The Expressivity of Grammar: Grammatical Devices Expressing Emotion across Time 9783110800173, 9783110157802

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The Expressivity of Grammar

W G DE

Topics in English Linguistics 25 Editor

Herman Wekker f

Mouton de Gruyter Berlin · New York

The Expressivity of Grammar Grammatical Devices Expressing Emotion across Time

Axel Hübler

Mouton de Gruyter Berlin · New York 1998

Mouton de Gruyter (formerly Mouton, The Hague) is a Division of Walter de Gruyter & Co., Berlin.

© Printed on acid-free paper which falls within the guidelines of the ANSI to ensure permanence and durability. Library of Congress

Cataloging-in-Publication-Data

Hübler, Axel. The expressivity of grammar : grammatical devices expressing emotion across time / Axel Hübler. p. cm. - (Topics in English linguistics ; 25) Includes bibliographical references (p. ) and index. ISBN 3-11-015780-2 (alk. paper) 1. English language - Grammar - Psychological aspects. 2. Emotions. I. Title. II. Series. PE1106.H83 1998 425'.01'9-dc21 98-5406 CIP

Die Deutsche Bibliothek — Cataloging-in-Publication-Data Hübler, Axel: The expressivity of grammar : grammatical devices expressing emotion across time / Axel Hübler. - Berlin ; New York : Mouton de Gruyter, 1998 (Topics in English linguistics ; 25) ISBN 3-11-015780-2

© Copyright 1998 by Walter de Gruyter GmbH & Co., D-10785 Berlin All rights reserved, including those of translation into foreign languages. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Printing: Werner Hildebrand, Berlin. - Binding: Lüderitz & Bauer-GmbH, Berlin. Printed in Germany.

Contents

Chapter 1 Communication, emotions and expressivity 1.1. 1.2. 1.2.1. 1.2.1.1. 1.2.2. 1.3.

Aim and scope Contextualizations Expressivity A pragmatic and interactional perspective Emotions and expressions Leading concepts

1 2 3 10 11 14

Chapter 2 The so-called possessive dative 2.1. 2.2. 2.3. 2.4. 2.4.1. 2.4.2. 2.4.2.1. 2.5.

Plan of discussion Introduction Dative and possession Meaning surplus Experience or interest? Attachment The use of the possessive dative in Beowulf Synopsis

17 17 20 25 25 29 31 40

Chapter 3 The ethic dative 3.1. 3.2. 3.3. 3.3.1. 3.3.2. 3.4. 3.4.1. 3.5.

Plan of discussion The state of the art The ethic dative as speaker's attachment Signs, meanings and scopes Mode of attachment Ethic dative versus benefactive dative? Grades of attachment and grades of extension Synopsis

41 41 43 43 46 52 57 61

vi

Contents

Chapter 4 The expanded form 4.1. 4.2. 4.3. 4.3.1. 4.3.2. 4.4. 4.5. 4.6.

Plan of discussion The Modern English form and its function The expanded form in early usage: Bede's Ecclesiastical History Paradigmatic features Discourse-related analyses Challenge and reconciliation Glancing at Modern English anew Synopsis

63 63 68 69 79 86 89 91

Chapter 5 The present perfect 5.1. 5.2. 5.3. 5.4. 5.5. 5.6. 5.6.1. 5.6.2. 5.7.

Plan of discussion Orientation marks Against tense-based views Toward a non-temporal view of the present perfect Timeframes The use of the present perfect in the history of English Case study: Some Cely Letters On the linearity of language change Synopsis

93 93 97 100 108 113 118 126 126

Chapter 6 The periphrastic do 6.1. 6.2. 6.3. 6.3.1. 6.3.2. 6.3.3. 6.4. 6.5. 6.5.1. 6.5.2.

Plan of discussion Introduction The i/o-periphrasis in affirmative statements Sign and basic meaning Remarkableness and contrast The speaker's involvement The i/o-periphrasis in negations and questions Case study: A Supplicacyon for the Beggers, by S. Fish The i/o-occurrences Economizing the use of the i/o-periphrasis

128 128 130 131 133 139 143 147 147 153

Contents

6.6. 6.7.

The development of the do-periphrasis toward present-day English usage Synopsis

vii

157 160

Chapter 7 The gei-passive 7.1. 7.2. 7.3. 7.4. 7.5. 7.6. 7.6.1. 7.7. 7.8.

Plan of discussion Main-stream concepts and alternatives What's passive about get + V-ecH Instrumental condition of the gef-passive Propositional condition of the gef-passive Attachment Attachment and describability Case study: S. Terkel, Working. People talk about what they do all day and how they feel about what they do Synopsis

162 162 166 168 171 174 177 180 185

Chapter 8 Putting the results in perspective: Grammar and the Self 8.1. 8.2. 8.3. 8.3.1. 8.3.2.

The major results Subjectification A cultural-historical frame The twelfth century renascence - before and after The Renaissance and after

187 190 192 192 195

8.3.3.

The present time

201

Notes

204

References

222

Index of authors Index of subjects

244 249

1. Communication, emotions and expressivity

1.1. Aim and scope Expressivity is one of the dimensions defining human communication. It has its basis in the personal setting of every communicative event in that it originates in a person (sender, addresser) and is directed at some other person (receiver, addressee). It is also related to a person's self-expression, the self comprising her/his emotions, no matter whether they relate to inner dispositions or to evaluative attitudes, no matter whether they are rooted in her/his individual biography (cf. Koch 1960) or stimulated by a given situation. Expressivity, however, presupposes that there are means available through which such emotions can be expressed. The usual view would follow the principle of the division of labor and assign expressivity to the body (and paralinguistics), tackling language proper from the (sole) perspective of how it serves the needs to express thoughts and perform intellectually controlled actions. This accords with a general overestimation of the intellectual part of communication, concomitant with a low regard for emotion and subjectivity (cf. Lyons 1982: 101 and Birdwhistell 1971: 66).1 This distribution of scholarly concern,2 however, is in contrast to phylogenetic insights, according to which language originates in the transformation of personal experiences into expressions in order to preserve them (cf. Langer 1957: 118-119 and Schmidt 1989: 47-52).3 It is, furthermore, inconsistent with cognitivist stances and related neuro-biological and bio-psychological views such as those advanced by the adherents to the paradigm of radical constructivism (cf. McNeill 1992). It is the aim of this book to modify and correct the undue emphasis of linguistics on the intellectual dimension of language by recovering some of the expressive possibilities which, I contend, language has at its disposal and which, moreover, human beings constantly take recourse to. The principle outlook taken here overlaps to a large extent with ideas advocated by Parret (1986). In the words of one of his reviewers, At the center ... is the idea that the subject of discourse is a 'passional being', as opposed to the more traditional view which conceives of the speaker as being involved in a strictly cognitive activity. ... the emotion is not considered as a meaning that is somehow expressed, but as an operator modifying all meaning. (Pezzini 1991: 95)

2

Communication, emotions and expressivity

Such an extreme subjectivist view is still well beyond what cognitive linguistics currently appears to be mainly concerned with, but it is gaining ground, the present treatment itself being an instance of this trend. In order to achieve my objective with greater force and clarity, I will radicalize my approach in two ways. First, I will not pay much attention to the explicit form of expressing emotions through identifying and describing them and thus making them the content of a proposition. Rather, I will concentrate on the forms of expressivity implicit in grammatical devices, such as the expanded form, the present perfect or the gei-passive. On the one hand, these grammatical devices seem, at first sight, to be the means least expected to be expressive;4 on the other hand, they seem to provide the best possibilities, due to their high text frequency, for continually expressing emotions concomitant with "objective" propositional contents. Second, I will not aim at completeness and balance, but restrict myself to such devices that illustrate the argument at issue best. In effect, six devices will be tackled and their use in specific periods of English will be examined and, where possible, compared with present-day English. The opposition to current objectivist views, which either totally neglect the functional load of the grammatical devices under inspection or intellectualize them, determines the make-up of the individual chapters in at least two (interrelated) respects: (a) They will show a design that will constantly contrast my own subjectivist views with those advanced by objectivists. (b) The arguments will mainly utilize language data that objectivists have worked with before and submit them to a qualitative method of reasoning; it is, I hold, the best solution in face of the only other valid, but rather impracticable alternative, i.e., pursuing for as many as six different devices a quantitative method based on large corpora.

1.2. Contextualizations Some scholarly attention has, of course, been paid to the expressive dimension of human communication since classical antiquity, pre-eminently by rhetoricians. In our century, linguists became interested in it, mainly through works by (contemporary) philosophers such as Marty and psychologists such as Bühler. The members and affiliates of the Prague Linguistic Circle, such as Mathesius, Jakobson and Havränek, made a particularly significant contribution to the field. But, in general, contributions remain scarce. The recent academic interest in emotion (cf. Kövecses 1986, inter alii)

Contextualizations

3

does not yet really mark a turning point because it documents an interest in a better understanding of emotions as a cognitive phenomenon rather than an interest in emotional elements within linguistic structure. Ochs and Schieffelin (1989), however, move more along the linguistic line; the claims they make and the theoretical position they define are supported by an impressive amount of cross-linguistic data, though these data are not really shown to be pertinent.5 From my point of view, the fairest treatment that the emotional dimension of language has received so far in linguistic literature is to be found in a paper by Labov (1984), even if it is no more than a programmatic statement. As long as we can locate a plausible interpretation...in cognitive [i.e., intellectual/objectivist, A.H.] terms, oriented to the processing of information, it is not a vital matter to recognize emotional meanings like 'intensive' or social meanings like 'moral indignation'. They play no more important role than any other redundant features that cluster about grammatical structure. It is quite otherwise when no cognitive or referential meaning appears ~ a cognitive zero ~ or when the context is inconsistent with the cognitive meanings usually recognized ~ a cognitive contradiction. We then have no choice but to recognize social and emotional meanings as an integral part of the central grammatical system. (Labov 1984: 47) Sections 1.2.1. - 1.3. will provide a brief survey on some ideas and notions which I consider basic to the topic of language and emotion.

1.2.1.

Expressivity

On the most elementary level, expressivity has been recognized as one basic communicative function of language. Competing with other functions, such as the appellative and representative functions in Bühler's ([1965]: 25-33) triadic model or the conative (Bühler's appellative), referential (Bühler's representative), poetic, phatic, and metalinguistic functions within the Jakobsonian paradigm (e.g., 1960: 356), it has, however, mainly attracted attention for contrastive purposes; the main attention centered either on the poetic function or, within the domain of ordinary everyday communication, on the utilitarian functions, i.e., the representative/referential or appellative/conative, as is the case with Joos (1950), for example. The basics of communication itself can also be seen as interwoven with

4

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expressivity. In as much as communication as such follows what Grice (1975) refers to as the "cooperative principle", any communicative act can be expected to meet the "sincerity condition", which ensures that the act is performed only if the communicator really wants to do what s/he does when performing the act. For instance, if a communicator makes a promise, s/he should intend to do what s/he promises; if s/he thanks someone, s/he should be grateful or appreciative for what the person concerned did; or if s/he makes an assertion, s/he should believe it to be true and consequently be willing to accept some kind of responsibility (cf. Searle 1969: 54-71, particularly for speech acts). In other words, it is the honest intention that represents another instance of a general kind of expressivity extant in any communicative act/speech act, no matter what the particular intention is (cf. also Sbisä 1990).6 The particular communicative intention is another case of self-expression insofar as it is not externally preconditioned but internally motivated by some personal interest which results from or originates in an act of choice by the speaker/communicator from a set of possible communicative acts. Restricting our interest to the verbal means of expressivity, we can easily identify additional self-expressive choices of a more general yet not necessarily emotional type. A brief account of some of the most relevant linguistic devices of self-expression difficult to avoid is provided by Benveniste (1966). There are, first of all, the first person and the second person singular of the personal pronoun (I mAyou). C'est dans une realite dialectique englobant les deux termes et les definissant par relation mutuelle qu'on decouvre le fondement linguistique de la subjectivite. (Benveniste 1966: 260) [It is due to the dialectic reality encompassing the two terms and due to defining them through mutual relationship that one discovers the linguistic base of subjectivity, (translation A.H.)] Then there are the deictic spatial and deictic temporal expressions and all the speaker-dependent expressions of modality, of which Benveniste tackles the verbs that perform intellectual operations in the first person singular present - je crois -1 think, je suppose -1 suppose. Finally, he considers expressions like je jure, je promets, the enunciation of which he characterizes as accomplishment, an act, not just the description of an act. Another instance of expressive choice inherent in any speech act pertains to the social meaning of the code used. From the codes available to her/him, the speaker has to select some particular subcode and within this subcode the particular segment s/he actually uses. Since a speaker has to choose

Contextualizations

5

constantly, s/he constantly provides the hearer with some detail about her/himself. Her or his selection is expressive in that we can infer from it some personal details concerning, for example, her/his sociocultural background, her/his knowledge of the subject, her/his interests and concerns.7 This outlook fits into the more comprehensive approach advocated, among others, by Halliday and known as a "system network". A system network is a theory of language as choice. It represents a language, or any part of a language, as a resource for making meaning by choosing. (Halliday 1985: XXVII) It follows then that in some way or other a speaker's utterance may always allow an expressive interpretation. Therefore, Watzlawick et al's (1967: 51) famous bon mot that one cannot not communicate (in the loose sense, that is) can, in principle, be well supplemented by a further bon mot stating that one cannot be non-expressive. As far as emotions in particular are concerned, expressivity is best approached in terms that consider it an integral part of behavior 8 Behavior, it seems, can be subdivided into two different modes. On the basis of his investigations in the 1920s, Werner (1955), at least, has done so for perceptive behavior and independently, in the thirties, Bally ([1965]) for linguistic behavior. Both proposals coincide in that they discern between a global, holistic mode involving the whole person with all her/his senses and feelings and a particularistic, isolating, analytic mode. Whereas Werner terms these two modes "physiognomic" and "geometric(o)-technical". Bally calls them "mode vecu" and "mode pur". Bally's distinction is worth quoting in greater detail. Si le langage n'est pas une creation logique, c'est que la vie dont il est l'expression n'a que faire des idees pures. Si Ton me dit que la vie est courte, cet axiome ne m'interesse pas en lui-meme, tant que je ne le sens pas, tant qu'il n'est pas vecu; cette idee generale ne penetre reellement en moi que par une modification subjective accompagnee d'une vibration affective, si legere soit-elle, et cela n'est possible que si, par des associations simples ou complexes, peu importe, je pense ä ma vie ou ä celle d'autres personnes impliquees dans mon existence. (Bally [1965]: 15) [If language is not a logical creation, it is due to the fact that life, whose expression it represents, does not simply produce pure thoughts: If I am told that life is short, I am not interested in this idea unless I feel it, unless I experience it. This general idea takes hold of me only insomuch as I am subjectively affected by it; it is accompanied by an emotional

6

Communication,

emotions and

expressivity

vibration of whatever intensity, and this is only possible if I - no matter whether by simple or complex association - think of my own life or other lives which are intimately related to mine, (translation A.H.)] Among his illustrations we find the following: Le jugement intellectuel La terre tourne se change en jugement de valeur dans la bouche de Galilee s'ecriant devant ses juges: Ε pur si muove\ Ce n'est plus une verite scientifique, c'est l'affirmation d'une valeur attachee a cette verite: eile paratt si precieuse ä celui qui 1'emet, qu'il risque sa vie pour eile. (Bally [1965]: 15) [The logical judgement The globe revolves becomes an evaluative judgement in the mouth of Galileo screaming into the face of his judges Ε pur si tnuove! Then it is no longer a simple scientific truth, rather it is the affirmation of a value attached to this truth: to him it appears so precious that he risks his life for it. (translation A.H.)] And he elaborates the idea further: Celles de mes pensees qui germent en pleine vie ne sont jamais d'ordre essentiellement intellectuel; ce sont des mouvements accompagnes d'emotion, qui tantöt me poussent vers Faction, tantot m'en detournent; ce sont des epanouissements ou des repliements de desirs, de volitions, d'impulsions vitales. Sans doute, c'est par l'intellect que je prends conscience de ces mouvements multiples, mais il n'en forme pas l'essence, il n'est que le vehicule, le metteur en scene et le metteur en oeuvre. (Bally [1965]: 15-16) [Those thoughts which sprout in the fullness of life are never of an essentially intellectual make-up; they are movements accompanied by emotions which sometimes lead me to and sometimes detain me from actions; they are releases or contractions of desires, volitions, vital impulses. Admittedly, it is only through my intellect that I become aware of these multifarious movements, yet it does not represent the essence but is only the vehicle, the stage director, and the mechanic, (translation A.H.)] Such a body of thought finds a contemporary echo in Lyons' (1982: 107) distinction "between die subjective experiencing self and the objective observing self' and, in general, has been vigorously revived within the newly established cognitive paradigm. Neurological research has well established the possibility of the brain's functioning in either of the two modes (cf., for example, Damasio (1994)

Contextualizations

7

with his case studies on brain-damaged people as well as McNeill (1992) and the literature he refers to there). In the field of linguistics, Langacker's theory is framed by a similar distinction applying to what he calls "perspective", a term which subsumes "such factors as 'orientation' and 'vantage point'" (Langacker 1990: 315). His key terms are "subjectivity" and "objectivity" and pertain to the way in "which the conceptualizer construes a particular entity or situation" (Langacker 1990: 316). These notions are understood in a narrow sense and do not embrace meaning constituents such as PERSONAL and IDIOSYNCRATIC or IMPARTIAL and BASED ON EVIDENCE respectively. The values that I will henceforth impute to them are best illustrated by a simple perceptual example. Consider the glasses I normally wear. If I take my glasses off, hold them in front of me, and examine them, their construal is maximally objective, as I will understand the term: they function solely and prominently as the OBJECT OF PERCEPTION, and not at all as part of the perceptual apparatus itself. By contrast, my construal of the glasses is maximally subjective when I am wearing them and examining another object, so that they fade from my conscious awareness despite their role in determining the nature of my perceptual experience. The glasses then function exclusively as part of the SUBJECT OF PERCEPTION - they are one component of the perceiving apparatus, but are not themselves perceived. (Langacker 1990: 316) Though derived from perceptual aspects of cognition - and in this respect similar to Werner's approach -, Langacker believes "that the notion of subjectivity/objectivity is applicable well beyond the perceptual sphere, narrowly interpreted" (Langacker 1990: 317). Since Langacker's theory does not center, however, on this dichotomy, I will use Bally's terms instead. Bally's dichotomy applies to verbal behavior in general. It can therefore be linked to the functional typologies by Bühler and Jakobson, resulting in a cross-classification. This allows us to treat utterances more adequately on two different levels: by defining their communicative function and by determining the mode of realizing it. For the three functions which the proposals by Bühler and Jakobson have in common, the interaction with mode can be illustrated by table 1.1. represented on the following page. The appellative/conative function, pertaining to some state of affairs still to be achieved, only conveys the pursuit of an action goal when realized in the mode pur, as in (1)

Stop talking.

8

Communication, emotions and expressivity

Table 1.1. A systematics concerning modes and functions (geometrico-technical mode pur

physiognomic mode vecu

modes)

functions appellative/conative

(1)

(2)

representative/referential

(3)

(4)

expressive/emotive

(5)

(6)

Its realization in the mode vecw adds a particular personal emphaticness. (2)

Shut up already, will you!

When the representative/referential function, pertaining to some given state of affairs, is realized in the mode pur, it acquires the character of a report. (3)

It was extremely hot.

When realized in the mode vecu, it is experiential in that the speaker at the moment of utterance emotionally "re-lives", as it were, the heat referred to. (4)

It was so hot!

In the expressive/emotive function, we can also expect both modes to apply. While the mode pur consists of topicalizing an inner state through referentially appropriate descriptions resulting in a report of one's inner sensations, as in (5), the mode vicu results in a live performance of the sensation at issue, as in (6). (5) (6)

I am getting mad. Damn it!

There is one type of expressivity that seems to lie in between both modes. The reference is to utterances such as (7) - (9). (7) (8)

He couldn't get the handle fixed, which was maddening. Unfortunately, Irene and Arthur separated.

Contextualizations (9)

I would really appreciate it, if you could prepare a version.

9

preliminary

They combine a functionally non-expressive utterance with an emotional comment. This comment can be of different size, of course. The more reduced it appears, the more it moves toward the mode vecu. And yet, even the most reduced form, i.e., the attitudinal disjunct, as, for example, unfortunately in (8), preserves an element of identifying explicitness that excludes it from being considered a mode vecu expression. I have elaborated and illustrated the two modes on a purely verbal level; and I will continue to apply it to verbal utterances only. In natural face-toface interaction, the nonverbal resources used or available would have to be taken into consideration as well in order to arrive at a valid assessment of a natural utterance in terms of Bally's dichotomy. But even if it may turn out in many cases that the nonverbal constituents of an utterance play a crucial part in that they add a mode vicu dimension to an utterance linguistically made up in the mode pur, it makes sense, nonetheless, to apply the notion of mode to the verbal part only; after all, the written form of communication also calls for means to meet similar expressive needs. In conclusion, the following examples illustrate the scope of emotional expressivity taken into account. It embraces all a- and b-versions, but excludes the c-versions. The a-versions represent mode pur forms of expressivity in that they either topicalize an emotion (10) or identify an emotional attitude toward a state of affairs given or envisioned (11/12); the b-versions of (10) - (12) represent the mode vecu variants of the same emotion and emotional attitude respectively; the c-versions of (11) and (12), on the other hand, show no emotion at all, even if - in line with previous considerations (cf. p. 4) - an emotion may be presupposed, as in (12c). (10) a. b. (11) a. b. c. (12) a. b. c.

I could burst with rage. Damn it! It was maddening, but he could not get the handle fixed. He couldn't get that damn fucking handle fixed. He couldn't get the handle fixed. Fix that handle; that's a serious order. Will you fix that damn fucking handle immediately, bastard! Fix that handle!

10

Communication, emotions and expressivity

1.2.1.1. A pragmatic and interactional perspective Expressing one's emotions is linked to the pragmatic and interactional dimension. Utterances that topicalize emotions (10a) or express them for their own sake (10b) can certainly count as speech acts. Whether emotional attitudes toward propositional state of affairs - be they expressed in the mode pur (11a and 12a) or the mode νέοι ( l i b and 12b) - can equally be characterized in speech act terms is dubious. Austin himself was undecided as to how the "evincing" of an emotion should be accommodated in his speech act theory ([1975]: 104). Expressing one's emotional attitude toward a propositional state of affairs is certainly something that a speaker "does", but s/he does this in connection with something else, he says, and therefore, it does not appertain, intuitively at least, exactly to either the locutionary (concerning the content of an utterance), the illocutionary (concerning the communicative function of an utterance), or the perlocutionary (concerning the communicative effect of an utterance) aspect of a speech act.10 Another difficulty is more disconcerting. It concerns a related concept, namely the intentional base of emotional expressions. At least the expression of emotional attitudes in the mode vecu can be spontaneous and unconscious, very much like the greater part of nonverbal behavior and not unlike Freudian slips. One may, however, argue that under normal circumstances expressive behavior can hardly be conceived of as dissociated from the interpersonal dimension, extant wherever somebody else is present, and its regulative impact. In other words, even behavior, when observed or observable, should in principle be understood as having been subjected to (social) mediation, a conclusion which would assign to it a communicative base half-way between the involuntary (unconscious) and the voluntary (intentional) - should we call it "social instinct"? Even such a compromise might not settle the issue, though. What can be held against it is the following line of thought. Living one's emotional attitudes, as I have said, is (like any other behavior in the sense qualified above) not conceivable under normal circumstances without assuming that it is socially mediated, which means that it is in some way checked as to its social acceptability. This checking can be described as "face work", a socio-psychological concept promoted by Goffinan (1959) and successfully introduced into linguistic analysis by Brown - Levinson (1978). Applying this concept to the topic currently under discussion, it is important to stress the following points. "Face" refers basically to an individual's public selfimage (delineated in terms of widely approved social attributes), while "face work" refers to the efforts of the participants in a social situation directed toward sustaining their own as well as the others' faces. Take, for example, the nonverbal expressive behavior of a pain-ridden patient at the dentist's

Contextualizations

11

office when s/he groans though s/he might have wanted to scream. Once on this track, we might wonder whether one should not interpret even screaming, unchecked as this behavior may appear, in the same vein; screaming, it could be argued, is ultimately not really unchecked but results from discarding existing social norms. The face-concept is based on the assumption that a speaker avoids direct insults or confrontations by employing a wide range of "politeness strategies". Expressivity certainly does not represent such a strategy; on the contrary, it often runs counter to this idea. A speaker who decides nonetheless to live her/his emotions therefore decides against such politeness strategies. It is due to this element of decision that expressive behavior appears to be reconcilable with the concept of intentionality.

1.2.2. Emotions and expressions Emotions abound; but what are the possibilities of naming or expressing them? What emotions is a language able to take account of? Psychologists interested in the phenomenology of emotions are usually content to identify a number of basic emotional states comprising all emotions.11 Hastorf et al. (1970: 22), for example, reproduced a diagram by Schlosberg (1952) attempting such a comprehensive classification. Diagram 1.1. on the following page is a reproduction in a slightly adapted version. The circle contains different classes of emotional states, while the two intersecting axes represent their underlying basic dimensions. Thus REJECTION is identified as the underlying dimension of CONTEMPT and DISGUST, and its reverse value, ATTENTION, as the underlying dimension of SURPRISE on the one hand and of FEAR and SUFFERING on the other. Similarly, ANGER and DETERMINATION have as their underlying emotional dimension UNPLEASANTNESS, while the underlying reverse value of PLEASANTNESS is coordinated with LOVE, MIRTH and HAPPINESS. Among (language) philosophers, we discover a similar tendency toward global reductionism. Aristotle's writings on the subject are still relatively elaborate, proposing the following scheme (cf. Eggs 1990: 51): A.

Fields of emotional stirrings (valid for all beings; inarticulate/diffuse, non- conscious) 1. anxiety/confidence 2. being repelled/being attracted 3. pain/lust

12

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Diagram 1.1. Dimensions of emotions

B. Basic affects/Fields of affects 1. fear...courage(human variant of A 1) 2. antipathy...sympathy (human variant of A 2) 3. grief...joy (human variant of A 3) C. Social primary affects 1. shame 2. anger 3. ambition 4. friendliness But Marty ([1965]) reads merely like an abstract from Aristotle when he claims that all personal interests (this is Marty's term covering emotions) sind ihrer Qualität nach stets entweder ein Lieben (eine Hinneigung) oder ein Hassen (ein Abgestossenwerden) resp. ein Vorziehen oder Nachsetzen, das aber verschieden modifiziert erscheint je nach der Materie, auf welche das Eine und Andere sich bezieht. (Marty [1965]: 199-200) [... are, qualitatively speaking, always either loving (being attracted) or hating (being repelled), elevating or subordinating, which, however, appears to be differently modified depending on the matter to which either one pertains, (translation A.H.)]

