mowa dalej. Terminu tego uzyl juz Dawid Burljuk w publikacji Sadok sudej, 2 (1913). Bylo to zwi^zane z jego pomyslem graflcznym, zeby slowa kluczowe, wtasnie leit-slowa, zaznaczac wiçkszym drukiem. 18

UWAGI O TZW. IV SYSTEMIE WERSYFIKACYJNYM

179

Mariengofa, 'slowa prowadz^ce' staj$ siç glôwnymi czynnikami budowy rytmicznej, realizuj^ nowy rytm. Wszechogarniajqce tendencje rytmiczne zarysowane wyzej nie mogly omin^c Polski. Pierwsze dreszcze nowego rytmu zjawiaj^ siç juz u Skamandrytôw, przebiegaj^ przez twôrczosc polskich futurystôw, az znajduj^ siç w pracowni wierszotwérczej i teoretycznej zalozycieli Zwrotnicy,54 Tadeusz Peiper bacznie obserwuje przemiany rytmiczne we wspôlczesnej muzyce. Zauwaza on, ze muzyka wspôlczesna prowadzi i rozwija swq melodiç "drog^ woln$ od hamulcôw symetryzmu, obdarza jq rozmaitosci^, oddaje jq polirytmii, a niektôre piesni Karola Szymanowskiego zblizaj^ siç nawet do rytmu môwionej prozy codziennej",55 (Podkr. J. B.). Badacz jçzyka poetyckiego Awangardy Krakowskiej, Janusz Siawinski, analizuje ten procès nastçpujqco : Muzyka jest tylko jednym ze swiadectw tego, ze pod wpfywem warunkôw nowoczesnego zycia ulegta niepomiernemu rozszerzeniu kategoria rytmu, ogarniaj^ca teraz wiele z tych zjawisk, ktôre w tradycyjnym poczuciu byly arytmiczne. Warunkiem jej jest juz nie tylko symetria, aie takze — zorganizowana asymetria. Nie tylko bliskosc powtôrzeA, lecz rôwniez — oddalenie. W coraz mniejszym stopniu — jednostajnosé, w coraz wiçkszym — uregulowana rôznorodnosé. Dlatego tez postulat nakazuj%cy poezji porzucic "muzyczne ushigi" regularnych uporz^dkowan rytmicznych nie oznaczal w formulach teoretycznych wodza awangardy krakowskiej rezygnacji z wszelkiego porz^dku daj%cego siç interpretowac jako rytmiczny." A zatem miejsce metru, jako zasadniczego czynnika rytmu w poezji, zajmuje uregulowana rôznorodnosc. Sam Peiper formuluje to bardzo wyraznie : Doskonalym rytmem poetyckim jest rytm wlasny takiego zdania, ktôrego treéciowa budowa jest doskonala. Rytm powinien stac na uslugach zdania i nastçpuj^cych po nim zdari. Ma rôznymi akcentami wynosiô jedne slowa ponad inné; jest dzwigiem slôw. Ma rôznymi pauzami oddzielac slowo od slowa, slowa od slôw, zdanie od zdania, zdania odzdan; jest dzielidlem wierszy. Inaczej niz w rytmie sylabowym, gdzie akcenty i pauzy wynikaj^ mechanicznie z obranego schematu rytmowego, tu sq one nastçpstwem budowy zdania. Wplywaj^ wiçc na sposôb, w jaki zdanie rosnie w wyobrazni czytelnika czy shichacza; na odleglosci, w jakich slowa I3CZ3 siç ze sob% lub dziel^ ; na dtugosci przerw, jakie tworz^ siç pomiçdzy nimi ; na silç, z jak^ jedne wznosz^ siç ponad inné. 64

Zwrotnica, periodyk awangardy krakowskiej, 1922-23 i 1926-27. Redaktorem i zalozycielem byl Tadeusz Peiper. " Tadeusz Peiper, "Rytm nowoczesny" w Tçdy (Warszawa, 1930), s. 87-88. " Janusz Siawinski, Koncepcja jçzyka poetyckiego awangardy krakowskiej (1965) jako IV tom: Z dziejôw form artystycznych w literaturzepolskiej, s. 81-82. W skrôcie: Koncepcja jçzyka.

180

J. BUJNOWSKI

Od tych wplywów rytmu zalez^ zrosty i rozrosty widzeñ w wyobrazni odbiorczej." Rytmowi sylabowemu jest tu wyraznie przeciwstawiony rytm zdania. Na zasadzie powi^zañ i przerw mi?dzy slowami i zdaniami, wynoszenia jednego ponad drugie, powstajq zrosty i rozrosty widzeñ. Z podobnymi koncepcjami spotkalismy si? juz wyzej. Jest to ta sama fala nowego rytmu zalewajqca Europe. Szczególne jej uformowanie poda Przybos, zajmuj^cy stanowisko krañcowo 'unistyczne': "Wychodz? z zatozeñ unistycznych — pisze Przybos — dqz? do poruszenia kazdego poszczególnego poematu jedynym niepowtarzalnym rytmem; chodzi mi — wsród swobody poszczególnych fraz — o jednolity wyraz rytmiczny calego poematu". 58 Pozostaje to w logicznym zwi^zku z ogólniejszq., równie "unistycznq" poetyk^ Przybosia: "Wyznaj? determinizm formy. Wierz?, ze kazde przezycie, kazdy temat domaga si? koniecznie jednej niepowtarzalnej i día siebie tylko wlasciwej budowy". 59 W tej poetyce nie ma nawet cienia mozliwosci día któregokolwiek z dotychczasowych systemów. Natomiast rytm, oparty o nowe czynniki, jest jak najbardziej istotnym elementem kompozycji poetyckiej. Oto — wielokrotnie juz cytowane i nie do koñca wykorzystane — wyznanie Przybosia: Rytm jest dla mnie bardzo wazna spraw%. Nie potrafi? napisaé wiersza, dopóki on we mnie nie gra, tj. dopóki nie czuje w sobie jego rytmu. Jest to dla mnie przezycie bardzo silne, rytm nie tylko slysz? przedtem, nim poplynie jak pr^d przez zdania, ale odczuwam go jakby w napi^ciu mi^sni, w zwarciu szcz?k. Moze tez dlatego nie znosz^ rytmów monotonnych, równosylabicznych, tradycyjnej, usypiajqcej kofysanki. D$z? do tego, azeby frazy rytmiczne, tj. poszczególne linijki wierszowe, byly na ogól rozne, ale aby calóse utworu posiadala pewien wspólny pr^d rytmiczny.80 Mylil si? Peiper s^dz^c, ze tylko "rytm staly" (który identyfikowal z metrem), utrzymywal "calkowicie zoologiczne wlasciwosci rytmu organizmowego" i byl czynnikiem "antykulturalnym". 61 Jak widzimy, rytm Przybosia, oparty na innych zasadach, jest równiez 'organizmowy' — i — bez ujemnego zabarwienia tego stowa — 'zoologiczny'. I jest jedn^ z wlasciwosci 'ruchów dziej^cych si? w naturze' i 'w organizmie czlowieka'. "

Jak przypis. 55. Julian Przybos, "Rytm i rym", Lima (1931), nr. 2. Podkreslenie Przybosia. " Julian Przybos, "O poezji integralnej" w Linia i gwar. M Julian Przybos, "Narodziny wiersza", w zb. Najmniej slow (Kraków, 1955), s. 192. Przedruk w Linia i gwar, II (Kraków, 1959). 81 Mowa tu o tej wypowiedzi: "Rytm staly, który jest jedn^ z wlasciwosci ruchów dziej^cych si? w naturze, ma w organizmie czlowieka, w jego zoologicznych procesach, 58

U W A G I O T Z W . IV SYSTEMIE

WERSYFIKACYJNYM

181

FUNKGJA RYTMIZUJACA 'SLOWA PROWADZ4CEGO'

Odrzucajqc system metryczny, Szerszeniewicz pragnie znaleze inny, wlasciwszy sposöb uporz^dkowania rytmicznego obrazöw skladaj^cych si? na utwor poetycki. Mial to bye "rytm wyfycznie slow prowadz^cych, bazowany na stosunku samoglosek i spölglosek, na wewn?trznych wspöldzwi?kach, na (wl^czaj^c instrumentaej?) dhigosci znaköw przestankowych, oparty o pauzy i cezury i podtrzymywany przez konstanty rytmiczne". 62 "Konstanty rytmiczne" sq. tu wprowadzone z Duhamela i Vildraca, 63 a wi?c nie w znaczeniu konstant metrycznych, choc "cezury" zdajq si? odnosic do dluzszych przerw wewn^trzwersowych, czyli sredniöwek. W zwrotce miala si? znalezd pewna ilosc waznych slöw, zawierajqcych poetycki komunikat. Slowa te mialy posiadac podobny rytm, podczas gdy bylo mniej wazne, jaki rytm majq slowa o znaczeniu drugorz?dnym. Autor cennej pracy o rosyjskim imazynizmie, Ake Nilsson, 44 przywohije w swoich rozwazaniach przyklady podane przez Szerszeniewicza, z ktörych tu, jak i z komentarzy, skorzystamy. Szerszeniewicz podaje nastfpuj^cy przyklad: Jleöedu

B XMypoM mpeneme KyTajmcb B T H C O T H n03. M BCH yjraqa CMOTpejia, KaK BH npmieiiHTe ... OÖMKO

UlonomoM

Charakter rytmiczny zwrotce nadaj^ slowa podkreslone. W tym samym czasie zachodzi kontrast i wzajemne oddzialywanie na siebie tych 'konstant rytmicznych' i innych elementöw zwrotki, ktöre maj^ rytm wolny. Rözne typy powtörzen dzwi?kowych, a takze i orkiestracja, mog^ bye uzyte w budowie tego szczegölnego schematu rytmicznego. Szerszeniewicz zwraca uwag? na asonans, ktöry moze dzielic zwrotk? na rytmiczne bloki. Polozony jest naeisk na pauzy. Na miejsce cezury

w biciu serca, w oddychaniu, w chodzie czy biegu, siedlisko szczegölnie czlowiekowi bliskie, szczegölnie wyrazne i szczegölnie wptywowe. Wplyw ten si?ga az w uczucia czlowieka i przenosi w nie czynniki zoologiczne. Wlasnie dlatego sila z jak^ rytm staly dziala na czlowieka, jest tym wi^ksza, im nizsza jest kultura czlowieka. Rytm piesniarski, ktöry dal pocz^tek rytmowi poetyckiemu, utrzymat calkowicie zoologiczne wlaiciwosci rytmu organizmowego" ("Rytm nowoczesny", s. 86). 11 "PH Mam / piec

228

J. BUJNOWSKI 10

11

5.

Oddajcie mi / piec

6.

podobny / do bramy / tryumfalnej.

7.

Zabrali.

8.

Zostata / po nim / tylko

12

13

1*

15

16

17

18

19

9.

szara naga

10.

21

11.

jama 22

12.

23

24

szara / naga / jama,

13.

I to mi / wystarczy:

14.

szara / naga / jama

15.

szara / naga / jama

16.

sza- / ra- / na- / ga- / ja- / ma

17.

szaranagajama.

27

28

30

29

31

33

3«

32

35

36

37

38

39

TABLICA X V I : Zapis akcentów

w zestrojach

i zestrojów

1

1.

alternat.

2.

3.

5

6

b. 7

4.

10

5.

12

8

9

11

13

14

6.

7.

d.

15 ' 16

8.

9. 10.

/19 20 / _

21

17

18

w wersach.

la

-/-

UWAGI O TZW. IV SYSTEMIE WERSYFIKACYJNYM 12.

i _ / i. _ / ¿

13.

-Í.-I-L27

14.

g.

28

229

29

L_/L_/L_ 30

31

32

15. 33 L

16.

Ì

34 L

Ì

35 L

I

36 L

Ì

37 L

Ì

38 L

39

17.

TABLICA XVII : Schemat numeryczny ukladu wersów, zestrojów i sylab. Zestroje w wersach 1.

a.

2.

i 2 2 3

b.

4. 5.

c.

6.

3

8.

e.

7

6

2

3 10 .4

10

3

12

13

5

2

4

10

3

3 16 1 7 18 3 .2 .2

3

1

7

3

2

1

2

1

2

1

6

3

6

2

6

3

6

3

6

6

6

1

5.

3

14

19

9.

.2 20 .2

10.

21

11.

.2 22

12.

23

24

.2 .2 .2 25

13.

f.

1-: 3

3 d.

2 10

IS

7.

! i„ 1 1

Ilosc zestrojów

4

3 4 6 1 8 9 3 4 11 1

5

3.

alternat.

Dosé sylab

26

3 28 2 9 .2 .2 .2 3

27

14. 15. 16. 17.

g.

30

31

32

.2 .2 .2 33

34

1

1

39

6

35

36

37

1 1 1 1

38

230

J. B U J N O W S K I

TABLICA XVIII: Uklad numeryczny zestrojow akcentowych we frazach

a.

i 2

b.

5 6 5. 1

3

s 3

10

11

12

13

14

c.

.4

1

3

3

4

d.

15 3

2

3

1

3

4

3

4

7

4

alternat.

3

4

Ilosc zestrojow we frazie 4-5

1

f.

17

33

34

.2 .2 .2 .2 .2 .2

1

1

28

9 2

32

16

4

5

25 2 6 3 3

g.

3

5

e

27

1 1 3

2

9

is 1 9 2 0 2 1 2 2 2 3 2 4 3 .2 .2 .2 .2 .2 .2 .2 .2

16

la

29

30

31

35

36

37

38

1 1 1 1 6

39

13

U W A G I O T Z W . IV SYSTEMIE W E R S Y F I K A C Y J N Y M

Rozmieszczertie akcentowanych samoglosek w wersach

TABLICA X X :

Wersy 1.

Frazy a.

2. 3.

b.

4. 5.

c.

6. 7.

d.

8.

e.

e alternat, a e 2 3 4 o a a-k>, b n e p B b i i i p a 3 3 a Bee 3th T p H H a ; m a T b

jieT, n p e a c T a B H J i a c e 6 e M a n . , o T u a , 6 p a T a , K B a p r a p y b M o c K B e , aKBapHyM c p b i 6 K a M H

h Bee a o n o c j i e f l H e i i mcjiohh, y c j i b i m a j i a

B / i p y r n r p y Ha p o a u e , r o j i o c OTiia, ironyBCTBOBajia c e 6 a , KaK T o r ^ a , MOJIOflOH, KpaCHBOH, Hapfl/JHOH, B CBeTJIOH, TeilJIOH KOMHaTe, B

xpyry poziHbix

(46).

Seeing the train is an example of a cross-link between two chains of events. Furthermore her (thirteen-year-long) life as a schoolteacher regularly going back and forth to town for her salary, including her (two years') worries at school, which are enlarged on. — Bot yace flBa ro^a, KaK OHa npocHT, hto6m yBOJiHJiH CTopoxca, KOTopbm H H i e r o He flejiaeT, rpy6nT efi h 6beT yneHHKOB, ho ee hhkto He c j i y m a e T . IIpeflceaaTejifl TpyAHO 3 a c r a T b b y n p a B e , a ecjiu 3acraHemb, t o oh tobopht co cjie3aMH Ha r j i a 3 a x , hto eMy HeKoraa; HHcneKTop 6biBaeT b iiiKOJie pa3 b t p h r o a a h H H i e r o He

CMbicjiHT b aejie, TaK KaK paHbrne cjiy>KHJi no aKUH3y h mccto "

A. V. Bondarko, op. cit., 16.

263

TIME IN CEXOV'S NA PODVODE

HHcneKTopa nojiynmi no npoTeKUHH; yHHjmiimbm COBCT co6HpaeTca oieHL peflico H Hen3BecTHO, rae co6HpaeTca; nonewrejn. — MajTOrpaMOTHtlH MyjKHK, X03SHH KOJKeBeHHOrO 3aBeaeHHH, HeyMeH, rpy6 H B 6OJII»IIIOH ,apyjK6e co CTopoateM, — H Bor 3HaeT, K KOMy o6pamaTbca c acajio6aMH H 3a cnpaBKaMH ... (47). And also in fragment (26). Then there is the important year preceding the ride (v proslom godu) in which she meets Xanov during the exam, yesterday, when she met no one of the Zemstvo-committee — finally we have arrived at the beginning of the events of the story proper: — B noJTOBHHe ,neBHToro yTpa BwexajiH H3 ropo^a ...

(48).

which ends with the arrival in Vjazov'e: •— A

BOT H BIOOBBE.

tlpnexajiH

(49).

In the chain of events of Mar'ja Vasil'evna larger-sized intervals (phases) are to be distinguished: the largest is her life, divided into two intervals, her life before she was a school-teacher and when she was. Within this last interval of events two more intervals of some size are distinguishable, namely: the interval of the worries at school and the interval of the journey. Within the journey too, phases are distinguishable, as has been demonstrated. Of Xanov we can review more simply the successive events belonging to him which for the greater part coincide with those connected with Mar'ja Vasil'evna, namely: the exam, the ride from the moment he meets Mar'ja Vasil'evna, his ride alone, the meeting at the railway-crossing. Furthermore should be mentioned the chain of events of the sun, accompanying the adverbial intervals morning, afternoon and evening — B nojioBHHe fleBSToro yTpa Bbiexajm H3 ropo.ua. IUocce SWJIO cyxo, npeicpacHoe anpejibCKoe cojmue CHJILHO rpejio, ... (50). — CojmeHHbie nHTHa SBIJIH Ha nojiy, OOTOM nepeuijia Ha npHjiaBOK, Ha CTeHy H COBCCM Hcne3jiH; 3HAHHT, cojiHue yace CKJIOHHJIOCI. 3a nojiaeHb (51). — ... OTpaacaa BenepHee cojiHue (52). Semen's chain of events also coincides for the greater part with that of Mar'ja Vasil'evna. ADVERBIAL TIME.

In order to be able to 'add up' the chain of adverbial

264

H. HAMBURGER

time, viewpoint and attitude should likewise be taken into account here. VIEWPOINT. Often the SPRECHHALTUNG can only be shown once we consider the context concerning it. — B jmo epeMH KaK pa3 n o f l i e 3 H c a j i H a HeTBepice XaHOB (II) — Tozda H a H e M Bee 6 b i J i o H O B e H b K o e , ... (II) (54).

(53).

is realized by adverbs such as viera, etc. and adjuncts such as v proslom godu, etc.; past, present and future occur explicitly in Na podvode: ORIENTATION

— O TOM npouiAOM, Kaxoe 6biJio do (minus v e c t o r ) (55). —

. . . TOT c a M b i f t , KOTOPTIH e npouiAOM Baji

—

ee n o c r y n j i e H H a B yiHTejibHHUbi ...

y

Hee

uiKOJiy

zody

( m i n u s v e c t o r ) 3K3aMeHo-

(56).

H e i i 6 H J I O flocaflHO H a s e M C K y r o y n p a B y , B KOTopoft O H a

euepa

He 3acrajia (minus vector) (57). — TyT 6buio ee npoiiuioe, ee Hacmoxufee; H a p y r o r o 6ydyufezo OHa He M o r j i a n p e a c r a B H T b ce6e, ... (58). HHKOTO

The emphasis is represented by adverbs such as vdrug (perfective, foreground), casto, redko (imperfective, background): —

YHHJIHMHBIII COBCT CO6HPAETCH O N E H B p e d x o ...