Contextualizations

13

Among the latest contributions to a systematization of emotions that has been offered from the linguistic side is Fries (1996). He proposes a threedimensional model, synthesized from mainly psychological literature, which is supposed to accommodate all emotions imaginable. The three dimensions are (a) the positivity/negativity of affects, (b) their intensity and (c) the emotional proximity which an individual expresses toward the object or state of affairs (cf. Fries 1996: 56-59). Talking about the wealth of emotions in as global a manner as Marty does is not always a well deliberated measure to efficiently abbreviate or summarize, but sometimes rather the necessary consequence of a very mundane fact: there is no language which fully provides the lexical means necessary for denoting the innumerable shades of all possible emotions. 12 As Langer (1955) puts it: We have words for general kinds of emotion such as anger, fear, erotic passion, regret; but there are hundreds of angry reactions, hundreds of different loves. Some sad experiences and some happy ones are amazingly alike in feeling- pattern. The unfolding of even so simple a phenomenon as an emotion defies any verbal account, as I think the brave efforts of the phenomenologists show. We usually sum up the character of an emotion by describing some condition in which it would occur, or some overt response it might incur, for instance: "It was as though the bottom had dropped out of everything", or "I could have wrung her neck". (Langer 1955: 6) It is the limits of the lexicon that assign a superiority to the expressive resources of the mode vecu. (That it may also be tedious if emotion were continually topicalized in full goes without saying.) The mode vecu, therefore, attracts particular attention. In natural face to face interaction, a speaker can "live" in this mode whatever emotional nuance s/he is psychically capable of, thanks to the rich array of nonverbal and paralinguistic means (cf. Knapp 1972, Ekman 1984; Crystal 1969). 13 Within language proper, however, the (non-conceptual) devices available for expressing emotions in the mode vecu are more restricted. Besides Fries (1996) and Quirk et al. (1985: 1414-1419), Volek (1987: 15-25) provides a particularly useful survey. Apart from phonetic/phonological means, she refers to morphological tools (e.g., diminutives, as in German Mann - Männlein 'little man' and augmentatives, as in Italian bacio - bacione - 'big kiss'), to lexical signs such as inteijections (alas!), lexical metaphorizations (son of a bitch) or connotation-loaded lexemes (What are you jabbering/talking about?), to syntactic devices such as subjective word order (Where did that bitch disappear to, I would like to

14

Communication,

emotions and

expressivity

know instead of I would like to know where that bitch disappeared to), characteristic sentence-types (such as nominal sentences, e.g., A man!), or interruption of utterances, and finally to features of a textual character (consisting mainly of various types of juxtaposition between two contrasting phenomena, e.g., bookish words in colloquial discourse). The means mentioned above do not all have the same standing as expressive devices. Some may be said to regularly express an emotional attitude; others, however, do so only occasionally. Lack of regularity seems to occur mainly when the means cannot be claimed to be primarily expressive. To illustrate this point, reference shall be made to some means of intensification tackled as expressive devices by Mathesius (1964 and 1975). Under this cover term he subsumes comparisons (e.g., Er hat wie ein Klotz geschlafen 'He slept like a log'), repetitions (asyndetic as in She is very very sweet or syndetic as in She cried and cried as well as reduplicative formations such as day-daily), certain compounds, for example zuckersüß 'sugarsweet', the grading suffixes -er and -est (as in bigger - biggest), grading adverbs (as in schrecklich heißes Wasser 'terribly hot water'), and graded lexemes (e.g., to roar vs. to shout). It seems, however, that at least the lexematic, adverbial and suffixal means of intensification cannot generally be interpreted as expressive. It is certainly true that all biased qualifications, those deviating from what Bolinger (1977: 28-29) calls the "expected average", are somewhat bound to the speaker's subjective evaluation and thus likely to evoke an emotional attitude, but it seems at least doubtful to equate qualitatively biased expressions with emotive expressions; the biased quality expressed can just as well stand for a proper rational/intellectual act. Which interpretation is to be preferred depends on whether the biased expression at issue can be considered to be the result of cognitive reasoning or not (cf. Toulmin 1958 and Frankena 1958). 14 Even less reliable are findings based on investigations that appertain to the field of stylistics, be it on the level of a language system (cf. Aronstein 1924) or on the level of use (cf. Charleston 1960). The characteristics that, in my view, qualify a language phenomenon as a "real" means for expressing an emotion in the mode vecu will be expounded in the section to follow.

1.3. Leading concepts It will not be surprising, after what has been said above, that the grammatical devices to be tackled in the following chapters will turn out to be mode vecu devices of expressivity. Furthermore, they will all be shown to express

Leading concepts

15

emotional attitudes toward propositional states of affairs. The expressions involvement and attachment will function as terminological variants. The way in which mode νέοι devices express a speaker's emotional involvement in (or attachment to) a propositional state of affairs differs from how a lexeme like essay expresses the notion ESSAY. Whereas in this latter case the meaning is symbolically signaled, the emotive meaning of a grammatical device is only accessible through a reasoning induced by a (grammatical) form that, due to certain circumstances, acquires the character of an index. What then are the circumstances that may make a grammatical device function as an indexical sign pointing toward an emotive meaning? For the cases under consideration it is the fact that in each instance there exists an alternative; this gives the speaker an option; s/he has got the free choice, free in the sense that the choice does not have an influence on the propositional content. Here, a phenomenon seems to be effective that Clark (1990) has called the pragmatic "Principle of Contrast". The PRINCIPLE OF CONTRAST, in its most succinct form, goes as follows: Every two forms contrast in meaning. This principle has been assumed, tacitly or explicitly, at least since Breal (1892) and Paul (1898) in their work on language change, as well as by de Saussure (1919/1968) in his synchronic analysis of language use. This principle captures the insight that when speakers choose an expression, they do so because they mean something that they wouldn't mean by choosing some alternative expression. Speaker choices in any domain mean what they do in part because they contrast with other options both in that domain and in the language as a whole. As a result, speakers do not tolerate synonyms in language. This principle applies to words, affixes, grammatical functors, and even constructions. (Clark 1990: 417) Moreover, the forms under investigation are "costlier", than their alternative, i.e., the forms literally consist of more language material. Now, if there is any truth at all to the motto that more form/substance implies more meaning, we have to assume a meaning surplus for the forms in question. At the same time, the costlier form appears as marked in comparison to the other one.15 Both characteristics, in my view, help to establish the "indexicalness" of the forms; we are required to look for the meaning surplus "outside". What will turn out to be the constant feature throughout all text environments in which the grammatical devices at issue are used is that the propositional content can in one way or another be considered remarkable. Remarkableness then would (plausibly) provide the cause for a speaker to become emotionally involved. Consequently, the choice of some such marked form is interpreted as pointing to the speaker's attachment.16

16

Communication, emotions and expressivity

We will distinguish between two types of attachment depending on the pragmatic context in which a speaker gets involved. Talking about events or states for their own sake will represent one prototypical context, discussing events or states for current communicative or practical purposes the other; these two contexts more or less coincide with what Weinrich ([1985]) calls Erzählen and Besprechen. In the first context the speaker's attachment can be considered adaptive, because s/he empathizes and sympathizes with whom- or whatever s/he is talking about, in the second context it is adoptive, because her/his involvement is mediated through and utilized for her/his own interests. The reinterpretation of grammatical categories and constructions in emotive, non-propositional terms is not isolated from recent theoretical developments in the field of linguistics and with their stimulating findings. Of particular significance is Traugott's (1989) theory of grammaticalization. It tries to establish diachronically the view that grammatical elements often evolve from lexical sources, bringing about a shift from propositional to textual and attitudinal meaning; since this facilitates a more personal way of talking, it has become known as the process of subjectification. The analyses to follow will basically substantiate this view, but cast some doubt on Traugott's (1990) claim as to the unilinear (and thus irreversible) order of this developmental pattern. Since the six grammatical phenomena are taken from various periods in the history of the English language, they may eventually turn out to be bench marks in an outline of expressivity/subjectivity as a cultural-historical phenomenon.

2. The so-called possessive dative

2.1. Plan of discussion In this chapter the Old English phenomenon of the possessive dative will be discussed with regard to its meaning potential. As compared with two almost synonymous forms, the possessive pronoun and the possessive genitive, its meaning is taken to go beyond the mere expression of possession. This socalled meaning surplus has been topicalized by a number of historical linguists. We will show that their assumptions cannot sufficiently explain and motivate the occurrences of this Old English construction. As an alternative we claim that the meaning of the possessive dative is the indication of the speaker's attachment to the person referred to by the dative and substantiate the claim by an analysis of the possessive datives occurring in Beowulf.

2.2. Introduction In present-day English, we encounter various types of indirect objects. They can be described as external and internal dative, a distinction that pertains to their syntactic function, as in (la) and (lb), as well as their semantic function, as in (2a) and (2b) (cf. Wierzbicka 1988). (1) (2)

a. b. a. b.

She gave a book to her friend She gave her friend a book, Sally showed a picture to Mary. Sally showed Mary a picture.

Hence, syntactically, the internal dative refers to the indirect object, if this is positioned between verb and direct object (as in (lb) and (2b)). The external dative refers to the indirect object in postposition to the direct object; i.e., to the prepositional phrase in (la) and (2a). Semantically, the internal dative construction expresses that the speaker's attention is focussed on the effect of the action produced on the target person, i.e., the person designated by the internal dative (Wierzbicka describes an example such as (2b) to express that "the agent does something to an object to enable another person to see it"

18

The so-called possessive

dative

(Wierzbicka 1988: 372)). The external dative, on the other hand, does not place more importance on the target person than on the patient (cf. Wierzbicka 1988: 359-387). A further but somewhat disputable type of indirect object can be encountered in phrases like (3)

She hit him on the head.

From a strictly contemporary point of view, this example may appear out of place; all too readily will the personal pronoun him be interpreted as direct object, analogously to (3a), with the prepositional phrase functioning as a specification as to where she hit him. (3) a.

She hit him.

And yet, from an historical point of view, it could also reflect an old use of the dative, which has subsequently become obsolete and is nowadays hardly recoverable, namely what is known as the "possessive dative". A brief reference to present-day German may help to get this point across. Sentence (3) would have two equivalents: (3') (3'')

Sie schlug ihm (dative) auf den Kopf. Sie schlug ihn (accusative) auf den Kopf.

The formal unambiguity in present-day German, which has not undergone the tremendous changes that can be observed in the development of English, still reflects the situation we find in Old English. With the dative and accusative having had distinct forms (which during the Middle English period were neutralized), we find side by side: (4)

He sloh hine (acc.) on paet heafod. He sloh him (dat.) on paet heafod.

It may be due to the licencing by some special verbs of these two alternative constructions that the dative, otherwise lost, survived in a few instances where it could readily be apprehended as an accusative/direct object (cf. Ahlgren 1946: 218). In other surviving cases, it is the idiomaticity of certain phrases like to laugh (a person) to scorn = to deride or to run (a person) through the body = to pierce which facilitates the interpretation of the indirect object as direct object, in accordance with current usage. Characteristically enough, the surviving cases all involve prepositional

Introduction

19

phrases; the variant with the dative in combination with an accusative object is not permitted in present-day English: (5) (6)

* He kissed her the cheeks * She knocked him the teeth in.

Both constructions were equally common in Old English as shows in example (7)-(10). (7)

(8)

(9)

(10)

Him of hrceöre gewät \ säwöl 'The soul went from his breast' Beowulf mo (quoted in Havers 1911: 275) 17 Him stod stincende steam of dam mude 'Stinking odour came forth from his mouth' Aelfric Catholic Homilies p. 86 (quoted in Ahlgren 1946: 199) hcefde Abrahame \ metod moncynnes breost geblissad 'the destiny of mankind had delighted Abraham's breast' Caedmon Genesis 2922 (quoted in Havers 1911: 278) him pcet heafod wees adune gewended 'his head was turned downward' Blickling Homilies p. 173 (quoted in Ahlgren 1946: 200)

The examples given have one feature in common, which turns out to be class-constitutive: The dative is always (partly) co-referential with the accusative or the prepositional noun in that it refers to the person who possesses the object referred to by the accusative or the prepositional noun. As a possession indicating device, the dative stands in a relationship of semantic equivalence to the possessive pronoun or genitive; possessive dative and possessive pronoun/genitive are mutually interchangeable without affecting the propositional content of the sentence. Thus, examples (11) and (12) can reasonably be considered equivalent. (11)

(12)

feol him to fotum '(he) fell at his feet' Bede's Ecclesiastical History p. 228 (quoted in Ahlgren 1946: 197) da feol he to his fotum Bede's Ecclesiastical History p. 372 (quoted in Ahlgren 1946: 197)

Still, upon addition to something genitive.

comparing both versions one may wonder whether the dative, in its possession indicating function, does not exert something else, which is not conveyed by the possessive pronoun or the One may acknowledge this and still be content with describing

20

The so-called possessive dative

the dative in purely possessive terms, considering the "rest" to be something accidental to the individual text and delegating its treatment to individual text analysis. Or one may try to define the meaning surplus and establish it as systematically given. The main proposals that have been advanced in this latter direction either ascribe an experiential value to the dative or subsume it under the notion of beneficiary. My own proposal aims at establishing the dative in question as a device by which a speaker expresses her/his (emotional) attachment to the person referred to by the dative and to the person's state of affairs. But before expounding these ideas any further, I would like to discuss alternative positions first. The data that these alternative positions use in their arguments will, at the same time, provide the main body of the data that I will use for expounding my own proposal.

2.3. Dative and possession The approach to the Old English dative under consideration in mainly possessive terms has found its most prominent advocate in Mitchell (1985). 19 Having written a grammar rather than an argumentative discourse, Mitchell simply lists the various possibilities in which the dative can function as a means for expressing possession, with brief descriptive comments, but without any notable interpretative effort to confront the dative with the possessive pronoun/genitive. A detailed discussion of this sort, however, can be found in Seiler (1983). Though Seller's treatise pays only occasionally attention to Old English, its general and universalistic make-up encourages an application to the specific problem under scrutiny. After a comparative analysis of numerous ancient and contemporary languages from various language groups, Seiler proposes a scale of possession that summarizes the findings in a way such that the "observables" appear as "traces" of a "constructional process which took place and endlessly takes place in the human mind" (Seiler 1983: 72). The scale has the format shown in diagram 2.1. below. NN and Ν case Ν comprise the alternatives under consideration, NN accommodating the use of the possessive pronoun (his house) and Ν case Ν the genitive (John's house) and the (Old English) dative (cf. German Ich habe mir das Bein gebrochen Ί have broken my leg' instead of Ich habe mein Bein gebrochen).

Dative and possession

21

Diagram 2.1. Scale of possessivity w.o. loc. NN

Ν conn Ν

Ν class Ν

Ν case Ν

Ν exist Ν

Ν VN

dir. def. [Here conn stands for connective, class for classifier,.w.o. for word order, loc. for location, exist for existence, dir. for directionality, and def. for definiteness.]

Of the various keys in which this scale can be read, the following perspective seems to be particularly noteworthy. By reading the scale from left to right, the means of expressing possession become ever more syntacticized (in Seller's sense of the word, cf. the quotation below), or, in more general terms, syntactic (i.e., they increasingly have the character of a phrase or even a clause). In the converse direction, i.e., reading the scale from right to left, the means appear increasingly grammaticalized. The more the means are grammaticalized, the more they acquire the character of a determinative element; the more syntacticized they are, the easier it becomes to attribute predicative function to them. The more predicative the manner is in which possession is expressed, the higher is the degree to which this attribution appears to be informative and marked. Conversely, the more determinatively the concept of possession is expressed, the less marked the expression becomes and the less informative (which means it becomes ever more semantically unspecific and empty). These characteristics work toward the functional principles of establishing possession versus positing it. The difference is basically aspectual; in the first case, the distribution of property is being propositionally established (This book is mine, that one is yours), whereas in the second case it is an established propositional fact (My book was cheap, yours expensive). The more syntacticized, predicative, informative and marked the means of expressing possession are, the more possession appears to be established; the more grammaticalized, determinate, unmarked and informatively empty they are, the more possession appears to be posited. This description can be transformed into operational terms. Seiler maintains that two converse or opposite forces are constantly at work in the process of constructing expressions of possession: One takes inherent possession as the starting point and strives to establish the possessive relation by ever

22

The so-called possessive dative

more syntacticized ..., more predicative ..., and more marked means .... The other force or tendency starts out from maximally explicit and syntacticized structures and works toward ever more grammaticalized, obligatory, morphological means of expression.... (Seiler 1983: 79) Synchronically, the opposing forces come to the fore wherever there is a choice between different means of expressing possession, the best example being the temporary option between the possessive dative and the possessive pronoun in Old English. As to the diachronic perspective, we have to go farther afield. In its historical dimension, Seller's view has certain aspects in common with the theories of grammaticalization and subjectification as advanced by Traugott, Langacker and others. Reading his scale from right to left enfocuses grammaticalization as well, and Seller's interpretations of how possessivity is conceptualized accordingly appear in part to be a specified version of Langacker's concept of subjectification (e.g., Langacker 1990). Seller's approach, however, seems more generally conceived than what is currently under consideration. He takes into account different types of linguistic material when talking about grammaticalization, whereas Traugott - König (1991) focus on the process a single linguistic element undergoes in the course of time. It is in this context that they emphasize the unidirectionality of historical processes: "Grammaticalization" ... refers primarily to the dynamic, unidirectional historical process whereby lexical items in the course of time acquire a new status as grammatical, morpho-syntactic forms, and in the process come to code relations that either were not coded before or were coded differently .... (Traugott - König 1991: 189) Seiler would not commit himself to any unidirectionality. It is certainly Seller's approach that fits the devices found in Early English on the diachronic axis. The eventual extinction of the possessive dative and its full substitution by the possessive pronoun/genitive exemplifies the second force referred to by Seiler in the quotation given above;20 the historically subsequent development to occasionally use, instead of the possessive pronoun, the analytic form of + the personal pronoun exemplifies his first mentioned force, 21 for instance the use of me instead of my as in the fare of me (cf. Koziol 1975: 197). Possession is a concept that needs some further clarification. Not every noun that can go with a possessive pronoun is a possessum in the sense that one owns it. The phrase my house for example can have different meanings,

Dative and possession

23

such as (a) the house which I own, (b) the house where I live or (c) the house which I like, etc. In accordance with Seiler (1983: 40), we consider my house to be a possessive expression only in the meaning of (a). Traditional grammars usually draw a tight distinction between possessive nouns that are inalienable from the possessor and those that are alienable. Seiler uses the term "inherency" and interprets it not statically, but dynamically, proposing a "scale or continuum of bondedness between possessor and possessum" (Seiler 1983: 68). Kin terms and/or body terms seem to range on top, albeit for different reasons. Part/whole seems to be a derivative or echo of body part, and thus of weaker bondedness. Cultural manifestations [mental cultural concepts, such as WORD, THOUGHT, CHARACTER etc., A.H.] seem to be more inherent than cultural implements [physical products of cultural activities, such as ships, shields, houses, A.H.]. (Seiler 1983: 68) Although the Old English material I am using covers the whole continuum of bondedness, it seems advisable to restrict the attention to the best instances, i.e., to examples where the noun shows an inherent relationship to the possessum. In effect, we shall limit ourselves to examples where the dative or the possessive pronoun/genitive is in construction with a noun designating a body part or some cultural manifestation, such as is the case in the examples (13) - (16). (13)

(14)

(15)

(16)

pä bendas ...pä him on banum lägon shackles were on his limbs' Caedmon Daniel 435 (quoted in Havers 1911: 278) pcet he on Biowulfes bearm Megde 'which he laid in Beowulf s lap' Beowulf 2195 (also quoted in Havers 1911: 275) weard me on hyge swä leohte 'it got so light in my mind' Caedmon Genesis 676 (quoted in Havers 1911: 278) pä his möd ahlög 'then his heart laughed' Beowulf 731 (quoted in Havers 1911: 276)

How much can Seller's rich account contribute to our approach to a rather limited topic? Apart from a very insightful contextualization of our problem into a general framework, the main benefit seems to consist in enabling us to describe in structural terms some of the differences that hold between the possessive expressions under consideration: Whereas the possessive pronoun

24

The so-called possessive dative

is unequivocally adnominal - i.e., it contracts a grammatical relationship with the noun to which it also enters into a possessive relationship - the dative is ambiguous - it is adverbal and adnominal at the same time, i.e., it contracts a grammatical relationship with the verb and enters into a relationship of inherent possession with the noun. At first sight, the possessive genitive does not seem to fit in well, because as a case it should be assigned an adverbal status - analogous to the dative whereas intuition would rather group it together with the possessive pronoun as adnominal. But the genitive is particular as a case. In line with Jakobson (1971: 37-44), 22 Seiler characterizes it as a (predominantly) adnominal case (1983: 40), and interprets it as a form "marked for quantification, i.e., it focuses upon the extent to which the entity takes part in the message, by implying that the extent is not total" (Seiler 1983: 39). In other words, the genitive in the boy's toys functions similarly to the quantifier thousand in the thousand toys since both reduce the quantitative extent to less than the total. We could enhance Seller's reference to Jakobson by adding that at one point, Jakobson talks about a specifically adnominal genitive where the noun extracts from the entity set in the genitive something that, for example, may be a property such as BEAUTY. Thus in a phrase like the girl's beauty, beauty refers to the property that is extracted from the entity GIRL. Such structural characterizations, however, do not provide a good motivation for the co-existence of these two form classes for expressing possessivity, viz. adnominal (possessive pronoun and genitive) and adverbal (dative). That they co-exist for a certain period simply because it usually takes some time before a new form fully substitutes for its predecessor goes without saying. Rather, the question concerns the speaker who had the choice between two form classes that appear to be functionally so similar that one may wonder what may have induced her/him to use - as the literature amply evidences - both, in alternation, at times even together, as in the following example: (17)

& let him pytan ut his eagan & ceorfan of his handa 'and let his eyes gouge out and his hands cut off Saxon Chronicle 796 F (quoted in Ahlgren 1946: 200)

Is such a use simply arbitrariness or is there a hidden consistency? If the latter option holds to be true, we must then ask: What is the principle that renders this usage consistent? Assuming the former option, we are not confronted with easier questions: Why should a speaker choose a more complex expression of possession (dative) - or even a double form -, if the simple possessive pronoun/genitive does exactly the same job? Or (applying other concepts from Seller's analysis), why does a speaker use a marked form and a semantically explicit one, if the inherent possessive relationship

Meaning surplus

25

between possessor and possessum does not need to be established because it can be taken for granted? All of these questions remain unanswered if we stop at possession.

2.4. Meaning surplus 2.4.1. Experience or interest? To do justice to Seiler, we must add that he does go beyond possession, although rather ephemerally, because it is outside his sphere of interest. Characterizing the dative as contracting a twofold relationship, he states, in reference to the German example Ich habe mir das Bein gebrochen Ί have broken my leg', that the relationship with the verb "indicates that the agent is at the same time the experiencer" (Seiler 1983: 44). Yet, it is not clear whether this interpretation is based merely on the reflexive structure of the example - what about Ich habe ihm das Bein gebrochen Ί have broken his leg'?, where ich Ί ' can actually be interpreted as the agent, which is not necessarily and perhaps not at all the case with the reflexive structure - or whether it can be generalized. Be that as it may, a similar stance, yet with a decidedly general outlook, is advocated by Havers (1911). He suggests that the dative in question ist subjektiver, wärmer, innerlicher als der Genitiv [and as we may add, the possessive pronoun], der einfach objektiv ein Besitzverhältnis konstatiert. (Havers 1911: 2) [...is more subjective, warmer and more inward than the genitive which simply affirms an objectively given possessive relationship, (translation A.H.)] Taking this account as a point of departure, he calls the dative "dativus sympathicus" and maintains that it expresses "...the inner participation of the person affected by the verbal concept" (Havers 1911: 2, translation A.H.). I have typographically emphasized the part of the quotation that shows that it is obviously the person (referred to by the dative) who is said to be inwardly participating, thus bringing to the fore her/his role as experiencer. The inner participation forms part of the content of a sentence just as her/his role as possessor does.23 Havers, whose interest in the dative is not confined to Old English alone but extends to Indogermanic languages in general, uses a classification that,

26

The so-called possessive dative

in part, is compatible with Seller's continuum of inherency. From his ample list of Old English quotations referring to BODY (equivalent to Seller's body-parts) and SOUL (equivalent to Seller's cultural manifestations), I will draw upon three examples for each of the two groups (see (18) - (20) and (21) - (23) respectively). A

Β

(18) him hilde-gräp... bän-h üs gebrcec 'my warlike grip broke open ... his bone-house' Beowulf2508 (quoted in Havers 1911: 274) (19) midpcere gyrde pe he him on honda hcefde 'with the rod he had in his hand' Bede's Ecclesiastical History p. 228 (quoted in Ahlgren 1946: 197) (20) Him of eagum stöd...leoht unfceger. 'From his eyes came a light not fair'. Beowulf727 (quoted in Havers 1911: 274) (21) him wees geomor sefa 'his mind was sad' Cynewulfs Christ 499 (quoted in Havers 1911: 279) (22) him wJf-lufan...cölran weoröaö 'his wife-love...will become cooler' Beowulf2066 (quoted in Havers 1911: 275) (23) leetpe äslüpan sorge ofbreostum 'let your sorrow vanish from the breast' Caedmon Genesis 2796 (quoted in Havers 1911: 278)

Though the meaning category EXPERIENCER certainly applies to the datives in (18) and (21), its applicability becomes increasingly more problematic as we move to the second and third examples within each group. How could the experience that would have to correspond with having a rod in one's hand (example (19)) be elucidated? And for (20), we would have to assume that the person has a self-awareness of his facial expression that is psychologically too refined for the Old English period. A similar argument can be made against the experiential24 interpretation in (22), whereas in (23), the proposed meaning does not apply at all, due to the imperative which projects, but does not describe, a state of affairs. It is only within the descriptive context that the category of experiential meaning seems to make sense. We therefore have to dismiss the claim that the dative's relationship to the verb could be indicative of the experiential involvement of the person that forms part of the proposition - as Mitchell (1985: 565-568) does vis-a-vis some other examples not permitting such an interpretation. Instead, Mitchell speaks of the "dative of interest", but he is very careful not to fully commit

Meaning surplus

27

himself to this view. Rather, he presents it as "the original function of the 'dative proper'" (Mitchell 1985: 565). Also Traugott states that in Old English with a number of verbs the dative is commonly assigned to NPs expressing the affected or interested person (cf. Traugott 1992: 203). For the construction under discussion she uses the term "dative of interest", "where possession is metaphorical rather than actual" (Traugott 1992: 206). (24)

Lcecedemonia hcefdon him to ladteowe cenne wisne mon. The Lacaedemonians had a wise man as their leader. ' The Lacaedemonians' leader was wise.' Or 3 1.96.27 (quoted in Traugott 1992: 206)

One could arrive at a similar stance by drawing on Jakobson (1971) and his analysis of the dative. According to him, the dative, like the accusative, indicates that the entity is affected by the action of the verb; but in contrast to the accusative, which is a central case, the dative is peripheral. As a result, we see a comparatively less intimate connection between the dative object and the action at issue (Jakobson 1971: 52). Jakobson's characterization can well be applied to the concept of the dative of interest, where interest is considered to denote a weaker form of being involved in/affected by the action. Thus the dative in (3)

She hit him on the head.

can indeed be interpreted as assigning to the person referred to (besides the role of a possessor) the marginal role of a beneficiary (if this expression can serve as cover term for either positive or negative readings) - marginal because the action is directed toward one of his body parts. It is therefore not very convincing that Havers (1911: 277) and Seiler (1983: 44) seem to exclude interest even as a possibly valid reading for the meaning surplus of the possessive dative. Undoubtedly, the dative of interest has a wide scope, and one may see a better example of it in a sentence like (25): (25)

She gave him a present.

But putting (25) side by side with (26)

She gave him a blow.

and comparing this example in turn with (3), we realize that the distinction between the various readings of the dative is a matter of degree with no

28

The so-called possessive

dative

clear-cut dividing line. For the verification of this proposal on a wider scale, I will return to the same set of examples with which I tested the hypothesis of a dative of experience. (19) and (23), both of which could not be interpreted in experiential terms, are easily adaptable to the present proposal. (19)

(23)

mid pcere gyrde pe he him on honda hcefde 'with the rod he had in his hand' Bede's Ecclesiastical History p. 228 (quoted in Ahlgren 1946: 197) Icet pe äslüpan sorge ofbreostum 'let your sorrow vanish from the breast' Caedmon Genesis 2796 (quoted in Havers 1911: 278)

(18) and (21) are likewise adaptable. (18)

(21)

him hilde-gräp.. bän-h us gebrcec 'my warlike grip broke open... his bone-house' Beowulf250% (quoted in Havers 1911: 274) him wees geomor sefa 'his mind was sad' Cynewulfs Christ 499 (quoted in Havers 1911: 279)

In (22), however, it is difficult to decide whether there is an interest implied and, if so, which kind (positive or negative) it may be. (22)

h im wJf-lufan... c ölran weoröaö 'his wife-love...will become cooler' Beowulf2066 (quoted in Havers 1911: 275)

And in (20) some such interpretation is altogether impossible. (20)

Him of eagum stöd...leoht unfieger. 'From his eyes came a light not fair'. Beowulf 111 (quoted in Havers 1911: 274)

Thus, we find that Mitchell's cautious way of proposing INTEREST as the meaning element associated with the dative is all too justified: The notion of interest cannot be extended to the dative that contracts a possessive relationship with the noun.

Meaning surplus

29

2.4.2. Attachment The proposals so far discussed and ultimately discarded have one feature in common that my own proposal (cf. p. 20) does not contain. The meaning categories of experience and interest are propositionally founded, whereas a speaker's attachment is a meaning category outside the proposition, though operating on it. It should be recalled that - in simplified terms - the proposition is only a part of the speaker's utterance (i.e., the naturally occurring speech unit of whatever size). The proposition is the abstract content of a sentence toward which the speaker takes an attitude. Our concept of the speaker's attachment is such an attitude. It is "emotional" and thus different from Traugott's (1989) reading in epistemic terms; it is closer to the speaker's attitude in Halliday's (1985) and Traugott's (1982) sense of an "interpersonal" or "expressive" component. In contrast to this, the person's role as experiencer (cf. Seiler 1983: 44) or beneficiary (cf. p. 27) forms part of the propositional content. My proposal starts out from the double relationship that the dative contracts, i.e., the relationship to both the verb and the noun (referring to the body-part); the sole meaning the approach assigns to the adverbial relationship is the function of setting a focus on the possessor as person.25 With the dative focus, everything the sentence communicates is conceived of as concerning the person referred to by the dative. The bias toward the person referred to by the possessive dative is also evidenced by the fact that a sentence with a possessive dative is an apt form of response to general questions that primarily express the inquirer's interest in the person, such as What's the matter with him?, What happened to herl or simply And hel. Taking the modern German translation of example (18) as a case for illustration, we indeed see that it is less acceptable to respond to some such questions, as given above, by uttering (18i) than by stating (18ii). (18i) (18ii)

Seinen Leib zerbrach die Kampffaust. Ihm zerbrach die Kampffaust den Leib.

The focus that the dative marks is in fact considered a focus of interest set by the speaker and thus different from Mitchell's concept of dative of interest, which relates to one of the propositionally given participants. Moreover, it is not to be mistaken for the focus in the sense in which the theory of Functional Sentence Perspective (FSP) uses it. In FSP, the focus is the informatively most important element of a message/ proposition. In our context, the focus is the element that the speaker chooses for no other reason than a personal one.26

30

The so-called possessive dative

The reason for setting a focus is, I contend, that the speaker is attached to the possessor as person. I have chosen the odd formulation "possessor as person" to convey the following idea: the attachment expressed by the dative pertains not to the person as such, but to the person who, as the possessor of an entity that is directly affected by an action, is indirectly affected as well. Not every action, though, in which the possessor/person may be affected is of a kind that could trigger the speaker's attachment. From this follows that the dative of attachment - as we may now call it as well - is restricted to states of affairs that, as such or in a given context, are in a positive or negative sense remarkable enough to arouse the speaker's interest and attachment. 27 However, it does not imply, of course, that wherever a situation is remarkable (or rather, is described as remarkable) the speaker must necessarily articulate attachment to the person concerned. If s/he chooses to do so and does so by using the dative, s/he does not express it in explicit terms. The dative, as a device for expressing attachment, rather functions, semiotically speaking, indexically. Its use leaves nothing but a trace of the speaker's attachment, which in any given instance has, of course, a specific value, be it admiration, compassion, disgust, or whatever. On the receiver's part, this requires an interpretative reconstruction: starting out from the conspicuousness of the dative in comparison to the possessive pronoun/genitive, working through the "processing" of the data which the sentence and its context provide, and ending with an hypothesis on the speaker's specific emotional attitude. This task also represents the last step for fully establishing the proposal itself. But before doing so (see section 2.4.2.1.), a few theoretical considerations seem to be appropriate. The preceding discourse aligns well with some ideas put forward by Traugott - König (1991). The authors link up the notion of indexicality with metonymy (1991: 210), extending the notion of the latter from traditional concrete and overt contexts to cognitive and covert contexts, specifically the pragmatic contexts of conversational and conventional inference. (Traugott - König 1991: 211) They describe the process of metonymizing as "pointing to meanings that might otherwise be only covert" (Traugott - König 1991: 212) and define it subsequently, in analogy to metaphorizing, as "specifying one meaning in terms of another that is present, even if only covertly, in the context" (Traugott - König 1991: 212,1 have used italics for the part representing the feature specific for metonymy). Traugott - König do not stop here, though. Linking the concept up with grammaticalization, they establish, on the basis of their own analyses,

Meaning surplus

31

metonymy as another pattern (besides metaphor) by which semantic changes can be understood. "Metonymy", they claim, "is largely correlated with shifts to meanings situated in the subjective belief-state or attitude toward the situation" (1991: 213). This also seems to hold true for the hypothesis advanced here, i.e., the rise of the usage of the possessive dative as expressive device when the possessive pronoun became a readily available means of expressing possessivity.28 The claim of the unidirectionality of such a process, which is connected with this approach, is not disproved by the possessive dative's extinction with the end of the Old English period. This is different from what we could find for other phenomena of attachment.

2.4.2.1. The use of the possessive dative in Beowulf The choice of Beowulf?9 no doubt, implies certain disadvantages for a purely linguistic approach, e.g., the limited generalizability of the findings or the constraints that the epic form may have imposed at times on the choice of one or the other form of expressing - in the first place! - possession. But I do think that such drawbacks should not be over-emphasized. The fact that medieval literature in general exhibits many features typical of oral literature (cf. Ong 1984 and Brinton 1990) should alleviate the problem to some degree; and as far as the constraints inherent in the verse-form are concerned, we may find some reassurance by presuming that - though a poet's artistry may succumb occasionally to some formal constraint - such constraints are unlikely to have been at work continuously - especially where consistency in usage emerges. This said, we may even claim that the analysis of a single document may also carry definite advantages with it. I do not so much think of the purely quantitative load that an analysis of a representative number of items implies and that, of course, is reduced if the items derive from a single source. I am rather alluding to a qualitative aspect: the confinement to a single document of some length and particularly to one that contains a story, offers the opportunity not only to verify an hypothesis by showing that it indeed applies, but also to widen the insights into the topic and to study how the means can function in their wider context and to what ends. The data from Beowulf offer various opportunities for connecting their analysis with some such more comprehensive perspectives. My approach presupposes that the dative is not simply another way of expressing possession. My stance may in part be challenged by the

32

The so-called possessive

dative

observation that a considerable number of constructions of the type Ν dat. Ν are recurrent. In fact, we find whole sentences re-occurring on various occasions. It therefore might not be unreasonable to suspect that they represent set formulae, idiomatic expressions which do not carry any meaning surplus, and conclude that they are to be considered exceptions - if they do not even weaken my whole argument. Particularly conspicuous is the following example (with the homonymous him representing both the dative of the masculine singular pronoun and that of the plural pronoun): (27)

him waes geomor sefa,

The example occurs in Beowulf 49 'sad was their spirit', in Beowulf 2419 'his mind was mournful' and, with the sequence geomor - sefa inverted, in verse 2633; in addition, we find the same expression in Cynewulf s Christ 499 (see example (21)). On closer inspection, however, we find that, as far as Beowulf is concerned, the poet uses this expression on each occasion with the full meaning potential attributable to it. In verse 49, the dative refers to a people whose king (Schild) has died. The introductory passage from which this quotation is taken delineates the noble descent of a worthy king, Hrothgar, for whom Beowulf will risk his life. This attachment to Schild's subjects in their mourning can be interpreted as an act of compassion for good subjects who have compassion for their beloved king. The motivation for the choice of the dative in 2633 is more immediate. It is in this case Wiglaf to whom the poet shows attachment. Wiglaf is the warrior assisting Beowulf in his fight against the dragon. He is sad because the other companions, instead of helping Beowulf, back out in a cowardly fashion. And the poet is with Wiglaf, appreciating him for his sadness and his empathy with Beowulf s plight and sharing both with him. Verse 2419, finally, is part of the poet's description of Beowulf s state of mind immediately before his fight against the dragon. The poet sympathizes with the dire forebodings of Beowulf, which the poet knows will come true. Notwithstanding the likely idiomaticity of the phrase, the brief analysis of its use has shown that the poet employs the dative in a way consistent with the interpretation advocated here.30 Another form of undermining the sense assigned to the dative would have to be acknowledged if there were certain circumstances that, of their own accord, i.e., independent from the given context, quasi-automatically triggered the use of the dative. A good test case is death, which, if anything at all, should follow such a stimulus - response scheme. Beowulf s dying and actual death finds two formulations with the dative of attachment. (28)

him on breostum bealonlö(e) weoll attor on innan. 'he felt dire evil boil in his breast' Beowulf 27\4/\5

Meaning surplus

33

(29)=(7) him ofhrceöre gewät sawol 'the soul went from his breast' Beowulf 2% 19/20 That the poet would use the dative of attachment here is to be expected. The use of the dative in the following two examples ((30) and (31)), which occur in the context of Schild's death, may at first appear less motivated: (30)

(31)

him on bearme leeg mädma mcenigo 'on his breast lay a great many treasures' Beowulf 40/41 pägyt hte him äsetton segen g(yl)denne heah ofer heafod, 'then also they set a golden standard high over his head' Beowulf 47/48

But, as was argued before with respect to (27), the death of Schild may well merit the poet's sympathetic grief for the fact that he is the predecessor of Hrothgar whom Beowulf serves and for whom he will risk his life. That death as such does, indeed, not trigger the use of the dative is evidenced by example (32), in which we find no dative (nor any other possessive expression) though the imagery is similar to (28). (32)

od dcet deades wylm hrän cet heortan. 'until death's flood reached his heart' Beowulf2269/70

In this case, the reference is to an unnamed personage, who in a distant past had watched over the hoard before the dragon seized hold of it. Any suspicion as to a possibly mechanistic handling of the dative thus appears unfounded: many personages die in the course of the action, but very few receive the poet's full attention, and only for Beowulf (and his world) does he show compassion. We have good reason to assume that the Beowulf-poet does not use the dative merely because there is an abstract stimulus. That the person as such, outside an appropriate context, is also not a stimulus for the poet to use the dative will be illustrated by another example. When Beowulf, after his heroic deeds at the court of King Hrothgar, returns to his own country, he is well received by King Hygelac, who gives him a sword as a sign of his appreciation. We learn that he puts it in Beowulf s lap. One could have imagined this to be an occasion for the poet to show again attachment for the hero: he really deserves it! Yet, in this instance, the poet uses the possessive genitive.

34 (14)

The so-called possessive dative

pcet he on Btowulfes bearm alegde, 'he laid that in Beowulf s lap' Beowulf 2194

The reason is that attachment would have been out of place in the immediate context. The preceding context establishes Hygelac as the focus of the poet's attention, especially as regards his generosity. (14')

Then the protector of the earls bade fetch in the heirloom of Hrethel, king famed in battle, adorned with gold. There was not then among the Geats a better treasure in sword's kind. He laid that in Beowulf s lap... Beowulf 2190-2194

An attachment to Beowulf would have resulted in a focus conflict. Often, as in example (33), the poet's attachment for a personage is well motivated by the propositional content (cf. also verse 2573). (33)

syddan Beowulfe bräde rice on handgehwearf; 'then the broad kingdom came into Beowulf s hand' Beowulf 220110%

Where the propositional content does not reveal an attention catching quality, as in example (34), it is the course of action that motivates the poet's attachment. (34)

Dyde him ofhealse hring gyldenne 'He took off his neck the golden necklace' Beowulf 2^09

Here, the dative refers to the dying Beowulf, who with this gesture abdicates all worldly honors. It is indicative of the poet's admiration for the warrior and king and for the poet's grief about his fate; it is an obituary and an homage in the mode vecit. A less final, but nonetheless existentially perilous, situation motivates another dative, for which the propositional content does not provide an apt clue. (35)

Him on eaxle leeg breöstnet bröden; 'The woven breast-armor lay on his shoulder' Beowulf 1547/48

Here, the poet's relief becomes apparent because the war shirt will protect

Meaning surplus

35

Beowulf s life when Grendel's Mother tries to stab him with a knife. Where even the course of action does not provide a sufficiently motivating clue, we find that the poet supports his use of the dative by artificial, formal means. A case in point is example (36). (36)

Setton him töheafdon hilderandas, 'They set at their heads their battle-shields' Beowulf 1242.

Hrothgar's men go to rest after a convivial evening's drinking without neglecting the (customary) safety precautions. It is for this reliability that the poet shows admiration. Since the motive is not all that easily recoverable, the poet subsequently substantiates his stance by an explanation culminating in the explicit expression of praise: (36')

It was their custom to be always ready for war whether at home or in the field, in any case at any time that need should befall their liege lord: that was a good nation. Beowulf 1246-1250

In example (37), one may wonder what can be so remarkable about Wiglaf loading parts of the dragon's hoard in his bosom, even if one takes into account that he thereby follows the orders of Beowulf. (37)

him on bearm hladon bunan ond discas 'loaded in his bosom cups and plates' Beowulf2775

But granting repeatedly to Wiglaf epithets of boldness, modig (verse 2757) and collen-ferd (verse 2785), the poet makes us understand that Wiglaf deserves these epithets because he does not pay attention to his own injuries but rather carries out his lord's orders. The admiration this comportment arouses in the poet finds its mode νέου expression in the dative. I will not conceal that I found one exception to this rationale: (38)

hyre syödan wees ... brfejost geweordod. 'after...her breast was adorned with it' Beowulf! 175/76

Here, Beowulf has just given to Hygelac's wife Hygd a necklace sent to her as a gift by Wealtheow, Hrothgar's wife. Hygd plays a marginal role in Beowulf neither the propositional content, nor the course of action, nor some

36

The so-called possessive dative

artificial devices support the dative of attachment.31 The only explanation that might work pertains to her social role as queen. Respect for the Queen and the readiness to make a "gesture of good will" with regard to courtly life, which otherwise has come off a bit badly in this epic, may have induced the poet to use the dative of attachment in this instance. A contextual embedding of a particular type, but no less an apt motivation for the dative of attachment, is its use as a means for insinuating future events. In example (39), the cup that has come into Beowulf s possession belongs to the dragon's hoard, the dragon being described as bealo-nid biorna 'fierce malice to men', (verse 2404). (39)

him töbearme cwöm mäöpumfcet mcere 'the glorious cup had come to his possession' Beowulf2404/05

With this cup, the destructive power has also come down to Beowulf, who in fact will die in his fight against the dragon. It is as if the dative signals Beowulf s doom and with it, the poet's still subdued compassion. A somewhat more delicate example is provided by the following quotation: (40)

Him on mod beam, pcet... 'It came to his mind that' Beowulf 6116%

What comes to Hrothgar's mind is the desire to build the hall Hereot, which later will be the scene of GrendePs ravings and Hrothgar's misery. The poet's attachment, in this instance, may relate to Hrothgar not so much as sufferer, but to Hrothgar as provider, dramaturgically speaking, of the opportunity for Beowulf to enter the scene of the epic and realize himself as hero. The exact emotional value, though, is difficult to pin down with some handy label. Upon briefly surveying the personages in Beowulf and relating them to the course of action, it becomes evident that they all are, in one way or another, grouped around the hero. The profile they acquire is more or less defined by the role they play in respect to Beowulf: there is the group of his friends (be they socially higher or lower in rank) and there is the group of his adversaries. Outside this relationship they do not seem to count very much. To this hero-centered structure, the dative could serve as an apt instrument for a corresponding narrative technique because the dative of attachment can well be considered a phenomenon of partiality. Almost all the preceding examples have basically been illustrations of the poet's sympathetic

Meaning surplus

37

attachment to Beowulf and his friends. Consequently, it cannot be surprising that where the poet shows attachment to their adversaries, it is in a negative key. In this context, the complementary aspect is interesting: namely, the selective principle according to which the poet engages in a negative attachment to the enemies. There is one decidedly illuminating passage that illustrates the point. When Grendel comes to Hereot Hall shortly before Beowulf and his companions open the fight against him, the poet describes the monster's facial expression in the following way: (41)=(20) him of eagum stöd... leoht unfckger. 'from his eyes came a light not fair' Beowulf726/27 But when describing the monster's inner state of mind a few verses later, he uses the possessive pronoun. (42)=(16) Pähis möd ahlög; 'Then his heart laughed' Beowulf730 Why did the poet not use the dative, given that he preferred it in the first place? My explanation rests on the following observation. After a passage of some 25 verses devoted to describing Grendel, and before another similar one, the poet inserts the remark that Beowulf beheold 'watched' (verse 736) the monster attentively. My suggestion is that it is the personal viewpoint of Beowulf that the poet adopts when using the dative in (41) and the possessive pronoun in (42). In other words, because the expression of Grendel's eyes appear terrifying to Beowulf, the poet appears to be attached in horror; and because the monster's bloody thoughts are not perceivable to the poet's hero, he simply describes them. In modern terms, one could speak of a personal point of view technique that emerges here from the use of the dative. Of the various other instances that could be interpreted in this way, I would like to give one further example, which additionally demonstrates that the poet's negative attachment is not necessarily bound to Beowulf s viewpoint. (43)

him on aldre stöd herestrcel hearda; 'the hard war-arrow stuck in his heart' Beowulf 1434/35

The dative refers to one of the wild beasts which the group around Beowulf

38

The so-called possessive dative

encounters while searching for Grendel's mother in the swamps. The attachment to the beast can perhaps be specified as a mixture of horror, disgust and amazement, feelings that match the viewpoint of Beowulf s men: "strange spawn of the waves. The men looked on the terrible alien thing" {Beowulf verses 1440-1441.). The Beowulf-poet expresses negative attachment in order to side even more firmly with his hero(es). 32 The Beowulf-poet is certainly the principal narrator of the epic, and he keeps us aware of his mediating role by means of including the dative of attachment. But every now and then, he also lets one of his personages speak. (Significantly enough, he never grants this right to one of Beowulf s adversaries; at the most, they are allocated a form similar to reported speech - for which the passage subsequent to (42) could be an illustration.) Any attachment that the personage as speaker shows to somebody s/he is talking about would of course have to be attributed on a first level analysis to her/himself. But since behind the personage there is the poet, her/his creator, we could on a second level interpretation consider such an attachment as a narrative device for characterizing a personage. I shall illustrate this point by drawing on two examples taken from a speech by Beowulf. Generally speaking, talking about something precarious where oneself is concerned could especially well motivate the use of a dative of attachment 3 3 Thus we would have understood if Beowulf - referring to his shield which is to be sent to Hygelac in case he should die fighting Grendel - had said + facet me da breost wered, but the poet lets him use the possessive pronoun instead. (44)

facet mme breost wered, 'that protects my breast' Beowulf 453

It is an occasion for the poet to characterize his hero as brave by letting Beowulf show that he is not concerned for himself. The poet lets him, on the other hand, use the dative of attachment where it helps emphasize the hero's bravery. Examples of this are (45) and (46). (45)=(18) him hildegräp...bänhüs gebrcec. 'my warlike grip broke open...his bone-house'. Beowulf 250110% (46) hwcepre him sTo swTdre swade weardade hand on Hiorte, 'yet his right hand remained as his spoor in Heorot' Beowulf2098/99 Here

Beowulf, even in retrospection, shows his wrath and fighting-spirit

Meaning surplus

39

against two of his adversaries, Daeghrefn (in (45)) and Grendel. In these instances, both levels of narration meet and support one another 3 4 Two examples, which form a pair, deserve particular attention: (47)

(48)

him...swät cedrum sprongford underfexe. 'his blood sprang forth in streams beneath his hair' Beowulf2966167 he him on heafde helm cer gescer, 'Ongentheow had first cut through the helmet of his head' Beowulf2973

In both examples, the personage/speaker recalls a duel between Wulf and Ongentheow and he uses a dative of attachment, in (47) for Wulf and in (48) for Ongentheow. Unless we are dealing here with a conflict of attachment, we expect the personage/speaker to be positively attached to one and negatively to the other. But the speech reveals no clue that could clarify this matter. The quotations are from Wiglafs necrology held by the side of the dead hero. He envisages for the Geats after Beowulf s death a rather bleak future which will derive from past quarrels in which the duel between Ongentheow, a Swede, and Wulf, fighting for the Geats, also plays an important part. At this point, it is decisive to reflect on which side Wiglaf may emotionally stay. Wiglaf is introduced in verses 2604-2630 by the poet in somewhat contradictory terms: he is Swede and Geat. This is, in my opinion, the key in which the co-occurrence of the two datives of attachment has to be processed on a first-level-analysis. They reflect Wiglafs mixed national origin, which does not allow him to be partial with one side; he feels compassion for both. If we now may justly infer from certain details as well as from the general make-up of the epic that the poet's heart beats for the Geatish side, we have identified an instance where the poet employs the dative of attachment to characterize for once a personage who reveals an autonomous emotional stance. Is it by accident that, of all the eligible personages, the poet grants this freedom only to the one who is nominated by Beowulf as his successor? The analysis of the possessive datives in Beowulf has verified them as being also indicative of the speakers's attachment to the person/possessor. Furthermore, a range of modes has been identified in which the dative may function at text level and in which it may be instrumentalized for certain narrative techniques. For the first objective, Beowulf was a data source, for the second one it was the token for a text type. As an individual work of art, Beowulf has been left to scholars of literature.

40

The so-called possessive

dative

2.5. Synopsis After having established a link between a particular type of Modern English ditransitive construction and the possessive dative as it occurred in Old English texts, we concentrated on the elucidation of the shades of meaning rendered by this particular form in Old English. Drawing on a number of Old English and Modern German examples, we showed, in accordance with previously made proposals, that the dative under discussion is generally a device indicating possession and as such semantically equivalent to the possessive pronoun or genitive. But, differing from the latter two, it seems to express something else, which may also have led to its use alongside the other two forms. Our assumption was that the meaning surplus is not an accidental effect of a particular text, but can systematically be accounted for. The explanations advanced so far describe the meaning surplus of the possessive dative either as an expression of experience or as one of interest on the part of the person designated by the dative NP. Though these assumptions turned out to be valid for a number of demonstrative examples, they do not cover the data in full. That is why we ultimately discarded these proposals and tested one of our own against the data available. Our own proposal aimed at establishing the possessive dative as a device by which a speaker expresses her/his (emotional) attachment to the person referred to by the dative and to the person's state of affairs. By using the dative the speaker sets a focus on the person-possessor and expresses her/his attachment to her/him. Since this attachment is expressed only implicitly - it is not part of the proposition as such and functions indexically - it is not specified as to its particular value. Consequently, it needs to be interpretatively reconstructed by the receiver/reader of the message/text. The last third of the chapter was devoted to an analysis of the possessive dative in Beowulf. We were able to show that the Old English possessive dative was generally used to indicate attachment to the person-possessor by the speaker, in this case the attachment of the Beowulf poet or the person speaking in the poem, and thus verify our hypothesis. Moreover, we could relate the poet's use of this attachment device to certain narrative techniques and structures.

3. The ethic dative

3.1. Plan of discussion The emotive function of the so-called ethic dative of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries is expounded and further elaborated as adoptive. It thus contrasts with the possessive dative of the preceding chapter. The adoptive mode of attachment is shown to be in line with text-specific characteristics concerning tense and speech behavioral attitude. The two variants of the ethic dative, me and you, are compared and shown to be in complementary distribution. The scope of what a speaker can express her/his attachment to is differentiated. The ethic dative is compared to the so-called benefactive dative and an inner linkage between both forms is established.

3.2. The state of the art We are talking about a linguistic phenomenon that was widely in use during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries in English, but which has subsequently become obsolete; in other languages such as German or Italian it is still in current usage. It concerns the first and second person singular of the personal pronoun, viz., me - you as in (1) and (2), or anachronistically, in (3) and (4): (1)

(2) (3) (4)

He thrusts me himself into the company of three or four gentlemenlike dogs under the Duke's Table. Ben Jonson, Every Man in his Humor II i (quoted in Visser 1963: 631) Vpon thys the bishop goeth me to the quene Katherin. Latimer, Sermons 63 (quoted in Spies 1897: 123) He could knock you off forty Latin verses in an hour. Thackeray, Vanity Fair 30 (quoted in Jespersen 1954: 285) A terrible dragon of a woman...claps you an iron cap on her head and takes the field when need is. Carlyle, Frederic the Great 2,11 (quoted in Onions 1904: 100)

The term ethic dative - even though prevalent in literature - is not binding.

42

The ethic dative

Jespersen (1954: 284-285), for example, calls it "dative of interest" and proposes as an even better term "affective (or emotional) indirect object" and Visser (1963: 630-631) prefers talking about the "dative of sympathetic interest". We keep the traditional term, derived from Latin school grammar, because it seems the least ambiguous expression available if situated within a wider perspective.35 The quotations represent "best examples" of a concept, which in itself seems to be basically clear. According to Visser, the person denoted by the object pronoun [i.e., me or you, A.H.] is represented as taking a sympathetic interest... in the action which is not performed by him or for him. (Visser 1963: 630-631) Thus, it is a dative that contracts no relationship whatsoever with either the verb or a noun phrase. In modern German, we find it in exclamations only, such as (5a) and (5b): (5)

a. Falle mir nur nicht! b. Bist Du mir schon wieder hingefallen!

Heibig - Buscha (1986: 292) have aptly characterized it as an independent dative which has, among others, the distinctive features that it cannot be substituted by a noun and that it cannot be stressed. These features are applicable to English as well. It may furthermore be considered pleonastic (cf. Voges 1883: 319-331, Schmid 1922), at least in the sense that, on the level of the propositional content, it is superfluous; it is not an item that would be picked up in reported speech {He said that...). Nevertheless, it does have a meaning function outside the proposition, i.e., on the pragmatic level of the utterance. Helbig - Buscha (1986: 290, 553) characterize the function of the ethic dative as emotional participation or interest on the speaker's side, and Visser (1963: 630-631) certainly implies the same when he expands the notion of sympathetic interest by mentioning amusement, vexation, and soforth, as its possible (context dependent) concrete values. In other words, we already have the outline of an analysis that matches well with the paradigm under consideration available to us: a grammatically defined item functioning exclusively as a device for expressing the speaker's emotional attitude in a non-explicit mode {mode vecw)56 What remains to be done is the adjustment of this approach to the lines of reasoning adopted in this book, together with some further elaboration and clarification where former treatments fall short.