—

C e M e H j i a B H p o B a j i , o 6 i e 3 » c a a a o p o r y TO n o 6 y r p y , TO n o

nacmo

cnpbiTHBax c TejierH H n o M o r a a j i o m a ^ H

(59). Jiyry,

(60).

The frequent use of vdrug contributes toward emphasis in macroform in the passage: —

H OHa KHBO, C n o p a 3 H T e j I b H O H HCHOCTbK), B n e p B b l H p a 3 3 a B e e 3TH T p H H a a a a T b jieT, n p e f l c r a B H j i a c e 6 e MaTb, OTija, 6 p a T a , K B a p T a p y B M o c K B e , a K B a p n y M c p w 6 K a M H H Bee 4 0 n o c j i e f l H e f i MCJIOHH, y c j i b i m a j i a edpyz KaK T o r ^ a ,

n r p y H a p o r a e , TOJIOC O T u a , n o n y B C T B O B a j i a

ce6a,

MOJIOAOH, KpacHBOH, HAPAAHOII, B CBCTJIOH, T e n j i o f t

KOMHaTe, B K p y r y

p o ^ H B I X ; HyBCTBO p a a o c r a

H cnacTbs

edpyz

oxBaTflJio e e , OT B O C T o p r a OHa OKajia c e 6 e BHCKH jia/ioHSMM H OKjiHKHyjia HOKHO,

c

MOJib6ofl:

— MaMa!

(61).

closing with — H edpyz Bee Hcne3Jio

(62).

The iterativity is expressed by utrom, kazdyj den' and noc'ju in fragment (26), quoted several times before. Iterativity on a larger scale is manifest

265

TIME IN CEXOV'S NA PODVODE

in Mar'ja Vasil'evna's travelling to and fro to town for many years. Reduced to a well-nigh infinite interval is the adverbial time in — JlemoM 3TO 6biJia Mejiicaa p e n y i u i c a , K O T o p y i o JierKO n e p e x o ^ H J i H 6pofl H K O T o p a » 0 6 b i K H 0 B e H H 0 n e p e c b i x a j i a K aeaycmy, ... (63). ATTITUDE.

B

Attitude occurs in Na podvode in

— H Kozda TyT a y M a T b o n p H 3 B a H H H , o n o j i b 3 e n p o c B e m e H H H ? (64) (65). — H a p y r o r o oydymezo oHa He Moraa NPEACTABHTB ce6e, ... There are no more indications of attitude, so far as the adverbial time concerned, unless one ascribes to sejcas in — Tejiera a

future

c m i b H O HaicpeHHJiacb —

ceuuac

yna.neT

(66).

meaning.

Adverbial referential time expresses the orderrelationship of its segments and their 'length' by adverbs, adjuncts, and subordinate clauses. In Na podvode order-relationship is manifest in: v proslom godu, vesna, apreVskoe solnce, vecer, v polovine devjatogo utra, etc.; 'length' is manifest in: trinadcat' let, dva goda, etc. As in the eventtime, so also in the adverbial time, larger intervals may be distinguished, as may appear from Figure 5. In order to determine any changes in speed the event time may now be measured at the adverbial time. Taking into account their meaning one may roughly check how many words the author has spent on each part of the adverbial chain. Then it will appear that by no means have as many words been spent on the time preceding the journey, i.e. a period of at least thirty years, as on that one day. In Na podvode the emphasis clearly lies on that one day. REFERENTIAL

TIME.

5. S U M M A R Y

Apart from the literariness (devices), we tried to examine — in a fair-sized coherent text, Cexov's Na podvode — the time component. Here we started from the supposed structural isomorphism of the sentence (as the smallest complete linguistic sign) and a larger coherent text. Besides, we assumed that the linguistic sign is a grammatically-systematized stratified structure with a surface-stratum (form) and a deep-stratum (meaning) ; that the deep structure of a text, in a way — differing from language to language — may be realized in the surface stratum; that the deep struc-

266

H. HAMBURGER

I npoiiijioe KaKoe 6bi.uo no ee nocryiuieHHH B y«HrrejibHHm>I in which Kor/ia e S 6 b i j i o flecaTb JieT CKOpO IIOTOM

II yym TpHHajmaTb j i e r (3a Bee 3TH r o a b i )

in which flBa rofla

in which

Ul .S um u

B n p o i i u i o M roAy

(Tor^a)

o

o ¿3 o

III in which

> ca S

OS

anpejibCKoe (cojimje)

so

.c "C a

in which BHepa

vi

u>>

o

a

u u a ti

IV B NOJIOBHHE AEBHTORO y T p a Jq

nojiiieHb BeiepHee (cojraiie)

o^^ t>c cd 3

•a o

Figure 5: Survey of the Adverbial Referential Time in Na podvode. The roman figures indicate the macro-intervals. The corresponding macro-events are, if manifest, indicated in brackets with the intervals (journey, teacher, life).

ture is only partly grammatically-systematized and for the rest is contained in lexemes. As far as the sentence structure is concerned we share the ideas of A. W. de Groot, who distinguishes a referential nucleus with a superimposed attitudinal factor. It was deemed necessary to distinguish here a likewise superimposed factor: viewpoint, which takes care of the perceptive orientation of the meaning. By sentence we mean here the type of object clause of a VERBUM DICENDI;39 though the sentence in ••

See note 3.

TIME IN CEXOV'S NA PODVODE

267

this article is handled especially as a constituent part of more extensive forms of coherent texts, we may stress the completeness of this linguistic sign. The semantic time (time component) of the sentence (called sentence-time here) should therefore be considered to be one independent whole which also appears from the fact that per sentence, a new time may be begun. As constituent of the above-outlined sentence-model the time component shares its characteristics: a referential nucleus with a superimposed attitudinal and viewpoint factor. The sentence time is realized and experienced by the speaker-hearer in two ways: on the one hand, in the passing of the events (here called event-time) and, on the other hand, in indications of the semantic time itself (here called adverbial time), which latter concept well-nigh corresponds with what in literary theory is known as ERZÄHLTE ZEIT. Both kinds of sentence-time are organized in the same way: referentially as unidirectional interval-line and with respect to viewpoint as a system of SPRECHHALTUNGEN (axes of orientation), orientation (directions of observation) and emphasis (differences in emphasis). By means of the SPRECHHALTUNG the speaker determines which relation of time is to exist between himself (at the moment of speaking) and the event he is going to speak about. With Bull, two primary axes of orientation are distinguished here, PP (present) and RP (retrospective), which are related to Weinrich's SPRECHHALTUNGEN I, respectively IL Furthermore there is the possibility for the speaker to turn his gaze in various directions: backwards (past; minus vector), at the moment of speaking itself (present; zero vector), forward (future; plus vector). Bull calls this approach of time bidirectional. By emphasis, the third facet of the viewpoint, the speaker is able to place the event in the foreground or to leave it in the background. For this he has aspect at his disposal. Besides this, aspect has also a referential function: indicating the simultaneity or the succession of events. This indicates the complementarity of tense and aspect. Succession may also bring about dynamic effect, which, especially in texts of some length, will appear to full advantage. In both types of time its 'validity' may be attitudinally (modally) restricted. Every event is an (iterative or non-iterative) interval and corresponds with the adverbial time or one of its intervals. Referentially events may either be simultaneous or succeed each other. Not only time, but causality, too, may be an indication of succession. Between the event-time and adverbial time there is a harmonious connection (compatibility), which finds expression especially in the viewpoint. The deep time must, in both cases, be derived from the surface

268

H. HAMBURGER

time, or rather the surface time must be transformed into deep-time. Traditional categories of time, such as tense and adjunct of time, lend themselves less well to be taken up unaltered into the model. Both are complex categories: tense does not represent a complete interval of event time; it does contain referential time, but only part of the viewpoint, another part of it being presented by aspect. The attitude is not implicated either in tense, but is presented by mood. The adjunct of time belongs, on the one hand, to event-time (e.g. when we had come) and, on the other hand, to adverbial time (e.g. to-morrow). When we consider Bull's complete vectorial system to be universal, the Russian tense system appears to show a good deal of syncretism. On account of this a high degree of dependence on context is noticeable — also with respect to the adverbs of time. Especially two studies have had a considerable influence on the working-out of the above train of thought: Bull's Time, tense, and the verb and Weinrich's Tempus. Not only have their ideas repeatedly been referred to — several of the terms used by them have been adopted. With the supposed isomorphism of sentence and text as a starting point, we tried to recover the above-outlined model of the sentencetime component in the coherent text. In a coherent text, clauses of a D-verb occur in macro-form as monologues, letters etc., subordinately or coordinately connected with each other. The textual time — like the sentence-time — consists of an event-time and an adverbial time. The textual event-time consists of the whole of the chains of events, connected with the agents (personages and objects) occurring in the text. The chains of events may be ordered simultaneously with respect to each other. Textual adverbial time consists of the whole of the adverbial indications of time occurring in the text. Textual referential time is accompanied by textual attitude and textual viewpoint. In this respect Weinrich did important work. In his Tempus he has examined texts on SPRECHHALTUNG (BESPRECHEND-ERZAHLEND) and on RELIEFGEBUNG (in our terminology, emphasis). Textual orientation in the form of flash-back and flashforward is a traditional subject of study in literary theory. Textual emphasis has several facets. On the one hand, a chain of events may form a background for another (simultaneous) chain of events (foreground-background effect); with the realization of this we use i.a. the possibilities which aspect offers in this respect. On the other hand, a sequence of events may produce a variety of more static (descriptive) and more dynamic (action) intervals, which is experienced as difference in speed, where aspect may also play an important role.

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Difference in speed (RAFFUNG-DEHNUNG), as distinguished by the G. Müller school, does form an emphatic phenomenon, but is — in our opinion — of a nature entirely different from the one mentioned above. The relation of the number of words of a text (ERZÄHLZEIT) with respect to the ERZÄHLTE ZEIT is 'measured'. In order to determine the differences in emphasis realized by an author with respect to the time of a text, in our opinion, it is not sufficient to 'measure' the mere number of words. In doing so, one should in the first place take into account the meaning of the words in order to determine which words refer to which interval of the adverbial time. The textual surface time is reduced to the textual deep time. The most compressed form to which a textual component may be reduced is the motive. Between the components of the single sentence and the textual motive there is a range of gestalts (Lämmert's term is PHASEN) ever increasing in size. Thus motive-time is gradually built up of the sentencetimes, via ever greater phases. We have tried to recover the above-outlined model of the textual time component in a story by A. P. Cexov, Napodvode. For this, surface time, spread over the separate sentences, had to be transformed to deep time. When analyzing the D-structure of the text, it appears that this roughly falls apart into the D-field of the 'outermost' narrator and the D-field of the personages, of which those of Mar'ja Vasil'evna are by far the most important ones. The events in the outermost D-field are mainly told in SPRECHHALTUNG II. The internal fields, however, are well-nigh all of them told in SPRECHHALTUNG I. The meaning of grammatically homonymous forms, such as the Russian perfective preterite, may be determined on the ground of the SPRECHHALTUNG dominating in a certain fragment. In SPRECHHALTUNG I the meaning of the tense-form, mentioned before, is present perfect, in SPRECHHALTUNG II, on the other hand, pluperfect or non-durative preterite. In other parts of the text, SPRECHHALTUNG II predominates: in that case certain present-forms occurring in it should be considered a historical present. On the ground of the dominant SPRECHHALTUNG, we may establish with a certain degree of probability who, in case of coalescing D-fields, is the agent of the part of the text concerned. The dominance of SPRECHHALTUNG I in these fragments makes one suspect that they should be ascribed to Mar'ja Vasil'evna. The greater part of Na podvode is told in zero observation direction. Besides this there are cases of sizable flash-back (minus observationdirection) and flash-forward (plus observation-direction). With orienta-

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tion, too, it appears that the meaning of certain tense forms is defined contextually: with a flashback, a preterite form has the meaning of a pluperfect, not of an (absolute) preterite. In macro-form the various manifestations of emphasis also occur in Na podvode. First of all we find a chain of events such that it forms the background of another chain of events; for instance the vision of Mar'ja Vasil'evna, when she was waiting for the train to pass. Next we may have the alternation of more dynamic and more static intervals of time, noticeable in the macro-event which the journey forms. Macro-attitude and therefore restriction of the 'validity' of the eventtime is manifest in the motive that is of importance to the story, where Mar'ja Vasil'evna wonders whether she would marry, while at the same time she realizes the preposterousness of it. Textual referential event-time consists in Na podvode, too, of the whole of simultaneous and successive events ordered in chains of events, with cross-links in the form of events expressing a transitive relation. Of succession and simultaneity, examples have already been given. An example of a cross-link is the relation between Mar'ja Vasil'evna and Xanov, which consists mainly of conversation and observations. Adverbial time in Na podvode consists of a referential chain, beginning long before the story proper and in which quantitative elements (e.g. thirteen years) occur. SPRECHHALTUNG and emphasis appear less clearly in the adverbial time, although the orientation does appear — in indications such as v proslom godu, which corresponds with the textual flash-back upon the examination. The phasing in Na podvode, both in the event-time and in the adverbial time, is best observed with Mar'ja Vasil'evna. In event-time it appears, in sequence of size, in the crossing of the river, the journey to the village, being a schoolteacher, her life; in adverbial time, in the day of the journey, the month of April, Spring, the thirteen years (school-teacher), the period from her tenth year onward. To determine the time motive, the boundaries of the D-fields will have to be crossed. When 'measuring' event-time by adverbial time, it becomes clear that the day of the journey has got most emphasis in Na podvode. As a personage, Mar'ja Vasil'evna has received most emphasis, so likewise has her chain of events with respect to the other chains of events. University of Groningen

VJAZEMSKIJ AND ROMANTICISM* JAN M. MEIJER

I An inquiry into the problem of Vjazemskij and romanticism almost inevitably has to consist of two parts, one concerning the poet and the other dealing with the critic. Russian romanticism has found in Vjazemskij its most eloquent critic and interpreter. As a romantic poet, however, he is less prominent. A certain dichotomy in his talent is undeniable. It was closely connected with his character. But through this very dichotomy a study of Vjazemskij and romanticism may bring out some aspects of Russian romanticism more clearly than a study concerned with more homogeneous figures could do. In view of the career of the term romanticism it should be pointed out that we use the term here to denote a literary current that was dominant in Russia in the beginning of the 19th century from roughly 1810 to roughly 1830. Before this period there was a feeling in Russian literary circles that literature was underdeveloped as compared to the literatures of Western Europe. By the end of this period this feeling had all but disappeared. In this respect the year of Vjazemskij's birth is not unimportant. Petr Andreevic Vjazemskij was born in 1792 into a family that could trace back its origins to the times of Vladimir Monomax. His father held important positions under Katherine and Paul, but his independent and somewhat rigid character made it impossible for him to attain what he felt was his due. He therefore resigned from the service and in later years devoted much of his energy to the education of his children. Besides his son he had two daughters. The oldest, Vjazemskij's halfsister, * References to Vjazemskij's works, unless otherwise stated, refer to the 12 volume Polnoe sobranie soiinenij knjazja P. A. Vjazemskogo (Spb., 1878-1896). Roman figures refer to the volume, small roman or arabic figures to the page in the volume. References to his letters mostly are to Ostaf'evskij arxiv knjazej Vjazemskix, vols I-V, 2 (Spb, 1899-1913), with the reference OA.

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became the wife of Karamzin and one of PuSkin's first loves. Vjazemskij's mother was of Irish descent. She died when he was still very young. The energy the father devoted to the son's education was not too well spent. Vjazemskij's sensitive mind did not respond to the rigidly rationalistic frame set for it, so that the teachers brought in for him did not obtain the desired results. In 1805 he was sent to a Jesuit "pension" in St. Petersburg. Although they were Catholic, these pensions were popular among the well-to-do families. They did not actively engage in propaganda fidei. According to Vjazemskij they restricted themselves to 'stomach propaganda' (ieludocnaja propaganda),1 in that they kept to the less severe Catholic fasting instead of the Orthodox rules. In this pension he flowered. His father had sent him to Petersburg, skeptical of the qualities of his mind and character. This proved unjustified, even if the direction the son's development took was not quite in accordance with the ideas of the father. When he called his son home in 1807 he was struck by the progress he had made. Vjazemskij's resentment of rigid rules developed and found expression at an early date. We have a written self-portrait of these years in which he said: "I have a sensitive heart and I thank heaven for it", and further: "Imagination! What an expressive word! What a wonderful gift of heaven!" He thought the same of dreaming. He loved poetry: "I do not try to find out whether I am a real child of the muses (...) but I do write poetry". Sometimes he felt like becoming a philosopher but he quickly realized that this would not add to his happiness. He had begun his portrait by speaking badly of his external appearance. He finished, in poetry : Voici mon portrait tout achevé l'on m'y voit comme dans un miroir, il n'est ni trop peu, ni trop flatté, Adieu ma plume. Jusqu'à revoir. 8

In 1807 his father died. He left the bulk of his estate to his son. Besides two wards he gave him Karamzin, his half-sister's husband, as a mentor for his further education. It was a happy choice. Although he did not always follow his advice, he admired him highly and Karamzin's works and character were above criticism for him. Even after Karamzin's death Vjazemskij reacted sharply against any attack on his work. His formal education now came to an end. But his mind had been 1

1,119. * V. Neiaeva, "Otec i syn. JunoSeskie gody Kn. P. A. Vjazemskogo (po neizdannym materialam ostaf'evskogo arxiva)", Golos minuvSego (1912), 3, 39-56.

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strongly stimulated in his father's house, which had been one of the intellectual centers of the Moscow world. Among the acquaintances he made in the period around 1807 were Zukovskij, Batjuskov and Turgenev. His relationship with the latter is especially well documented. We owe much of what we know of Vjazemskij in the 'twenties' and 'thirties' to their correspondence. Vjazemskij was an avid and omnivorous reader, but he thrived on personal contact and was stimulated by it much more than by reading. He made Ostaf'evo, the family seat near Moscow, even more of an intellectual centre than it had been under his father. Literature was not his only concern. After his father's death life was open to him and he threw himself into it with zest. In a short period he lost more than half a million rubles at playing cards. But literature and society mixed easily. The cult of friendship that is so conspicuous in Russian literature in these years was more than a poetical convention. The poslanie, the poetic letter addressed to a friend, and the epigram on his enemies together accounted for a good deal of his earliest output. His first published poem, of 1808, was a poslanie addressed to Zukovskij. His earliest work is not very original. In its adherence to a group of friends and in its epigrammatical set-off against others it showed more zest than talent. Karamzin as his mentor felt obliged to discourage his poetical pursuits and to warn him against being a bad poet. There was nothing worse than that fate, he said.3 The death of his father had set him free, in a way. Yet there was no violent reaction against home and the rigidity that it stood for. For one thing, home, as a meeting place with people, had redeeming features; on the other hand, his acceptation of the family place, his relations with Karamzin, revealed a feeling of continuity that would become more visible with time. As Vjazemskij's urge for expansion and for a life of his own were satisfied, his thoughts and affections returned to the world of his early youth, the pre-1812 Moscow. In his later years these came to occupy an important place in his memory. This was not so much the Griboedov Moscow as it historically came to be called, or the Famusov Moscow, as he called it, i.e. not so much the city that was reflected in literary monuments, but another Moscow that was not directly or adequately rendered in literature.4 There were a number of reasons for making 1812 the dividing line. The high point of the war coincided with the end of his free and easy life. In 1811 and 1812 a number of things happened to him in quick suc'

4

I, xxxii. VII, 385, see also 374-382.