The ethic dative as speaker's

attachment

43

3.3. The ethic dative as speaker's attachment 3.3.1. Signs, meanings and scopes Strangely enough, only a few of the authors considered have compared the two variants of the ethic dative which exist, viz., me and you. More or less in line with Franz (1909: 265-266) and Mätzner (1874: 227), but at some greater length, Schmid (1922: 28-34) asserts that you is the second person singular and refers to the addressee of an utterance whereby the speaker wants to involve the hearer emotionally in what s/he is communicating to her/him. 37 We would have to conclude that me and you function pragmatically quite differently; me would express the speaker's emotional involvement, whereas you would express the speaker's wish to win the hearer's emotional participation, the speaker's own involvement being presupposed, if you will; thus, you would no longer be a primary means for expressing the speaker's involvement. Onions (1904), on the other hand, characterizes the you as indefinite and interprets it (just as me) as a "mere expletive of little meaning" (Onions 1904: 100). My own proposal accords with Onions' stance as to the indefiniteness of the pronoun you (which thus builds a formal contrast to the pronoun me), but differs from it in that my approach topicalizes the "little meaning" that there is. Surveying the collection of data,38 the majority of instances of you and me turns out to have a characteristic distribution. The four initial examples adequately illustrate the point in case. (1) and (2) report on a singular event, whereas (3) and (4) on something of a generic nature. The genericness can acquire different shades: in (3) and (4), it pertains to a capacity that a person has shown, in (6) to a capacity of a machine. (6)

He has his winged ploughs, that go with sails, Will plough you forty acres at once! and mills Will spout you water ten miles o f f . Ben Jonson, Devil an II iii (quoted in Visser 1963: 631)

In example (7) it pertains to a habit, and in (8) to a practical rule of thumb. (7) (8)

He would name you all the signes ouer, as hee went, aloud. Ben Jonson, Bartholomew Fair I iv (quoted in Visser 1963: 631) Nothing introduces you a heroine like soft music. Sheridan, The Critic II ii (quoted in Schmid 1922: 31)

As far as this description holds for these and for other examples, we can conclude that me and you are in a complementary distribution. Accordingly,

44

The ethic dative

if me expresses the speaker's attachment, then you does so as well; the difference in meaning between the definite pronoun me and the indefinite pronoun you is in syntony with the difference between the specificity and the genericness of the propositional content to which they are respectively connected. Both datives being attachment expressions in the mode vecw, they have mode pur counterparts, for example attitudinal disjuncts - such as amazingly, fortunately or annoyingly -, which comment on the content of communication (cf. Quirk et al. 1972: 512). Both datives function as indices of the speaker's attachment, in the face of something remarkable which is to be recovered from the context. The cues may vaiy in nature. Firstly, the content of the utterance in which the dative occurs may in itself provide the remarkable element (against the background of certain cultural assumptions), as in (9) (10)

He... Proceeded further, cut me off the heads of all the favorites. Shakespeare, I Henry IV, IV iii (quoted in Mätzner 1874: 227) He cannot make a handsome bow, nor run ye off an elegant period. Sucker, Lt. Nat. (1834) 1471 (quoted in Visser 1963: 632)

Secondly, the remarkable element may be established contextually, as in (11) Borachio: Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato. Don John: A very forward March-chick! How came you to this? Borachio: Being entertain1 dfor a perfumer, as I was smoking in amusty room, comes me the Prince and Claudio... I whipt me behind the arras, and there heard it agreed upon that... Shakespeare, Much Ado about Nothing I iii 61 (quoted in Voges 1883: 320-321) (12) Witwout:.. I have known him call for himself. Fainall: Call for himself? What dost thou mean? Witwout: Mean! - Why, he would slip you out of this chocolate-house, just when you had been talking to him. ... then trip to his lodging, clap on a hood and scarf, and mask... and drive hither to the door again in a trice; where he would send in for himself... Congreve, The Way of the World I ii (quoted in Schmid 1922: 28)

The ethic dative as speaker's

attachment

45

And thirdly, it may be established (or additionally supported) by an explicitly evaluative expression, as in (13)

(14)

The skillfiil shepherdpeeVd me certain wands Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice I iii 85 (quoted in Voges 1883: 320) In the parish where I was born, there lived a farmer ... and he had a son, a good hopeful fellow: ...he was got into Ovid's Epistles and he could construe you three lines together sometimes without looking into a dictionary. Fielding, Tom Jones /, p. 365 (quoted in Schmid 1922: 30)

The particular emotional value of the speaker's attachment (of which the dative is an index) depends, in any given instance, on what is found to be remarkable. Where we have evaluative expressions as in (13) and (14), we are provided with a relatively safe guideline; thus we can easily interpret the speaker's attachment in these two examples as a sympathetic admiration for the shepherd's cunning and the classmates's linguistic skills. Where, however, the context provides the clue, as in (11) and (12), the interpretative processing may become more complex. In (11), for instance, Borachio reports some news that strikes Don John as sensational. But what also seems surprising, from a different point of view, is how Borachio obtained this news. It was by mere accident, we learn. To overhear a conversation between two important people is for Borachio a particularly welcome opportunity. So we may infer that it is a mixture of joy and surprise which is expressed by the dative. In (9) and (10), we can directly draw the inference from the content as to the value of the speaker's attachment. Finding the heads of one's favorites cut off (9) must arouse an aversive feeling in any subject, under any cultural premises. Culture-specific is, on the other hand, the underlying assumption in (10), i.e., that one should be capable of forming elegant sentence constructions, and culture-bound is therefore also the scorn that the dative seems to express for a negative deviation from this norm. So far, we have not been very explicit in respect to what, in general, the speaker shows attachment to when s/he uses the ethic dative. Given that the dative in question does not contract any syntactic or semantic relation with any single propositional element, the dative can be said to express an attachment to the propositional state of affairs in general. If we want to analyze more precisely what the speaker's attachment is related to, we can further subdivide the propositional scope of the ethic dative attachment. Administering the structural division of the proposition into reference (subject) and predication on the reference (verb and all the rest), we see that the attachment scope of the ethic dative extends either over the whole

46

The ethic dative

proposition or the predication only. Example (15) illustrates the propositional scope, (16) the predicative scope. (15)

(16)

But to prove to you that Helen loves him: she came and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin. Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida I ii 113 (quoted in Franz 1909: 266) There was a little quiver fellow and σ'[i.e., he, A.H.] would manage you his piece thus; and a' would about and about, and come you in and come you in... Shakespeare, II Henry IV, III ii (quoted in Onions 1904: 100)

In (16), it is obviously the comportment alone which is remarkable and subjected to the speaker's attachment. It is the incompetence of some (unidentified) fellow that the speaker emotionally focuses on and that serves him for discouraging Falstaff from hiring a man who is similarly unqualified. In (15), however, the reference is as important as the predication on it. What Pandarus reports gains its significance not only by the fact that some woman amorously put her hand to Troilus' chin, but also that this women was Helen, the most beautiful of all. The impact of Pandarus' praise of Troilus lies only in this particular conjunction. Identifying the scope of the dative for individual occurrences is a matter of interpretative processing. It depends on what can be identified as remarkable, and what appears remarkable represents the object of the speaker's attachment.

3.3.2. Mode of attachment As previously stated, the ethic dative operates on the remarkableness of the proposition or a part of it and indicates the speaker's attachment to it. With the ethic dative, the speaker formally establishes that there exists some (emotional) relation between her/himself and her/his proposition. This point marks a distinction between the ethic and the possessive dative tackled in chapter 2. In the ethic type of the dative the speaker is only implicitly present (unless s/he is at the same time a participant in the state of affairs described by the proposition39). Linked to this difference, though not dependent on it, is yet another one that holds between both devices. It pertains to their pragmatic meaning and amounts to the following: whereas the speaker indicates by means of the possessive dative, that s/he takes side with the object/person of her/his

The ethic dative as speaker's attachment

47

attachment, s/he indicates with the ethic dative that s/he takes the affair to be her/his own business. In other words, if attachment in general is a relational concept encompassing the speaker and the (propositionally given) object of her/his attachment, we can specify the difference between both datives as a difference in directionality. To illustrate this difference in directionality, imagine an arrow that would point from the speaker to the object of her/his attachment, in the case of the possessive dative, and, in the case of the ethic dative, from the object to the speaker. The possessive dative indicates that the speaker is close to the object of his attachment, the ethic dative that the object is close to the speaker. The possessive dative represents an adaptive, the ethic dative an adoptive, mode of speaker attachment. For the ethic dative, the preceding characterization can be elaborated along two lines, both of which draw on insights from localistic theories.40 The spatial conceptualization of the ethic dative leads to its further interpretation in terms of possession and of time. I will pursue the latter aspect now while leaving the aspect of possession to a later occasion (see section 3.4.1.). There is a conspicuous property shown in the data consulted. Focusing on the we-variant of the ethic dative (because it is the typical and also more frequently occurring case), we find that the majority of ethic datives has a present tense environment. The present tense either refers to a present time event/state of affairs, as in (17), or it refers to a past event/state of affairs, as in (18). (17)

(18)

He presently... Steps me a little higher than his vow Made to my father... Shakespeare, I Henry IV, IV iii (quoted in Mätzner 1874: 227) but know that 1 have to-night wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero's gentlewoman ...; she leans me out at her mistress' chamber-window, ... Shakespeare, Much Ado about Nothing III iii (quoted in Voges 1883:321)

Most prominent are those instances in which the speaker starts out with the past tense and then switches to the present tense, the change coinciding with the occurrence of the ethic dative. In addition to illustrating examples such as (11), (15), and (18), I would like to give two more. (19)

I remember once, when the Keys of the Exchequer were lost in the Rump-time, he was sent for upon an extremity, and 'gad, he opens me all the Locks with the Blade-bone of a Breast of Mutton. Dryden, The Wild Gallant III i (quoted in Schmid 1922: 21)

48

The ethic dative

(20)

I was appointed to meet a pretty Lady in Hyde-Park, and being there before her Hour, comes me up a blustering Fellow, who, pretending, I had sent him a challenge, drew upon me, so I was obliged to fight him... Centlivre, The Platonic Lady II i (quoted in Schmid 1922: 22)

The last example is particularly noteworthy: except for the clause in which we find the ethic dative in collocation with the present tense, the whole passage is rendered in the past tense. It highlights, in a rather glaring way, that there obviously exists a close affinity between the ethic dative and the present tense. The affinity of the ethic dative with the present leads to a perspective opened up by Weinrich ([1985]). While developed for narrative (literary) texts, his proposal should be suitable for certain generalizations. According to Weinrich, tenses are (pre-eminently) a textual device that lends to any narrative (written) text a certain communicative profile. The profile typically acquires two different shapes, for which he uses the terms Besprechen and Erzählen. Unfortunately, English has no real one-word equivalents available, Besprechen covering concepts as disparate as talking about something and discussing, Erzählen concepts like story-telling or reporting. For clarity's sake I will nevertheless use the root words discuss or tell and their variants or simply keep the original terms.41 Tenses that attain and maintain either profile are classified either as tenses of Besprechen (e.g., present, future) or as tenses of Erzählen (e.g., past, past perfect). The difference between these two discourse types (and their respective tense-groups) corresponds to two different states of mind on the part of the speaker/writer. Due to the close rapport between speaker and hearer in any communicative situation, it can be taken for granted that the speaker's communicative concern is also directed toward arousing an analogous state in the hearer. The state corresponding to Erzählen is characterized by Weinrich as "entspannt" 'relaxed', the one corresponding to Besprechen as "gespannt" 'tense'/ 'engaged'. Ultimately, the distinction between both rests on a pragmatic criterion, i.e., the presence or absence of a practical goal. Only discussing, not telling, is linked to such a goal; practical speech acts, however, i.e., speech acts whose immediate aim consists in achieving a practical goal, such as promising someone something, demanding something from someone, or convincing someone of something, are not explicitly taken into account by Weinrich. The difference between discussing and acting in the sense of directly pursuing such a practical goal, however, is not as dramatic as that between telling and discussing, because both can be defined in terms of orientation toward a practical goal, the difference being merely a matter of degree and thus oftentimes blurred. If we assume that Weinrich's categories do not merely coincide with their

The ethic dative as speaker's

attachment

49

correspondent formal text types, i.e., narration and dialogue, but rather represent fundamental possibilities pervading all types of human verbal behavior in general, we have obtained a powerful pragmatic typology. It is powerful enough to function - across all genres - as a unifying common denominator for the primary source materials used, which thus can be easily employed for a pragmatic-conversational analysis of the devices treated and still to be treated. The raison cTetre for this procedure is analogous to what the literary theoretician Staiger (1968) does when he differentiates on principle grounds between the fundamental (adjectivally formed!) notions of LYRICAL, EPICAL and DRAMATICAL and the general (nominally formed!) classification system for literary works, i.e, "poetry", "epic" and "drama". "There is nothing particularly original about the recognition of some such distinction as the one I am making" - that's how Lyons (1982: 117) evaluates his own - analogous - distinction between what he has called the "experiential" and the "historic mode" of description; he says so in reference, not only to Benveniste's (1959) and Hamburger's (1968) similar distinctions, but also, as it were, to Weinrich's. And he employs these notions - no matter what they may be called - for a genuine linguistic purpose (viz., to provide "an explanation for the otherwise puzzling gaps and asymmetries in the aspectual systems of various languages and for the relativity of aspectual markedness to differences of tense", Lyons 1982: 117). I could hardly find a better authority to justify my procedure. Coming back then to the connection between tense and discourse type (as factors conditioning the occurrence of the ethic dative), we now can extract the following. The past tenses signal that: (a) the matter communicated is of no concern to the speaker in the sense that it does not play any important role for him at the moment of utterance, and (b) the hearer is offered "only" a story to which s/he can calmly devote her/his attention. In contrast, present tenses signal that (a) the matter communicated is of concern to the speaker at the moment of utterance, even if the event may have taken place in the past time, and (b) the hearer should receive the message as something that counts for the here-and-now of the situation s/he shares with the speaker. The typical collocation of the ethic dative with present tenses suggests, consequently, that the dative is a phenomenon that belongs to the discourse world of discussing things as much as the present tenses do. Both means assign to a propositional event/state of affairs the status of actuality at the time of utterance, with the ethic dative specifying this actuality in emotive terms.43 At this stage, we can further enrich the confrontation between the ethic and the possessive dative by adding another detail. If the data examined in the preceding chapter are representative, we can conclude that (in contrast to ethic datives) possessive datives occur typically in past tense environments;

50

The ethic dative

they are, consequently, to be considered a phenomenon of the discourse world of telling. The dative's role in the discourse world of discussing shall be illustrated by a few examples, some of them already known. (17)

He presently... Steps me a little higher than his vow Made to my father Shakespeare I Henry IV, IV iii (quoted in Mätzner 1874: 227)

The quotation is taken from Hotspur's reply to Sir Arthur Blunt who has been sent by King Henry "to know the nature of your griefs; and whereupon You conjure from the breast of civil peace Such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land Audacious cruelty". In face of the impending Civil War, the king tries to settle the conflict in a peaceful manner. In other words, he wants to discuss the matter, and that is what Hotspur does when he talks about the king's past and present behavior in a critical way. The following quotation is taken from a dialogue between Pandarus and Cressida. (15)

But to prove to you that Helen loves him: she came and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin. Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida I ii (quoted in Franz 1909: 266)

The key in which the dialogue is set is clearly given at the beginning: Pandarus to Cressida:"Where were you at Ilium... What were you talking of when I came? Was Hector armed and gone ere you came to Ilium, Helen was not up, was she?" The dialogue runs as any gossip would run; they talk about people, comparing them, Troilus to Hector, Troilus to Paris (as regards their attractiveness as men), Cressida talking one stance, Pandarus another. In Pandarus' opinion, Troilus is the most attractive one, and in support of his stance, he mentions that even Helen loves him. He tells Cressida what he observed: in a reporting tense (past), he refers to the frame ("she came"), but as regards the essence (that Helen put her hand on Troilus' chin), he uses the present tense of Besprechen. In addition, he is a character who enjoys interfering in other people's (love-)affairs, which he reveals as something of a particular emotional value for him. The previous two examples confirm the assumed norm: an ethic dative attachment is used for a subject matter that context and use of present tenses establish as belonging to the discourse world of Besprechen. Sporadically, however, we also find cases where the ethic dative is not in collocation with

The ethic dative as speaker's

attachment

51

a present tense, but rather with a past tense. Are we confronted with an incongruity? (13)

The skilful shepherdpeeVd me certain wands Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice I iii (quoted in Voges 1883: 320)

The above quotation is a fragment from a story that Shylock tells about Jacob who, rather cunningly, knew how to increase the reward he had agreed upon with Laban in compensation for grazing Laban's sheep. It is a biblical story, and as such appropriately rendered in past tenses. In the context in which the story functions, however, it is not just a "simple" story. The question under discussion is whether Shylock should charge interest if he is to lend a considerable sum of money to Bassanio, for whom Antonio is ready to act as guarantor. In this delicate situation, Shylock retreats to a parable, which is less committing than formulating an explicit, clear position. Within the world of the parable, the ethic dative is certainly an alien element. But it draws its justification from the context of Besprechen, which in turn is kept present and which also assigns the emotional value it has to the dative: Shylock admires Jacob's cunning (and the intricacy of his line of action may be seen as the model for Shylock when defining the conditions of the money-loan). Take the following example: (21)

He pluckt me ope his doublet and offered them his throat to cut. Shakespeare, Julius Caesar I ii (quoted in Onions 1904: 100)

It refers to an event that happened off stage shortly before: Marcus Antonius had publicly offered the crown to Caesar. The quotation forms part of Casca's detailed account of the entire affair. Casca responds with his account to a request from Brutus. "Ay, Casca; tell us what had chanc'd to-day?" Casca: "Why, you were with him, were you not?" Brutus: "I should not then ask Casca what had chanc'd." It is obvious, after this beginning, that the general tenor of Casca's account is reportive - to which the past tenses fit perfectly. However, neither for Casca nor for his interlocutors (Brutus and Cassius) is this event something remote. This level of present concern is responded to by various means interspersed in the question-answer sequence, among them requests for repeating the information given (e.g., Cassius: "But soft, I pray you. What, did Caesar swoon?"), inteijections ("Marry"), signs of hesitance on the side of Casca ("why,..."), and, finally, the very dative under consideration. Caesar's most spectacular gesture arouses an emotional reaction in Casca. Its particular value, though, is difficult to assess at this point in the course of action. In retrospect, we could specify it as sarcasm,

52

The ethic dative

but taking the situation at face value, we could also interpret the dative as signaling admiration for Caesar's republican cast of mind. The ambiguity is constitutive for the scene, in that it provides yet another layer of reading: though the dialogue takes place between people who will later murder Caesar, there is, at this stage (first act, second scene), a pending insecurity regarding each other, as well as the stance they should take toward Caesar. In this sense, the interrogation is also an attempt at spying out the common ground among the participants, and this, in effect, appertains to the discourse world of Besprechen. The last two examples demonstrate that the ethic dative is an attachment device that can assert its affiliation to the discourse world of Besprechen even against an "aversive" tense environment. How much, however, it relies on this particular discourse type becomes strikingly evident in light of the following example taken from the famous Churchyard-scene of Hamlet. (22)

Hamlet: How long will a man lie ftK earth ere he rot? 1 Clown: Faith, if'a be not rotten before 'a die ... 'a will last you some eight year or nine year. A tanner will last you nine year. Hamlet: Why he more than another? Shakespeare, Hamlet V i (quoted in Voges 1883: 320)

What appears striking here is that neither the propositional content nor any other contextual propositional element could justify the speaker's attachment. Rather, it is the situation of Besprechen itself that lends to the ethic dative its raison d'etre. Taking the Clown's point of view, we can argue that the very fact that a gentleman (Hamlet is not recognized as the Prince of Denmark) asks him questions that refer to his professional experience has an "upgrading" effect. The propositional content acquires the REMARKABLE feature, which motivates the emotive yow-dative, from the communicative situation of Besprechen.

3.4. Ethic dative versus benefactive dative?44 The practical speech act, geared to a practical goal rather than merely linked to it, renders the pronoun me dubious as an ethic dative. In the following example, for instance, Escalus, a judge, tries to cut short an absolutely

Ethic dative versus benefactive dative?

53

confused account of an event in which sexual assault may have been involved: (23)

Come, you are a tedious fool. To the purpose: what was done to Elbow's wife that he hath cause to complain of? Come me to what was done to her. Shakespeare, Measure for Measure II i (quoted in Franz 1909: 266)

If Escalus wants the report to be centered on what was actually done to Elbow's wife in order to see better whether the happening constitutes a criminal act or not, the dative can indeed be taken for an expression of an ethic attitude. How could we exclude, however, the possibility that he is also pursuing a personal interest? Maybe, he wants to save time and get to the pub as soon as possible. Imperatives are, indeed, prototypical cases of practical speech acts. Grossly speaking, they aim at getting something done by the addressee; it may be something intended to serve the speaker or the hearer (or even a third party). If it serves the hearer (or a third party), the act can certainly be considered ethic. Should the dative therefore also be classified as ethic? For argument's sake, suppose that the ethic dative is still a possible option. Under these premises, let us take an obviously ethic act such as giving advice to somebody. (24)

When you go to this job interview tomorrow, dress (me) well; I know that's important to them.

With a dative - if it were possible -, such utterances lose, paradoxically enough, their ethicalness. The me is always open to an interpretation as benefactive dative since its function is always paraphrasable by "(please,) do it for me" or the like. The speaker approaches the matter concerning the addressee as if it concerned her/him. But is being concerned about one's own matters still an ethical attitude? At the very least, the dative shows a bias for a benefactive reading. For this reason, it would not be impossible to imagine a situation in which our (unsuccessful) candidate could sarcastically remark (25)

Satisfied? -1 dressed (you) well, and still I failed.

And for the same reason, the use of me in imperatives does not seem to be without restrictions. The admonition in (26) would sound less natural from the mouth of a doctor than from the mouth of a preoccupied mother.

54

(26)

The ethic dative

Keep {me) strictly to the diet.

The dative in imperatives defines not only the speaker's emotional attachment to a state of affairs that concerns the addressee, but also a basically possessive relation between speaker and addressee. The closer the addressee is to the speaker, the more s/he is part of the speaker's personal sphere, the more natural the use of the dative me becomes and the more probable is its benefactive reading. Independent of whether the dative occurs in a context of practical action or in a context of Besprechen, the classificatory approach that (most) grammars follow results in both dative interpretations being conceived as relating to two distinct datives - and they are so, in many respects. Formally, the ethic dative is restricted to the first person singular and an indefinite second person pronoun, whereas the benefactive dative can employ the full range of personal pronouns. Syntactically speaking, the ethic dative does not form part of the proposition, whereas the benefactive does. In terms of meaning, the ethic dative is associated with altruism and selflessness, while the benefactive dative with egocentricity and selfish interest. Consequently, the benefactive dative can be stressed, can be easily picked up in reported speech, and is principally substitutable by a noun, all properties which the ethic dative does not show (see section 3.2.). These distinctions, however, are not absolute. Formally, the repertoire of both types overlap in the first person singular. This has the structural consequence that the dative of the first person may operate either inside the proposition as benefactive dative or outside the proposition as ethic dative. And meaningwise, the notion of interest has so many shadings that the values assigned to either dative represent poles of a scale rather than a binary opposition. Visser (1963: 631) aptly points out that the difference between both types of datives is "often so subtle that discrimination is hardly possible." In many instances, an assignment to either class will therefore be very much a matter of interpretation and, as such, always open to challenge. This is not only true for the imperative but also for the declarative mood. For the following instance, I found three different treatments (27)

... And so easy and good-humoured were they, that they found no fault with my Worcester-shire perry, which I sold them for champagne; and to be sure it is as well tasted and as wholesome as the best champagne in the kingdom, otherwise I would scorn to give it'em; and they drank me two bottles. No, no, I will never believe any harm of such sober good sort ofpeople. Fielding, Tom Jones II, p. 23 (quoted in Schmid 1922: 24)

Ethic dative versus benefactive dative?

55

For Visser, this is an indubitable example of an ethic dative, the Oxford English Dictionary classifies it as dative of interest (sc. benefactive dative), and Schmid (1922: 24) maintains that it contains elements of both. The passage indeed offers a variety of aspects that could support either interpretation. I shall illustrate this point by hypothetically reconstructing some possible turns in the interpretative processing. In a first step, I may interpret the dative as ethic, arguing that the speaker is glad that the people liked what he offered; after all, to drink two bottles of wine (instead of one) is telling enough. I may, however, take into consideration that he sold them the bottles and, over and above, that he sold the bottles for champagne; this allowed him to ask for a much higher price than he could have asked, for what it really was: Worcestershire perry. Since material interests were involved, I may consequently interpret the dative as benefactive. But then the speaker also assures us that the perry was "as well tasted and as wholesome as the best champagne in the kingdom"; since he shows himself to be frank to his audience, we do not have any reason to doubt this assertion. In this perspective, the dative recommends itself again for an ethic interpretation: the wine was so good that the guests even drank two bottles of it. The host is a professional though, and he talks about the wine in possessive terms ("my Worcester-shire perry"). So he is nothing but proud of himself after all, and the dative must be interpreted as nearer to the benefactive than to the ethic dative. However, I find the host's account embedded in a context in which he seems to side with these people whom he had treated well and badly at the same time. Or why would he call them "such sober good sort of people" - just because they had been taken in by him? Who is he - who are they? - where should I stop reasoning? Given that the above instance is not a unique case of ambiguity but rather illustrates that the difference between the ethic and the benefactive dative is as quoted above - "often of so subtle a nature that discrimination is hardly possible" (Visser), we may draw the conclusion that the ethic dative is, after all, not a very efficient device for expressing a speaker's attachment. Especially in ordinary, non-literary communication, where there is no time for lengthy processing, its possibilities, which theory predicts, seem to fall flat. The prospect becomes much less bleak though, if we reverse our perspective. Thus far, the focus has been on the ethic dative as an attachment-expressing device. Turning to the question as to what are the means for expressing a speaker's attachment in the mode described, it becomes evident that this function is not only performed by the ethic, but also by the benefactive dative of the first person singular. In other words, from the point of view of attachment, the distinction between the ethic and the benefactive dative collapses in those cases where the benefactive occurs

56

The ethic dative

in a context that fulfills the only requirement for the use of the ethic dative: that it is remarkable. Taking into account that the use of the benefactive dative is optional, it would simply be unnatural to assume that a speaker who has deliberately chosen to characterize her/himself as affected by the propositional event/state of affairs (benefactive reading) could be not attached to it. The data confirm this reasoning. Returning to example (27), let us suppose that because the host made a real good deal by selling two bottles of Worcestershire perry for champagne, we decide the dative in question is benefactive. And yet, the speaker not only assigns to himself the role of the beneficiary in this affair when he uses the dative, but also expresses a smirking delight about a successfully pulled off coup. The following example illustrates the same blend for the discourse world of acting. (28)

Petruchio: Where is your sister, andHortensio's wife? Katharina: They sit conferring by the parlour fire. Petruchio: Go, fetch them hither; if they deny to come, Swinge me them soundly forth unto their husbands. Shakespeare, Taming of the Shrew V ii (quoted in Voges 1883: 320)

Petruchio wants to prove to Lucentio and Hortensio that his wife Katharina has been tamed to a degree that she is not only obedient to his summoning, but that she is even ready to bring Bianca and the widow to their husbands if he so desires. His order is linked to his personal interest: Katharina has to do it for him because it would provide evidence of her obedience, which would let him triumph beyond winning the wager. But the dative is also the indicator of his deep satisfaction about the success he has already gained and of his eager anticipation of his final triumph. The ethic and benefactive readings do not represent an ambiguity; rather, they are coupled together inextricably. Figuratively speaking - anything else would be mere speculation - in such cases the item me is a contamination of two datives, meby which the speaker characterizes her/himself on the propositional level of her/his utterance as beneficiary in a state of affairs, and me2, by which s/he expresses her/his attachment to it. Even though2 me can hardly be considered ethic, it is as an attachment expressing device functionally equivalent to it.

Ethic dative versus benefactive

dative?