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cession. First he became seriously ill, as he would often be in later years. After that he married. Life had to be organized, gambling debts had to be settled. After the invasion of Napoleon he joined the opolcenie. He participated in the battle of Borodino, where a horse was twice shot from under him. His family had to be evacuated. Perhaps as a result of that his first son died soon after he was born. All this made the year 1812 somewhat of a caesura in Vjazemskij's life. One is tempted to make it a caesura also in poetry. One might adduce, in support of this notion, the poslanie he addressed from his evacuation place, Vologda, to his friends 2ukovskij, Batuskov, and Severin. But the difference between this poem and earlier ones is too small, perhaps, to justify this notion. What can be said is that his tone is gradually coming into its own. But if the year 1812 was a caesura in his development, it is not one between classicism and romanticism. Classicism, in fact, still had untapped possibilities. While Karamzin personally meant very much to Vjazemskij, as a poet he was no Karamzinist. He as highly admired Zukovskij, as his first published poem testified. But his inspiration came from elsewhere. Due perhaps in part to his extensive reading in French Vjazemskij, to a larger degree than any of his contemporaries, 'filled out' Russian classicism at those points where it had not yet been fulfilled. But he could do this only after and as a result of the advent of sentimentalism. The role of sentimentalism in this was to set the language into movement, as it were. With a new language classicism got a new lease on life. This was not Vjazemskij's object, but it was the result. But what kind of classicism? If one has in mind a clear hierarchy of genres and a normative aesthetics, then Vjazemskij was no classicist. To some extent he took the genres for granted, but he did not rally to their defense. If, however, we mean by classicism the fact that the 'I' of a poem is more than the lyrical I, that it is rhetorical and, by that token, representative of more than the speaker; and if we discern in classicism a tendency towards personification of human emotions like sadness, indignation, then Vjazemskij was a classicist. The genres of poslanie and epigram were well suited to his talents. In his hands they became as much the literary expression of social life as the social expression of literary life. This is not to say that literature had an ancillary function but, on the contrary, to indicate a link that has always been important to him, also when later on it was to change its character somewhat. These light genres of classicism could easily become conventional to some extent, as did the cult of friendship. That they did not had two causes: the character of Russian society at that moment and the move-

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ment in the language. As to the former — en Russie quelques gentilshommes se sont occupés de litérature —, as Puskin liked to quote (wrongly) Mme de Staël, but it was more, at this time, than dillettante dabbling. That, precisely, was coming to an end. Literature was coming into its own. It was only fifteen years since Karamzin had admitted in one of his articles, as a matter of course, Russia's literary backwardness. 5 Now, after Napoleon, a country began to speak with its own voice and what was said had a wider resonance. Now that the language began to be loosened up the strictness of classicism was transformed into tone. One word could now unfetter an entire poem ; that word was not from another layer of speech, it was new, it did not yet belong to a definite layer. The tone could on occasion be the 'high' Church-Slavonic one, but then it was the right one, because there were alternatives, it was the tone of the poem itself. Tone became a structural principle. The genre no longer selected the words to be used. The new word which had to be entirely thematical could, through its newness, impart new associations to the entire poem. With the young Yjazemskij one sometimes wonders whether this comes about by the missing of an intended higher tone, at least in 'serious' poetry. But the epigrams in particular testify so clearly the urge for the striking word and the fitting pun that this urge must be presumed in the other poems also. In "To my Friends Zukovskij, BatjuSkov and Severin", of 1812, we find, in an otherwise regular poetic lexicon, the expression : Davno /', s ljubov'jupopolam. Through its homely associations it enlivens the traditionality of the poem. The 'I' of the poem belongs to a group of friends. The traditional form, on the other hand, almost hides the very real feeling of isolation Vjazemskij had in Vologda and wanted to express. For it is clear, at this stage of Russian and Vjazemskij's poetry, that he was putting to words a real feeling in traditional terms, rather than exploring the interference of what he wanted to say with the means of expression. The group feeling could easily express itself in terms of them and us. Vjazemskij's sectarianship strengthened this urge. The group of which he was a part stood for life. Its opponents were identified with dead routine. Thus in an epigram on Siskov of 1815: Kto leksikon pokrytyx pyl'ju slov? Vse v odin raz otvetstvujut : Si§kov. Arzamas, therefore, was a society after his heart. He became one of its 5 In: "Neskol'ko slov o russkoj literature. Pis'mo v 'Zritel" o russkoj literature", N. M. Karamzin, Izbrannye socinenija v dvux tomax, t. II (M-L, 1964), pp. 145-148.

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founding members. Every member had to choose a name from one of Ëukovskij's numerous ballads. Vjazemskij became Asmodej. His activity in the society was restricted by the fact that he lived mostly in Moscow, while Arzamas held its meetings in St. Petersburg. He and the other Moscovite members formed a kind of branch of the society. In a way Arzamas was a formalization of a pre-existing circle of friends and acquaintances for a specific objective. Much of its activities, e.g. reading and criticizing each other's works, had been pursued before. Their fight against Beseda could not be lost; it did not ask too much energy from the members and they probably received more stimulus from each other than from fighting the common literary adversaries. Towards the end of Arzamas'' existence Puskin also became a member. It was about this time, just before Puskin left the licej, that Vjazemskij first met him. They soon became friends and their friendship lasted until Puskin's death. When Siskov's Beseda died of inanition, Arzamas also lost its raison d'être and the society again became an informal group of friends. The fight had not united them for other big issues: the social problem was not yet sufficiently crystallized or did not command sufficient allegiance to serve as a rallying point. Nor was the time yet ripe for a journal of the group. Vjazemskij had been involved in unsuccessful efforts in this direction. If the plan had materialized at this time it might have led to a literary life for Vjazemskij. As it was Arzamas signalled the end of a period for him. He was looking around for a place to serve. Debts and a growing family made this also a practical necessity. With Turgenev's help he found a place in Warsaw. He went there in 1818. He did not take leave from literature and did not find state-service to be his element. The two did not stimulate each other, he had less time for literature, but they were not positively in each other's way. His interest in social and political problems was awakened and developed markedly in Warsaw. In order to function Vjazemskij needed company, a group of people of the same interest, and he early realized this dependence. It made him perhaps more sensitive to the spirit of the time than others. It became an important aspect in his view of romanticism. At this moment in his life literature, for Vjazemskij, functioned as the cement of a group, it began to be an expression of the time, and to give voice to a people, to a society as a whole. We thus begin to discern a few stages on his way towards romanticism : because Karamzin had set the Russian language in motion Vjazemskij could exploit the as yet unused possibilities of classicism. The new words which he needed led to the tone as a constructive principle. This tone, in turn, could become, especially in epigrams, a signal for the

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group which began to speak for the times. This group represented freedom as against constraint. But before we turn to these aspects we have to take a look at his poetry of 1817-1820. In this period the meeting of classicism and budding romanticism gave birth to two groups of poems: on the one hand, those on moods ("Unynie", "Vdoxnovenie", "Negodovanie") and, on the other hand, descriptive lyrical poems like "Pervyj sneg" and "Vecer na Volge".

II

"Vecer na Volge" was a new departure in Russian literature. In his article on Ozerov (1817) Vjazemskij spoke of the beauties of descriptive poetry in Ozerov's pieces. But there it was a part of a larger non-descriptive form. Descriptive poetry could be found both before and after Vjazemskij, as a part of larger forms. There were occasional stimuli in the direction of shorter descriptive poetry in the works of Dmitriev and Derzavin. But Vjazemskij was the first to write a descriptive poem. The alexandrine is the dominant line in "Veder na Volge". It is interrupted now and then by shorter iambic lines. If these shorter lines appear in groups of the same length, the result is bad. This applies in particular to the dance of nymphs and muses on the shore of the Volga. The effect is the odder as it stands side by side with a direct description of the Volga landscape. The pull of 'literature' proved irresistible. This is reflected also in the use of poetical as a descriptive adjective. The dance of the muses forms the transition to a passage on the poets who have sung the Volga earlier. There follow some descriptive lines which function as a kind of simile to their career. The poem ends, rather unexpectedly, with some lines on the poet's own modest lot. The literary extravagances were perhaps a necessary complement to the descriptive parts. Description could have a clear function in a longer poem, but definitely less so in shorter ones. If we compare "Vecer na Volge" with Dmitriev's "K Volge", to which the text of the poem refers, we find that Vjazemskij's description is seen through a much more personal eye. Description in lyrical poetry could not stand on its own; here it appears with 'literary' props. But the impulse towards description was direct, the lines were original. This form as such was not thereby mastered. Perhaps this kind of poetry was essentially an intermediate one, hemmed in between the epic forms and the long poem, on the one hand, and the lyrical experience, on the other. Zukovskij, to whom he sent the poem, was enthusiastic. He sent a

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letter and a poem which contained his praise and his criticism. Both were the result of deliberations of an 'Areopagus' consisting of a few Arzamas friends, a not uncommon situation at that time. While Vjazemskij heeded some of the criticisms, he held his own on other points. We do not have his arguments in this case, but in other cases he keenly defended the neologisms that sometimes struck his friends as not acceptable. Vjazemskij was highly pleased with the positive judgement of this poem, which Zukovskij called "a new kind of poetry". 6 There is an interesting criticism of Vjazemskij's expression dremaf v zlatyx mectax. Zlatye mecty are fine, Zukovskij wrote, when you are speaking of dreams in general, but as soon as you are speaking of dreams in relation to who is having them, then the adjective is impossible. Zukovskij had done this himself earlier on, he admitted, but that had been wrong. This time Vjazemskij heeded the criticism, although he had more than Zukovskij an urge towards abstract words. The best representative of this 'new kind of poetry' is "Pervyj sneg". It created Vjazemskij's reputation. This kind of descriptive lyrical poetry was his original contribution to Russian literature of the early nineteenth century, if perhaps not his best by absolute standards. The newness felt by his contemporaries was certainly not in the metre. The alexandrine, in fact, was on the way out. Vjazemskij himself kept to it and still praised it in 1853. But at that date it lacked the life that he could now give to it. Among its drawbacks was that it so easily accommodated the rhetoric it conveyed in the theater. Beginning a poem with pust' could only strengthen such expectations. The first three lines in fact confirm this expectation and seem to create a mould that is too large for lyricism, and somehow representative of more than the 'I'. But when the 'I' appears, in subdued contrast (the personal pronoun is omitted) the rhetorical ploy succeeds, and after the next three lines we are in a personal world. But the rhetorical impulse persists. The next sentence, again of three lines, ends on an exclamation. Those that follow belong to the most typical of the poem. The description they give is the fruit of direct and lively observation, but the epithets and tropes are signally 'poetic'. The traditional poetic vocabulary is stretched, not broken. Usual words like pary, rosea, bor, stand side by side with words used in a new way, like krasnorecivaja, volnujuscijsja. The word unynie (1. 14), on the other hand, is slightly out of key here, among all the other concrete attributes of the landscape. It functions only partly as a poetical signal. Vjazemskij liked this kind of word, as is shown by the poem of that name 6

V. A. Zukovskij, Sobranie socinenij v cetyrex

tomax,

t. IV (M-L, 1960), p. 562.

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and by "Vdoxnovenie". With this he went against the trend of poetic speech. 2ukovskij was more representative of this trend when in his 1802 translation of Gray's elegy he replaced Gray's abstracta throughout by concretiora. We find Vjazemskij, in contrast, in the process of separating the concrete and abstract layers of speech. We find more abstracta towards the end of the poem, but there they function in a description of his mood and memories, and they do not entail a break in the tone, as does the word unynie in line 14. This case illustrates the 'shakeout' that was taking place in the poetic vocabulary in these years. It was directly connected with the amount of 'person' in the poem. The 'I' of "Pervyj sneg" is a wavering one. We have a lyrical 'I' in 11.4-6, we have a general observer in the lines that follow, and in line 30 we have a not very personal 'us'. Only in 1.49 the 'I' becomes personal, but not strongly so, the tropes in 11.50-51 give it a somewhat conventional character. The 'you' addressed in 11.49,53ff".quite clearly is the poet's beloved, but their sleigh-ride is rendered in a rhetoric way, through rhetorical questions, rather than by the plural personal pronoun. Objective description and personal experience are brought under one denominator. (The period in which this could be done successfully was a short one. In romanticism the two at first move apart. Their combination in Puskin's longer poems is a new phenomenon.) When in 1.81 of "Pervyj sneg" the 'I' reappears it is in a short rhetorical sentence (No cto ja govorjul) that could have come straight from Racine. When he goes on to describe his love's treason it is again done in somewhat less personal terms: it is not she, but samaja ljubov' (84-85). The experience is drawn into a more than personal sphere; only at the end of the poem a personal conclusion is drawn from the experience. The rhetoric has a dynamic function in the composition of the poem. The rhetoric passages encompass the descriptive ones. The other traditional elements, in the tropes and in the vocabulary, fulfill a similar function. They give a certain lift to the descriptive passages and are thus exploited in a way that was impossible when these tropes and vocabulary were the norm. Together they dynamize the poem and subdue the personal element. The weakness of the word unynie, mentioned above, is to some extent counteracted by the rhythm: the line in which it occurs has enjambement with the next, after an unstressed syllable. There are two dynamic accents: the coming of the first snow (1.24), and the emotion caused by the ride (1.60). The descriptive passages are stretched out, as it were, between the beginning, these two accents, and the end of the poem. The number of epitheta ornantia and traditionally poetic words is

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much larger in the rhetorical than in the descriptive parts, for example in lines 49-56. This represents not so much a lack of talent as a tendency proper to Vjazemskij to see the word group rather than the single word as the fundamental semantic unit. It seems strange to say this of a man who was known for his neologisms. But one way in which the old poetical language could break up was a gradual breaking down of the syntacticosemantical units. Moving from the centre to the limits of the classical jargon he overstepped these limits with new words only when old words were inadequate. The first to be affected by this process were indicative verb forms. They come on their own, there are few adverbs, and a number of these are gerunds, i.e. also forms of the verb. It is in connection with verb forms also that the semantic renewal begins: volnujuscijsja, krasnorecivyj. Noun and epithet are much harder to separate: lazur' svetlaja, mracnaja sosna, tusklyj vzor, unynie tomnoe, krasavica mladaja, etc. Sometimes the unit is larger, e.g. in the case of tropes (11.50,51). Thus the traditional world begins to move before individualization sets in. Thereby Vjazemskij not only reflected the general development of literature at that stage, but also his own character. There was not in his talent an individual core that saw and formed everything from within — he received the tradition and when it was no longer adequate to the movement of the times he brought his person to bear on it. In line with this he perceived romanticism as a movement before he gave his individual poetic expression to it. As a result of this attitude we find with Vjazemskij only a weak interference between word and sound. The word does not rebound from its place in the line, the place and the sound of the word establish only few extra connections over and above the purely semantico-syntactical ones. It does happen occasionally, as in lines 16, 21, 57-59. The first of these lines (16) illustrates what one is tempted to call Vjazemskij's indifference to sound. One line has to accommodate so many of them that its progress is hampered. When Vjazemskij's lines are striking this is perhaps more often through their aphoristic character than through their sound orchestration. Of course as a poet Vjazemskij was concerned with the right word in the right place. But for him this striving became, in more than one sense, the search for the bon mot. He excelled at epigrams and he relished them. In his purely lyrical poetry bon mots appear as puns, e.g. in the last two stanzas of "Prostovolosaja golovka". Following a fairly general habit Vjazemskij sent the poem to his friends for reading and criticism. This one was sent to his closest correspondent, A. I. Turgenev. In the accompanying letter he insisted on the

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Russianness of this poem. 7 In his reply Turgenev expressed his enthusiasm, but was doubtful of the vaunted Russianness: "These lines more than others belong to brilliant French poetry. You are a Delille. It is his manner and description." Turgenev saw Vjazemskij's originality — his national character, if Vjazemskij insisted — in the choice of expressions. He used these in a way that made his readers believe these expressions had always belonged to the Russian language. 8 Turgenev had criticized a few lines in particular. Vjazemskij defended these and he added: "Why do you think I made my sleigh-ride on the trail of Delille? Where does he have a similar picture? I call myself a born Russian poet because I dug out everything in my own home ground". There was too little of this in other poets — "I will go down in history with a Russian coat of arms on my forehead, however you may try to Frenchify me." Turgenev, a thoughtful reader, was impressed not only with the newness of some words, but also found them extremely well-suited to the context which, we may add, was still predominantly classicistic. If Turgenev was less ready to grant him his national character, Vjazemskij's insistence on it makes him into a romanticist. Romantic elements appear in his poetry more clearly in the themes and motifs than in other aspects. Besides the national character, there was a new sense of time (11.74-76). Both of these will be taken up in his criticism. But before we turn to that it may be interesting to have a look at two 'mood' poems of this period and, for comparison, also at a much more romantic one of a later date, which was occasioned by Byron's death. "Unynie", this poem on stoic resignation, is classicistic in its personification of human properties. Besides unynie, fame also is addressed, thoughtfulness is almost personalized, as is the future (grjaduscee) and ambition ('cestoljubie). The póem is not the clear expression of a mood that absorbs entirely the voice of the poet. In fact, the theme is the difference between the possible field of human action and the factual position. In this case the variation in the length of the lines is put to good effect. There is more unity of tone than there is in "Pervyj sneg". The rhetoric impulse is here better suited to the theme and there are no descriptive passages. It is understandable that Puskin thought it even better than "Pervyj Sneg". What is sentimental and romantic in this poem are themes and motifs rather than style. The seventh stanza furnishes a good example: Boltlivyja molvy ne trebuja poxval ja podvig bytija oznaóil tesnym krugom: 7

•

Letter of 22.xi.1819, OA I, 357, 359. Letter of 10.xii.1819, OA I, 367-370.