57

3.4.1. Grades of attachment and grades of extension In spite of their similarity as to the attachment expressing function, there does remain a difference between me as ethic and benefactive dative - even outside an approach which would topicalize the strictly moral aspect. The difference I am referring to relates to the distinctiveness with which the speaker's attachment to a propositional content is indicated. In this respect then, the me as ethic dative represents the most distinctive signal for a speaker's attachment, because it exerts no other function whatsoever. The more the me gets blurred with the function of defining a benefactive relationship between speaker and propositional content, the less distinctive the dative becomes as an attachment device. I would like to elaborate this idea in greater detail from another angle. In any utterance, the speaker documents her/his presence not only as elocutor, but also as actor, displaying her/his beliefs, her/his wants, or her/his intentions. In addition to the status as speaker, s/he can also be a "personage" on the content level of her/his beliefs, wants, or intentions. Schematically (and therefore only approximately), we may differentiate her/his part in the content as follows. S/he may be absent or present as personage. If s/he is present, s/he may be so as direct participant in a transaction/state of affairs (as subject or object), as indirect participant (as indirect or prepositional object), or as someone affected by the transaction/state of affairs (benefactive dative). The degree to which the speaker may be affected can vary. The cline of the speaker's participation in the propositional content of her/his utterance can be illustrated by the following examples. (29)

(30) (31) (32)

(33)

The ireful bastard Orleans... I soon encountered, And, interchanging blows, I quickly shed Some of his bastard blood. Shakespeare, Henry VI, IV vi (quoted in Mätzner 1874: 227) he hath borne me on his back a thousand times Shakespeare, Hamlet V i (quoted in Voges 1883: 320) Maria once told me she did affect me; Shakespeare, Twelfth Night II ν (quoted in Voges 1883: 320) Thou breakest the law of Armes, vnlesse thou kneele, and cry me "mercie, noble King". Marlowe, Tamburlaine 678 (quoted in Spies 1897: 124) but the peaking cornuto her husband..., dwelling in a continual ' larum of jealousy, comes me in the instant of our encounter, after we had embraced... Shakespeare, Merry Wives of Windsor III ν (quoted in Franz 1909: 266)

58 (34)

(35)

(36)

The ethic dative But the sack that thou hast drunk me would have bought me lights Shakespeare, I Henry IV, III iii (quoted in Voges 1883: 321) One Colonna cuts me the throat of OrsinVs baker - it is for our good. Bulwer, Rienzi I iii (quoted in Kellner 1892: 123) I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the north; he that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast Shakespeare, I Henry IV, II iv (quoted in Mätzner 1874: 227)

Examples (32) - (36) delineate an increasing marginalization of the speaker's part in the propositional content up to a point where he is no longer present. (32) marks a transgression from the speaker's participation (in the examples (29)-(31)) to his role as beneficiary - as illustrated by (33) and (34) - with decreasing immediacy; in (33), he is affected as personage, whereas in (34), he is only affected as far as his financial situation is concerned. (35) represents again a border case between the speaker's presence inside the proposition and his absence, as in (36); he is present as beneficiary by self-appointment, if you will, as becomes evident from the afterthought. Narrowing the focus back to those cases that interest us (examples 32-36), we can summarize our line of discussion in the following way: intuitively, it can be taken for granted that, in all the examples, the speaker is emotionally involved (because every single one has a content that can be proved to be remarkable for the speaker). But the more the speaker also has a part in the propositional content, the more easily the dative renders itself ready for a benefactive interpretation. The more the speaker retreats as a personage from the proposition, the more obvious the dative's function becomes as an attachment-expressing device.45 Taking also into consideration utterances in the imperative mood, we find an analogous state of affairs. (37) (3 8) (39)

(40) (41)

Prick me the fellow from the path! M. Arnold, Sick King in Bokhara 45 (quoted in the OED) Sir, I pray you soil me this question. Interlude of Youth 9 (quoted in Spies 1897: 123) Now, sir, cut it me like the battlements of a custard, full of round holes: edge me the sleeves with Coventry blue... Green, James IV127 (quoted in Spies 1897: 124) And marke me thys wele, they never ponnysh for popery Bale, Kynge John 97 (quoted in Visser 1963: 631) Take me the two former figures and put them into one Puttenham 209 (quoted in Spies 1897: 124)

Ethic dative versus bene/active dative?

59

Taking the examples out of their original context and assuming - for the sake of our argument - that (39) is a request to treat an object that belongs to the speaker, that (40) gives advice meant to help the addressee, and that (41) is an instruction for constructing something that is neither good for the speaker nor the hearer, we find that the examples illustrate - in the order or their appearance - a progressive retreat of the speaker's Ego from the proposition and a simultaneous increase in distinctiveness of me as an attachment expressing device. This state of affairs could appear as an instance of what Langacker calls "subjectification". Compare, for example, the preceding description with the following quotation from Langacker: ... the entity [e.g., Ego, A.H.] construed subjectively ... is nonsalient - to use the theatre metaphor, it remains offstage in the audience - whereas the objectively construed entity is salient by virtue of being placed onstage as the explicit focus of attention. (Langacker 1990: 316) If "stage" is a metaphor for the notion of proposition, then the ethic dative could be taken for the subjectified form of the benefactive dative (in the wider reading, cf. note 44). But whether this subjectification corresponds to a grammaticalization in the historical sense that the ethic dative - in English and/or other (model) languages such as Latin - has actually developed out of the benefactive dative of the first person is not easy to decide and certainly beyond my present possibilities and intentions. The type of attachment that the ethic dative signals has previously been called adoptive (see section 3.3.2.). The term is also meant to imply that the event's being emotively close to the speaker is the effect of an appropriation. Correspondingly, adaptive attachment, as was seen to be the signaling function of the possessive dative, could be characterized by participation. Both can be further differentiated along a scale depicting various extensions of attachment. Such a scale may be conceived as going from Ego = speaker (not further differentiated) via Ego's (alienable) property to everything outside her/his personal sphere, for which I will employ the term world. It may be advisable to subdivide the extension value of world, in turn, into You = the addressee and everything else. In the context of the grammatical device currently under consideration, i.e., the ethic dative, the examples quoted above can well illustrate this point. (33)/(34) and (37)/(38) reflect the difference between Ego = speaker and her/his property, (35)/(36) or (39)/(40) the difference between Ego 'ί/speaker's personal sphere and the world outside, and (40)/(41) the difference between You = addressee of the outside world and everything else.

60

The ethic dative

The application to the adaptive attachment device of the possessive dative will here as well as henceforth, be left to the imagination of the reader. This scale Ego - Ego's property - You - the rest suggests that it is more natural/easier to be attached to one's own person than to one's property, and more natural/easier to be attached to one's property than to one's You (the partner in a communication), and more natural/easier to be attached to one's You than to the rest outside. 46 We have outlined a scale which can measure adoptive attachment in terms of different degrees of appropriation (and, analogously, adaptive attachment in terms of different degrees of participation). The grading of the extension of (adoptive) attachment and, previous to this, of what may be eligible for being considered remarkable, can be interpreted as indicative of an achievement. As far as the individual speaker is concerned, this achievement may be understood in socio-moral terms, in that affectivity moves from egocentricity to altruism. 47 But the achievement can also be projected onto the historical, developmental aspect of this attachment device. If we focus on dative devices for expressing the speaker's attachment to a propositional content, then we find already plenty of evidence during the Middle English period. (42) (43) (44)

(45)

(46) (47)

(48)

Theise two pon most norissh me with thy melke Gesta Romanorum 227 (quoted in Kellner 1892: 123) Mi lond heo habbeoö me al i-west & Lundene me biraeued. a 1225 Lay Brut (quoted in the Middle English Dictionary) Assoilleth me this question, Ipreye c. 1395 Chaucer Canterbury Tales. Merchant's Tale Ε 1654 (quoted in the Middle English Dictionary) In my bed ther daweth me no day That I nam vp. 1385 Chaucer Legend of Good Women 46 (quoted in the Oxford English Dictionary) Lig me nout, Wilekin, bi thi leute Wright, Anecdotes p. 8 (quoted in Voges 1883: 320) Cum sancto sanctus eris construe me pat on englische c. 1400 Piers Plowman, version Β 5.285 (quoted in the Middle English Dictionary) Take me alle the religiose men of England... and lete se what schulde haue worthe of the men 1449 Pecock, Repressor 516 (quoted in Visser 1963: 631)

In the examples (42) - (45), the datives mark the conjunction between the attachment fiinction and the benefactive function with respect to a property of the speaker - with the variant in (45) that the property is something

Synopsis

61

metaphorically appropriated ("daweth me no day"). (46) and (47) display the speaker's attachment to what has a benefactive relation to the addressee, the You. (48), finally, shows the speaker attached to an objective problem; its linkage to an imperative, however, makes it fall short of a proper ethic dative. The following claim advanced by Visser (1963) may at best hold true if we operate with a rigidly defined, static definition of the ethic dative.48 The origin of this idiom is difficult to trace back in English... The first indubitable examples seem to date from the beginning of the sixteenth century. (Visser 1963: 631) Otherwise, one would have to conclude from the set of examples in their diachronic sequence - even if they certainly convey an idealized picture of what happened in reality - that the "purely" ethic dative of the sixteenth century is nothing but the culmination of the historic process of achieving an ever increasing distinctiveness in expressing the speaker's attachment to a propositional state of affairs by extending the scope of what arouses the speaker's attachment.

3.5. Synopsis We analyzed the role of the ethic dative with its two variants me and you in sixteenth to eighteenth century literature, where they were found to be in complementary distribution, i.e., you in generic and me in specific contexts. Either form typically occurs in contexts that can be characterized as discussing matters. We demonstrated that the function of this grammatical category is to express an emotional attitude of a speaker in a non-explicit form toward a remarkable propositional state of affairs as a whole or restricted to the predication part of it. The topic at issue appears to be of interest to the speaker pursuing her/his own communicative purposes. It is a feature that distinguishes this mode of attachment from another one, which we identified retrospectively for the possessive dative. The latter one expresses attachment to a propositional state of affairs, in particular to the subject involved, and occurs typically in contexts that tell (a story) rather than discuss (a problem). We finally compared the ethic dative me with the benefactive dative of the first person singular and showed that there is a natural link between them. It turned out that this link could not only be described in grammatical terms as subjectification, but also semantically. The

62

The ethic dative

underlying common denominator for both datives is possessivity. On the one hand, the ethic dative appeared as the extreme point of appropriating the world emotionally, and of leaving the utilitarian/materialistic selfcenteredness represented by the benefactive dative, on the other hand.

4. The expanded form

4.1. Plan of discussion The commonly held view that the aspectual/temporal reading is the most general meaning expressed by the expanded form is challenged. We do so by re-evaluating the significance of those usages in which the expanded form is not obligatory or excluded but represents a mere option besides that of using the simple form; this provides the basis for the claim that the expanded form functions as an index of the speaker's emotional attitude toward the propositional context expressed. The attachment is shown to be either adaptive or adoptive, depending on the context. An analysis of the expanded form in early English usage (in Bede's Ecclesiastical History of the British People) brings to light that the attachment reading of the expanded form serves better for explaining the actual occurrences of this form in Old English than the aspectual/temporal reading. Finally, the question of continuity is discussed and its present-day usage both as aspectual/temporal and as an expressive device shown to be systematic.

4.2. The Modern English form and its function The history of the expanded form 49 may be said to cover the entire time span from the Old English period up to the present day, with a certain period of transition during the Middle English era marked by the substitution of the old participle form -inde by the new form -ing. Yet there has been a controversial discussion as to the continuity of its function. Some linguists regard the Old English expanded form as an historically isolated phenomenon, functionally different from its Modern English correspondent. Others - and these are the majority - hold that a continuity exists; applying the "probe" of modern usage to Old English, they interpret the Old English usage of the expanded form as preliminary because they consider it a not yet fully developed and consolidated version of the modern one. As far as the modern usage of the expanded form is concerned, it appears that current views share the characteristic that they conceive its function in terms of time, prevailingly understood as the inner time structure of the propositional event in question. Everything else, however, is open to

64

The expandedform

discussion. With König - Lutzeier (1973: 278-281), we can distinguish between five main variants50 that all try to come to grips with such examples as the following: (1) (2) (3) (4)

When I entered the room, he was reading a book Bill is working at the moment Your coat is lying on the floor I was sleeping at eight ο 'clock

The five variants are: I. II. III. IV. V.

The interpretation of the expanded form as a temporal frame relative to another point of reference. Its interpretation as a means of structuring a text into a foreground and a background. Its interpretation as a means of describing an action or an event as being in progress. Its interpretation as an expression of limited duration. Its interpretation as an expression of temporary validity.

The functional description of the expanded form in temporal terms rests, methodically, to a large extent on those cases in Modern English usage where it is either obligatory or excluded (and the simple, non-expanded form is obligatory instead),51 that is, if the basic propositional meaning is to remain unchanged. This is the case with the so-called actual present, as in She is washing (the) dishes, and the performative verbs in explicit speech acts as in I warn you not to go there. The non-expanded form in the first case (She washes (the) dishes) would make it equivalent to She is a/the dishwasher, and the expanded form in the second case (I am warning you not to go there) would result in an utterance which describes rather than performs a speech act of warning. The combination to be + predicative complement, though still quite rare, but according to Hirtle - Begin (1990), expanding (cf., however, Mair - Hundt 1995), is another case where the expanded and simple form exclude each other (e.g., He is silly vs. He is being silly.) Cases where using the expanded form is just as good as using the simple form are not considered important for its functional conceptualization; they are exemplified by sentences (5 a) - (6b), which have been taken from Huddleston and Quirk et al.: (5) a. b.

Where do you live at the moment? Where are you living at the moment? (Huddleston 1984: 154)

The modern English form and its function

(6) a. b.

65

You look tired this evening You are looking tired this evening (Quirk et al. 1985:204),

Where a (slight) meaning difference between both forms is still observable, it is interpreted as a stylistic subtlety, where it is not, neutralization is assumed to have taken place. On grounds of principle, one may have doubts as to the appropriateness of deducing the functional definition of both forms from their obligatory uses. The argument that meaning arises where there is choice (cf. Halliday 1985: XXVII and Clark 1990: 417) should be taken more seriously; and similarly, appropriate as the concept of neutralization may certainly be for some aspects of language, it is definitely not so for others, and for the alternative between the expanded and non-expanded form I consider its application an intelligent, but artificial and ultimately erroneous, move. Cases where the expanded form is merely optional are by no means rare in Modern English. On the contrary, they seem to represent the area where the device shows itself to be expanding most. This is at least the conclusion to be drawn from the following facts. Dennis (1940) estimates that our day uses five to ten times as many progressive forms as did 1600, and ten to twenty times as many as 1500, or - more rashly perhaps - that the use has approximately doubled in each succeeding century throughout Modern English. (1940: 860) The validity of this estimate is confirmed by Visser (1973:1997). And that this trend seems to continue finds at least minimal support, when we compare Mosse's (1938 vol. 2 Paragr. 483) frequency coefficient (= M) for the expanded form in Galsworthy's In Chancery from 1920 - Μ = 512 - with Nickel's (1966: 114) corresponding figure for Braine's Room at the top from 1957 - Μ = 730 - or with the figures given by Scheffer (1975: 78-79) for a number of novels from the sixties which show M-coefficients up to about 800.52 The latest investigations confirm this trend. Comparing the LondonOslo-Bergen Corpus (LOB) and the Brown Corpus containing British and American language material, respectively, from 1961 with two corpora analogously compiled at the University of Freiburg from 1991 material (the so-called FLOB and Frown corpora), Mair - Hundt (1995) ascertain a statistically significant increase in the frequency of the expanded form and conclude that this "is due to a greater incidence of already established and frequent uses" (1995: 252). Since we can discard as unrealistic, or at least highly improbable, the possibility that there has been a shift toward those sentence and message

66

The expandedform

types which necessitate the use of the expanded form, we can only conclude that the increase of the form is due to its increased use in contexts where the language user has the option of choosing between the expanded and the simple form without changing the propositional content. Should this newlyprospering use be among the also-rans and be regarded as irrelevant for a functional definition of the expanded form? If the expanded form has a function where it competes with the simple form, it must lie outside the proposition, that is, it must operate on the speaker's level. Though Dennis still is hesitant to assign more than a connotative status to the meaning emerging from the optional use of the expanded form, she points into a direction most welcome to my own outlook when she anticipates that in the future, the chief expansion will come ... in the field of emotional connotation, especially to show irritation - so ready in our irritable times. Within another third of a century - or two - we may be hearing with much greater frequency, Don't be stepping all over my feet, or in a different situation, Do be watching where you drive and the rejoinder, Will you be holding your tongue? And perhaps such expressions may have been being said (that's a five word progressive) for some time. (Dennis 1940: 865) In line with the topic and method pursued throughout these studies, I would like to take the problem a little further. Taking the widely given optionality of the expanded form as point of departure, I want to establish the pragmatic notion of the speaker's emotional attitude toward a propositional state of affairs as fundamental for an adequate understanding of how the expanded form is used not only in Modern English, but in Old English as well. As will become evident from what follows, this is not to say that I share entirely the continuity hypothesis for the expanded form; instead I will advocate a modified version of it. Claiming that the speaker's emotional attitude, (her/his attachment) is a fundamental concept for the expanded form implies a proviso: though I hold that the emotive reading is quite systematic, I do not go so far as to consider this reading as the exclusive function of the expanded form and to dismiss an aspectual/temporal reading altogether. How to accommodate this "match" between two different functions systematically remains to be discussed. In cognitive-perceptual terms, however, the two functions do not cause any problem. They both can be understood as being rooted in the perceptual experience of minimizing the distance between observer/speaker and an object/event to such a degree that its boundaries - if there are any - get out of focus (cf. Langacker 1994).

The Modern English form and its function

67

Arguing for an emotive function of the expanded form is not entirely new (cf., e.g., Dennis 1940: 865; Hatcher 1951: 202-207, 215; van der Laan 1922: 13-40, 89-104). But this approach has somewhat gone out of fashion. And what has been proposed along this line does not necessarily render any further treatment superfluous. First of all, the emotive conceptualization that the relevant literature offers is not unambiguous. It oscillates between two different versions. In the one version, the expanded form expresses the speaker's intense interest in what the verb and/or whole proposition describes (cf. van der Laan 1922: 16, 25, 91). This view comes close to my own proposal. But in the other version, the form acquires its emotive function through an intensifying effect it exerts on the action of the verb; in this case, the emotion relates to the subject of the verb and is thus part of the proposition and no longer only part of the pragmatic meaning (cf. Hatcher 1951: 203).53 The following example can illustrate the point at issue: (7)

He was fervently hoping never to witness it again (Poutsma, quoted from van der Laan 1922: 86).

In the latter understanding, the expanded form expresses the intensity with which the subject hopes not to witness it again; in this particular case, it merely reinforces what the adverb fervently already expresses. In the first understanding, which I support, the form expresses that the speaker is attached to the subject's fervent hope not to witness it again. Furthermore, where the (mainly older) literature specifies the emotive function of the expanded form in one way or another as referring to the speaker, the stance is scarcely expounded or is developed too one-sidedly. Since English is not the only language in which a category comparable to the expanded form occurs, it is also worth considering what has been found for "progressives" in other languages. The only explicit mention of an emotive function of the progressive which I could find for languages other than English is made for Icelandic (cf. Comrie 1976: 37). Comrie himself concludes from his investigations that the progressive in English has a number of... specific uses that do not seem to fit under the general definition of progressiveness (1976: 37). As one of these uses he lists the expression of emotion. Also Bybee - Dahl (1989) and Bybee et al. (1994) list the expression of involvement as a possible function of the expanded form, with both studies relying on what Hatcher (1951) had found (cf. my comments above). This function, however, is once again specified for English only. As for the relationship between the

68

The

expandedform

temporal and the emotional reading of the expanded form, the latter two studies claim that generally the primary form is the temporal reading having derived from locative expressions (cf. Bybee - Dahl 1989: 81; Bybee et al. 1994: 131-135), so that the emotive function seems to be secondary, at least as regards its origin (but see section 4.4.). Bybee et al., however, also consider to regard the English progressive as having emerged from a combination of be + present participle·. However, it was not very frequent and it had a meaning very different from progressive meaning. ... It expressed a habitual or characterizing state, not active involvement in an activity. (Bybee et al. 1994: 135) Thus, in every respect, it seems worthwhile analyzing the argument anew.

4.3. The expanded form in early usage: Bede's Ecclesiastical History54 In Old English, we find a situation that seems to meet a criterion that our brief discussion on the expansion of the expanded form in modern times suggested, viz. its optionality. It is well-known that Jespersen (1931) refused to look for a "meaning" behind its usage in Old English for its lack of any restrictions; Nehls (1974: 128) concedes a facultative use of the expanded form; and Mitchell (1985: 274) considers the expanded and the simple form "sometimes at any rate mere stylistic variants". They all adhere to its temporal/propositional interpretation. Bede's Ecclesiastical History of the English People55 or, rather, its translation shows a particularly high-frequency coefficient for the expanded form, surpassed only by Orosius (M=517, K=336), according to Nickel (1966: 114), where Κ stands for Nickel's coefficient (cf. 1966: 18). With M=414 (or K=327), it hardly should have equals in modern times until the twentieth century. Thus if there is continuity at all, it is hard to believe that the Old English usage merely foreshadows the modern one. Instead of conceiving the development of this form as a more or less unidirectional process, it appears more plausible to think of it as a cyclical one.

The expanded form in early usage: Bede's Ecclesiastical

History

69

4.3.1. Paradigmatic features Why should a speaker get attached to a prepositional state of affairs? The following few examples may lead to an answer. (8)

(9)

(10)

(11)

(12)

Swylce eac pissum tidum com mycel hungor on Constantinopolim Creca ealdorburh: 7 sona wol waes aefterfylingende. (48, 14) 'Also at this time, there arose a great famine at Constantinople, the capital of the Greeks, immediately succeeded by a pestilence! ' 5 6 Waes he Mellitus mid lichoman untrymnesse mid fotadle swide gehefigad... he glaedlice all eordlicping waes oferhleapende ... (116,30) 'Mellitus suffered severely from bodily infirmity...; but still,.,.,he surmounted with alacrity all earthly obstacles...' [about the ruler of the East Saxons:]... ond he sondorliif 7 munucliif waes forebeorende allum pam weolum 7 arum paes eordlecan riices. (294, 7) '...and he preferred a retired monastic life to all the wealth and honours of his earthly kingdom.' [about the Christians in Britain:] 7 hid runcennesse 7 oferhyda 7 geciide ond geflite 7 aefeste 7 oddrum mannum pysses gemetes waeron heora swiran underpeoddende... (48, 31) 'and bowed their necks to drunkenness, pride, strife, contention, envy, and other sins of the same kind.' In aeghwaedre para stowa gewuniad to tacnunge his maegenes 7 halignisse gelomlecu wundor haelo geworden beon. paes is to tacne, paette neowan sum gebraecseoc man, mid py he purh monige stowe dwoliende orn 7 ferde, pa bicwom he pider on aefenne... 7paer ealle neaht waes restende (270, 31) 'In both of these places frequent miracles of healing are wont to be wrought, in token of his virtue and sanctity. The proof is, that lately a lunatic, while running about and wandering from place to place, came there in the evening,..., and rested there all night.'

A pestilence befalling a people (8), and this on top of a (preceding) famine, is a great misfortune by any standards, just as the recovery of a lunatic (12) is a miracle by any standards. (9) expresses the triumph of spiritual strength over physical infirmity. That someone prefers a retired monastic life to worldly wealth and honors (10) acquires a particular significance from the fact that it is a king who makes this choice. Christian morality forms the

70

The

expandedform

background which marks the way of life referred to in (11) as utterly depreciable. What the examples, in effect, all show is that the propositional content is in one way or another remarkable. This may arouse the speaker's emotional interest, and the choice of the expanded form indicates that he wants to show his emotional involvement, his attachment, and share it with his audience. Remarkableness is a relative concept. It relates to the speaker/writer (but also to the audience) and, here more specifically, either to her/his general background of expectations or norms (as was the case in the examples (9) (12)) or to some particular background, e.g., a special wish or fear, a sympathy or antipathy, and the like (as was the case in (8)). The following two examples also illustrate this second possibility. (13)

(14)

Fordon nalas aefter myclum faece grimmre wraec pa paere fyrenfullan peode paes grimman mannes waes aefterfyligende. (50, 8) 'Therefore after no long time direr vengeance for their dire sin overtook this depraved people.' Ono hwaet he pa waes se cyning openlice ondettende pam biscope 7 him eallum, paet he wolde faestlice pam deofolgildum widsacan ond Cristes geleafan on/on. (136, 20) 'So then the king openly professed before the bishop and all, that he would firmly renounce idols and receive Christ's faith.'

The propositional content of both examples meets the innermost convictions and sympathies of Bede's translator - more a Christian monk than a historian: yes, it is all too just that the bad ones get punished, but what a moment, what a marvelous success for the Church: a king got converted to Christianity! Whereas the general background usually renders a propositional state of affairs or some part of it remarkable by way of contrast, examples (8), (13), and (14) show that this need not be the case where the propositional content meets a particular wish (or something similar) of the writer. Whatever the background is that lends the feature of remarkableness to the proposition with an expanded form, it may work as a pragmatic presupposition, as in (9) or (11); or it may be spelled out within the text as in (12), where we are made aware that it is a miracle, which, having occurred at the place where the person referred to is buried, proves his holiness. In either case, the remarkableness is retrievable from a given anthropological or cultural or contextual environment. Where there is not such background to refer to, the remarkableness becomes established on the spot. As illustrated

The expanded form in early usage: Bede's Ecclesiastical History

71

by (15) and (16), there are, for example, adjectives, adverbials, etc. that exert the function of qualifying the propositional event as remarkable. (15)

(16)

Brohton hie öyder eac swylce dam biscope dara hraegla dael, pe se halga lichoma midgegyrwed waes...ondpa sylfan hraegle mid Wundertiere lufe cyssende waes, swa heo da gena pam lichoman paes halgan feader ymbseald waeron;(376,14) 'They brought there also to the bishop [i.e., Cuthberht, A.H.] some portion of the garments, in which the holy body had been attired. And he...with marvelous love kissed the robes, as if they still were round the body of the holy father;' [from the epitaph on the tomb of pope Gregory:] Waes he gerynelico word sprecende, poet he lifes bysen waere haligra mannna. (94, 22) 'He spoke mystic words, that he might be an example of life to holy men.'

It is often simply some qualifying feature marking the action referred to as distinct from the class to which it belongs, which may be sufficient to emotionally involve the speaker/translator, as in the following two examples. (17)

Waes he se cyning swide gefeonde in paes biscopes cyme. (302, 8)

(18)

'The king rejoiced very much at the arrival of the bishop.' ond hine waes frignende mid pa apostolican pearlwisnesse, forhwon he paet Godes eowde forlaetan wolde (114, 18) 'and he [i.e., St. Peter appearing in a dream to archbishop Laurentius, A.H.] asked him with apostolical severity, why he was about to leave the flock of God'

How does the expanded form express speaker's attachment? Attachment is a shorthand notion which stands for an infinity of possible emotional attitudes. The expanded form does not "mean" any of these, nor does it even mean speaker attachment. Whatever the expanded form may be said to express in this respect has to be cast into pragmatic-communicative terms. This reflects the distinction, made by Traugott - König (1991), between those pragmatic meanings that are conventionalized (coded, whether lexically, grammatically, or prosodically) and those that are inferred in context, largely through conversational processes of meaning specification. (1991: 193)

72

The expanded form

As such, the expanded form is nothing but a verb form that gains, in comparison to the simple form (with which it competes), a certain markedness for being "heavier'V'costlier" than its competitor. With this characteristic, the expanded form has the prerequisite that it needs for functioning as an attention-caller for the receiver (reader/listener). In other words, it functions, semiotically speaking, as an index by which the receiver is invited to advance an interpretation. And in the remarkable element that the proposition provides, the receiver finds what s/he is supposed to pay attention to. The basic inference to be made by the receiver is that the speaker wants to express her/his attachment to the propositional content (or some aspects of it). Any further differentiation is a matter of more completely interpreting the contextual data available. Again, this description fits Traugott - König's concept of metonymy, propagated as another cognitive principle widely operating in language, besides metaphor. In sum, while metaphor is correlated primarily with solving the problem of representation, metonymy and conventionalizing of conversational meanings are associated with solving the problem of expressing speaker attitudes... (Traugott - König 1991: 213) Moreover, the authors' view that metonymy is a principle that governs semantic change can also be a partial substantiation for the expanded form, if we look at the form's origins. They are far from being clear, though,57 due to the fact that the form has three look-alikes, i.e., the appositive participle, the adjectival participle and the agent noun, which all could have been the source. In any case, the meaning of each of these possibilities would have to be characterized as propositional and, thus, would meet the input condition for the semantic change toward a metonymic understanding of the form. In Traugott (1989) and (1990), three closely-related tendencies have been proposed accounting for paths of semantic change, "the first of which can feed the second and either of which can feed the third" (Traugott 1989: 34). I shall only quote the first and third as the ones relevant to the given case. Tendency I: Meanings based in the external described situation > meanings based in the internal (evaluative/perceptual/cognitive) described situation. (Traugott 1989: 34) Tendency III: Meanings tend to become increasingly based in the speaker's subjective belief state/attitude toward the proposition. (Traugott 1989: 35) The stage to be expected according to these proposed tendencies, but not

The expanded form in early usage: Bede 's Ecclesiastical History

73

readily available, is the intermediary state, viz., "meaning based in the internal ... described situation". A solution would either call for a more flexible (re-)formulation or interpretation, of the tendencies or for an adaptation of Langacker's perception-guided understanding of the form for a stop-gap.58 Processing the indexical function of the expanded form, we may, in a first step, simply distinguish between positive and negative speaker attachments, i.e., between approval or disapproval of what the proposition states. The ascription will be, for any given instance, the result of reasoning about that which was found remarkable. Thus for (8) or (11), the attitude/attachment could be determined as negative, for (14) or (18) as positive. We could determine the emotive values of the attachment as compassion in (8), as disgust in (11), and as joy or satisfaction in (14). Where the expanded form results from a qualifying elaboration of the verbal concept as in (15)-(18), it is more difficult (though in principle not impossible) to go beyond specifying it as a kind of empathizing identification on the part of the speaker with what the subject of the proposition does in the manner described. For (16) and (18), at least, I could venture a specification by interpreting the expanded form as the speaker's expression of his "devout quiver" in the face of what he describes as having happened. Whatever meaning we are able to recover for the occurrence of an expanded form, it is not identical with the meaning that would result if the speaker had defined her/his attachment by using attitudinal disjuncts (e.g., unfortunately, luckily, surprisingly) or other syntactically more elaborate devices (e.g., I find this surprising). They are different in their mode of expressivity. Drawing on the terminological proposal by Bally ([1965]), I will call the explicit one the mode pur and the implicit, indexical one the mode vecu. The expanded form represents the mode vecu, while a commenting sentence like I find this surprising is a good illustration of the mode pur, attitudinal disjuncts (such as surprisingly) are still to be considered mode pur expressions, though to a lesser degree. If the notion of style is appropriate for the expanded form at all, then it applies to its contrast with an emotive expression in the mode pur (such as surprisingly) rather than to its contrast with the simple form. Style, of course, may be understood in different ways. One common position is to define it in the sense of choice from "alternative ways of expressing the same content" (Short 1994: 4375, cf. also Esser 1993: 1) which constitutes meaning. Other positions are those which define style in the sense of "deviation from a norm", or "ornament", or "expectation" (Esser 1993: 1-2). If understood in the first sense, style may indeed be an appropriate notion here: both the expanded form and attitudinal disjuncts are at the speaker's disposal for the expression of more or less the same content.