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Pred altarem dusi v smiren'i kljatvu dal tiranu byt' vragom i zertvy vernym drugom. The prezrennaja tolpa figures in the poem, but this does not lead to an elevation of the poet. The notion that this kind of poem is really Vjazemskij's best is contradicted by "Negodovanie" (Indignation), written towards the end of 1820. The romantic theme of freedom sounds much more strongly here, but it destroys the network of the poem. The thematical unity is lost. The poem links in an uneasy alliance the themes of republican freedom and biblical justice. This uneasiness is reflected in the handling of the lines of unequal length. When he places the short line in groups the effect is, again, diminished, while the single short line stands out well against the background of alexandrines or iambic pentameters. The poem tends to fall apart into an Unynie-like one and an ode to freedom. Comparing "Unynie" and "Negodovanie" we can perhaps still conclude that Vjazemskij's strength as a poet was in descriptive poetry and in poems on human properties, or more generally, in the zone between classicism and romanticism, where the latter was the salt to enliven the classicistic complex of feelings and expressions. Undiluted rhetorics could destroy it on one side, too strong an irruption of romantic themes could have just as adverse effects. The latter is demonstrated by the poem "Bajron" (Byron), which was written between 1824 and 1827. The first thing to strike us is the subtitle: a fragment. It is one indication that we have here a romantic poem. After Tynjanov this point need not be argued further. The epigraph from Childe Harold is in prose. One is tempted to find this significant also. It was in a prose translation that Vjazemskij first read Byron and this was enough to make him enthusiastic. It was not as a poet but as a man of ideas, almost, that Byron became a source of inspiration for him. Yet the first word of this poem is: poetry. What we have here is metapoetry, and we observe that the poem is written in alexandrines. Thus at the end of the first line we have already found four features that characterize Vjazemskij and romanticism. Byron stimulated Vjazemskij's thinking on romanticism and his critical activity more than giving him a directly poetic stimulus. It is in line with this that Byron's death is the occasion for metapoetry. If we compare this poem with Puskin's "K morju", which also was connected with Byron's death, it becomes clear how much faster Puskin developed and how much more from within the latter's reaction was. The alexandrine meter was not by itself sufficient to show that Vjazemskij was remaining behind Puskin. The latter used it as late as 1830 in

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"Osen"'. The Puskin poem has strong reminiscenses of Vjazemskij which have been beautifully analyzed by Bicilli.9 Metapoetry was a not unimportant feature of romanticism, to which we will return later on. If we now turn to the poem itself and a comparison with "Pervyj sneg" we find they have the meter and a number of themes in common. Byron spoke a word in which vsja zizn, vsjapovesf blag i muk/l sosredotocilis'' v edinyj polnyj zvuk. In "Pervyj sneg": stesnilos' vremja im v odin krylatyj mig. Both reflect the new sense of time Vjazemskij formulated also in his articles. But the odd thing is that while "Bajron" has far more romantic themes than "Pervyj sneg", the element of rhetoric is also stronger in the later than in the earlier poem. The romantic themes are centered around the poet. Poetry is nature, the poet is happy and elected and high and apart. The further he is from man the less he is alone. His soul is influenced by thunder, cascades, brooks. The poet awakens the soul of the young and chastises the slepye nevezdy. The section on the poet's actions and attributes is closed with the line: takov, o Bajron, glas poezii tvoej. Byron himself is the voice of poetry, courageous giant, latter day Columbus, like him foreseeing a young and elemental world. Consumed by a deep dissatisfaction and despising the limits set by the timorous multitude he has, in his reckless upward flight, overthrown the pillars of Hercules. The word that Byron spoke was life itself. To carry this word was too heavy a burden for a mortal. He was consumed by it, and Byron's life shows what a mortal can be and what he cannot be. Vjazemskij's reasoning is perfectly in line with the romantic tenets, but it is a reasoning. The new feeling of life, romanticism, is not expressed, but talked about in this poem. As a result the rhetoric element is far stronger than in "Pervyj sneg". In early romantic poetry rhetoricism, i.e. a 'representative' rather than an individual 'I' as speaker, was not uncommon. The quest for freedom that was part of romanticism more or less asked for it. But in the mid-twenties it was on its way out. It did stay a little longer in metapoetry, as did the 'high' Church-Slavonic vocabulary. But the large majority of this metapoetry was an expression of the romantic view in regard to the poet, and not a disquisition about poetry brought to bear on an individual poet. As a rule also this genre employed shorter forms than the one utilized here by Vjazemskij. The image of the poet as it is depicted here shows a number of traditional traits. We do not mean the mythological ones, like Prometheus and • P. Bicilli, "Puskin i Vjazemskij", in: Godisnik na sofijskija universitet, ist.-fil.fak., kniga xxxv, 13 (Sofija, 1939), 52 pp.

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Perun, or the landscapes in which the poet moves; but there are some that are reminiscent of a saint's life. Lines 9-13 could be transferred to a zitie without change. This points to a feature of Vjazemskij's poetry which was perhaps never entirely absent but which became marked around this time. In "Bajron" the image of the poet was seen before the poem began, and the poem itself tends to be reduced to a report on things seen through the mind's eye, written in the appropriate mood. The image was structured before the poem was, it does not come about with and through the poem. To the extent that this tendency — which in practice is never, of course, completely realized — becomes dominant the interference of the word and its sound and place in the poetic line weakens. As a result the articulation has to follow the argument and the description, and the number of planes on which the poem operates is reduced. In the poem under discussion the argument and the description become halted and much less natural than in "Pervyj sneg". Like the latter it begins with an exclamatory sentence. In "Pervyj sneg" this beginning is harmonized by the next few lines. In "Bajron" it only sets the 'high' tone, from which the rhetoric can modulate only downwards, at a moment when the argument is in the exposition stage while the rhetoric energy has to be husbanded for the direct address to Byron. These features make the thought stand out: it does not quite fit and it draws too much attention. Poezija glupovata — it was to Vjazemskij that Puskin wrote these words. Vjazemskij is known for his poezija mysli and he has himself given his blessing to the term. "Like all self-taught poets I mainly wrote by ear". 10 I love melodiousness in other people's verse and I hold it dearly, but I myself never go for it in my poems. I never sacrifice my thought to sound. In my verse I want to say what I want to say. I do not give a thought or a care to the ears of those around me. Nor does the notion enter my mind that many things cannot be combined with verse. Verse, or poetry, cannot take in everything. Cows may sometimes be beautiful, but that does not make them fit for the saddle. A thought saddled with a verse may be no good at all. My cavalier treatment sometimes leaves my verse with a prosaic dullness, at other times it makes them mannered. When Viel'gorskij asked me for verse to put to music he always added: "only for God's sake don't intellectualize. I have no use for thoughts. You can't put them to music." Viel'gorskij hit the nail on the head. It is not rare for me to intellectualize in my verse. Meanwhile I think that if there is and should be a poetry of sounds and colors there can also be a poetry of thought. 11 10 II

I, xxxiv. I, xlii.

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Vjazemskij surely does not want to state that in the poetry of sound and colors thought was absent. He did mean that in the structure of his poems thought played a sometimes incommensurate role, so that the verse that formulated it became dulled or mannered by it. He did not, or not sufficiently, let the other structural principles interfere with thought because this interference was something negative for him. He considered it in terms of sacrifice. But thought in the guise of a bon mot wanted its own striking expression. One way in which his poetry of thought manifested itself was the aphoristic line that stood out against its background, i.e. that did not fully harmonize with it, for example V pobede cesti net, kogda bescesten boj ("Unynie")- The other way was thought as the organizer of an entire poem. That was thought as an argument. In this guise it was always accompanied by rhetorics. It would be entirely wrong to interpret poezija mysli as a beautifying, for poetry's sake, of thoughts that Vjazemskij had ready in another form. It was precisely the lack of beautifying that made his poetry stand out as poezija mysli. The inspiration included both moments: poetry and thought. The term poezija mysli can also be understood in the sense that a thought strikes one by its poetical character, as the poetical character proper to some thought, more or less in the sense in which he spoke of poezija materiaVnosti when he observed the well tended shops in the streets of Paris. Taken in this sense the term presupposes a certain classicistic poetics in which the poetical character was connected much more with the object that was looked at than with the I that looked at it. We find this in Vjazemskij and not only in the earliest poems. In "Prostovolosaja golovka" of 1828, we find in the second stanza: Vse v nej tak molodo tak zivo tak nepoxoze na drugix tak poetiCeski igrivo, kak Puskina veselyj stix In "More", of 1826, fine lines like: volSebno zabyvaet um 0 nastojaS&m, mysl' gnetuscem 1 v sladostrast'i strojnyx dum ja ves' v proteksem, ves' v grjaduScem are followed by: sjuda, poezii zrecyl // sjuda, suscestvennosti zertvyl The harmony of thought and expression that is attained in the four lines is jinglingly destroyed in the two lines that follow. After an inner ex-

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perience poetry is all of a sudden exteriorized, like a goddess with priests. Poèzija mysli was not a necessary ingredient of every poem he wrote. "Doroznaja duma" of 1830 shows how the two elements could on occasion be fully harmonized — which they are not in the poem with the same title of 1841. This harmony occurred in his most lyrical poems, i.e. in those that are furthest from the 'poetical' and in which thought is most subdued. The result is pure, be it minor poetry. Perhaps he owed it to romanticism. There is more 'I' present in it than in other poems, and it accepts for once the inexpressibility of a thought and thereby absorbs a bigger slice of life. He owed it to nobody in particular. His talent was minor but independent. It would function best when he forgot about 'poetry'. But the urge to incorporate that entity was also part of his talent. Perhaps "Doroznaja duma" can be considered as the first instance of that process of reduction, or subduing, that led from his earlier to his later poetry. It will be clear that Vjazemskij's poèzija mysli was different in kind from that which we find at the end of romanticism. We find the latter in Baratynskij : there is a tendency on the part of the reader to date Baratynskij's poems later than they were actually written if one does not know the date. That kind of poèzija mysli concerns aspects of the romantic world that have slowly been clarified and purified into an almost philosophical statement. From then on its logical development, linearly followed, leads us out of romanticism. This poèzija mysli presupposed romanticism and grew out of it; Vjazemskij's, on the contrary, preceded romanticism and was reduced and somewhat mellowed by it.12 Poèzija mysli is usually understood in the sense that his poems organized around a thought as the primary element. There is no doubt that he did write such poems. The genre of the epigram as such is poèzija mysli. But the fact that in other poems also his thought tended to stand out from the poetical background was perhaps, as we have seen, not due to a thought as a central organizing principle, but rather the result of other aspects of his talent. Among these are the visualizing of an image before the poem and the replacing of the right word by le bon mot. Vjazemskij's poems 12 We find ourselves in partial disagreement with I. M. Semenko, Poèty puskinskoj pory (M, 1970). In what is the best recent essay on Vjazemskij (pp. 121-152) she states: "For Vjazemskij a new thought was of the same significance as a new word. The individuality of speech was the main object of his attention". This statement overstresses the point somewhat. The new word came only when the old ones were inadequate. The wording of an individual thought could have a breaking effect on the progress of the poetic lines. Semenko understresses, in general, the extent to which Vjazemskij exploited the remaining possibilities of classicism. That makes him into more of a romantique manqué and less of a transitional figure than he actually was.

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were not the result of an individual thought in interference with individual words, but the result of interference of 'thought' and 'poetical language'. The individual theme was an occasion for such a meeting rather than its essence. Besides being a poem an individual work was also part of poetry. This goes some way towards explaining the odd combination we find in Vjazemskij of his being highly articulate on problems of words and a relatively small achievement in their poetic handling. Vjazemskij took his freedom with the word within the genre. (It is odd to hear him complain, in his poem on the alexandrine, 13 of the loss of poetic license, in a form so tied.) But he did not finally destroy the hierarchy of genres. This was not a matter of principle, but rather, perhaps, of'sense of language'. He 'placed' the bon mot, but it remained tied to the kind of work in which he did this. Puskin released the word's energy by loosening the fetters of the genre. With Vjazemskij the genre selected the word, with Puskin the word could select the genre, so to speak. The interpénétration of the layers of language released vast energies that were harnessed by the romantic 'I'. Vjazemskij's reflective T could not release them fully and could not utilize fully those energies that were released by his contemporaries.

Ill Every new current considers itself to be bezuslovno, as against the uslovnosV of its predecessor. The term is not an easy one to translate. Besides 'conventional' it also has the meaning of unconditionedness and of immediacy. His adherence to this bezuslovnost' as against classicism made Vjazemskij into a romanticist. The transition from classicism to romanticism had also this aspect that for the first time literature was being taken seriously. Instead of a vkusnyj limonad it became an elixir. Instead of a part of social life it became, to some extent, the organizer of that life. The word was spoken by the individual, and in time. It was also the free word, in and out of literature. This latter identification may seem too easy. Does not the word in literature function quite differently from the word outside literature? And did romanticism in general reveal a tendency towards such an identification? To answer the last question first: it did not in the sense that any poet at that time had to go through a period of frondeurism. For a literature that was still a part of social life a stimulus in the former could be fairly easily translated into a stimulus in the latter, and vice 13 "Aleksandrijskij stix" (1853).

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versa. Both the gradual autonomization of literature and Decembrism belong to the picture of Russian romanticism. Puskin was very aware of this autonomization and of the extent to which poetry could be 'wise': poizija glupovata. Vjazemskij was far less aware than Puskin was of this difference. We have seen that the new words he created were not poetic in the sense that he did not care for poetic consequences if they expressed his thought. In this restricted sense he did not heed literature enough. The matter could also be interpreted as the manifestation of a conscious urge. "To introduce life into literature and literature into life has always appeared to me to be an attractive and desirable task", he wrote at the end of his life, in a comment on his Ozerov article. This is a late conclusion, but we have enough early material to confirm its existence: his admiration for French literary life, his letters, his interest in people's literature and popular expressions — all in their different ways testify to this urge. In this respect the letter presents an interesting problem. The letter can perhaps be considered, at this time, to belong to literature. A restricted number of writers who knew each other well, who admired friendship, in their letters exchanged views on many things and in particular on literature. In so doing they were trying out the language of which the correspondents agreed that it was not yet fully developed. If the letter was a genre, it was an unpublishable one on several accounts: to start with external reasons: both for the language used and for the matter discussed, many letters would not be passed by censor. But it was not for publication in a more essential way also. Very few letters written at that time give a reader the feeling of having been written with an eye to the public. Other members of the group might also read letters addressed to only one of them, but they did so not as public but as a member of the group. This group was outward looking and, perhaps partly unconsciously, had the feeling of representing Russian literature. This is reflected in the letters. The cult of friendship also influenced them. To that extent they were literary, but in an unemphatic way: they were not literary heroes and ego's writing for posterity. They were non-literary also in an other sense: efforts to use the letter form in literature were, in the main, unsuccessful at this time, notwithstanding the vogue that the novel in letters had enjoyed in Western Europe. It is not accidental that Puskin's novel in letters remain unfinished. Talent for writing personal letters did not imply an ability to use it as a literary form. It is true that Vjazemskij wrote "a letter from Paris", before he had ever been there, but this was a purely external form used for reporting.

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These examples are lacking precisely that gay and personal style that is so characteristic of much correspondence of these years. When Vjazemskij says that his real work is in his letters we must keep the above in mind. These letters are eminently readable. They are personal: he needed the exchange with kindred spirits in order to open up. So we come to know him very well from his letters. But his feeling for literary form should be judged not on them but on his 'purely' literary exploits, i.e. first of all on his poems and secondly on the critical articles. However, as a manifestation on literary life his letters are surpassed by few. He was a compulsive letter writer, his published correspondence runs into the hundreds and much is still unpublished. Letters are a primary source for his biography also. They are abundant on the Warsaw period. Vjazemskij was sent to Warsaw in 1818 with the tsar's approval and with the task to assist Novosil'cov with his foreign correspondence. This first period of government service (not counting the purely nominal service in the Geodetical Institute in Moscow) was at the same time that of his most ardent striving for freedom for the people. In Warsaw he was one of the very few Russians who could get along well with the Poles. He later remembered his Polish period with pleasure. He did not share the Poles' wishes to be free from Russia, but he could understand them. He was present when the tsar made his famous liberal speech to the Polish sejm in 1818. It was his task to translate it into French, which he did to the tsar's entire satisfaction. Reporting the scene to Turgenev he wrote: "I had tears in my eyes for joy and anger: why speak to the Poles of Russian hopes! Are we children, to whom you cannot speak of real things?" 14 His liberal leanings find expression also in poems. A poem he is composing "might have the smell of Siberia". When it is finished he will send his "free and lawful enthusiasm" {zakonnosvobodnyj i zakonopoloziteVnyj vostorg).15 As he regularly sends his creations to Turgenev, so he is kept informed by the latter of literary developments in Russia: about PuSkin's dissipated life and, with glee, about Venus relegating him to his bed which will result in another canto of Ruslan and Ljudmila. Vjazemskij thanks Turgenev for finding Batjuskov a place with the Russian legation in Naples: "ty — arzamasskijopekun." What a pity that the plans for a journal did not come off: it would have been so timely, and its name would have been Vospriimnik. Zukovskij is "a kind of Don Quixote. He is sold on things soulful and speaks to souls in the Anickov Palace, where souls have never been found. He 11 16

OA 1,105. Ibid., 116.

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needs a kind of Sancho" and Vjazemskij volunteers for the role. All the same, 2ukovskij was a 'citizen-singer' (grazdaninom-pesnopevcem) in the events of 1812. Batjuskov never was. He (Batjuskov) campaigned against enlightenment when and where he could, forgetting that it is not for us to attack its abuse when we have not even got used to its use. 16 Turgenev found that he stressed this element too much. With him there are always souls: "His soul is in his talent and his talent is in his soul." Vjazemskij agrees but thinks that the soul, witness of contemporary events, seeing the scaffolds that are being erected for killing people, for murdering freedom, cannot and must not loose itself in an ideal Arcadia. And after some thought he adds: Nothing can be done now. The poet sometimes must seek inspiration in the newspapers. Formerly the poets used to lose themselves in metaphysics; now the cudesnoe, this great assistent of poetry, is on earth. 17 He disagrees with Turgenev on the subject of Radiscev and finds he is too unkind towards him: "He was an intelligent man and one of the small number of our writers who think. In his "Ode to Freedom" there are sounds of a manful soul. In many passages there are thoughts that strike out even if they do not hit (zamaski, esli ne udary

mysli).ls

Not always is literature approached from such a political angle; the tendency seems strongest towards the end of his stay in Warsaw. But literature and life were never too far from each other. The greatest literary event for him in these years was the discovery of Byron. "I am reading and rereading Byron, of course in a bleak French extract [his English at this time was not too good]. What a rock, from which a sea of poetry jets forth! How can Zukovskij fail to find life here, that would be enough for an entire generation of poets." He will return to the subject again and again during the twenties. For him Byron remained the fundamental force of romanticism. He sends Turgenev a long fragment of a prose translation of Childe Harold: "What a haze of poetry in this! Dip into it and refresh your feelings that are dried out by the hot dust of the earth. What are your pompous odes, your cold poems! What is all this conditioned language, this symmetry of words and expressions and ideas." Some of the features of romanticism that he will discuss at greater length later on crop up for the first time during these years. We have already mentioned his conviction that he was a Russian poet, "however you try to Frenchify me". This is not to imply that he was anti-French: on the "

17 18

OA II, 155.

Ibid., 170. Ibid., 122.

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contrary, before he discovered Byron his literary impulses from abroad came almost exclusively from there. One of the things he admired in France was that there was a literary life there, a thing that was grievously missing in Russia. If he had his reservations about the French revolution, yet — médire de la révolution française à l'heure qu'il est — c'est médire en Egypte des débordements du Nil.19 A panorama of Paris on display in Warsaw gives him the spleen for all he has not yet seen: When an article he had written on Voltaire (and which evidently was not published) met with trouble at the censor's he considered publishing it in France — "if they pinch me in Arxangel'sk, my cry will be heard in France." 2 0 His reading is mainly in French — he had read Byron in a French translation. His yearning to see Paris will be realized only in 1838. Another feature of romanticism was the quest for freedom. During his Polish years, he expressed it strongly in his letters. It reached an almost shrill climax just before his dismissal. "Here I learn to hate autocracy: I do not love the Poles, but each stroke that falls on them stirs a deep echo in me". 21 Freedom was in the air and it was not yet clear that it would remain there. He was informed from Petersburg about Puskin's "Derevnja" and "Ode to Freedom". Vjazemskij sensed and heartily shared the mood of his generation which at this time could still be considered as the mood of the age. At the same time he sensed the change of atmosphere in the official milieu in which he moved in Poland. His arrival had coincided with the zenith of the tsar's liberalism in regard to the Poles. No wonder that Vjazemskij is extremely critical of "these holy allies avant la lettré", or of the reigning Sternes, as he called them elsewhere. He did not expect any good to come from the Holy Alliance. Its Congress in Troppau was, to him, nothing but a conspiracy of autocracy against representational government. 22 "What fame do we derive from being Europe's bogeyman and from sitting like a fly on everybody's nose?" 23 He associated himself with the drafting of a proclamation announcing the liberation of the serfs that was to be offered to the tsar. He found serfdom the only revolutionary element in Russia and his group of landowners could be trusted to do away with it in a safe way. Like other such projects it came to nothing. It only made him more critical of a system that killed every fresh initiative. "We have, in our Russian language, no more freedom than freedoms. But in order to ex"

20 21 22 23

OA I, 166, letter of 6.xii.l818. OA I, 266, letter of ll.vii.1819. OA I, 306, letter of 5.ix.l819. OA II, 92, letter of 23.x. 1820. 20.viii.1820. OA II, 50.

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press non-autocratic thought one needs the word freedom in the plural. Freedom is an abstract expression; freedoms are activity and results" (8.x. 1820). He is warned by his friend to measure his language as the walls may well have ears. This may be the case, Vjazemskij answers, but he will be a victim of unpleasant things with so many words. He would rather that his thoughts reach certain ears than that they disappear into thin air. He wants them to hear that there is an opinion in Russia. And, in March 1821: "Everyone has his own ambition. Mine is to be a freethinker to the mind of slavethinkers. Onward, children of obscurantism!" Hardly a month later he was in Moscow on official business, and when he wanted to return to his j o b was prohibited from doing so because of his having opinions that could not be squared with a good fulfillment of his duties. Vjazemskij was thunderstruck, more than could be expected after such words and such warnings from his friends. Even much later, he saw the causes of his recall in a change of direction in the views of the tsar and in intrigues in official circles in Warsaw, rather than in his own utterings. His thoughts had not dwelt at all on such a possibility as this. Just before the storm broke he had even hired a house in Warsaw. Back in Russia he kept up his criticism of the government, but did not find a field of political activities. Nor did he eagerly acclaim the possibility of becoming active in literature, although this is what finally happened. At the moment he felt a terrible emptiness, not an urge to avenge himself. His opposition did not go beyond this point. In October 1821 he read Dix annees d'exil and finds that it fits him: he also is an exile. The only positive thing that remains for him to do is to live for his family and his friends, and he wants very much to work. 24 His attitude reveals a certain undecidedness. It was a notable trait in his character. It expressed itself in various ways in his letters: "This is also my dream: either to chase the sun throughout the world in Byron's footsteps or to go seeking in a Gubernija administration for the common sense and truth that have fled from Russia, or ...", 2 5 He had difficulty in finding a place in life, difficulty in seeing where he was successful; in fact, success itself became problematical. "My existence is so concerned with ideas, so little to be felt that I never have hoped for success in anything. It has always seemed to me that my steps did not touch the ground and did not leave traces (...) If I am only a mirror and not a picture, hang me at least in an advantageous place, so that something " "

O A I I , 216, letter of 12.X.1821. OA I, 326, letter of ll.x.1819.

VJAZEMSKIJ A N D ROMANTICISM

293

good is reflected in me". 26 "My whole life is somehow fragmented: at least as far as the practice of life is concerned. Its plan is entire (...). What then do I lack? Constancy (...) is that it?" 27 And elsewhere again: "My conduct sheet is a blank". 28 And what does success itself mean? "Success is a blot on our existence". 29 These are not isolated complaints. From elegiac they will, with time, become gradually true. Even now, one cannot call it an attitude, even if the statements do not yet represent objective truth. Vjazemskij was not blind to his virtues, but he did not find accomplishments in himself. It would be a simplification to state that such a character could not be a romantic; but it is difficult to imagine such a character functioning as a romantic 'I' even in the way a Baratynskij did this. This does not mean that Vjazemskij had a weak character. If he functioned as a reflector, as a thermometer, he did not reflect characters that influenced him, but his milieu and, during a period, his times. 30 He had a finely tuned ear for what was in the air and he 'caught' the romantic climate earlier than most members of his group. Throughout 1822 Vjazemskij's letters remain as critical of the government as they had been before, but there seems to be less life in his criticism. The tone of the letters never again rises to the Warsaw pitch. To a Turgenev who criticizes too much he writes: "How often, my dear sirs and undear despots, have I told you that I want to write not like some other man, but like Vjazemskij. Free-thinking is the way of thinking of free people — it is an element, not a composition." He regrets that Puskin has made the ending of his Prisoner of the Caucasus so bloodthirsty: what heroes were Kotljarevskij and Ermolov! Such fame made the blood run cold in one's veins and one's hairs stand on end. If we had civilized those peoples, then we would have something to sing. Poetry is no ally of hangmen. Such enthusiasms are pure anachronisms, in Vjazemskij's opinion. His liberal reputation made matters more difficult for him with the censorship. He thinks again of publishing in France, this time it is an article on Dmitriev. It was more exasperation than a real plan. They " "

OA I, 162, letter of 3.xii.l818. 9.U819, OA I, 185-186. 28 16.V.1819, OA I, 235. M 20.vi.1819, OA I, 254. 80 He will change some of his convictions in later years. In trying to explain this one must make allowances for changes in his milieu. The thermometer could reflect minor changes in an essentially homogeneous milieu. When the entire milieu changes he had to change the scales, and he largely failed in this.

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should forbid him to have paper rather than make a problem of state out of every article of his, he exclaims. The feelings behind these exclamations are real, but somehow one has the feeling that his passion in this field had been spent. Slowly he begins to settle down, partly for financial reasons. He exerts efforts to get a greater share than hitherto of the government contracts for delivering military cloth that was produced in mills he possessed in Kostroma province. In literature he finally finds a forum in Moskovskij Telegraf that was published by Polevoj. The years of his work on this journal, the middle twenties, are his most prolific. He wrote everything, from poems to articles and notices. "The activity in a periodical was something new. Puskin and Mickiewicz said I was a born pamphleteer and would have become one if such a career would have been possible. Some Telegraf issues were half filled by me or with materials selected by me". 31 In a way it was a natural outlet for his keen critical mind. Puskin did not exaggerate too much when he said that Vjazemskij was the only literary critic in Russia.

IV Vjazemskij was probably the first writer to use the term romanticism in Russia; he was certainly its most articulate spokesman. The first time he used the word was in his essay on Ozerov written in 1817. Ozerov's later work, he found, "already belongs to some extent to the newest kind of drama, the so-called ROMANTIC kind, which was adopted by the Germans from the Spanish and the British". 32 He did not develop the point. The essay, incidentally, was the first of its kind, a kind of literary biography, in Russian literature. Vjazemskij rightly claimed the priority. As to Ozerov's romanticism Puskin violently disagreed. Vjazemskij relates it in his postscript, of which he wrote a number for his collected works. These late prose pieces are not his worst and deserve further study. The piece on Ozerov was not his only biographical essay. Others were to follow on Dmitriev and Fonvizin. Such pieces on persons who were dead or whose biography was surveyable were not a forum for discussing romanticism. That happened in his shorter and more topical articles that established his name as a sharp critic and, according to Puskin, the best prose writer after Karamzin. The essay on Dmitriev is slightly different from the other two. Perhaps because his subject was still alive, and be31 8i

I, xlviii. 1,49.

VJAZEMSKIJ AND ROMANTICISM

295

cause of its origin, he wrote it with polemical guns blazing. When Karamzin had read it he asked Vjazemskij to dull his sting. It was written at the request of the Free Society of Lovers of Russian Literature, a society that was founded in 1816 and which counted him among its honorary members from September, 1821. The essay was read at a meeting of the society in 1822, and, it seems, met with some opposition. 33 Apart from his polemical sallies, his opinions on Krylov will have contributed to this. He preferred Dmitriev as a writer of fables over Krylov. Puskin was one of those critical of this position. Even before he read the essay he wrote that it was "a shame to humble our Krylov. Your opinions should be law in our literature, but look whom you favor now in unpardonable bias and against your own conscience. What is Dmitriev? All his fables taken together are not worth one good Krylov fable". 34 It is indeed odd for a man who narrowly links the genre of the fable with the typically Russian wisdom of the proverbs and who held up Dmitriev as an example of one who sought inspiration in national history. 35 But in this same article we can find the reasons for it. After reviewing the writers of the preceding generations he concluded that Karamzin and Dmitriev were the creators of the Russian literary language. Rejecting the stilted odes of the eighteenth century, in which there were only words and no deeds he admired them for the enrichment of the language from its own stores and for bringing it closer to a language for expressing European culture, and for refining it. This was what made him a Karamzinist — his sallies are once more directed in this essay at his enemies with their "loathing of all the fruits of the human mind". 36 Vjazemskij was after a refined, supple language in which a well-educated man could express thoughts sharply. Krylov's speech, dating from a period when the other two were still at work on their language, must therefore have struck him not so much by its freshness but, in part, as not yet refined. More than any other member of the group to which he belonged he had an open ear for popular speech and for the richness of what he later called xodjacee ostroumie,37 the alertness of mind that expressed itself in the street. But this was a different layer from literature proper. With all his modernism and his defense on principle of using gallicisms, this was going to affect his views of romanticism also. 33 31 36 36 37

See V. Bazanov, Ucenaja respublika (M-L., 1964), pp. 278-283, 312. 8.iii.l824. I, 130. I, 126. VIII, 242.

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JAN M. MEUER

From 1822 onwards he discusses a number of features of romanticism in his articles. The Warsaw period had left him little time for critical articles. Moreover, works which gave a good occasion for a discussion of romanticism began to appear only by that year. The appearance of 2ukovskij's translation of The Prisoner of Chillon, and of Puskin's The Prisoner of the Caucasus show "the success in our country of romantic poetry. Taking the risk of offending the certified servants of the old Parnassian dynasty we decide to use this term that to many still has a queer sound and that is considered rapacious and unlawful".38 Yet it was not the name that was essential. If the name could not be found in the classic poetics, the thing itself was not absent in the work of the great classical writers. Romanticism did not heed the old and tyrannical laws but was its own law unto itself. It had the elemental force of nature. In France, where classicism could boast great works, resistance against romanticism was understandable, but in Russia, which had so little to show as yet, it served as the expression of its own character, more than elsewhere. "Literature should be the expression of the people's character and opinions. Judging on the books that are appearing in our country one would say that we either have no literature or no opinions or character." There was no literary life yet, in Russia, and romanticism could help to bring that about. Romanticism was unconditional and unconventional. There was no doubt that romanticism gave more freedom to talents. "It subjects itself only to the laws of nature and of the exquisite and rejects the tyranny of conventional regulations".39 What made a poet was no longer the choice of subject, but his view of the subject and the expression of his feelings.40 This strikingly modern view was in practice mitigated, because he still speaks of poetical subjects.41 This was not a personal inconsequence. Early Russian romanticism kept to this distinction, at least implicitly. This applies also to morals. Russian romanticism, and certainly Vjazemskij's, was not demonical. More than once he positively mentions the moral or elevated character of romantic works, notably also in a review of Kozlov's Monk.12 It is only towards the end of Russian romanticism that these limits are reached and crossed, in PuSkin and Lermontov respectively. Romanticism with its single point of view was unable to depict a character. This is an observation which can only be made ex post facto. 88

"

40

" «

I, 73, in the article: "O kavkazskom plennike, povesti sod. A. Puskina", of 1822.

1,226.

1,224. I, 77, 78, 187. I, 190, 192, 224.

VJAZEMSKIJ AND ROMANTICISM

297

But it says much about Vjazemskij's sharpness of observation that he made such a remark about the Prisoner of the Caucasus in 1822.43 It is true that he added that Byron did depict a complete character in Childe Harold, and one that could often be found "in the situation society finds itself in at present". 44 He did not take sides in the question of whether Byron depicted himself in Childe Harold, and described it in the following terms: A surplus of force, of inner life which in its ambitious strivings cannot be satisfied by the concessions of social life that is kind only to the moderate wishes of so-called common sense; the inevitable results of such a conflict: emotions without an object, a devouring activity which cannot be adapted to real tasks, urgings that can never be satisfied and that are always reborn with new force — inevitably sow the seeds of ennui, overindulgement and saturation in the heart of those like Childe Harold, the Prisoner of the Caucasus, et al. (ibid.). The fact that romanticism was a natural force meant that it had the irresistibility of one, at least for first-class minds. Such minds were the first to be changed by changes in the climate; second-rate minds would come to it only when the new thing was entirely formed. Real writers would not fail to write like Byron and Scott, whatever their convictions and talents. This amounted to saying that romanticism was the spirit of the age. In fact Vjazemskij stressed this point, chiding the man qui n'a pas Vesprit de son age as he liked to quote. Romanticism reflected not only the character of the people, but also the time in which it was written. This could also mean other than purely personal elements, as is clear from the following quote from his second "Letter from Paris" written before he ever set foot there — the form was chosen to bring more variation in the Moscow Telegraph: "You ask: what does poetry do in France? It does politics, it can be answered, if one is not afraid of a gallicism; political poetry, for that matter, is a literary gallicism." And he defined as political poetry "all poetry of a national and social character (vsjakuju narodnuju ili graZdanskuju poeziju) that encompasses elevated social truths". 45 The two main objects of his critical activity, namely to speak for romanticism and to bring life and literature closer together, to create a literary life in Russia, could on occasion diverge. In such cases the latter set limits to the former. This would become clearer later on. At this moment i.e., in the mid-twenties, he "

41

"

1,76. I, 330-331. I, 223, 224.

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JAN M. MEIJER

could not yet be conscious of such a divergence. The grazdanskaja side of romanticism was as much a part of it as was the more personal aspect, not only in Russia, but elsewhere also. In this connection it is interesting to note that when Vjazemskij spoke of the mass, tolpa, this was more often than not directed at his literary opponents and hardly ever had a social content. Tolpa were the unfree, romanticism meant freedom, and the quest for freedom did not stop at the limits of literature. Vjazemskij drew interesting conclusions concerning the composition of the romantic work also. If classicism followed the time of the clock dial and had, so to speak, to answer for every minute, romanticism only depicted the culminating points of a story or a hero's life. It was moreover characterized by an urge to conclusions. In line with this position Vjazemskij wanted Puskin to omit a line like: oniprosnutsja,pogodi, from Cygany. What will happen will become clear from the story itself.46 He called Aleko "a character taken from society into the new poetry, and not brought out into society by poetry, as many think", but such a character, he added, should not be leading a bear: that is not poetical. Although this is quite proper to Moldavian gypsies, this is too much local color. Like Byron, Puskin presented only that which stood out against the general background, not all the connecting lines and not every numbered thought. Vjazemskij did not place Byron above Puskin, but it was the former who had given romanticism its voice. There is no article of any length in which he is not mentioned. The most complete statement is to be found in an article on Mickiewicz's sonnets written in 1827: In every period elevated people, however different in some respects, were of one mind on some fundamental points [...] only the average people go without this seal of the time. There are not two truths, two necessities for one and the same minute. Byron did not invent his kind of poetry: he was elected at the right moment as an interpreter of humanity to itself. He put to music the song of his generation, he introduced new letters that stamped notions and feelings which had remained unexpressed for lack of signs to express them [...]. This is perhaps one of the characteristic features of romanticism: liberating itself from conventional rules, it subjects itself to direct urgings (potrebnostjam). There must be a certain sameness in it, but this is the sameness of nature which is eternally new and attractive.47 From about 1830 Vjazemskij begins to lose touch with the times. The causes are complicated. Both his talent and his character enter into it. "

47

1,318. I, 330.

VJAZEMSKIJ AND ROMANTICISM

299

For the sectarian that he was at heart Vesprit de I'age can easily develop into an esprit de corps. It was not petty and not restrictive, but it was there, and when the group that was his fell apart he lost his natural support. He was very dependent on personal contacts for developing his ideas. He was not a compulsory reader, he said of himself, and a talk could mean far more to him than a book. We have already spoken of his letters and the role they played. He called himself a barometer or a thermometer. "I am not an oven and not a window: I can neither warm the room, nor cool it, but I am a thermometer [he used the word barometer here]: look at me and you will know the temperature." 48 When he was part of a group that could speak for the times, this, paradoxically speaking, kept him together. Complaints of a fragmented and inconsequential life are frequent in his utterances and begin at an early date. When he could be active with friends, when he was stimulated all the time, this fragmentedness was continually kept in check. When the group lost its coherence Vjazemskij risked to lose a center of activity. This was one of the consequences of the Decembrist revolt. Much has been written on Vjazemskij and the Decembrists. 49 As a rule these writings concerned his ideas, while the psychological aspect was underestimated. The influence of the Decembrist revolt on the contemporary Russian literature and its writers is as undeniable as it is hard to circumscribe. Of Puskin and Vjazemskij we know that they sympathized with many of the ideas of the Decembrists, but not with revolution. We also know that they had ties with many of the arrested. The world of the Decembrists was the world in which both Puskin and Vjazemskij moved and lived. Yet it is no accident that neither was a member of the movement. They did not actively try to join it, nor were they asked to do so. Besides character and outlook, literature itself had something to do with it. With all the differences between them both Puskin and Vjazemskij realized or 48

OA I, 310, letter of 13.ix.1819 to A. Turgenev. It is interesting that this was said in connection with the possibilities in the context of the opposition. In a preceding letter Vjazemskij had said that he hated autocracy. Now he added: What are we to do when we cannot yet act in public (glasno)? Cry out loud! Not yell, not sound alarm bells, not cry murder! But say and keep saying in all places and crossroads: do not murder (...) I can talk. I answer for my words. But I lack the force to preach by deeds. 49 N. Kutanov, "Dekabrist bez dekabrja", in: Dekabristy i ix vremja (M., 1932); M. Gillel'son, "Oppozicioner ili fronder", in: Russkaja literatura (1963), 4, 232-237 and the literature mentioned there. Two articles have not been available, namely Ju. M. Lotman, "P. A. Vjazemskij i dvizenie dekabristov", in: Trudy po russkoj i slavjansko] filologii, vol. 98 (Tartu, 1960) and S. S. Landa, "O nekotoryx osobennostjax formirovanija revoljucionnoj ideologii v Rossii", in: Puskin i ego vremja, vol. I (M., 1962).