74

The expanded form

But in cases where it becomes difficult to pin down the speaker's attachment even in a descriptive metalanguage, as in (15) - (18), the use of the mode vecu of expressivity may become a necessity rather than a matter of choice (see chapter 1.2.2.). This highly complex question of possibility and necessity, in which the notion of style could also find its place, is certainly an interesting topic as far as modern times are concerned; for the Old English period, however, it is, I think, of no real relevance. For Old English, the mode vecu was the normal, the idiomatic form of expressivity, since the human being did not seem to be ready yet to be topicalize her/himself or rather her/his emotions (see also chapter 8). 59 What exactly does a speaker get attached to when using the expanded form? The concepts of remarkableness and, consequently, of attachment, have so far been employed rather generically with regard to the proposition as point of reference. Principally speaking, (almost) any conceptually selfsufficient constituent of a proposition, as well as the proposition as a whole, can qualify for consideration as remarkable and thus attract attachment. In order to preclude a misconception, the following brief remark seems appropriate: where a propositional constituent distinguishes itself as remarkable and attracts the attachment, it nevertheless does so in relation to the "rest" of the proposition. Linguists who define the expanded form in temporal terms or who acknowledge an emotive function of the form but describe it in terms of an intensification of the verbal content obviously entertain a different view. In my approach, the proposition as an integrative meaning unit is not neglected. (An exception to this rule will be pointed out on p. 63). Thus, in (19), for instance, the verbal action is the remarkable element attracting the speaker's attachment. (19)

7pone waesfylgende, se de hy cegde, to paem heofonlecan rice, (286,8) 'and she followed him, who called her, to the kingdom of heaven.'

The action is not remarkable in itself, but in respect to Eadgyth, the nun who followed, and to the one whom she followed, (i.e., a child who had called her name when dying,) and also, of course, in respect to where she followed him - to heaven. The capacity of the expanded form to exercise its attachment function on any descriptive component of a proposition can be demonstrated by (14). (14)

Ono hwaet he pa waes se cyning openliceondettende pam biscope 7 him eallum, paet he wolde faestlice pam deofolgildum widsacan ond Cristes geleafan onfon. (136, 20)

The expanded form in early usage: Bede's Ecclesiastical History

75

'So then the king openly professed before the bishop and all, that he would firmly renounce idols and receive Christ's faith.' The form can indicate Bede's or his translator's attachment to the fact that (a) it was the king who professed, (b) it was a particular person who just happened to be the king, (c) he did so in public, before the bishop and all those present, and (d) there was a conversion to the Christian creed. Bede's attachment can, finally, pertain to the fact (e) that the king openly professed before the bishop and all, that is to the propositional content in its entirety. Interpretation (e) has surely the least pronounced profile. It may be the typical attitude of the historian for whom all details reported count equal; as a Christian monk, he adheres to values which determine his attitude toward the whole propositional content in highly positive terms. Interpretation (a) implies that the translator particularly welcomes the socio-political character of the king's conversion; it rests on the sociological presupposition that what a king does has a particular significance. Interpretation (b) implies that the writer shows a particular interest in the person professing; it rests on the general presupposition that this act has a significance for the person concerned. Interpretation (c) implies that the translator appreciates in particular the circumstances under which the act was performed; it rests on the cultural presupposition that an official act performed in public is more significant because it is more binding than the same act performed privately. Interpretation (d), finally, implies that the writer appreciates the act as such, presupposing that it has a value in itself, no matter who carries it out and regardless of the circumstances. It is this reading that represents the exception to the norm I formulated above, i.e., that even the attachment to a single propositional constituent gains its momentum only in interaction with the whole proposition (cf. p. 74). Interpretation (d) presupposes a peculiar text-pragmatic condition: that the writer pursues a systematic topic in what he is telling us; the expanded form that goes with verbs/events pertaining to this topic thus expresses the writer's/translator's "topical attachment". In passing, it should be mentioned that, besides the individual readings (a) to (d), the expanded form may also be claimed to express all of them together - which could lead us anew back to the general problem of effability/describability related to the mode νέοι and the mode pur of expressivity. That the attachment is in any case indicated by the verb - due to the very fact that the expanded form is a verb form - must not be considered an inconsistency. The verb is that part of the sentence which contracts a structural relationship with many other constituents (subject, objects, and adjunctive modifiers in form of adjectives, adverbial expressions, or

16

The expanded form

subordinate clauses). Therefore, any sentence constituent that is structurally related to an expanded verb form lies within the scope of its attachment function and, furthermore, can become its focus. In which way does a speaker become attached when using the expanded form? By expressing attachment in general, a speaker enters into an emotional relationship with the state of affairs her/his proposition describes. This relationship articulates itself in either one of the following two ways. Seen from the speaker's side, s/he either moves, metaphorically speaking, the propositional content toward her/himself, or s/he moves her/himself toward the propositional content. In the former case, s/he emotionally adopts, so to speak, the propositional state of affairs, submitting it to an evaluative assessment; in the latter case, s/he emotionally adapts to the propositional state of affairs, empathizing with it; the difference is mainly one of directionality holding between speaker and propositional content. Accordingly, we are bound to ask whether the speaker's attachment expressed by the expanded form is adoptive or adaptive. The expanded form in example (20) may well be interpreted as an expression of adaptive attachment. (20)

(7 hine waes in gebed streccende aet lichomanpaes Godes weres 7) mid arfaestre ingehygde purh his fultum waes Dryhten biddende, paet he him ärfaest 7 milde waere. (380, 8) '(and stretching himself out in prayer at the body of the man of God,) with pious intent, prayed the Lord through his help to be gracious and merciful to him.'

With (15) or (18), it shares the feature that the act, set in the expanded form, is modified by a manner adverbial (here: mid äfaestre ingehygde). In addition, the act of praying is subdivided into a verbal (waes biddende paet) and a nonverbal/gestural part (the passage in brackets). In accordance with what has been said above, the manner adverbial, at least, can be claimed to have triggered the translator's choice of the expanded form. It distinguishes the monk's prayer from the general class of prayers for its intensity, which, in turn, arouses the translator's attachment. Characterizing something (in one way or another) in terms of intensity entails, certainly, an act of evaluation on the speaker's side. But it is performed in such a way that it becomes part of the proposition itself, appearing as descriptive detail; it is not an evaluative act that is kept separate from the proposition.60 With the speaker's evaluation entering the proposition as one of its constituents, the speaker's attachment, focusing on this very part, appears to take up this movement into the proposition. S/he is

The expanded form in early usage: Bede 's Ecclesiastical

History

77

emotionally moving toward the event described. This direction fits the notion of adaptive. Example (21) shows an adverbial expansion as well. (21)

peas gemanan myd py heo waes twelf winter brucende, hwaeddre heo mid ecre onwalhnesse maegdhades wuldorlice awunade. (316, 15) 'And when she had been twelve years married to him, she still gloriously retained her virginity unimpaired.'

In this case, however, it is a time-quantifier which modifies the verbal content. Though this is certainly a combination which renders itself fit for a temporal/aspectual interpretation of the expanded form, it is also accessible to the approach currently pursued. The time-quantifier as such does not provide the possibility to assign to the verbal concept (as a whole) the quality of being remarkable. But it surely is part of what constitutes the proposition's remarkableness. Supported by the syntactic construction (conjunction mydpy...hwaeddre), it interacts with the fact that she retained her virginity. The juxtaposition of these two details arouses the speaker's attachment. And it is fully taken into account by the translator in that he nicely counterbalances his use of the expanded form for the first part with the use of the evaluative adverb wuldorlice for the second half. Insofar as the adverb can be interpreted as non-descriptive, i.e., as purely evaluative (in the sense that the speaker submits the proposition explicitly to his judgement), the expanded form is likely to require a corresponding interpretation and thus can be categorized as adoptive. Examples that illustrate more clearly the adoptive use of the expanded form include (22) and (23). (22)

(23)

Cwaed he se werga feond: Ne willad la wiöscufan pone, öe ge aer onfengon. Fordon swa swa ge aer his synfullan gode onfengon, swa ge sculon daelneomende beon his wiita. (216, 2) 'But the accursed foe said: "Seek not to reject him, whom you received before. For as you formerly received his sinful goods, so you must share his torments.'" Cwaed him eac to: Waere pu ofergeotende minre bysne, hwaet ic fore Cristes cneohtum, pa he me in tacnunge his lufan bebead, bende 7swingan...icprowade 7 araefnde...! (114, 21) 'He [i.e., St. Peter, A.H.] further said to him [i.e., Laurentius, Α.Η.]: "Did you forget my example, what I suffered and endured for Christ's little ones, whom he committed to me in token of his love...?'"

78

The expandedform

Here, the expanded form occurs in the direct speeches of personages of the Ecclesiastical History, and it combines with a practical communicative function which firmly rests on the personages' submitting the given state of affairs to their evaluative judgement. (22) is the objection of an evil spirit to an action taken by an angel in the context of a vision; (23) is a reprimand of St. Peter appearing in a dream to archbishop Laurentius who is about to give up his missionary work in England. The last two examples for the adoptive variant of speaker attachment have a pragmatic environment in which the speakers utilize a state of affairs rather than topicalizing it for its own sake. In (the adapted version of) Weinrich's ([1985]) terminology, they 'discuss' a state of affairs rather than 'tell' it. If this linkage is typical, as it seems plausible to assume, it is to be expected that the adaptive use of the expanded form as an attachment device goes together with a story-telling environment. A good test case for this hypothesis is provided by examples (20) and (21); they are both expository in character, and still, their expanded forms have been interpreted as showing a different direction of attachment. Example (20) is taken from an episode in which a brother named Beadothegn plays a certain role. Suffering from paralysis, he conceived in his mind a useful thought, that he would, in whatever way he could, go to church and to the tomb of the venerable father Cuthberht, and there bow the knee and humbly pray the heavenly goodness, till he was cured of the illness... Then he did, as he purposed in his mind...and stretching himself out in prayer at the body of the man of God, with pious intent, prayed the Lord through his help to be gracious and merciful to him. And there during his prayers and supplications he fell asleep for a little. Then he felt...as though a great broad hand had touched his head, at the part where the pain and illness were...while the pain gradually disappeared and healing followed. When this had taken place, immediately on awaking he arose hale and sound. Then once more he thanked the Lord...And he...returned again to his duties...(Bede 379, 28-381, 21) Furthermore, we learn that the relics of Saint Cuthberht continue to exert a healing function. Example (21) is taken from an episode that initially centers on King Ecgfrith; later, it switches to Etheldreda, his wife, who, we learn, had preserved her virginity and later went into a monastery. But before the text goes into this, the following passage is inserted immediately after the quotation of (21):

The expanded form in early usage: Bede's Ecclesiastical

History

79

as bishop Wilfrid of blessed memory told myself, when I asked, as some doubted this being the case. He said, that he was the most certain witness to her purity and virginity, inasmuch as king Ecgfrith promised to give him land and much money, if he would induce and prevail on the queen to share his bed, for he well knew she loved no one more than him. It is not to be doubted, that this might be in our age, which trustworthy records attest and report to have taken place in bygone days... (Bede 317, 16-24) Comparing both passages, the difference holding between them can intuitively be pinned down to the dichotomy of telling (a story) and discussing. Example (20), in which the expanded form has been interpreted as adaptive attachment, functions as a prominent detail in the narrative about the miraculous healing of a pious monk; example (21), in contrast, in which the expanded form has been interpreted as adoptive attachment, gives rise to the author's discussion centering around the credibility of the remarkable fact reported and its significance for the author's present time. In conclusion, the expanded form, as expression of speaker attachment, shows the adoptive variant where it is linked to the discourse type of discussing, and the adaptive variant where it is linked to the discourse type of telling. It is, obviously, the discourse type that determines, for any occurrence of the expanded form, which directionality the attachment takes. In itself neutral, the form takes the directionality prefigured by the discourse. Discussing matters amounts to the speaker's adopting them; telling about matters to her/his adapting to them. The expanded form merely contributes the emotional dimension to the utterance. This is in neat accordance with Langacker's (1994) perceptual interpretation of the expanded form. Minimizing the perceptual distance between observer/speaker and object/event is neutral toward how this comes about: either the observer/speaker could be the one who moves toward the object/event or s/he could be the one moving the object/event toward her/himself.

4.3.2. Discourse-related analyses Bede's work can be understood in various ways, due to its highly descriptive and episodic, rather than interpretative and synthetic, character. The single episode, therefore, can be read either in its own right as a story about a king, a holy man, a vision, etc., or as part of a whole. The point of view taken

80

The

expandedform

(co-)determines the interpretative processing of the expanded form as an attachment index. This can well be illustrated by example (14). (14)

Ono hwaet he pa waes se cyning openlice ondettende pam biscope 7 him eallum, paet he wolde faestlice pam deofolgildum wiösacan ond Cristes geleafan onfon. (136, 20) 'So then the king openly professed before the bishop and all, that he would firmly renounce idols and receive Christ's faith.'

Understanding (14) in the sense that the writer expresses his attachment to the fact that it was Eadwine (the king) who professed (reading (b), cf. p. 75) would presuppose a particularistic, episodic approach to the text, whereas a holistic approach can be presupposed where the speaker is understood to express his attachment to the fact that there was a (prominent) conversion to the Christian creed (topical attachment, reading (d)). If we are to take die title seriously, topical attachment seems to be the prevailing diagnosis for the occurrences of the expanded form in the Ecclesiastical History. It is an historical account of the efforts of the Roman Church to christianize the English people. The constitutive dualism between paganism and Christianity provides the cultural frame in which any event, relating either positively or negatively, supportively or antagonistically, to the spread of the Christian creed, may acquire the remarkableness for a Christian writer that allows him to become emotionally attached. Conversion to Christianity is, of course, a particularly central topic. The missionary - and with him the chronicler - follows with bated breath, so to speak, the crisis preceding an eventual conversion (example (24)) and rejoices in the triumph of the good cause at the moment of the actual ritual, as in example (25) (see also example (14)). (24)

(25)

pa haefde he gesprec 7 gepeaht mid his witum 7 syndriglice waes fram him eallum frignende, hwylc him puhte 7 gesawen waere peos niwe lar 7paere odcundnesse bigong, pe paer laered waes. (134, 8) 'Then he [i.e., the king, A.H.] conferred and took counsel with his advisers, and asked all of them separately their opinion about this new doctrine and the worship of the Deity, which was taught therein.' Sende to him Lucius Breotone cyning aerendgewrit; baed hine 7 halsade,poet he purh his bebod cristene gefremed waere. 7 hrade pa gefremednesse öaere arfaestan bene waes fylgende (32, 5)

The expanded form in early usage: Bede 's Ecclesiastical History

81

'To him Lucius, king of Britain, sent a letter, praying and entreating, that under his direction he might be converted to Christianity. And his pious request was quickly carried into effect.' A Christian has every reason to describe with sympathy how the Christian religion expands (example (26)), how it permeates the lives of those converted, particularly in critical situations such as plagues and wars (example (27)), and how the newly converted give spiritual support to the Church's missionary activity (example (28)). (26)

(27)

(28)

jjonon waes geworden, paet seo rihtgelyfde laär waes daegwamlice weaxende; (246, 31) 'And so it came to pass, that the orthodox doctrine flourished more every day' ...paer se Oswald topissum gefeohte cwom, 7 p a e r p a e t halige tacn Cristes rode araerde 7 his cneo begde 7 God waes biddende, paet he in swa micelre nedpearftiisse his bigengum mid heofonlice fultome gehulpe. (154,20) '...where Oswald marched to the battle, and raised the holy ensign of Christ's cross and bowed his knees, and prayed to God to assist with heavenly aid his worshippers in such dire necessity.' pa ongunnon monige deaghwamlice efstan 7 scyndan to gehyranne Godes word...para geleafan 7 gehwyrfednesse is saegd paet se cyning swa waere efhblissende, paet he naenne hwaedre nydde to Cristes geleafan, ac da de to geleafan 7 to fulwihte cerdon, paet he pa inwordlicor lufode...{ 62, 14) 'Then began many daily to hurry and hasten to hear the word of God...In their faith and conversion the king is said to have felt pleasure, but yet so that he forced none to belief in Christ, only he loved more deeply those who were converted to faith and baptism...'

He has every reason to get emotionally involved in the various activities performed by the representatives of the Church, e.g., converting the English people to the Christian creed and strengthening their faith. (29)

7 monige wes cegende from haednesse gedwolan hiora liifes (422, 10) 'And recalled many from the heathen error of their life'

82

(30)

The

expandedform

7 midfaederlice lufan hine waes onbaernende, paet heo in paem geleafan soöfaestnisse, pone pe heo onfengon, symle faestlice astoden 7 aa wunedon. (146, 9) 'and with fatherly affection encouraged him [i.e., King Eadwine, A.H.] that they might ever stand fast and always abide in belief of the truth, which they had received.'

Exemplary conduct of the Church's representatives or of other Christians is a further topical area to arouse the speaker's attachment: organizing one's life according to the Bible, accepting in humility what God has allotted, or defending one's creed against all adversive pressures. (31)

(32)

(33)

ond pa da he in wreotum leornade to donne, pa he in his weorcum waes geornlice fylgende; (246, 8) 'and what he [i.e., King Oswio, A.H.] learned to do in the Scriptures, he zealously followed in his conduct;' Secgad eac men, pa heo prycced waes 7 swenced mid swile 7 sare hire swiran, paet heo waere swide lustfulliende pisse untrymnesse cynne,... (322, 15) 'It is also said, that when she [i.e., an abbess, A.H.] was afflicted and suffering with the tumor and pain in her neck, she rejoiced much in the nature of this malady,...' 7 he ne waes ondredende da beotunge paes ealdormannes, ac... (36, 10) 'Nor did he [i.e., St. Alban, A.H.] fear the governor's threats, but...'

And neither is it surprising that religious visions and miracles are also described with emotional engagement, as in example (34) (see also example

(12)) (34)

...da aeteowdan saemninga beforan unc monige heapas sweartra lega, da waeron up astigende swa swa of miclum seade, 7 eft waeron fallende 7 gewitende in done ilcan sead. (426, 13-16 ) '...there suddenly appeared before us many masses of black flames, rising up as out of a great pit, and again falling back and retiring into the pit.'

Nor is it surprising that the writer shows attachment to Christian doctrines, as in example (35). Talking about cleanliness when receiving the holy communion, Pope Gregory is reported to have drawn the following parallel:

The expanded form in early usage: Bede's Ecclesiastical History

(35)

83

On ο nu in paere stowe, paer pe Drihten waes purh pa underöeoddan esceafte to monnum spreocende, mid swa micle forseonesse waes paes lichoman claenisse asoht, paet, pa de Godes worde onfengon, ne sceoldon wiifum gemengde beon, micle ma ponne pa wiif, da de aelmehteges Drihtnes lichoman onfood, in him seolfum sculon lichoman claennisse healdan... (84, 7) 'If now in the place, where the Lord spoke to men through the subject creature, bodily cleanness was sought after with such care, that those, who received God's word, should not come at their wives, much more then the women, who the body of the Lord Almighty, shall maintain in themselves bodily cleanness...'

The translator's use of the expanded form effectively reinforces the rhetorical measure that emphasizes the lesser occasion for a certain comportment (i.e., keeping clean when receiving God's word) in order to render the same comportment compulsory for the larger occasion (i.e., receiving the Lord's body). Obviously, attachment may appear justified for a Christian chronicler/translator wherever the single event or detail reported is topical for an ecclesiastic history. The Christian translator of Bede's Ecclesiastical History, however, has not put all the appropriate events into the emotive key. Apart from a few passages that at least show a relatively high concentration of expanded forms throughout (cf. 288-296; 390-394; 458-462), they occur only occasionally. The proposal advocated here allows for such a handling. Since it is a matter of choice whether or not a writer wants to indicate by an expanded form her/his involvement, its occurrence cannot be predicted, but only motivated ex post. One may even go as far as to claim that the proposal advocated actually recommends only an occasional use. A constant use of the expanded form would weaken, and ultimately destroy its expressivity; only if used occasionally can the particular meaning function be kept alive.61 These considerations, which touch upon the "economics" of expressive devices, not only entail the criterion of quantity, but also one of quality. In other words, the instances where an expanded form is used may be subjected to a careful selection. I would like to mention four strategies characteristic of Bede's translator. (a) Only the main elements of an episode are set in the expanded form. In book IV chapter 13 (p. 292), there is a story of a blind pagan woman who in her desperation turns to the Church, becomes Christian and returns home happily cured. The translator has put her act of professing faith and returning home in joy into the expanded form.

84

The expanded form

(b) The main element within a set of related concepts shows the expanded form, whereas the hyponymical concepts show the non-expanded, simple form, as in (36). (36)

Ond mid dy he da daet gebed gefylde, he pa somod aetgaedre ge pone adundnan sae gesmylte ge done storm gestilde, to pon öaette purh all sio roeönis daes stormes waes blinnende 7 gesyndge windas durh done smyltestan sae usic aet londe gebrohte(386, 11) 'And when he had ended the prayer, he then at the same time calmed the swollen sea and stilled the storm, so that altogether the fury of the storm ceased and favouring breezes carried us to the land over the calmest of seas'

(c) The expanded form occurs at the beginning of an episode in such a way that it may appear to be operating over the entire episode, as in book I chapter 27 where Augustine starts interrogating Pope Gregory on doctrinal questions. (37)

swylce eac be monegum socnum 7 frigenessum, pa nedpearflice gesegen waeron, his gepeahte waes biddende. (64, 2) 'He also begged for his advice on many questions and points, which seemed to him necessary.'

(d) The expanded form occurs in the concluding phrase with a retro-active effect on the whole episode, as at the end of the vision of Furseus in book III chapter 19, in which he sees the fires that destroy mankind. (38)

7 pa waes aefter medmiclum faece eft in lichoman geseted; 7 ealle his lifes tiid paet tacen paere baernisse, paet he on his sawle araefhde, gesenelice eallum monnum in his sculdre 7 his ceacan on baer; ond wundorlice gemete, paette seo sawl in deagolnisse prowiende waes, paet se lichoma eawesclice foretacnode. (216, 12) 'Then after a little he was restored to the body; and for all his lifetime the mark of the burning which he suffered in his soul, he bore so that all could see, in his shoulder and on his cheek; and in wondrous fashion, what the soul suffered in secret, that the body showed openly.'

This list of strategies selected by Bede's translator implies that the backgrounding function of the expanded form (in Weinrich's ([1985]) or

The expanded form in early usage: Bede 's Ecclesiastical History

85

Graustein's (ed., 1977) and Downing - Locke's (1992) sense) does not apply here. (For occasional uses of this textual function, however, cf. p. 87) By its descriptive and episodic rather than interpretive and synthetic character, the Ecclesiastical History exhibits properties that qualify it as narrative belonging to the discourse world of telling. This holds true for the holistic as well as for the particularistic viewpoint. And as far as the notion of telling applies to either level, the speaker's attachment can be specified as adaptive. From yet a third point of view, however, the speaker attachments could just as well be interpreted in adoptive terms. This would ultimately be the conclusion if we interpreted the Ecclesiastical History holistically but not (exclusively) historically. Example (21), with its contextual properties of discussing, was not just an odd moment in an otherwise purely historicalnarrative discourse; as the following example shows, the historical account is systematically linked with another "program" for which the notion of discussing is constitutive. Example (39) is particularly interesting. (39)

Dis spel we fordon setton in ure bee, paet we men monede, öaet hio gesege Dryhtnes weorc, hu egesfullic he is on gedeahtingum ofer monna beam, dy laes we aenige tide ussum licumlicum unalefednessum sion peowiende, 7 laes Godes dom forhtige 7 we us ondraede, donne we scylen, 7 his yrre semninga us eac öreage 7 usic odde hwilwendlicum yrmdum rihtlice swence 7 wecce, odde to ecre forwyrde heardwendlice gedeme. (356, 9) 'This story we have inserted in our book, with a view to warn men to regard the work of the Lord, how terrible he is in his councils for the children of men, lest at any time we become slaves to bodily licence, and have less dread of God's judgement and less fear, than we should, and his wrath suddenly overpower us and justly afflict and bring us low with temporal miseries, or severely adjudge us to eternal perdition.'

It explicitly identifies, first of all, a pragmatic objective that goes beyond providing another historical detail about the Christian life in England during the seventh century; this objective consists in a religious-moral instruction of the reader "to warn men to regard ... lest we become ..." Using stories for instructive purposes amounts to discussing them in the light of what they can contribute to problems of current interest. By choosing the expanded form for an essential part of the moral to be learned from the episode, the translator shows his emotional engagement for the instructive meaning dimension of the story told. Without the expanded form, one may wonder

86

The expanded form

whether the instructional purpose comes to the fore merely as an afterthought or by-product; with the expanded form, it acquires such an emphasis that it seems to become a serious alternative. In the following example, no such instructional purpose is spelled out; the proposition describes how people followed the example of other people. (40)

Waes heo onhyrgende pa swaegre Scs Petrus paes apostoles, mid dy heo waes swenced mid haeto 7 mid bryne faeferadle, paet hio to hrinenisse paere Dryhtenlican honda somod onfaeng haelo 7 maegen 7 äras 7 öaem Haelende pegnade. (396, 9) 'She [i.e., the sick wife of a companion, A.H.] imitated the mother-in-law of the apostle St. Peter, when she was afflicted with the heat and burning of fever, who at the same time received healing and strength at the touch of the Lord's hand, and arose and ministered to the Saviour.'