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JAN M. MEIJER

felt that literature organizes life differently from the way politics does. Vjazemskij for one was all for the interpénétration of literature and life but not for the kind of irruption a revolution would mean. When the catastrophe came it was, all the same, part of their circle that disappeared and part of their world that went down. Part of their horizon was stripped. They lost their support to the left, if we may use this simplification here. This could not but influence them. If they had not had the drive to join before December, one could not expect them to take up the cause after it was defeated. Thus, inexorably, they moved to the 'right'. Even when they resisted the trend they were pushed that way by circumstances beyond their control. Their field of action and of vision was restricted and they lost part of their mobility. This applies not only to them, but also to those poets who had much less sympathy for liberal ideas than Puskin and Vjazemskij had. The bloodletting had affected the entire body social. Its influence on poets like Baratynskij and Jazykov was not less strong for being less personal. They too had lost part of their world and had to reorganize. Because of the Decembrist disaster, and also of Batjuskov's mental illness and Del'vig's death the generation of Puskin and Vjazemskij after 1830 shows many features of a lost generation. This situation could not but have grievous consequences for Vjazemskij: he lost the room whose thermometer he had been. By 1830 those that remained were becoming more official. 2ukovskij had been that for some time. PuSkin was going to marry and moved a little closer to the court. Vjazemskij had to do the same. For financial reasons he had to enter state service and in order to do so he had to apologize to the tsar and his brother for his earlier oppositional behaviour. His Confession of 1829 is a dignified document in which he defended his earlier convictions and showed rather less eagerness than PuSkin for ties with this milieu. Inter alia he wrote, discussing the perlustration of his letters : "I often wrote with the hope that our government, not having at its disposal independent organs of public opinion, would learn through these confiscated letters that there was nevertheless an opinion in Russia, that in the deep silence of our public life there was a disinterested voice, a reproachful representative of general opinion". He repeated his opinion that "in the life of others letters are an episode, with me they are the history of my life" and "deeds are no action. I should be kept like a thermometer. It can neither heat the room nor cool it, but nobody feels more quickly and surely the real temperature". 50 60 11,85-111.

VJAZEMSKIJ AND ROMANTICISM

301

New currents and circles which did not owe anything to the Decembrist generation and had not been supported by it came now to the fore. They had not had to show their mettle in fighting against their predecessors. This is one, not unimportant reason for the rise of a plebeian tradition even before what has been called the democratic tradition. The stink of Bulgarin, the journalism of Gre5 and NadeMin had all been there before 1825, but after that year their specific weight increased markedly. They set the new tone and the survivors of the PuSkin generation experienced some difficulty in distinguishing from it the new democratic tone when this latter came into its own. They could hardly be blamed for it. The problem is important enough to deserve a closer look. The Decembrist movement had shown that the Russian nobility as a body no longer took its uppermost position for granted. But these proponents of change themselves were to a man of noble descent. They were not self-conscious about their nobility, but to the extent that it was for them an issue at all, it was rather something like noblesse oblige. This implies that if members of the nobility would be attacked on that issues, i.e. for belonging to the nobility, they had little to say in their defense. Within the literary world the tone was still set around 1825 by the nobility. In this world epigrams were very current. But some of those epigrams happened to hurt the social feelings of some egos for whom the noble descent of their attackers was much more of an issue because they felt thrown out. Neither their ideas nor their practice were more democratic than Vjazemskij's were. When they attacked Vjazemskij and the whole group for their aristocratism, Vjazemskij could only reply that there was no aristocratism in their literary outlook. He was not ashamed of his descent, but this had nothing to do with his literary position. The only aristocracy that mattered there was that of talent. Talents had a way of finding each other out and of keeping outside their intercourse the nontalents. But 'the aristocrats' had now before the public been lumped together, not by ideological opponents, but by plebeian touchiness. The anti-aristocrats were out for dominant positions, not for the realization of new ideals. What they presented as such was at best vague and in the case of Bulgarin downright dishonest. They prepared the soil for democratic tendencies, but were themselves incapable of them. These factors, together with more purely literary ones, brought about his isolation. Puskin pointed out one of these in a note on rereading Vjazemskij's Ozerov essay in 1827. Against the place where Vjazemskij wrote that tragedies will create love of virtue and hatred of vice Puskin noted: "not

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JAN M. MEIJER

at all! The poet is above morality, or at any rate this is something entirely different. Jesus Christ! What has the poet to do with vice and virtue? If with anything at all, then only with their poetical side." 51 Vjazemskij maintained a fixed hierarchy of spheres of life. He was not enough of a romantic poet to make himself the absolute center of the universe who could write his own moral code. Vjazemskij was with romanticism, he was its spokesman, but he was never fully immersed in it. If Puskin made romanticism into the theme only when and as soon as he began to outlive it, Vjazemskij did so right from the start. When he placed a romantic poet in the center of the universe, it was another, Byron, and not himself. He did this at a moment when Puskin already spoke of Byron's beznadeznyj egoizm. There was also a different attitude to words. Vjazemskij was perhaps the most fervent creator of new words in Russian romanticism. Moreover he frequently used romantic keywords. 52 But these did not impair the poetical hierarchy. There was a definitely poetical level. No other contemporary poet shows the frequency of the word poeticeskij in poetical texts that Vjazemskij has. He wrote many poems about poetry. This was proper to romanticism. Romanticism as a current produced more metapoetry than either its predecessor or its successor. It is not easy to draw the boundaries of this kind of poetry because the transitions towards other kinds are quite gradual. The appearance in a poem of the word poetry is not in itself sufficient or necessary to make a poem belong to metapoetry. But by any count, however widely or narrowly the term is understood, and whether or not anacreontic poetry is excluded, Vjazemskij wrote more metapoetry than any of his contemporaries. 53 11

Starina i Novizna, vol. I (1897), pp. 305-323. See D. M. Tschizevskij, "Einige Aufgaben der slavistischen Romantikforschung", in: Die Welt der Slaven (1956), I, 18-34. 68 Besides Vjazemskij's, the works of Kjuxel'beker, Ryleev, Del'vig, Jazykov, Baratynskij, Batjuskov, Zukovskij, and A. S. PuSkin have been taken into account. Over the period 1810-1830 we observe two peaks, respectively in 1814-1815 and in the period 1820-1823. In both of these Vjazemskij is the biggest single contributor. This is shown by the following figures of which the first indicates a narrower count and those in brackets the wider count. The total includes all the other writers mentioned, and Vjazemskij. 82

1814 1815 1820 1821 1822 1823

Vjazemskij

total

6(7) 5(10) 6(8) 7(7) 7(11) 5(7)

8(9) 5(10) 14(18) 17(19) 13(18) 9(13)

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VJAZEMSKIJ AND ROMANTICISM

Thus there was a clear difference between the poetical and the prosaic. In one of his letters he observed that with Krylov one could not speak of high poetry — "he is definitely prose". 54 Prose as such was not low, but there were prosaic subjects. Notwithstanding Puskin's urgings in that direction, he never made the transition to creative prose. Paradoxically speaking he had not been enough of a romantic for it. While he had worked enthusiastically for the modernization of the Russian language he had maintained the distinction of higher and lower language. Only the sovereign romantic poet could break through the hierarchy and mix the different layers of words — and the different layers of life. When the poet's central authority decayed and his egocentric vision broke up, the mixture of layers that had been affected remained and formed the basis of realism. When this happened, and happened in a group that was not Vjazemskij's, he was out of tune and could not give expression to it. University

of

Utrecht

I express my thanks to Mr. F. Suasso de Lima de Prado, who did the checking for me. The count is dependent on the editions chosen or available, so that different editions might give slightly different results. But these would not fundamentally affect the proportion observed here. 64 Letter to Puskin, 12.V.1828, in: Literaturnoe nasledstvo, vol. 58 (Moscow, 1952), p. 79.

IOSIF BRODSKIJ'S "AENEAS AND DIDO" KEES VERHEUL

This brief essay will be devoted to the examination of one shorter work of the contemporary Russian poet Iosif Brodskij. I have chosen this particular poem as the subject of a separate study because I think it occupies an important position in the evolution of his style and because I consider it, apart from its usefulness as an object for comparative analysis, to be one of the most interesting and successful examples of his literary talent. The text, which is also to be found in the recent American collection of his poems Ostanovka v pustyne [A Halt in the Desert], 1 runs as follows: 3HEH H flHflOHA BejiHKHH HeJiOBeK c M O T p e n B OKHO, A 3JW Hee Becb Mnp KOHHajica KpaeM Ero nrapoKoit rpeiecKoft Tyumen, 06HJTheM CKjiaflOK noxoflHBmeft Ha

5. OcTaHOBHBineeca Mope. OH

ace

ero cefi^ac Bbui TANFLAJIEKOT 3THX Mecr, HTO ry6bi 3acTbiJiH TOHHO paKOBHHa, R«E Tairrca ryji, H ropH30HT B Soxane CMOTPEN B OKHO, H B3RJI5IFL

10.

EMJI H e n o j i B H * e H .

A ee HK)6oBb Bbijia jnunb pbi6oii — MOECCT H cnoco6nofi IlycTHTbCH BCJiea 3a KopaSjieM H, pacceKa« BOJDKI I-H6KHM TCJIOM, BO3MO»CHO, o S o r H a T t . e r o — HO OH,

15. OH MhicjieHHO y»ce crynan Ha cyrny. H Mope oSepHynocb MopeM cne3. 1

Iosif Brodskij, Ostanovka v pustyne, stixotvorenija ipodmy (New York, 1970), p. 99.

306

KEES VERHEUL

20.

Ho, KaK H3BCCTHO, RM6HH0 B MHHJTy OTiaaHba H HaHHHaer ayTb nonyTHbiH BeTep. H BeJiHKHii Myac noKHHyji Kap4>areH.

OHa CToxjia ITepefl koctpom, kotopmh pa30*rnn

Ilofl ropoflCKofl CTeHoft ee coiwaTM, M BHflejia, KaK b MapeBe KocTpa,

25.

flpoacameM Meacny njiaMeHeM h «hmom, Ee33ByiHO paccwnanca KaptjiareH2 3aflOJiro ao npoponecTBa KaTOHa.

5.

(The great man stared at the window, But for her the whole world ended with the hem Of his broad Grecian tunic, Resembling in the abundance of its folds A standstill sea.

10.

But he Looked at the window and his gaze was now So far from these places that his lips Froze in the form of a shell in which A roar lies hidden, and the horizon in his goblet Was motionless. But her love Was no more than a fish — which perhaps might Plunge into the sea after his ship And, cutting the waves with its supple body, Perhaps might overtake him — but he,

15.

20.

He was stepping in his thoughts already on dry land. And the sea turned into a sea of tears. But, as is known, precisely at the moment Of despair a fair wind Starts to blow. And the great man Left Carthage.

25.

She stood Before the pyre which was being kindled Under the city-wall by her soldiers, And saw how in the haze of the pyre, Which trembled between flame and smoke, Carthage silently crumbled down Long before the prophecy of Cato.] 3

' In the above-mentioned American edition this line reads erroneously: Ee33By»mo pacnaAaJicfl KapiJ>areH. ' Instead of the 'literary' translation of George Kline, which retains the original

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307

Perhaps one of the first qualities which strikes the reader who is somewhat familiar with the poet's work is the absence of some of the surface features which would generally seem to characterize the 'Brodskij style'. Its rhymelessness contrasts with the ingenious virtuosity of rhyme effects which is displayed in most of his other, both shorter and longer, poems. Its syntax is, comparatively speaking, extremely straightforward: the sentences are relatively simple and the even syntactical flow is never interrupted by the lengthy interpolations which belong to the idiosyncracies of his style.4 The vocabulary of "Aeneas and Dido" moreover belongs in its entirety to the classically unobtrusive literary 'middle style' and completely lacks the baroque contrastiveness of solemn Church Slavonic expressions, tough city-slang, barbarisms, etc., which in other poems by Brodskij determines the flamboyant vividness of the speaker's mode of expression. These various 'negative' features are not, however, restricted in the work of Brodskij to the one instance of the poem under discussion. There is a whole group of lyrics which stands as it were in a stylistic opposition to the more superficially characteristic Brodskij manner. From an examination of his oeuvre as collected in A Halt in the Desert it appears that his stylistic individuality cannot be sufficiently defined in terms of only one form of expression, but should be interpreted rather in terms of a marked polarity between technical virtuosity and rhetorical complexity, on the one hand, and restraint and concentrated simplicity, on the other. The majority of the poems which are written in the relatively sober key are prosodically based on a rhymeless iambic pentameter, the traditional 'blank verse'. This technical form is used by Brodskij in a large number of poems, short lyrical pieces5 as well as extensive reflective or narrative works. 6 Not only from the point of view of prosody metre, I have used here a more literal and esthetically less effective rendering of the Russian text. This appeared necessary for a precise and factual discussion of various syntactical and semantic devices used by the author of the original work. Mr. Kline's translation will be found in the Russian Literature Triquarterly, 1 (1971), p. 76. 1 Brodskij, for instance, often begins a poem, especially a longer one, with a subordinate clause or word group which would seem to lead straight up to the central subject and predicate, but which are instead immediately followed by a confusing string of secondary syntactic material. The effect is somewhat similar to that of the famous opening sentence of Gogol' 's story The Overcoat. 6 Cf. e.g. "felegija" [An Elegy], Ostanovka v pustyne (p. 93), "Sonet" (p. 98), "Na Pracecnom mostu" [On Praiecnij bridge], (p. 133). 6 Cf. e.g. Ostanovka vpustyne [A Halt in the Desert] (p. 166), "K Likomedu na Skiros" [On the Way to Lycomedes of Scyrus] (p. 92), "Enej i Didona" [Aeneas and Dido] (p. 99), and also the long cycle Post aetatem nostram which was published in the Russian Literature Triquarterly, 2 (1972), pp. 443-451.

308

KEES VERHEUL

but also, and more importantly, because of their 'tone', their syntax and choice of vocabulary, these poems are to be seen, I think, as taking their stylistic starting point, within the framework of the Russian literary tradition, from the great blank-verse monologues of the later Axmatova and the heritage of the classical elegists of the early nineteenth century, especially PuSkin and Baratynskij. 7 It is significant that one of Brodskij's lyrical blank-verse poems should have in fact as its title the name of the genre "fslegija", while another poem, which has rhyme but no stanza division and is in many ways stylistically similar to his shorter blankverse works, is called "Pocti elegija" [Almost an Elegy], The relationship with the classical Russian elegy and Axmatova's elegiac monologues of the 1940's and 1950's is perhaps most clearly felt in the earliest of Brodskij's longer experiments with the blank-verse form, the title-poem of A Halt in the Desert. The situation which this poem presents, a speaker reflecting about the passing of historical time as he looks at the ruins of a building, belongs to the stereotypes of the genre as it was developed in the sentimentalist school of Batjuskov and Zukovskij. Such lines as M KaK-TO b no3flHHH wac C n f l e j i a Ha p a 3 B a m i H a x a6cnat>i.

[Once at a late hour I was sitting o n the ruins of the apse]

unmistakably betray the poem's ancestry. The Axmatovian element comes to the foreground in the casual, quasi-improvisatory tone of the speaker's voice, constantly specifying and restricting his observations with such adjuncts as vprocem, toVko, tocnee (however, only, rather), etc., and in the urbane and poignant irony which often colors his speech. These influences, which in A Halt in the Desert do not yet seem to be fully absorbed into the poet's personal idiom, almost completely disappear from the surface of Brodskij's subsequent long poems in blank-verse. His long preoccupation with this poetical form has become the basis for a remarkable artistic development which has allowed him to use it, with growing originality and control, as an adequate vehicle for themes which seem to be still expanding in richness and significance. It is characteristic for Brodskij as a conscious literary craftsman that in the case of his blank-verse poems the rhymelessness is not the outward ' For a detailed discussion of Axmatova's "Northern Elegies" and their connection with the 19th century elegiac tradition cf. the chapter "The Elegies" in my study The Theme of Time in the Poetry of Anna Axmatova (The Hague, 1971).

IOSIF BRODSKU's "AENEAS AND DIDO"

309

sign of a general looseness of poetic structure, but rather seems to function as a positive quality which activates the possibilities of a meaningful artistic organization on other levels of the text. The very absence of a regular sound repetition as it were forces the reader's attention towards a perception of other, purely syntactical or semantic patterns in the poem, and the author seems concentrated upon a maximal intensification of such patterns to 'make up for' the relative lack of a more superficial formal quality. Seen in this light Brodskij's experiments with the 'rhymeless sonnet' 8 are to be considered as part of his attempt to achieve a strongly integrated poetical diction depending as little as possible on merely prosodic factors. As I have observed in the beginning of this essay, this tendency is balanced elsewhere in the poet's work by a contrastive experimentation with intricate stanzaic forms and subtle rhyme effects. As an example of the way in which Brodskij constructs a blank-verse work upon the development of such 'interior' patterns, the poem "Aeneas and Dido" deserves, I think, some special attention. There are only a few poems of his in this metrical form in which the theme is expressed with such a high degree of artistic concentration and at the same time such perfectly maintained naturalness. Judged by the classical standards of literary taste, it doubtlessly deserves a place in any future anthology of Russian verse. The basis of the work's structure is formed by a simple set of semantic oppositions, expressed through the syntax, the imagery and the rhythmical possibilities of the verse-line, which together provide an adequate framework for the succinct retelling of the familiar drama between the protagonists. The principal opposition is, of course, that between the two figures from the title; the alternation of fragments devoted to the one or the other of them establishes the general pattern for the structure of the poem as a whole. This involves a regular change of the perspective from which the situation is viewed; in most cases the transitions from one viewpoint to the other are rhythmically indicated by a strong pause within the verseline, followed by a pronominal indication of the male or female protagonist which is often accompanied by a contrastive conjunction {on ze 'but he', 1.5; a ee ljubov' 'but her love', 1.10; no on 'but he', 1.14). The sentence then moves on to the next verse-line. Thus the caesura is made to function as a symbol of the dividing-line between the two separate psychological worlds of the central characters. As this dividing-line is situated within the verses, the poetic development of the drama takes on a chainlike quality: the viewpoints from which the protagonists experience 8

Cf. Ostanovka v pustyne, p. 45, 74, 98.

310

KEES VERHEUL

their situation and act are not so much opposed to each other, but rather artfully interlocked. The pronominal indications {she, her, he) which form the key element of the syntactical structure of the text by the very simplicity of the opposition which they express (male/female) point to the archetypal quality of the tragic situation which the poem depicts. The historical names of the two figures are only mentioned in the title. The more particularizing indication which is twice applied to Aeneas {the great man) functions, I think, to underline his psychological position in the drama. Especially the repetition in line 19 provides a sharp touch of irony : at the very moment when he definitively abandons his beloved, his 'greatness' (the historical 'excuse' for his deed) is stressed. The primary opposition of the two characters is combined in Brodskij's poem with a particular organization of space. The décor of the action is presented in such a way that it becomes symbolically expressive of the psychological drama. In the longest part of the poem, the first twenty lines, this décor is made up of two contrasting elements : the limited space of the room where the final meeting of the man and the woman takes place as opposed to the vast expanse of the sea over which the man is intent to set out on his voyage. A connecting element is provided by the window through which Aeneas is twice (in lines 1 and 6) pictured as looking. This spatial opposition, based on some external aspects of the situation, is used to represent the contrast between the inner worlds of the protagonists' thoughts and desires. As Aeneas' gaze is fixed upon the view outside, which is connected with his plans of leaving the scene, Dido's perception is limited to the immediate reality of her relationship with him, which the intensity of her passion has transformed into an absolute : But for her the whole world ended with the hem Of his broad Grecian tunic. Thus the spatial opposition discloses a temporal contrast: while Aeneas is impatiently directing himself towards the future, Dido's life-time is broken off by the departure of her beloved — in terms of the subsequent events of the story the phrase for her the whole world ended takes on a double, temporal as well as spatial, meaning. The image of the sea as a symbol with a wide variety of applications recurs in Brodskij's poems with an obstinate regularity that makes it into one of the principal characteristics of his oeuvre. In "Aeneas and Dido" it is used with a remarkable technical control to fulfil a number of complementary semantic functions. Firstly, as we have noticed, it is on the most literal level of the narrative the scene of Aeneas' plans

IOSIF BRODSKIJ'S "AENEAS AND DIDO"

311

for the future. Through a metaphorical association it becomes attached in the thoughts of Dido to the Grecian tunic which he wears at the moment of his leave-taking. The first intonational unit of the poem ends with the ominous word sea. In the central and semantically most richly woven part of the work the sea becomes a symbol for Aeneas' departure and everything which this implies for the woman; her love is likened to a fish that will follow his boat. The impetuous movement of her desire which desperately strives to reach him is, however, abruptly broken off at the moment when he steps on dry land, and at the culmination of the passage the sea image suddenly acquires an unexpected meaning: And the sea turned into a sea of tears. The way in which such a trivial phrase as a sea of tears remains not only free, in this case, of any trace of banality, but is through the preparation of the preceding lines in fact made to convey the full tragedy of the woman's situation, offers, I think, a supreme proof of the poet's mastery in the semantic organization of his verse. Among the oppositions that play an important part in the structuring of Brodskij's new poetical version of the Dido tale I would call special attention to a regular contrast between what could be called a principle of 'motion' and one of 'motionlessness'. As in the case of the opposition between closed and open space, it is based upon an 'external' aspect of the story (the windlessness which first prevents Aeneas from leaving Carthage, and the subsequent change of weather allowing him to carry out his plans). Aeneas, at the beginning of the poem, is standing rigidly before Dido with his eyes turned away towards the view outside the window. When his dress reminds her of the sea, it is a standstill sea whose waves remain paradoxically suspended in their motion. In the subsequent fragment, which ends with the key-word motionless, his lips are described as frozen in the form of a shell (another comparison from the sea world) and the goblet in his hand as motionlessly reflecting the horizon. The contrast to this picture is established when from the second half of the tenth verse-line the description is concentrated upon the inner world of the woman: her love is mobile, quick and impetuous. The syntactic tempo of this passage, being only for one moment slightly retarded by the repetition of vozmozno (perhaps) before the movement reaches its hypothetical goal, in the original Russian already conveys this with a concrete, physical immediacy: 10.