But with the choice of the expanded form, thereby expressing his attachment to a behavior that consists in following the good examples of others, the translator seems to adopt this behavioral pattern for an emphatic recommendation to his audience to take it as a model. Insofar as such instances can be interpreted as setting a signal beyond the point where they occur, it seems possible to re-read the Ecclesiastical History, at least in its Old English version, as a book of Christian teaching dressed up as history. After all, for the ninth century translator/monk, Christianization in the full meaning of the concept was still an objective to strive for, and a palpable guide to Christian moral philosophy was a more than valid contribution to this end. The monk who translated Bede's Ecclesiastical History had, with the expanded form, an instrument at hand that could serve him as historian/story teller and, at the same time, as preacher.62

4.4. Challenge and reconciliation The proposed conceptualization of the expanded form as an attachment device does not exclude the possibility that an aspectual/temporal reading may at times be feasible as well. It merely claims that such a reading cannot be considered the basic function of the expanded form since too many occurrences do not fit. But how are we going to accommodate such instances of the combination be + V-ing that do not fit the attachment hypothesis?

Challenge and reconciliation

(41)

(42)

(43)

(44)

87

pa waes aet middre neahte, pa he waeccende waes,pa ne wiste he hwaet he gefelde cealdes aet his sidan licgan;{ 156, 30) 'Rousing up at midnight he felt, he knew not what, lying cold at his side;' Waes disses ilcan godes monnes gewuna, pa he in Estseaxum biscoppegnunge brucende waes, poet he gelomlice his leode Noröanhymbra maegde sohte... (230,1) 'It was the habit of this good man, when fulfilling the office of bishop among the East Saxons, often to go and visit his own people, the Northumbrian nation...' Waes he Gallia cynnes; ac for leornunge gewreota he waes micelre tide in Ibernia Scotta ealonde wuniende. (168, 29) 'He was of Gallic origin, but had lived long in Ireland to study the holy scriptures.' pa gelomp sume daege, poet he waes in paem foresprecenan wicum mid äne breder wuniende, paes noma waes Owine. (262, 27) 'Then it happened one day, that he [i.e., bishop Chad, A.H.] was staying at the aforesaid dwelling with a single brother named Owini.'

It is conspicuous that expanded forms that enforce an aspectual/temporal interpretation operate in contexts that provide a (time) frame for yet another event or action. As far as (41) and (42) are concerned, this other event can be found within the same sentence; in the case of (43) and (44), however, it must be recovered from the context. Thus it turns out that (43) - besides providing a minimum of information about a person just introduced ("When Caenwalh was restored to his kingdom, there came to Wessex from Ireland, the island of the Scots, a bishop named Aegelberht") - prepares the ground for a longer discourse on the bishop's pugnacious activities, his not undisturbed relationship with the king and his unsteady life; and (44) sets the scene for a discourse about a supernatural sensation of Owini's and his subsequent colloquium with bishop Chad. The examples illustrate what Weinrich ([1985]: 91-95) calls the "narrative background" function of the expanded form; together with the foregrounding function of the simple form, it constitutes the relief of a narrative text (but cf. pp. 84-85). That he does not even admit a temporal/aspectual function for the expanded form seems to be a polemically exaggerated stance which I do not share (just as I do not share his view that this textual function is its only one). I hold the view that classical aspectual and Weinrich's textual meanings are reconcilable if the notion of duration is cut off from its

88

The expanded form

referential linkage to the extra-linguistic world and is instead conceived in quasi psychological terms. The background function of the combination be + V-ing tends to reduce the action to a circumstantial qualifier. As such, it contracts a close semantic affinity to certain nominal expressions, i.e., to agentive nouns and verbal adjectives (participles), when used as predicative complements, and to appositive participles when closely related to verbal adjectives. The semantic affinity has, furthermore, a strong formal correspondence in that the nominal expressions show virtually the same endings. Thus, comparing example (45), with its appositive participle (or agentive noun, cf. Nickel 1966: 294), to example (46), with its expanded form, the functional difference seems, indeed, minimal. (45)

(46)

...aefter pan pe maessepreost saegde, pe his gefera waes fultumiende paes godcundan wordes. (250, 22) '...as is related by the priest, who was his companion and assistant in preaching the Word of God.' Da he pa waes to his ylde hweorfende, pa aefter medmiclum faece paes pe he säe oferfaren haefde, pa waes he gehrinen mid untrymnesse 7 f o r d f e r d e . (314, 33; 32, 1) O n his way back to his people, shortly after crossing the sea, he was attacked with illness and died.'

Either case provides a circumstantial characteristic, the only difference being that in (45), this property is (quasi) permanent while it is transient in (46). In conclusion, it seems justified on distributional grounds to reject the view that the evidence of an aspectual reading of the expanded form is a serious challenge to our attachment hypothesis. The two readings belong to two different systematic contexts. This holds true whether or not there may be good historical reasons for assuming that the form as such, i.e., independently of its functional diversification into aspect and attachment, has developed out of the nominal participles. A forward-oriented diachronic perspective may well support the stance. During the Old English period, the agentive noun formative -end(e) was replaced by the suffix -er. Nickel, relating this development to the ever increasing integration of the verbal construction be + V-ing "into the temporal and aspectual system of OE" (1967: 273), interprets this process, consequently, as a diversification of forms called forth by the diversification of functions. But during the same period, another development, no less relevant for the problem at issue, can be noticed, namely the emergence of the prepositional gerund of the type to be on hunting, whose use constantly

Glancing at Modern English anew

89

increased until full bloom in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries (but cf. also p. 68). From a position that conceptualizes the expanded form in temporal/aspectual terms, the prepositional gerund does not fit into the ecological, developmental pattern of a formal diversification of what is functionally diverse; and Nickel, consequently, does not pay attention to it. And yet, it gives rise to the question why English should have developed the prepositional gerund as a means of expressing aspect if this function was well taken care of by the expanded form. In my own line of argument, the rise of the prepositional gerund does have an ecological justification: it formalizes the difference between the attachment concept on the one hand, and the temporal/aspectual concept on the other.

4.5. Glancing at Modern English anew Jespersen (1931, vol.4: 168) originally held that the expanded form in Modern English had little if anything to do with the corresponding form in Old English; he interpreted the modern form as "aphetic" for to be a V-ing "where a represents the preposition on, and the form in -ing is not the participle but the noun" (1905: 205). Subsequently, he slightly modified "this too sweeping assertion": The modern English expanded tenses are in some vague way a continuation of the old combinations of the auxiliary verb and the participle in -ende-, but after this ending had been changed into -inge and had thus become identical with that of the verbal substantive, an amalgamation took place of this construction and the combination be on + the sb, in which on had become a and was then dropped (by aphesis). (1931: 169) I propose that the "vague way" in which the modern expanded form is a continuation of the old one is a result of its survival as an attachment expressing device. In effect, the situation in Modern English may be adequately summarized by quoting Bergeder (1914), even though he did not really develop the argument accordingly. Two factors then have influenced the formation of the Modern English periphrastic form, the Old English forms and the later forms in a: 1. The periphrastic form as imperfective has developed from a + gerund

90

The expanded form

2. The periphrastic form as intensive goes back to Anglo-Saxon times. (Bergeder 1914: 83-84, translation A H.) The modern expanded form in fact represents two homonymous forms which derived from two different sources with distinct functions, the expression of an emotional shade of meaning and that of an aspectual/temporal one. A one-sided aspectual approach will sooner or later end up in an impasse, as the following few examples taken from modern literature sufficiently evidence. (47)

(48)

(49)

(50)

What I'm wondering is - you see, you 're the only lover I've had what I wonder is, when a man breaks o f f , does he always abuse the woman? 1912 A. Sutro, Five Little Plays (quoted in Jespersen 1931 part 4: 187) Stop, stop. You cannot come here. Unless you are having the leavings of Major Paget? 1966 Thomas Hinde, The Village (quoted in Visser 1973: 1967) He ΊΙ never attempt it, I'm thinking", he said more hopefully. "The man would just be mad". 1955 A. Christie, The ABC Murders (quoted in Hirtle 1967: 75) "And the Americans?" General G. wanted to put a stop to Vozdvishensky's attempt to qualify his praise of British Intelligence. One day that bit about the Public School and University tradition would sound well in court. Next, hoped General G., he will be saying that the Pentagon is stronger than the Kremlin. 1957 I. Fleming, From Russia With Love (quoted in Hirtle 1967:

108) In (47), the optionality of the expanded form results in its alternation with the non-expanded form within one and the same speech situation. Should the alternative be meaningless or at best be interpreted as a "stylistic" feature? In my view, the distribution follows a clear-cut pattern. A woman wants to disclose herself; she starts {what I'm wondering is), breaks off - embarrassed - and starts anew with a biographical detail before she finally succeeds in articulating what she is puzzled about (what I wonder is, when...). In other words, the author lets his personage use the expanded form where he shows her speech behavior to be emotionally disturbed; where he shows her as pulling herself together, he makes her use the simple form instead. The other three examples cannot be accommodated at all by the standard theory. 64 Even if we argued that have in (48) is meant to mean bring, an

Synopsis

91

aspectual meaning would make no sense; the context makes it quite clear that it is not the act of bringing a permit but the permit itself that counts. And in (49), it cannot be assumed that the expanded form expresses something like the gradual production of ideas since think is used parenthetically as a modal expression. At best, (48) and (49) might be considered instances of realistic writing, imitations of how people sometimes speak, and, no doubt, they sometimes commit errors. But what about (50) then, an instance where the author speaks, even if from the personage's point of view? Could it be a slip of the pen, or poetic licence? Neither possibility seems likely with a writer such as Fleming (or Christie and Hinde). The hypothesis of an emotive function of the expanded form, however, can easily accommodate these examples. In (48), the guard's repeated order to stop, sets the emotive tone to which the expanded form can be said to correspond; in (49) and (50), hope is the cue that renders the expanded form sensible. 65 The last three examples demonstrate, finally, that the emotion-hypothesis for the expanded form does not only apply where the aspect-theory leaves space for it, i.e., where it assigns a merely optional status to an expanded form. Indeed, they show that the expanded form, as an attachment indicating device, is freely applicable and is not subjected to the constraints to which its application as an aspect expressing device is subjected. This, in turn, demonstrates the autonomy of the expanded form as an attachment indicating device and proves that the concept of attachment is indeed fundamental for an adequate understanding of the form as such.

4.6. Synopsis Concentrating on those uses of the expanded form that can be considered propositionally equivalent to uses of the simple form, we developed our hypothesis of the expanded form as a device for indicating a positive or negative attachment and showed that it is systematically linked to some feature of remarkableness attributable to the sentence (or some part of it) in which the form occurs. The mode vicu character of the form was explained in terms of its characteristics as an indexical sign. In contrast to the two devices tackled in the preceding chapters, the expanded form turned out to function bi-directionally in that it may express either an adaptive or an adoptive attachment, according to the discourse-type: adaptive use is predominant in a story-telling environment, adoptive use in environments in which something is discussed. The analysis of the expanded forms in Bede's Ecclesiastical History illustrated this point quite impressively. The History

92

The

expandedform

can be read in two ways. If it is considered a narrative, the expanded forms can be interpreted as a signal of the speaker's/translator's adaptive attachment. If we re-read the History as a book of Christian teaching, as a book, that is, written for the purpose of instructing its readers, the attachment expressed by the expanded forms can just as well be interpreted in adoptive terms. The analysis, furthermore, brought up the problem why the translator did not use the form more often, though the context would have allowed for it. The answer was found in a very general factor: the extensive and nonselective use of a marked form (in this particular case the expanded form) would have led to a loss of its special function. In a final step, we showed that the conceptualization of the expanded form as an attachment indicating device does not exclude the possibility that in selected environments the Old English form may nonetheless sometimes allow for an aspectual reading especially if we move the meaning of aspect closer to the narrative notion of relief than to its temporal understanding. Further support for this view was drawn from the emergence of the prepositional gerund as a device expressing aspect in the temporal sense: it would not have been motivated if the expanded form had basically and generally covered this function already. The eventual merger between both forms was taken as the reason why even in Modern English a temporal reading in a given instance is not a serious challenge to the form's interpretation as a genuinely emotive language device.

5. The present perfect

5.1. Plan of discussion Apart from the (relatively few) cases where the present perfect refers to an event or state anterior to another event or state referred to by a present (or future) tense, we do not generally assign a tense (or aspect) function to the present perfect, as is usually done. We claim instead that such an interpretation is not entirely convincing, neither on an abstract, tense- or time-logical level nor on the empirical level. Language data from Late Middle, Early Modern and present-day English will be presented that timerelated theories cannot accommodate. The proposal advanced instead is shown to cope with these data as well as those which time-related theories can also account for with more or less ease. It is proposed that the present perfect fulfills the function of signaling the speaker's emotional attachment to the propositional content. The attachment is further shown to be adoptive; though related to a past event or state of affairs, typically it is linked up to the speaker's current communicative needs and desires. An analysis of a selection from the Late Middle English Cely Letters put the hypothesis to test and at the same time provides further in-depth illustrations of it. Considerations about possible patterns in the functional development of the present perfect conclude the chapter.

5.2. Orientation marks The present perfect form certainly represents one of the most complicated problems in the English language - both within an historical and contemporary perspective. Is it a tense, or is it an aspect, or rather a mixture of both? Does it have one function or two, or even more? As controversial as the discussion has been - and here I cannot even attempt to go into the various positions in any detail (cf., however, McCoard 1978 and Meyer 1992) - most approaches seem to share two interrelated characteristics. Firstly, the form is attributed a meaning that is semantic/propositional in nature. Secondly, this meaning is conceived in temporal terms, mainly in one of the following two ways. There is, first of all, the interpretation as aspect in the strict sense of the term (cf. Quirk et al. 1985, Leech 1987, Hirtle 1967),

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The present perfect

according to which the present perfect is to be seen as specifying an inner time structure for the propositional event in question. This view, however, has given way either to the interpretation of the present perfect as a (relative) tense (cf. Declerck 1991) or to the view that the present perfect combines tense and aspect elements (cf. e.g., Comrie 1976: 52-61, Comrie 1985: 3233, Huddleston 1984: 158-164, Klein 1992), with the tense element defining the event temporally in relation to something outside itself. Comrie (1976), for example, describes the present perfect as an aspect, but he also acknowledges that the present perfect incorporates tense elements when he defines it as a "relation between time-points" (Comrie 1976: 52) and not strictly in terms of the inner time structure of an event. One way in which the perfect differs from the other aspects... is that it expresses a relation between two time-points, on the one hand the time of the state resulting from a prior situation and on the other the time of that prior situation. Thus the present perfect, for instance partakes of both the present and the past. (Comrie 1976: 52) The consequence that a number of scholars (cf. the list in Kortmann 1991: 18) have drawn from this situation is to regard the present perfect as an instance of an independent category of PERFECT or ANTERIOR, distinct from both tense and aspect (cf. Kortmann 1991: 18-30): If the perfect qualifies neither as an aspect nor as a tense, there is just one possibility left, namely that it represents a category of its own. The perfect interacts with tense and aspect, but it is conceptually different from both. (Kortmann 1991: 18) The grammatical category perfect (anterior) is defined as a non-deictic one, "concerned with situation-external time" that "relates some situation to a succeeding reference time which may or may not be identical with coding time". (Kortmann 1991: 20) This approach is also followed in the cross-linguistic studies on the (present) perfect available (cf. Comrie 1976, Bybee - Dahl 1989, Bybee et al. 1994). They demonstrate that the (present) perfect is indeed a crosslinguistically valid category. But none of these studies provides any clues that lie outside an interpretation of their form in temporal terms. Among the approaches outside the mainstream, mention should be given to Labov (1984). Though he interprets the present perfect form as an aspect in a loose, even metaphorical, sense, i.e., as a "way of looking at things," which is "closer to associations than concepts" (Labov 1984: 45), the form, nevertheless, tends to acquire the feature of intensity defined as "the

Orientation marks

95

emotional orientation toward the linguistic proposition" (Labov 1984: 4344). The proposal, however, remains too sketchy to build an argument on. But it comes very close to my own view. Another approach also comes close, viz., the one advanced by Weinrich ([1985]) - at least as far as the present perfect is concerned; his view of tenses in general may well appear somewhat eccentric, though. Having been referred to on various occasions, his main ideas will readily recalled. Weinrich holds that all so-called tenses (including the present perfect) have nothing to do with time as a linguistic concept. He arranges the tenses in two groups: tense group I including the present, the present perfect and the future, and tense group II comprising the past, the past perfect, and the future perfect. He then proceeds to describe the respective functions of the two tense groups in terms of two different modes of speaking, each corresponding to two different modes of listening. The mode of speaking in the first group he terms Besprechen 'discussing' while he calls the second Erzählen 'telling'. In the act of discussing the speaker is tense in the sense of keen - and the hearer likewise - while in the act of telling, the state of mind of both participants is relaxed. In this approach then, the present perfect - but not only the present perfect - gains its function on the pragmaticcommunicative level and not already on the semantic-propositional one. Weinrich's proposal is based on the use of tenses in narratives, to be sure. But it certainly has potentialities for being reinterpreted in more general terms (cf. my use of Besprechen and Erzählen as discussed in 3.3.2.). Though originating from the camp of the "tense advocates", another group interprets the present perfect in such loose terms that - almost against its own basic premises - it ends up bordering on Weinrich's position. I am referring to Bauer (1970), Rainer (1989), and Vermant (1983). They operate with an interpretative variant of the present perfect as "linked up anteriority" in which the present perfect is merely understood as a semi-tense. Vermant seems to be the boldest of them all. By insinuating aspects that concern the following question: what is the communicative relevance of this form in the particular semantic function attributed to it?, he arrives at the point Weinrich starts out from. My own proposal pursues a line of argument running between Weinrich's view and the modified tense positions advocated by Bauer (1970), Rainer (1989), and, above all, Vermant (1983). First of all, I would not deny that the present perfect can have a tensing function proper; it exerts this function where it signals precedence of an event χ to another event y set in the present or even in the future, if embedded in a temporal subclause, as is illustrated by examples (1) and (2).

96 (1)

(2)

The present perfect

Well...he turns to this woman...well he really lets her have it. And Mrs. Taylor, who's had a few herself by then, says... (Vermont 1983: 66) Percy usually listens to the radio after he has eaten supper. But tonight he will go to bed after he has eaten supper. (McCoard 1978: 98)

In German the future use of the present perfect is less restricted than in English, cf. Bis um 12.00 Uhr habe ich den Brief geschrieben but *Till 12 ο 'clock I have written the letter (Kortmann, personal communication). In this use, the present perfect is, in other words, a secondary past-tense form and comparable to the past perfect and the future perfect which, in turn, signal precedence to another event of the past or future. But this is not my actual concern. It rather pertains to a different, much more frequent, use of the present perfect, illustrated by the following examples: (3) (4) (5) (6)

I've called her my auntie since I was a little lad. (Fenn 1987: 22) Some have died or gone abroad. (Bache 1985: 201) Look, Henry. We've talked about this, Kate and I. Over and over. (Vermant 1983: 54) Many people have believed that the world is flat, but they were wrong. (Weinrich [1985]: 70)

Whereas the tense-approach will sooner or later run into difficulties, at the latest in the face of (6) as will be shown in greater detail below (see section 5.3.), all examples are well taken care of by the following hypothesis: the present perfect is the only "tense form" whose primary function is not to tense, i.e., to temporally define an event in relative terms. Instead, its meaning is seen as originating on the pragmatic-communicative level, and its function is to be described as a special mode of speaking that goes hand in hand with an emotionally grounded speaker's attitude. (If not otherwise indicated, I shall henceforth imply this understanding when referring to the present perfect.)

Against tense-based views

97

5.3. Against tense-based views Tense-theories of the present perfect have their stronghold in examples such as (3), where it interacts with other time indicators. Without such indicators, they may not always be that convincing. Reading McCoard's very insightful account of the various sub-theories under discussion, it looks as if each of them has got its set of examples which it cannnot convincingly cope with. Something must be wrong, therefore, with incorporating the present perfect into the tense paradigm. Regarding tenses in general, the majority of linguists hold, as Bauer (1970) aptly states, the opinion that the tenses are indications of the time levels past, present, or future, but that these very time-levels are to be considered relevant only for the time experienced, in other words, that the tenses express experienced time. (Bauer 1970: 7, translation A H.) Others have expressed the same idea, calling the tenses linguistic time expressions and contrasting them with objective, physical time. Crucial for describing and defining tenses in such terms are therefore notions that take subjectivity into account. Lyons (1968), for example, does so in the following way: The essential characteristic of the category of tense is that it relates the time of action, event or state of affairs referred to in the sentence to the time of utterance (the time of utterance being 'now'). (Lyons 1968: 305) Other terms that have been used instead, but mean more or less the same thing, are moment of coding (McCoard 1978), point of speech (Reichenbach 1947), point present (Bull 1968) or Sprechzeitpunkt 'moment of utterance' (Nehls 1978). I prefer the term speaker's absolute now, which aligns nicely with Bühler's Ego - Hie -Nunc Origo of language, because it emphasizes the speaker as the ultimate point of origin for the tenses. But no matter how we label the conceptual entity, it is important to stress the following: The now of the time of utterance or of the speaker is not identical with the now a speaker may utter; rather it has a special status. It is a concept that the linguist employs when describing tenses as relative. This now is not tensed by the speaker but establishes itself in that the speaker speaks. An analogous description could focus on the hearer (cf. Klein 1992: 32), but this is not our point of interest here. 66 Temporal descriptions of the present perfect do not seem to have paid due attention to the difference between the now a speaker may utter and an event

98

The present perfect

tensed as NOW. My claim can be substantiated, with Reichenbach's analysis used as an example. Reichenbach (1947: 288-289) analyzes each tense by means o f a three-place relation consisting of R = point o f reference, Ε = point o f event, and S = point o f speech. The crucial notion of R, however, is defined rather vaguely as the point from which an event is "seen", even though that point may not always be explicitly identified. Using the horizontal line to represent the time axis, the past tenses have the following representation: for the past tense proper (I)

R,E — S,

for the past perfect (in the sense of past/anterior to a past) (II)

Ε — - R — S,

and for the future perfect (III)

S — Ε — R.

For these tenses, as well as for the future tense, which has the representation (IV) S — R,E, it does not make much o f a difference whether we pay attention to the special status of S or not, since the structural description assigns to S a position separate from R and Ε anyway. Turning to the present tense, however, the point at issue comes fully to the fore. In Reichenbach's representation, the present has the following structure (V)

— S,R,E — ,

whereas the structure should look something like (VI)

s — R,E

—

Only a representation like (VI) fully takes account of the premise that the present (like any other tense) originates in the utterance and, more specifically, in an act of tensing on the part of the speaker. The act itself is not tensed; therefore, the point that marks this origin cannot coincide with R and Ε .

Against tense-based views

99

In respect to the present perfect, we find ourselves at a dead end. The structural representation that accommodates the particular relationship between the three constituents (VII)

S Ε— R

certainly represents adequately the present perfect's functions, insofar as this tense form determines an event Ε as precedent to a reference point R that, in turn, has been tensed as present; it accounts, in other words, for the present perfect occurrences in the examples (1) and (2) only. But as to its use in examples like (3) - (6), R, in its familiar reading, turns out to be a misleading. Neither has R been established by the speaker (in the way done in examples (1) and (2)), nor can R reasonably be identified with the moment of utterance/speaker's absolute now. R remains empty - unless we redefine it in non-temporal terms. Even Klein's (1992) modification of Reichenbach's analysis ultimately does not offer a valid remedy. Certainly, replacing Reichenbach's R by the notion of topic time (TT) and viewing the present perfect as combining a tense and an aspect meaning component, Klein's approach has some clear advantages over Reichenbach's analysis. Topic time is - in contrast to Reichenbach's vague notion - "the time span to which the claim made on a given occasion is constrained" (Klein 1992: 535). This time span is related to the "time of utterance" (TU) on the one hand (cf. Klein 1992: 537) and the "time of the actual situation" (TSit) on the other (cf. Klein 1992: 538). The former relation provides a tense distinction that can be specified as "time of utterance included in topic time" (TU in TT), the latter is an aspectual relation putting TT in the past time of TSit (cf. Klein 1992: 537-539). TSit itself remains unspecified as to its distance from TU, its frequency or duration. That is why different readings of the present perfect such as "experiential perfect", "perfect of result", "perfect of persistent action", "perfect of recent past" etc. arise (cf. Klein 1992: 538, Comrie 1976: 52-60); they are, however, solely triggered by contextual information. But even with these improvements being made I still do not see how example (6) could be explained in any satisfactory way.

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5.4. Toward a non-temporal view of the present perfect The preceding discussion has sufficiently substantiated the first part of my hypothesis, namely, that the present perfect does not exercise a tensing function; it merely incorporates a temporal/tense element insofar as it includes an event Ε whose "pastness" is taken for granted and is not tensed as past by the speaker. The presupposed pastness of the event Ε is an important constituent for explaining my understanding of the present perfect's function in positive terms. Since the past-time element links the form with the past tense - with which, in fact, it seems to compete wherever time-adverbial expressions do not interfere - a comparison between the past and the present perfect may be most helpful for gaining a better insight into the function of the present perfect. In the following examples, the present perfect and the past seem to be interchangeable without substantially affecting the propositional content; that is also what the linguists from whom the examples are taken hold. (7)

a. b.

(8)

a. b.

(9)

a. b.

(10) a. b. (11) a. b.

I called up my brother several times, but he was too drunk to talk every one of those times. I've called up my brother several times, but he's been too drunk to talk every one of those times. (McCoard 1978: 82) I made that point in the telegram. I have made that point in the telegram. (Bache 1985: 201) You saw in Chapter XXXI that... We have seen (in Chapter V) that... (Dietrich 1955: 209) Now where did I put my glasses ? Now, where have I put my glasses? (Leech 1987: 43) This house was built by Inigo Jones. This house has been built by Inigo Jones in a very unconventional way - look at the roof. (Markus 1977: 56)

The option that seems to exist between both forms and the fact that the present perfect is the costlier form of both characterize the present perfect as the marked form, to which a marked substance should correspond (cf. Givon 1991: 362). And indeed, though the propositional content is identical, or nearly so, we nevertheless feel that there is some subtle difference between

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the a- and b-versions, which must be traced back to the fact that the aversions define the propositional states of affairs as past while the b-versions merely presuppose their pastness. Bauer's theorem seems to be able to accommodate all these examples easily, defining the basic function of the present perfect as follows: Das Perfekt konstatiert somit primär ein der Gegenwart bzw. der Zeit, in die der Bezugspunkt fällt, angehöriges Faktum..., und nur sekundär ist im Perfekt auch die Vergangenheit oder richtiger "Vorherigkeit" ('anteriority') der Handlung und damit ein zeitliches Moment impliziert. (Bauer 1970: 93) [Thus the present perfect primarily affirms a fact to belong to the present or to the time in which the point of reference is located ..., and only secondarily does the present perfect also imply the past, or more correctly the anteriority, of an event and hence a temporal element, (translation A.H.)] A most remarkable characteristic of Bauer's concept is its abstractness. This is, I think, the reason why it should account much better than any other temporalist theory for all possible examples, including the ones listed above. However, the advantage is counterbalanced, if not outweighed, by a disadvantage: due to its abstractness, the definition does not seem to say very much. And what it does say is so intricate that it hardly seems conceivable that a language should reserve a verb-form in a rather limited set of forms for a function so remote from any cognitively "natural" and "simple" concept. Another possible outlook would be to take the definition as a common denominator for the more specified, more concrete temporal conceptualizations mentioned in 5.2. But an example like (6) would then again become difficult to handle. (6)

Many people have believed that the world is flat, but they were wrong.

What remains, besides discarding it, is to turn the definition in a direction still more removed from notions of time. This is basically what Vermant does, at least in my understanding, when he writes ...if we are dealing with a fact which the speaker holds in mind as vividly as if it had... occurred in the time he can call "present", then the perfect is used, regardless of whether it happened today, yesterday or the day before. (Vermant 1983: 106, my italics, A.H.)