A ee nio6oBb

Ebina numb pbiooii — Mcmer h choco6hoh

312

KEES VERHEUL n y e r H T b C H BCJiea 3 a K o p a 6 j i e M H , pacceKaa b o j i h h i h 6 k h m tcjiom, Bo3mojkho, o6orHaTb e r o —

In the second part of the poem, beginning with the words But, as is known, the situation becomes reversed. As the fair wind for which Aeneas has been waiting starts to blow, he sails away from Carthage and leaves his beloved standing before the pyre on which she is to end her life. The immutability of his decision to leave has been followed by a speedy realization of his plans, and Dido's love, once quick and supple, is frozen into the motionlessness of her despair. Among Brodskij's shorter poems "Aeneas and Dido" is the most clearly narrative in conception. His oeuvre as a whole presents a wide variety of themes: from the lyrical (situations connected with the intimate life of the 'I') and the reflective (statement and exploration of general truths and values, often stylistically associated with his 'baroque' and 'ornamental' mode of expression) to the narrative and the dramatic. All of them seem to have been present from the beginning of his career, but if there is an evolution in this respect, this seems to lead him ever more in the direction of the narrative and dramatic pole. This appears, I think, not only from such important larger works among his recent output as Gorbunov and Gorcakov and Post aetatem nostram, but also from the growing significance of the narrative element in his shorter works. The latter point can be conveniently illustrated by a comparison of three blank-verse poems: "A Halt in the Desert" (written in 1966), "K Likomedu, na Skiros" [On the Way to Lycomedes of Scyrus] (1967), and "Aeneas and Dido" (1969).9 The first work is predominantly reflective; the thoughts which the speaker develops in his monologue take their starting point from a specific circumstance (the destruction of the Greek church in Leningrad), but they remain on the whole abstract, turning upon the moral aspects of the time process inherent in history and upon the role of Christianity in the development of Russian culture. The speaker himself is not individualized as a figure; the only personal information we receive about him is contained in the fact that he knows a "Tartar family" in the neighborhood of the church. For the rest he functions in the poem as no more than the subject of his reflective monologue. In the poem from 1967, "On the Way to Lycomedes of Scyrus", the situation is radically different. We also have to do here with a general• As an example of other 'short works' with a marked narrative character cf. e.g. "Anno domini" (Ostanovka v pustyne, p. 89) and the cycle Iz "Skol'noj tetradi" (pp. 119-127).

IOSIF BRODSKIJ'S "AENEAS AND DIDO"

313

izing reflection, this time on the subject of a paradoxical moral law which causes heroic deeds to be followed by a humiliation of the 'hero' instead of a reward,10 but it is presented in a semi-narrative and dramatic form. The myth of Theseus who after having slain the Minotaur loses his beloved Ariadne to the god Dionysus serves as a narrative 'mask' for the present situation of the 'I'. The monologue is dramatic in a complex way: in the first lines the speaker introduces himself as someone whose fate resembles that of Theseus: I leave the town, as Theseus left His labyrinth

But in the rest of the poem the comparison as such is never stressed and the speaker presents his own situation so consistently in terms of the classical myth that the reader is apt to forget his separate existence. After a short appearance in the opening sentence he almost completely withdraws behind his 'mask'. This play of identity, making the speaker an almost anonymous figure, seems to work as a device pointing towards another level of interpretation: that of the author behind the poem and the circumstances of his private life.11 Abstract reflection, lyrical or dramatized, is completely absent from the surface of "Aeneas and Dido". Insofar as the poem has an abstract theme this is true only by implication. The main difference with the preceding two poems lies in the fact that here there is no speaker-figure to present in the course of his monologue a certain set of thoughts and considerations. As we have already seen, the narrative structure of "Aeneas and Dido" is based, even insistently, on the use of the third person he and she. The first person never occurs and instead of a monologizing speaker there is an implicit narrator. Only in one place (lines 17-19) do we find what seems to be a generalizing observation: But, as is known, precisely at the moment Of despair a fair wind Starts to blow. 10

In a conversation the poet pointed out to me the contrast between the vision of this poem and the Christian myth of St. George who is rewarded for his heroism by his marriage with the princess. 11 This rhetorical situation is similar to the one we also find, for instance, in Axmatova's "Dido poem" from the cycle Sipovnik cvetet [The Eglantine is in Blossom]. In this lyric from 1962 the classical story is used as a 'mask' for the relationship between the 'you 'and 'I' who figure as the protagonists of a cycle which is colored by strong autobiographical associations. Perhaps Axmatova's preoccupation with the myth of Dido and Aeneas in her later years influenced Brodskij's choice of this subject for a poem which is otherwise free of any imitation.

314

KEES VERHEUL

As already appears, however, from its hackneyed triviality, the intention of this remark is purely ironical. The irony arises primarily from a play with the psychological perspective. After the poignant tragedy of the preceding lines the despair would naturally seem to be Dido's, but the fair wind which is supposed to relieve it is, of course, only fair for Aeneas. The breezy pseudo-comfort of the statement thus only serves to stress the utter hopelessness of her position. Just as the Theseus poem "Aeneas and Dido" is set in a décor from classical antiquity. Within the framework of the present essay it is impossible to provide an extensive analysis of the varying significance of the 'classical' motifs which form such a predominant feature of the poetry of Brodskij ; some general observations must suffice. In some cases the classical paraphernalia have a merely 'decorative' function, helping to establish a particular neo-classical stylistic quality. But when it really belongs to the essential aspects of the poetic structure, the classical background has a direct bearing on the presentation of the theme; it may be used either to give it a certain universality or to put it in a special historical perspective. 'Universality' seems to be the principal effect of the mythological frame in which the theme is presented in "On the Way to Lycomedes of Scyrus" and "Aeneas and Dido". The 'perspectivism' which arises from a simultaneous projection of different historical planes may be observed, for instance, in the poem "Anno domini" where the present situation of the speaker and his surroundings is hidden under the ironical 'mask' of a narrative scene which is set in late antiquity, 12 and on a larger scale in the recent cycle Post aetatem nostram, where the description of the everyday life of a town in the pre-Christian world functions as a symbol of our post-Christian future. 13 The classical motifs in Brodskij's work are organically related to one of the main recurring themes of his poetry — the catastrophic decay of our culture and its traditional moral and spiritual roots. On the lyrical level this is paralleled by the equally persistent theme of the tragic instability and disintegration of personal relationships, resulting in separation, betrayal, departures. In the narrative structure of "Aeneas and Dido" these two themes are succinctly combined: historically Aeneas' 'betrayal' of Dido is connected with his mission as founder of the Roman 12

The rhetorical presentation of this poem through the voice of a speaker with a 'masked' identity is reminiscent of "On the Way to Lycomedes of Scyrus". 13 Technically "Aeneas and Dido" may be seen as a preliminary exercise for this later cycle, which is likewise put in the form of a third-person report, free of 'lyrical' and 'reflective' intonations. As in the earlier poem, the abstract theme remains completely hidden under the narrative and descriptive surface.

IOSIF BRODSKIJ'S "AENEAS AND DIDO"

315

empire and thus he ultimately causes not only the destruction of her personal life, but also that of her empire. Dido's death prefigures the ruin of her city. At the end of Brodskij's poem this motif is developed in a kind of thematic (as well as temporal) rhyme: And [she] saw how in the haze of the pyre, Which trembled between flame and smoke, Carthage silently crumbled down Long before the prophecy of Cato. It is unnecessary to decide which of the two is the primary element of the comparison: the ruin of Dido's personal life, or the future downfall of the Carthaginian empire. What makes "Aeneas and Dido", I think, at the same time one of the most typical and most successful works of the author is the classical simplicity and coherence with which it unites in an 'objectified' vision the depth of an intense personal drama with a sense of historical disaster. Rome, July 1972

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CMepTH." 5 B TaKHX CTHXOTBOpeHHaX HaCTbl pHTMHKO-CHHTaKCHHeCKHe 4>Hrypbi c rjiarojiaMH H HMeHaMH o6o3HaHaioixiHMH /iBH>KeHHe. CTHXH, rae rjiaBHbiii cjroBopas/ieJi npHxo/inrca Ha TpeTHii HJIH naTbiii cjior, npeacTaBJiaioT BO BTopoii CBoeii nacTH aMGHHecKHe 06pa30BaHHa. H 3 /iBa/iuaTH naTH CTHXOB STO npoaBjiaeTca B HeTbipHaauaTH. ripaBbiii KOJIOH npHo6peTaeT xenzieimHio K oGocoGjieimocTH. Kaacaaa CTpOHKa np0H3H0CHTCa Ha flByx flbixaTeJibHbix HMnyjibcax, paccexaa CTHX H no/inepKHBaa ziBe KOHTpacTHpyromHe rpynnbi MOTHBOB. C a \ i b i i i cnoKoiiHbiH pHTMHHecKHH pHcyHOK HMeeT TpeTba CTpo(J)a. IIpaBbie KOJIOHM coxpaHHIOT 3aaaHHbiii xopeHHecKHH xo/i. HeKOTopyio

BapiianHio

BHOCST

peajiH30BaHHbie y/iapbi Ha nepBoii cTone B Tpe i beft H HeTBepToii CTPOHKax. nocjie^Haa CTpoK-)K

a

2C-5K-M

a

o-H-a-a

)K-M-M

B

e-o-o-H

M-3C-5K

a

o-a-o-bi

M - M

B

e -e a

)K-)K-M-)K

a

O-O-H-e-bl

— ^ // — w / W W — w

Il

1

W — w —

W — WW

Il

1

W — W W

23.

— W

24.

— ^W — w w / z

25.

w w w

— '-'// — / W — W / — W

22. — Z

1

Il

w

w —

1

— WwZ/ ^ ^

w — w

j — — W 1 — w — W 1 — w — w

a

o-y-a-y

M - A

B

o-a-a

M - M - A

a

e-e-o-y

M-M-3K

B

y-H-e-e

ac-A-ac

a

o-y

M-A-ac

a

o-e -y-y

M-M-3K-M

B

H-y-a-o-e

n-y

321

HE3YPA H CJI0B0PA3JEJTbI B PeK6UeM

"BcmyriAeHue" HanncaHO TpexcronHbiM aHanecTOM, B Tpex CTpoi

5K-M fl-M 5K-XC EC-OK a 5K-5K

5K-M ac-x x-ac

pHMOBKa a

B a

B a

yflapHbie rjiacHwe a-e-e H-e-e e-o-e

H-H-e o-e

B

a-y-a

a

e-o-a

a

e-o-a

B B a

0-0-a y-o-a H-H-a

UE3YPA H CJIOBOPA3/lEJlbl B

325

P e K B U e M

rjiyGoKHX nay3ax Ha BbinaBiLiHX cjiorax .naKTHjiHHecKHX cTon, pa3pbiBaiomHx craxoTBopeHHe Ha flBa KoiroHa, h o h b 'Hepeajnuamra' nOCJieZIHeH CTpOHKH. Tinman zdaeKa HanncaHa b ynopaflOHeHHOM Hepe/iOBaHHH hmGhhcckhx CTponeK i l 4 h ii3,

no cxeMe nepeKpecTHoii ph(})mobkh, r^e b TpeTbeS

KOMGHHauHH cxpoMeK y/iBoeHbi nepBaa h TpeTba. U,e3ypti HeT. IIojihoMepHbie 5iM6nMecKHe cthxh ncpeMOKaroTCH CTHxaMH, r/ie nHppHXHH H^yT Ha o6biHHbix ajih

h $l 3 MecTax — Ha TpeTbeii h BTopoii CTone

McKjiFoneHHe npe/iCTaBJTflK)T naTaa h ceflbMaa ctpohkh, r^e roBopaTca HMeHHO 06 yxcace HezioyvieHHSi npea TeM KpyroM co6biTHii h Mbicjieii, b k o t o p h x HaxoAHTca repoHHH. 3 t o BbipaaceHO phtmom b 3aMeHe xopeeM nepBoii CTonbi naToii CTpoMKH h b neTbipex, n o n p a r H/iyuiHx y^apeHHax CeAbMOH. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14.

CeMHafluaTb MecsueB KpH4y, 3oBy re6a homo®. Kmjajiacb b h o ™ nanany, Tli c h h h yacac moh! Bee nepenyTanocb HaBeK, JH MHe He pa3o6paTb Tenepb, kto 3Bepb, kto HenoBeK, M flouro jib Ka3HH acflaTb. H TOJibKO nbiniHbie upeTw, H 3BOH KaHflaJlbHblft, H CJieflbl Kyaa-TO b HHKyaa. H npHMo MHe b rna3a tjihaht M CKopoit rH6ejibK) rpo3HT OrpOMHaa 'iBe3.ua.

pHTMH^ecKaa cxeMa

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8.

9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14.

cnoBopa3flein>i

W — U j — WW j W —

M-M

W — / W — j W — w — w 1 — w j w w —

—

j

w — j w w w

^-J

^

J

—

KJ j

w — w j — W

M-M-X M-fl M M-M-M-M ac-ac

WW — w w / w —

j

—

M-)K

W j KJ

W — W j W W — w —

j — /

w

w — w j — w — w u | w —

— / 1

•x. —

w

—

)K-M-M 'A'-fl a

pH, He noüMy, 3. K a K Teôe, CWHOK, B TiopbMy 4. HOHH öejiBie rnanenH, 5. K a K OHH OIMTB RJIHFLST 6. ÄCTpe6HHbIM » a p K H M OKOM, 7. O TBOEM

KpecTe BHCOKOM

8. H O CMepTH rOBOpHT.

pHTMHiecKan cxeMa

cnoBopa3flejibi

1. — W W 1 W — // W — ^ 2. Ò W — w J J w W — 3. — / — / • — / / — j j — v_> 4. — ^ j 5. — / — / — / / — ^ // — w / — ^ 6. w w 7. W W — j W — II W — W 8. w w — w fi W W —

"üpuaoeop"

—

•

FL-M M-SC M-M-M M-M-M AC-AC M-M AC

cedbMan

TBopeHHe C r j i a B H b i M

pH(j>MOBKa

z.iaaKa —

TpexcTpotjmoe

a B B a A B B A

y/iapKbie rjiacHtie o-a-e o-H-y a-e-o-y o-e-e a-H-a-a H-a-o o—c—o e-a

xopeH4ecKoe CTHXO-

cji0B0pa3fleji0M, n p H y p o n e H H b i M K T p e T b e M y HJIH

CM. BJI. N«CT, Coepe.ueHHoe cmuxoeedenue (JleHHHrpafl, 1931).

UE3YPA H CJ10B0PA3AEJIbI B

327

P e K B U e M

HeTBepTOMy cjiory (KpoMe c e / j b M o r o CTHxa). CxeMa P H 4 > M O B K H nepeKpecTHaa aBaB. TeMa, sa/iaHHaa B nepBoii CTpo^e, pa3BHBaeTca BO BTopoiï, R A E HFLET H A R H E T E H H E H H T O H A I I H H , nepexoflamee B Tperbio H AOCTHraiomee HaHBMcmeH T O H K H Ha e n j a m b e m e n t Meayiy o/iHHiiaimaToif H ABeHafluaTOH CTpoHKaMH. 3aKjiioHeHHe aaHo B pe3KOM cnaae HHTOHaUHH, Ha nay3ax nepefl H nocjie M H O I O C J I C D K H O H rpynnw. I l p u z o e o p .

H ynajio KEMCHHOC CJTOBO Ha M O K ) , eme « H B Y I O , rpyab. Himero, BE«b « 6biJia R O T O B A , CnpaBJIKDCb C 3THM KaK-HHÔyat. y MeH» ceroaHH MHoro aejia : Ha,no naMHTb no Konua yÔHTb, Haao, H T O 6 «yma oxaMeHena, HaflO CHOBa HayHHTbc» jKHTb. A HE TO ... ropanitt meJiecT jieTa, C J I O B H O npa3flHHK 3a M O H M O K H O M . SL aaBHO npefliyBCTBOBana 3TOT CBeTJibiSfleHbH onycTenwii AOM. yaapHMe pHTMHHecKaH c x e M a 1.

KJ ~

— // ^

— /

a

a-a-o

B

M - M - M

a

y-o-y-y o-a-a-o

ac-ac

B

a->-y

M-)K-OK

a

a-o-o-e

—

»C-MC-M

B

a-a-a-H

—

W

2C-M

a

a-a-e

\J — «U j

—

B

a-O-H-H

— /

w

—

j — W j j \-> ^

5.

WW

— jj ^

6.

— ^

j — W jj

7.

—

8.

—

9. 10.

^

w

j —

W — j W

— j j \-J

//

— KJ j —

W

—

^

1

w

—

— v_/ j —

jj

macHue

M-M-5K

W W j —

4.

j —

pH(J)MOBKa

ac-rfl

1j — w

2. 3.

cjioBopa3aeJiw

^ / - j

^

W

M-ac-ac

KJ

a

o-a-e-e

B

o-a-H-o

11.

M-M-F/J

a

a-o-y-3

12.

3K-M-5K

B

e-e-e-o

ZM6KCI — " K C M e p m i T — HanHCaHa BOJIbHblMH (llieCTH, IMTH HeTbipexcTonHbiMH) aMÔaMH. L L E 3 Y P A ziecjrrb pa3 npHxoflHTca Ha TpeTbio CTony, B nocjieflHeM CTHxe Ha nHTbrâ cjior, a riHTb pa3 — Ha H E T B E P T B I Ô . PHtJjMOBKa nepeicpecTHaH A B A B . HeTbipexcTonHbie C T H X H noHTH Be3/ie HflyT nepe3 CTpoHKy, T O P M O 3 HflBH^ceHHepHTMa, no/mepKHBHH TpyflHOCTb 0»HflaHHH. B BOCbMH CTHXaX H3 LiieCTIia/IHaTH AeBHTb B o C b M a n

H

328

T. VOOGD-STOJANOVA

pa3 BcrpenaeTca nay3Haa cjjopMa neoHa BToporo. 3 t o rnecTb pa3 HMeeT MecTo Ha nesype, nocjie nero BTopoií kojioh oTKptiBaeTca 6e3yaapHbiM cjioroM. K

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16.

cMepmu.

Tbl Bee paBHO npHfleiiib — 3aneM ace He Tenepb? SI » a y Teôa — MHe oncHb TpyflHo. il noTynmna cbct h oTBopnjia flßept. Te6e, TaKoñ npocToK h lyflHofl. ripHMH unsi 3Toro KaKoñ yroflHo bua, BopBHCb OTpâBJieHHblM CHap«flOM, Hub c rnpbKOH noflKpaflHCb, Kaic onwTHbiñ 6aHflHT, Hjlb OTpaBH TH(J)03HbIM flflOM, Hub CKa30HK0ií, npHflyMaHHOi} TO6OÍÍ H BCeM 3 0 TOIiraOTbl 3HaKOMOH, — Hto6 h yBHflena Bepx inanKH ronyôoit H ôneAHoro o t cTpaxa ynpaBflOMa. MHe Bce paBHO Tenepb. KnyÔHTca EHHcefi, 3Be3fla nonapHaa cnaeT, M CHHHÔ ÔneCK B03JII06jieHHbIX oneË rioc.ieflHHH yacac 3acTHJiaeT. yaapHBie

pHTMHiecKaa cxeMa

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

7.

8.

9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16.

W

w

w

j

—

w

11

—

u

—

w

/ w

cnoBopa3.ijc;ibi

w

M-M-5K M-M-JK )K-M-0K M-M-M M-A-M M-fl ac-M-A M-5K A-fl M-M M-A-M-)K A-OK M-M-M-3K M-A 3K-M-A

—

^

W

WW

—

j — jj

w

w

w

w

—

j

w

—

W W

—

/ W

—

W

W

//

W

—

W

—

/ w

—

w

w

//

w

—

W

—

w

/ w

w

—

jj

w

—

—

WW

j

W

—

J —

W

w w

w

/ w

—

W W

//

W

— /

W

—

/ w

^

—

W

W

—

— jj

www

—

W

W

// W

j

w

w

—

j

W

— /

w

—

WW

w

—

—

w

j

W

jj

—

jj

—

—

W

WW

w

w

w w

jj — j

WW

-

1

W

— —

j

—

w

—

WW w

j

w

w

—

w

W W

—

w

/ —

W

1j

KJ

w

flßaÄUaTb CTHXOB PhK-A >K-A >K ac-M rfl M-aC 5K M-M-M A M A M-M-M M-A A-ac M-rA ac-ac M-ac

pH(j)MOBKa

A

yflapHbie rjiacHwe

B

e-y-o H-M-H o-o-o a-o-H a-y o-H-e

A

y-y

B

e-o-e o-o o-e-H-o a-o a-o H-a-a e-a e-a-a-a a-e-a H-a-y H-o-e o-o-y a-e-e

B

A B

A

A B

A B

A B

A B

A B

A B

330

T. VOOGD-STOJANOVA

rjiaBKH I H II. Tlepean node/iaeKa HanHcaHa nsTHCTonHbiM

"Pacnnmue",

HMÔOM n o c x e M e n e p e K p e c T H o i i PH6HMWH KAMEHEJI,

3.

A Tyaa, rae MOJiia MaTb cToana,

4.

TaK HHKTO B3rnHHyTb H He nocMen. yaapHwe

pHTMHiecKaa cxeMa

1.

cjioBopa3flejibi

pH(J)MOBKa

W W — W / — W 11 W w — w

2. W W 3. W W 4. — /

— / w — w // w w — — / W — W w —

J

11

— / w — w

w — / / w w w

—

M->K M-3K-M M-M-M

rjiacHbie

a

H-H-a

B

H-H-e

a

a-o-a-a

B

a-o-y-e

3HaHHTejibHO o6T>EAHHEHHE B o^Hy rjiaBKy HMSHHCCKOH H xopeniecKOH noarJiaBOK. IIoflrjiaBKH 3BynaT KOHTpacTHO, BbiaejieHa aKTyajibHocTb B OTHOuieHHH MecTa yaapoB B ajibTepHHpyiomeM MeTpe. 3TO yace HMeJio MecTO B 3nnrpa({)HMecKOM 3aHHHe. 3aecb MeTpHHecKoe npoTHBonocraBJieHHe noAHepKHBaeT pa3HHuy Toneic 3peHH» B no^rjiaBKax. "SnuAoa"

HanHcaH B FLBYX rjiaBKax. Ilepean

—

naTHCTOiiHbiH HM6 C

UE3YPOH Ha neTBepTOM H nHTOM, a oanH pa3 Ha TpeTbeM cjiore. Y f l a p e -

331

UE3YPA H CJIOBOPA3flEJIbI B PeKSUeM

HH6 nepBOH cTonbi peajiH30BaH0 IIOTTH Be3fle. 3BynaHHe onpeaejweTCH nay3HbiMH opMaMH neoHHiecKHX 06pa30BaHHft AO H nocjie ue3ypbi. H a aeB«TOH CTpoHKe, c BCTynjieHHeM HOBOÎÎ TeMbi, MeHacrca pH_/ — w ' — w w > wi 11 — v./^^ 1 — ^ — II w v-' — w J — 1 — w —w KJ II >u — 1 w — ! yj —

•u

Ky II

II

—

—

W K

a B a B a B a B A A A A

a-a-a-H e-a-a H-O-H a-o-a o-e-o e-e-y bi-a-y-o y-e-H-y a-y-e-o e-a-a-o y-o-y-o a-e-o

HaimcaHa HeTbipexcTonHbiM aMijmôpaxHeM,

cnoKoftHbiM ypaBHOBemeHHbiM pa3MepoM. 7 TopacecTBeHHoe

3BynaHHe

CJIOXCHO nocTpoeHHOH TeMbi aocTHraeTca peajimauiieñ ynapeHHft Ha Bcex cHJibHbix MecTax CTon, napHoft MyxccKoft pncj)MOBKOH H floJiniMH nay3aMH Ha nocjieflHHX yceneHHbix CTonax. CjioBa, CToamHe B pHMax, rjiaBHbiM 06pa30M »MÖHiecKHe (16) H oAHocjioHCHbie (11). 7

CM. BJI. IIHCT, CoepeMeHHoe cmuxoeedenue (JleHHHrpan, 1931).

Il,e3ypa

332

T. VOOGD-STOJANOVA

npoxoAHT b 6ojibiiiHiicTBe c t h x o b Ha BTopoñ CTone (19 pa3). C BCTynjieHaeM h o b o h TeMbi b 17 cTHxe oHa cMemaeTca BnpaBO. C 13-ro no 16-biií c t h x ne'jypa c t o h t Ha h h t o m cjiore h BbmejiaeT uejibiñ m o t h b . 3 T a 3aBepniHTCJibHaa rjiaBKa cbohm chmmctphhcckhm

pacnojioace-

HHeM HJieHOB, aHaopoH, nacTbiM ynoTpe6jieHHeM MHorocjioacHbix c j i o b npeflCTaBJiaeT c o 6 o h o a h h corjiacHbiñ phtmhhcckhh n0T0K h HBJiaeTca pa3peuiHTejibHbiM aKKopaoM no3Mbi. II.

1. OiMTb noMHHajibHbiñ npH6nH3HJica nac. 2. R Buacy, a cjibimy, a HyBCTByio Bac: 3. H Ty, m í o eflBa flo OKHa íjobcjih, 4. M Ty, h t o He T o m e T poflHMoñ 3cmjih, 5. M Ty, h t o KpacHBOií TpaxHyB rojioBOH, 6. CKa3ana: — "Cioaa npHxoJKy, KaK aomoh". 7. XoTejiocb 6w Bcex üohmchho Ha3BaTb, 8. JXa oTHanH cnHCOK h Herjie y3HaTb. 9. flna hhx coTKana a ihhpokhh noKpoB 10. Ü3 6e«Hbix, y hhx »ce noflcjiyniamibix cjiob. 11. O hhx BcnoMHHaio Bceraa h Beszie, 12. O hhx He 3a6yay h b hoboh 6e/ie. 13. H e c j m 3a«MyT moh H3MyneHHbifi poT, 14. KOTOPWM KPHHHT CTOMHJIJIHOHHblií HapOfl, 15. IlycTb TaKHce ohh BcnoMHHaioT MeHa 16. B KaHyH Moero norpe6ajibHoro flHa.

17.

A ecjra Koraa-HH6yflb b 3toh CTpaHe

18. 19. 20. 21. 22.

Bo3/[BHriiyTi. 3aayMaioT naMaTHHK mhc, Cornacbe Ha 3to flaio TOpacecTBO, H o TOJibKo c ycüOBbeM — He craBHTb ero H h okojio Mopa, rae a poflHJiacb: IlocJieflHaa c MopeM pa3opBaHa CBa3b,

23. 24.

H h b U,apcKOM Ca/iy y 3aBeTHoro nHa, r a e TeHb 6e3yTeiiraaa hhict MeHa,

25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32.

A 3ziecb, rae CToana a TpncTa nacoB M rae ana MeHa He otkpmjih 3acoB, 3aTeM, h t o h b CMepra 6naaceHHOH 6oiocb 3a6biTb rpoMbixaHHe Hepitbix Mapycb, 3a6biTb, KaK nocTbinaa xjionana flBepb, H Bbina CTapyxa, KaK paHemiH 3Bepb. H nycTb c HenoflBHHCHbix h 6p0H30Bbix BeK, KaK cjie3bi cTpyHTca noflTaaBuiHH CHer,

33. 34.

H rojiyGb TJopeMHbiií nycTb rynHT B/ia/w, H t h x o Híiy r no HeBe Kopa6jm.

UE3YPA H CJIOBOPA3AEJ1M B PeKSUeM pHTMinecKaa cxeMa

CJIOBOpa3flCJ7bI pHlJlMOBKa

W — / W W — W II W — 1 — M-5K-A V_/ — KJ 1 — ^ Il — W 1 — 5K-0K-/I w—! — 11 w — i w ^ — M-M-M W—1 — KJ 11 ^ — ^ 1 W — M->K-)K w — 1 w ^ — w II — 1 — M->K-M K^l 1 — Il ^ — 1 KJ KJ — 5K-M-M 6. fl-M-aC 7. w — w w / — il v./ — ^ — A-ac-ac 8. W — ^ v_/ 1 — ff — W / W — 9. w — i — w // ^ — ^ I ^ — !— 10. — ! KJ — II — ÎK-ÎK-A M-aC-M 11. ^ — 1 w — Kj 11 Kj — i — 12. w — i w — 11 — Kj i — M-0K-3K 13. w — \j i —. i — 11 ^ — u u i — 5K-M-M-A —w/^— K-M-M 14. \_/ — ^ i _ 11 M-aC-M-aC 15. — i — J — 11 w ^ — ^ i w — — ! ! Kj — u u i — 16. ^ — j M-M-A K-A-'yK 17. — 1 — w u ^ — w/w — 18. — W 1 W — ^ ^ Il — ^ V_/ 1 — 5K-A-A \w> 1 W II >_/ |i 1J U 19. ac-ac-M 20. — 1 W — VJ II — W 1 w 21. V_/ — ^ 1 — ^ // — — / ^ — A-ac-A 22. w — yu ^ 1 — 11 KJ — u u ^ — DK-M-A 23. V-/ — U ^ U — Il ^ W — ^J 1 — aC-M-A 24. — / W — W II — ! KJ — M-A-^C ! ! — Kj 1 — 25. W — / —. ! — M-M-ÎK-M-JK 26. M- M-OK -//—-W-M-)K->K 27. W — |uu — W II W — U 1 u — 28. o — ! Kj — iKj J1 — ! >u — M-A-5K 1— 29. W — 1 'J — KJ 11 — M-A-A 1— 30. ^ — u ^ u — \J 11 ^ — 31. w — 1 ^J KJ — K-A 32. >_» — w / w — w 11 — v-j^y — ac-ac-A 33. ^ — u^u - ^ // — / — ^ 1 ^ — —1ww— 34. — w/w — 11 aC-M-M 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

A A B B C C D D E E F F G G H H J J K K L L M M W W O O P P Q Q R R

333 yaapHue rnacKbie a-a-n-a H-bi-y-a y-a-a-H y-O-H-H y-H-y-o a-a-y-o e-e-e-a o-H-e-a H-a-o-o e-H-y-o H-a-a-e H-y-o-e e-y-o-y-o O-H-O-O y-a-H-a-a y-o-a-a e-a-e-e H-y-a-e a-e-y-o o-o-a-o o-o-e-a-a e-o-o-a a-y-e-a e-e-H-a e-e-a-H-o e-a-M-o e-e-e-y M-a-o-y H-w-o-e w-y-a-e y-H-o-e o-H-a-e o-e-y-y-H H-y-e-H

AMcmepdaMCKuü Ynueepcumem

SLAVISTIC PRINTINGS A N D REPRINTINGS Edited by C. H. van

Schooneveld

f 38. George Y. Shevelov, The Syntax of Modern Literary Ukrainian: the Simple Sentence. 319 pp. 62,— 39. Alexander M. Schenker, Polish Declension: a Descriptive Analysis. 105 pp. 22 — 28,— 40. Milada Souökova, The Parnassian: Jaroslav Vrchlicky. 151 pp. 42. Charles A. Moser, Antinihilism in the Russian Novel of the I860's. 215 pp. 29,— 44. Hongor Oulanoff, The Serapion Brothers: Theory and Practice. 186 pp. 32,— 45. Dutch Contributions to the 5th International Congress of Slavicists, Sofia, 1963.162 pp. 48,— 46. American Contributions to the 5th International Congress of Slavists, Sofia, 1963, 1: Linguistic Contributions. 383 pp. 98,— 49. Edward Stankiewicz/Dean S. Worth, A Selected Bibliography of Slavic Linguistics, I: General, Old Church Slavonic, South Slavic (General), Bulgarian, Macedonian, Serbo-Croatian, and Slovenian. 315 pp. 54,— 50. American Contributions to the 5th International Congress of Slavists, Sofia, 1963, II: Literary Contributions. 341 pp. 98,— 51. Roman Jakobson/Dean S. Worth (ed.), Sofonija's Tale of the RussianTartar Battle on the Kulikovo Field. 71 pp., 49 plates 26,— 52. Waclaw Lcdnicki, Tolstoy between War and Peace. 169 pp. 30,— 53. Tatjana Cizevska, Glossary of the Igor' Tale. 405 pp. 78,— 54. A. V. Florovskij (ed.), Georgius David, S.J.: Status modernus Magnae Russiae seu Moscoviae (1690). 135 pp. 34,— 55. Frances De Graaff, Sergej Esenin: a Biographical Sketch. 178 pp. 42,— 56. N. S. Trubetzkoy, Dostoevski] als Künstler. 178 pp. 35,— 57. F. C. Driessen, Gogol as a Short-Story Writer: a Study of his Technique of Composition. 243 pp. 44,— 58. V. 2irmunskij, Introduction to Metrics: the Theory of Verse. 245 pp. 36,— 59. Dale L. Plank, Pasternak's Lyric: a Study of Sound and Imagery. 123 pp. 24,— 60. Henry M. Nebel, Jr., N. M. Karamzin: a Russian Sentimentalist. 190 pp. 36 — 61. Kazimierz Polänski/James A. Sehnert (ed.), Polabian-English Dictionary. 239 pp. 55,— 62. Carl R. Proffer, The Simile in Gogol's "Dead Souls". 208 pp. 32,— 63. Julius M. Blum, Konstantin Fedin: a Descriptive and Analytic Study. 235 pp. 36,— 65. David J. Welsh, Russian Comedy, 1765-1823. 133 pp. 24,—

66. 67.

Poètika: Sbornik statej [Leningrad, 1926]. 29,— P. A. Lavrov, Materialy po istorii vozniknovenija drevnejsej slavjanskoj pis'mennosti [Leningrad, 1930]. 258 pp. 38,— 70. Howard I. Aronson, Bulgarian Inflectional Morphophonology. 189 pp. 35 — 72. Robert L. Belknap, The Structure of "The Brothers Karamazov". 122 pp. 24,— 73. Maria Zagórska Brooks, Nasal Vowels in Contemporary Standard Polish: 18,— an Acoustic-Phonetic Analysis. 55 pp., 8 plates. 74. Sigmund S. Birkenmayer, Nikolaj Nekrasov: his Life and Poetic Art. 205 pp. 38,— 80. Henry Kucera (ed.), American Contributions to the 6th International Congress of Slavists, Prague, 1968,1 : Linguistic Contributions. 427 pp. 98,— 81. William E. Harkins (ed.), American Contributions to the 6th International Congress of Slavists, Prague, 1968, II : Literary Contributions. 381 pp. 98,— 82. Krystyna Pomorska, Russian Formalist Theory and its Poetic Ambiance. 127 pp. 24,— 83. Jacques Veyrenc, La Forme poétique de Serge Esenin: Les rythmes. 222 pp. 42,— 91. M. Gersenzon, P. Ja. Caadaev: ¿izrí i myslenie [St. Petersburg, 1908]. 45,— 329 pp. 92. A. N. Pypin, Istorija russkoj literatury, I-IV [2nd edition, St. Petersburg, 1902], 4 vols. 2,347 pp. 315,— 94. Byloe: ¿urnal posvjascennyj istorii osvoboditeVnago dviienija, Volume I, 1-6 [St. Petersburg, 1906]. 3 vols. 2,054 pp. 570,— 99. Alexandre Eck, Le Moyen-Age russe [2nd edition, Paris, 1933]. 610 pp. 70,— 100. A. Romanoviö-Slavatinskij, Dvorstjanstvo v Rossii ot nacala XVIII veka do otmeny krepostnago prava [2nd edition, Kiev, 1912]. 596 pp. 82,— 101. Serge Kryzytski, The Works of Ivan Bunin. 283 pp., 1 plate. 56,— 108. Thomas F. Rogers, 'Superfluous Men' and the Post-Stalin 'Thaw'. 410 pp. 84,— 112. Charles A. Moser, A History of Bulgarian Literature 865-1944. 282 pp. 60,— 116. J. G. Garrard, Mixail Culkov: An Introduction to his Prose and Verse. 162 pp., 1 plate. 28,— 254. A. A. Fokker, and Emilia Smolikowska, Anatomy of a World-Class: A Chapter of Polish Grammar. 108 pp. 32,— 264. Alexander F. Zweers, Grown-Up Narrator and Childlike Hero: An Analysis of the Literary Devices Employed in Tolstoy's Trilogy Childhood, Boyhood and Youth. 165 pp. 32,— Waclaw Lednicki, Reminiscences, The Adventures of a Modern Gil Bias During the Last War. 278 pp. 54,—

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