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where he could have written - without being unfaithful to Bauer, whose stance he claims to share - If we are dealing with a fact that the speaker holds in mind as present, then the perfect is used. The notion of time here is employed metaphorically for characterizing a psychological state. This state, however, could just as well be described in terms of another metaphorical concept, that of space, as the following extract shows. ...thinking of an event that occurred at a point of time anterior to the MOS [i.e., the moment of speech, A.H.] as being linked up with that MOS, involves an attribution of some kind of psychological proximity from the part of the speaker toward that event. (Vermant 1983: 90) Vermant stops at this point, even though his view could be further advanced. If we move on the speaker's level, "holding a fact in mind" can hardly be considered an end in itself. Rather, we are encouraged to wonder "what for?". The least conspicuous way is to turn to the utterance and see what the speaker does with such facts, how s/he uses them. Examples (7b) - ( l i b ) serve as illustrations. In (1 lb) the speaker gives an evaluation. (11) b.

This house has been built by Inigo Jones unconventional way - look at the roof

in a very

In (10b) s/he asks her/himself or others - puzzled probably - where s/he could find his/her glasses. (10) b. Now, where have I put my glasses? In (9b) s/he recalls an argument in order to either conclude a chapter or warrant a subsequent line of reasoning. (9)

b.

We've seen (in Chapter V) that...

The remaining two examples are not as easy to contextualize and therefore more difficult to interpret as to what their actual purpose is. (8) (7)

b. I've made that point in the telegram. b. I've called up my brother several times, but he's been too drunk to talk every one of those times.

(8b) could, for example, count as a criticism that the point mentioned in the telegram has not been observed and (7b) as a justification for not knowing what his/her brother is up to. The "facts", we conclude, are propositional

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contents centering around the verbal events; they are not treated in their own right but rather further processed, i.e., adopted and utilized for some other communicative purpose. The (a)-versions, in contrast, do not give any grounds for such interpretations. Here, the pastness of the events is tensed and thereby topicalized as past. And the past tense does not effect more than that. This is not to say, of course, that they are not interpretable in communicativefunctional terms. But the communicative functions they serve for are different from the communicative functions the present perfect is connected to. While the communicative functions that the present perfect exercises are event-processing, the functions related to the past tense must be characterized as event-topicalizing. An option between past and present perfect, it seems, is possible where an utterance is formally underdetermined as to its communicative function. Where a past event does get processed for current communicative purposes, however, there is no alternative to the present perfect. 67 ( l i b ) , with its evaluative judgement, is an example that illustrates this point, and the following examples can further support it. (12) (13) (14)

(15)

I can't come to your party tonight. I've caught (McCoard 1973: 187) I'm afraid I can't help you, aunt Sally. I haven (Vermant 1983: 99) Have not the Germans invented printing; are chemists...? (McCoard 1978: 45) How do you defend a person you think's really (Vermant 1983: 85)

the flu. Ί seen them. they not the best

done it?

In (12), the flu is an excuse for not coming to the party. In (13), the present perfect phrase explains why the speaker, unfortunately, cannot be of any help to his aunt. (14) is a rhetorical question meant to emphatically support the speaker's argument in favor of her/his esteem for the Germans. (15) takes a hypothetical case to highlight ethical problems involved in defense counseling. The various readings that temporalist theories would assign to these examples - if any are possible at all - are of secondary importance and do not depend on the present perfect form as such but on circumstantials, such as the event-structure of the individual verb, and extra-linguistic factors. At this point, I would like to briefly come back to the tense-notion of point of reference (R), left open at the end of section 5.3. It now appears possible to equate R with the actual communicative purpose pursued by the speaker

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The present perfect

for which s/he utilizes the past event. Such a definition does not only leave behind the notion of R in Reichenbach's (1947) tense-based approach, but also goes beyond what has been suggested by Klein (1992) in his (still temporal) definition of topic time as "the time span to which the clause made is constrained" (Klein 1992: 535). But once we become aware that we are no longer dealing with tense and time because actual behavior is not tensed, after all, we could just as well forget about R and the entire concept in which it played a role. In light of the preceding discussion, Vermant's definition of the present perfect should be revised in the following way: If a speaker deals with/processes a fact regardless ofwhether it happened today, yesterday, or the day before, s/he holds it in mind and signals this by using the perfect. From this broad definition, a number of characteristics, essential for my approach throughout, can be isolated: (1) The perfect has an indexical function; it has to be recovered by an interpretative process. (2) What the speaker signals with the present perfect is her/his interest in the propositional event/state of affairs; that is why s/he holds it in mind. (3) Her/his interest is delimited by her/his current communicative needs; this needs-aspect is a particularly characteristic feature insofar as it distinguishes this type of interest from other types that have their foundation not outside, but inside the propositional content. For marking this difference, I have introduced the terms adoptive and adaptive (see chapter 3.3.2.). Adoptive attachment, which is signaled by the present perfect and other devices, can be defined as an appropriation of a past event for current communicative purposes. If we now manage to settle two further questions, we can fully maintain the hypothesis of the present perfect as a grammatical device for expressing a speaker's adoptive attachment. We have not yet specified the interest as emotional, and we have not applied a concept used in other chapters, i.e., remarkableness, as a necessary characteristic of the proposition the speaker becomes attached to. Insofar as remarkableness is concerned, there is an easy answer available. For the present perfect, this feature is implied by the very fact that the speaker processes the propositional event/state for current communicative needs. Hence it is superfluous to establish the remarkableness of the proposition on independent grounds. As to the emotional grounding of the speaker's interest, a similar reasoning seems to apply. In other words, the speaker is as much attached to the past event as s/he is attached to her/his current need to act. Her/his attachment can certainly be molded differently, depending on the type of discourse (e.g., a scientific discourse vs. a discourse on personal matters), but a minimum is guaranteed in any case by the mere fact that the speaker discusses things, things, we add, that go beyond the event/state of affairs described by the

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perfect phrase. The corresponding speaker's attitude was aptly characterized by Weinrich ([1985]) as tense, in the sense of keen. What I have tried to establish descriptively as the basic function of the present perfect is indeed very similar to what Weinrich seems to have understood as the form's function. My understanding, however, differs from his in at least three respects. Firstly, I apply the concept of discussing to the present perfect in a stricter way. My understanding does not allow the function of the present perfect to be characterized as Vergangenes besprechen 'discussing past matters' unless it is simply a loose formulation meaning that the past event is functionalized for other communicative ends. Secondly, the category of discussing, in my view, has a defining value for the present perfect only. For the present and the future tenses, it is merely an additional (and optional) meaning component, their main function being, as traditionally assumed, to tense an event/propositional state of affairs as present and future respectively. Thirdly, as a defining category for the present perfect, the concept of discussing has no strictly complementary relationship to other behavioral categories, including Weinrich's category of Erzählen 'telling'. 68 In other words, it is not possible in my understanding to conclude that the past in (7a), for example, expresses a speaker's attitude of telling, just because the present perfect in (7b) expresses the attitude of discussing. It is simply not the case that the past is only a tense of telling, as the following fragment from Pinter's Collection evidences. For the first time, James meets Bill, the man with whom James' wife Stella may have committed adultery. James wants to find out from Bill whether it really happened and if so, whether it happened the way Stella has described the incident off stage. This is really a communicative situation in which things, or more precisely the factiveness of things, get discussed. And still, we find the past tense all over. (16)

James: Bill: James: Bill: James: Bill: James:

Did you have a good time in Leeds last week? What? Did you have a good time in Leeds last week? Leeds? Did you enjoy yourself? What makes you think I was in Leeds? Tell me all about it. See much of the town? Get out to the country at all? Bill: What are you talking about? PAUSE.

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The present perfect

James: (with fatigue) Aaah. You were down there for the dress collection. You took some of your models. Bill: Did Ρ James: You stayed at the Westbury Hotel. Bill: Oh? James: Room 142. Bill: 142? Oh. Was it comfortable? James: Comfortable enough. Bill: Oh, good. James: Well, you had your yellow pyjamas with you. Bill: Did I really? What, the ones with the black initials? James: Yes, you had them on in 165. Bill: In what? James: 165. Bill: 165? I thought I was in 142. James: You booked into 142. But you didn 't stay there. Bill: Well, that's a bit silly, isn 't it? Booking a room and not staying in it? James: 165 is just along the passage to 142; you 're not far away. Bill: Oh well, that's a relief. James: You could easily nip back to shave. Bill: From 165? James: Yes. Bill: What was I doing there ? James: (casually) My wife was in there. That's where you slept with her. Pinter, The Collection and The Lover, London: Methuen, 1964: 18-19. The past tense can well be used for discussing things, but the things are past matters, matters tensed as past. In being tensed and thereby topicalized as past, however, these matters are not and cannot be used for farther reaching communicative purposes, which is exclusively the function of the present perfect. Thus it turns out that the idea pointing the way to my own course of argument, i.e., Weinrich's distinction between the discourse world of telling and the discourse world of discussing (in their generalized reading), is not entirely convincing in that it is rooted in the tense system as a whole though it convinces as far as the English present perfect is concerned; the grammatical phenomena that I have been examining and will still be examining in the following two chapters seem to account for the distinction far better.

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Relating the use of the present perfect to the discourse world of discussing finds support in Slobin (1994). In a developmental perspective, he links the acquisition of the present perfect by English-speaking children to their acquiring the capacity of "negotiating" and "drawing the hearer's attention to a result". The present perfect is first used, by both child and mother,... in contexts where the completion of one action provides the grounds for a subsequent action. (Slobin 1994: 122, my italics, A.H.) Slobin further differentiates between two major types. One is negotiation. The present perfect is used ... by children to negotiate sequences of activities. Note the following example, in which a child aged 1;2 projects a perfect of result into a future sequence: Mother: Pick the bricks up, and then you go to bed. No more pies this morning. Jonathan: Only one? Mother: No Jonathan: When I've picked the bricks up? (Slobin 1994: 123) The second main type consists in "drawing the hearer's attention to a result" (Slobin 1994: 123); in doing so, the past event referred to by the verb form is adopted and processed for current communicative purposes - to use a formulation of my own for characterizing the notion of Besprechen. That this is no overinterpretation becomes evident from the following quotation: Abigail, at age 1 ;5 goes into the garden with no shoes on and steps in a puddle, much to Mother's dismay: Mother: Goodness sake, you've come out in your tights. After I've just dressed you - taken ages to get you ready. The present perfect apparently is intended to invite the inference that the immediately preceding events have a current consequence - namely Mother's emotional/evaluative response to Abigail's actions. That is, the relevant consequence is Mother's attention to the situation. (Slobin 1994: 123-124) What Slobin's investigations on child language seem to support is the view that the most basic function of the present perfect has to be defined in pragmatic-communicative terms, which are well beyond the ordinary tense/aspect function of locating an event in time.

1 08

The present perfect

5.5. Time frames Insofar as the so-called tenses do have a tensing function, they obviously interact closely with adverbial expressions of time, whose function consists in specifying the time tensed by the tenses. Accordingly, in (17) the adverb yesterday specifies the past tense of the verb visit. (17)

Alex visited his uncle yesterday.

The collocation of verb tenses with adverbial expressions of time goes by logical rules. They not only account for the acceptability of (17), but also for the inacceptability of (17a). (17) a.

* Alex visited his uncle tomorrow.

This interaction between tenses and adverbial expressions of time has induced many researchers (among others Comrie 1976: 54-55, Huddleston 1984: 159, Klein 1992: 545) to draw the following or a similar methodical conclusion as to the critical present perfect/past opposition: ...generally speaking, we find that some adverbs habitually accompany the preterit [i.e., the past, A.H.], while others regularly consort with the perfect; and yet others, perhaps the majority, appear freely with either perfect or preterit. Those adverbs that are partial to one or the other verb form seem to share a property of either including, or else excluding, the moment of coding. It is thus possible to identify a class meaning for these adverbs, and this helps in establishing the semantic nature of the corresponding tenses. (McCoard 1978: 130) Plausible as this conclusion may appear, there is a principal argument against it: the method preconditions an interpretation of the present perfect in temporal terms. To avoid this pitfall myself in the search for the fiinction of the present perfect, I initially focused on examples that had no adverbial expression of time. Nevertheless, the approach can also accommodate adverbial expressions of time. A prominent feature of the functional description of the present perfect was that the event that the speaker processes for current communicative purposes is situated in the past without being tensed as past. If we reformulate this description in a conditional form, saying that a past event/propositional state of affairs can be further processed if it is not defined as past, a restriction on the use of adverbial expressions of time in the environment of a present perfect comes to the fore.69 Adverbial expressions that describe the event as

Time frames

109

decidedly past, i.e., adverbs like long ago, formerly, last night, after (the war), are not congruous with the pragmatic function of the present perfect. (18)

It has been you who has phoned my wife this morning/yesterday. (Fenn 1987: 173)

These adverbs have to be distinguished from other adverbs, such as recently, just, lately, whose pastness is obviously weaker than the pastness of the afore-mentioned ones. They allow, but do not force, the speaker to process the event which is thus characterized as weakly past for further reaching communicative purposes. (18) a. It has been you who has phoned my wife recently. For practical reasons, I shall refer to adverbs of the first group as strong-past adverbs and to those of the second group as weak-past adverbs10 There is still another group of time adverbs that are often found with present perfects. While tense advocates consider them an ideal match, I do not fmd them easy to tackle. The reference is to adverbs denoting a timespan that runs from the past to the present; that is, to adverbs such as since (the war), not yet, so far etc., in examples like (19) a.

From last Friday up till now, I have had nothing but problems. (McCoard 1978: 79) b. Since last Friday, I have had nothing but problems.

With these adverbs - which I shall henceforth refer to as now-oriented adverbs - a temporal interpretation of the present perfect seems almost inevitable. They seem to ask for it, due to their peculiar semantic make-up. Though it is true that there are other time adverbials that also embrace two time concepts (for example present and future in adverbials like from now on, henceforth), the adverbials at issue are unique in that they conceptualize the time span in terms contrary to the natural, speaker-centered perspective into which linguistic time is normally cast. The future, for example, is conceived of in prospective terms in that it is directed forward, away from the speaker, and even the corresponding time-span adverbials adapt to this concept. The past is conceived in retrospective terms in that it is directed backwards, away from the speaker, and all other past-time indicating adverbials follow this pattern. The adverbs under scrutiny, however, show an orientation not away from the speaker, but toward her/him. It is, I think, due to this markedness that a present perfect in their environment appears to be tensing. But not even in such a now-oriented

110

The present perfect

environment is tensing its real function. Rather, the present perfect is here merely an approximative solution where no appropriate tense form is available. It recommends itself as a substitute more than, say, a present or a past because it has a structure that, though defined in non-temporal terms, nevertheless shows a certain similarity to what is required in temporal terms by these now-oriented adverbs. In short, the tense reading of a present perfect in a now-oriented environment, as in examples (19a) and (19b), is the result of a metaphoric transfer from its original pragmatic function (i.e., adopting a past event for current communicative needs), triggered by the temporal bias that the semantic markedness of the adverb introduces. It is worth noting, because it supports the interpretation advanced, that the pragmatic function of the present perfect remains effective even in those cases where the time adverb, though now-oriented, cannot be interpreted as really linking the event to the moment of utterance or, better, to the present coinciding with the moment of utterance. Comparing (19a) and (19b) with (20a) and contrasting (20a) with (20b), we see that these adverbs are , in fact, ambiguous as to their reference to the present. (19) a.

From last Friday up till now, I have had nothing but problems. (McCoard 1978: 79) b. Since last Friday, I have had nothing but problems. (20) a. Since last Friday, I have translated the first chapter (of a book), b. Since last Friday, I have been translating the first chapter (of a book). They represent a strong-present reference when they link the event time with the moment of utterance as in (20b); they represent a weak-present reference when they exclude it from the event time as in (20a). In the latter reading, which is also the more common one, there is an analogy to what was found to be the case with the pastness of adverbs like recently, just, and lately, the common denominator being that neither group of adverbs fixes the event at stake in a strong way. Accordingly, (20a) and the corresponding reading of (19a) and (19b) should be accessible to my perfect hypothesis; and indeed, I cannot think of a natural context for these examples that would not "discuss" an aspect beyond what the proposition contains. There is another, quite interesting aspect to this somewhat ambiguous role that the present perfect exerts in now-oriented environments. An example like (21) Since last Friday, I translated the first chapter (of a book). is considered deviant; that is, deviant on time-logical grounds. Given that the

Timeframes

111

present perfect is available, a past seems inappropriate, due to the noworientation of the adverb. But the logic has a weak point. Since the example shows that the time adverb must refer to a time-span excluding the moment of utterance (otherwise it would have been necessary to choose the expanded form), I cannot see a logical reason for not permitting the past tense. The only reason I can conceive of is that the (temporal-substitutive) use of the present perfect in now-oriented environments is highly idiomatized. My own approach, on the other hand, offers no grounds for dismissing examples like (21) as outright deviant. The fact that the event referred to does not pertain to the moment of utterance (strong present) renders it hardly possible to outrule the past. After all, why should the speaker not have the possibility of topicalizing a quasi-past event instead of making use of it for farther reaching communicative purposes? The only argument that can be held against it is that there is nonetheless a certain incoherence, a conflict between the viewpoints conveyed by the two time expressions. While the adverb shows a direction toward the speaker's absolute now, the past tense shows a direction away from it. The question of acceptability is no longer a matter of principle, but rather a matter of tolerance.Tolerance - this may be the appropriate key for tackling examples like the following: (22) I didn't pay for this book yet. (23) Did you have lunch yet/already? (24) I live in New York, but I never saw St. Patricks Day Parade. These are genuine American data taken from Vanneck (1958), who labels them as "colloquial preterit". Tense advocates have understood examples of this sort to be indicative of a partial neutralization of the past - present perfect opposition, but have had difficulties coming up with a plausible explanation for it (cf. McCoard 1978: 242-245). For my own approach, these examples do not represent a major difficulty. On the contrary, they even strengthen my claim that the temporal reading of the present perfect in noworiented environments is idiomatized, but not to such a degree that the basic pragmatic function of the present perfect were entirely suppressed. In my view, the choice of the past tense in now-oriented environments, unusual as it may be, is a valid decision against launching into a discussion, certainly suggested but not required by the now-orientedness of the adverb. It must primarily be understood as a decision against discussing and only secondarily as a decision for telling what was. This imbalance between the decision and the implied opposite is due to the different standing of both verb forms. In my view, it is only the present perfect that is assumed to have a pragmatic function, the past's function remains what it has always been considered to be, viz., to tense. What the speaker decides then in the first

112

The present perfect

stance is whether or not s/he wants to utilize the (past) event at issue for a discussion. If s/he decides against its utilization, s/he may at times do so at the cost of some linguistic inappropriateness resulting from the presence of a now-oriented adverb. If this outlook has any value, we could just as well expect a speaker to disregard a conflict arising from a present perfect in collocation with a strong-past adverb (or an "adverbial of precise temporal reference", to apply Meyer's classification) if s/he definitely wants to use the event for current communicative purposes. And indeed, we do find examples of this sort from native English speakers. (25) (26) (27) (28) (29)

I have forgiven her long ago. (Koziol 1958: 504) Twice already he has visited Japan, in 1898 and 1900. (McCoard 1978: 128) We have already discussed this affair at some length last night. (Erades 1956: 44) I have done many silly things in the past. (Dietrich 1955: 200) We have received information on F.S. from you on the 22nd of September last. (Maurice 1935:318)

For any temporal approach, such examples are a serious challenge on principal grounds; 71 the combination of a verbal expression of time and an adverb of time is a combination of two elements of the same meaning class and therefore subjected to the most basic logical rules. 72 As to (25), McCoard, for instance, still strives for a solution (even if at the price of circularity - compare the following quote with the previous one on p. 108). ...this may simply reflect a categorization of long ago which differs among native speakers of English. The possibility of such variability still requires something like our feature specification to describe: long ago = +THEN / ± THEN. (McCoard 1978: 134) But example (29) forces him into a rather gloomy statement 73 If...these cases are, in some sense, "regular exceptions", then we have something to worry about. (McCoard 1978: 128)

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My own approach faces no serious problems with such examples because the combination of the present perfect with an adverbial expression of a strong or precise past is, first and foremost, a combination of two different meaning parameters (i.e., pragmatic meaning of discussing on the one hand and propositional meaning of time on the other). In an appropriate context, (25) could be considered a request to stop talking about a past offense and (29) a comforting confirmation of receipt to a worried sender. The conflict that nevertheless arises, when one and the same event is characterized as strongly past and instrumentalized for current communicative purposes, is, again, a matter of tolerance. These are the types of sentences, however, that may eventually lead to recognizing emotional meaning "as an integral part of the central grammatical system" (Labov 1984: 47). As long as we can locate a plausible interpretation of aspect particles in cognitive [intellectual, A.H.] terms ... it is not a vital matter to recognize emotional meanings ... It is quite otherwise when no cognitive or referential meaning appears ... or when the context is inconsistent with the cognitive meanings usually recognized. (Labov 1984: 47) Infringements of the two types analyzed above may still find, on the whole, little acceptance. They are, "in some sense, 'regular exceptions'," though. And as such, they may foreshadow a development toward a greater freedom of choice, similar to what seems to have been the case during the Middle English and Early Modern English period.

5.6. The use of the present perfect in the history of English It is not until the Old English combination habban + second participle acquired the modern word order (I have my work done - I have done my work)14 that we can justly speak of a compound verb form in the sense of the modern present perfect. It happens for the first time in Early Middle English that the constructions with habban are purposefully used besides present and past: we habbad oft gesaed and git secgad; a sense develops for a new time-level on equal footing with present and past and, according to Hoffmann [1934, A.H.], one is now allowed to speak of a tense "present perfect". (Rainer 1989: 2, translation A.H.)75

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The present perfect

But it is this origin that supports the cognitive understanding of the present perfect, which, in turn, warrants my view that the use of a present perfect amounts to an "appropriation" of a past event for current communicative purposes. Langacker (1990 and 1991) - though ultimately assigning a tense/aspect function to the verb form (cf. 1991: 211) - delineates a cline of possessivity attached to the verb have that ranges from describing a relationship of direct physical control (e.g., I have a shovel) via a metaphorical reading in terms of social control (e.g., I have certain privileges) to uses (e.g., We have a lot of coyotes around here) in which "the possessor does not appear to manifest any kind of potency vis-ä-vis the entity possessed" (1990: 338). Such considerations have led me to hypothesize that the linguistic category of possession has an abstract basis (i.e., a schematic characterization applicable to all class members) with respect to which ownership, part/whole, and kinship relations constitute special, prototypical cases. What all possessives share, I believe, is that one entity (the "possessor") is used as a reference point (R) for purposes of establishing mental contact with another, the target (T). (Langacker 1990: 338) A similar change from an objective relationship to a reference-point relationship "based on the subjective phenomenon of the conceptualizer establishing mental contact with the target" (1990: 339) applies, according to Langacker, to the verb have as present perfect auxiliary. The only difference is that (a) the target is not a thing but a process/event and (b) the event is "no longer taken as being relevant to the SUBJECT in particular, but rather to SOME OTHER LOCUS (R), which often coincides with G" (1990: 340); this is the "ground" in Langacker's terminology, in this case, the speaker her/himself.7 In Middle English more so than in contemporary English, we find examples of the past tense in collocation with an adverbial expression of time which, according to temporalist theories, would call for a present perfect. (30) (31)

(32)

Isaugh hym heere nat wirche [work] Syn Saterday (McCoard 1978: 233) here is wayth [game] fayrest pat I sez [saw] pis seven zere in sesoun of wynter (Mustanoja 1960: 498) ...as we suppose ye have wel had in knowlage by such passagis as have comme fro your towne of Bayon, for as from hens sithen

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the departing of th 'archbisshop ofBurdeux went never passage; nor unto this tyme was no maner of navir for to passe inne. (Rainer 1989: 107) Conversely, we find present perfects (including the old variant be + second participle for intransitive verbs), where temporalist theories would predict a past. (33)

(34)

(35)

I am youre doghter Custance... That whilom ye han sent unto Surrye (Bauer 1970: 115) This world is nat so strong, it is no nay, As it hath been in olde tymes yoore (Bauer 1970: 116) ...hegonn this morning tyde before iij a cloke; (Rainer 1989: 72)

If temporalist/propositional theories of the present perfect do not discard outright the Middle English usage as systematically inconsistent (cf. Visser 1973: 2192), then they usually consider such examples as merely marginal. Or else, if they do not interpret them as relics of an earlier stage of development, they take them as symptoms of teething troubles in the development of this subsystem toward modern usage. In either case, these theories are conceived in terms which do not take into account similarly deviating, though maybe less frequent (cf. Elsness 1989. 101), cases in present-day English. Whether or not those present-day "exceptions" are regular in the sense of frequency is hard to tell. As far as Late Middle English and Early Modern English is concerned, we are in a better position, thanks to Rainer's thorough research based on a some 100,000 word corpus of letters written between 1386 and 1700. Though she uses her frequency analyses of the data to prove a high degree of conformity with the present-day standard of usage, which she explains in terms of Bauer's 'linked-up anteriority' theorem, some of her observations may well be suitable for supporting my own stance. Particularly interesting are Rainer's frequencies with regard to the collocation of a present perfect with strong past adverbs. Her corpus provides three instances (out of 450 occurrences) of the present perfect for the period before 1550 and seven (out of 575 occurrences) for the period after; the year 1550 is a dividing line that she has chosen on statistical grounds enhanced by a number of cultural-historical considerations (cf. Rainer 1989: 47-55). If we take into account other temporal expressions denoting remoteness in time, such as temporal clauses and contextual

116

The present

perfect

elements (e.g., the person referred to is dead), we arrive at four temporally somewhat incongruous examples of the present perfect for the period before 1550, equaling a relative frequency of 0.9 with respect to the total number of present perfect occurrences. For the period after 1550, fifteen deviant examples of the present perfect can be found, equaling a relative frequency of 2.6. This means that the amount of "deviant" examples has almost tripled. These results gain further significance if we relate them to the number of instances in which the present perfect occurs in temporal environments that do fit the temporalist theory. Rainer's corpus provides 76 instances for the period before 1550 and 92 for the period after. In other words, of all cases in which the present perfect co-occurs with some additional time indication, 5% for the period before 1550 and 16% for the period after do not concord with the temporalists' present perfect theory. Moreover, this picture may well be seen as not yet adequately reflecting the real state of affairs if we take into account that Rainer is considering only those adverbial expressions that denote a definite point or period in the past; whereas cases in which the present perfect is collocated with adverbs such as afortym, ay befor, afor thy time, formerly, in yers befor, in tym begane, and in tymys past are not included in her sample of deviant cases (cf. Rainer 1989: 72). As to the complementary cases of non-conformity, i.e., cases where a past tense occurs in a now-oriented environment, Rainer's research less readily provides the information we are looking for. Apart from never, which regularly seems to take the past (Rainer 1989: 108-109; cf. also Bauer 1970 and Markus 1971) and which may therefore be considered a special case,77 we learn, however, that there are certain adverbs that occasionally collocate with the past and also the present instead of the present perfect. Most conspicuous are the adverbs hitherto (and its variants hitherward, (as) yet, up till now) and {ever) since (and its variants since Sunday etc.), as shown by table 5.1. Table 5.1. Some adverbs of time and their distribution

Adverb

before 1550 PRETERIT

PERFECT

after 1550 PRETERIT

PERFECT

hitherto/hitherward/ (as) yet/up till now

1

8

1

11

(ever) since/ since Sunday, etc.

1

6

3

19

(Rainer 1989: 101, adapted version)

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Even if the first group of adverbs co-occurs only twice with the past tense (once before and once after 1550) and the second adverbial group only four times (with a remarkable increase during the time after 1550), the figures gain, nevertheless, a certain significance if compared to the number of cases where the adverbs in question do go with the present perfect: Hitherto etc. + present perfect occur eight times before and eleven times after 1550 and since + present perfect six and nineteen times, respectively. The cases not covered by temporalist theories amount to not insignificant percentages if the absolute occurrences are put in relation to each other: two cases with past tense to 19 with present perfect for the hitherto-group and four cases with the past tense to 25 cases with present perfect to the (ever)since-group. In other words, the deviant examples make up nine respectively fifteenth percent of all occurrences. The temporalist stance is further weakened when we link these findings with another observation elsewhere reported by Rainer (1989: 117). The corpus provides instances where now-oriented adverbials co-occur with the present tense; hitherto or one of its variants, for example, combines with the present tense four times before and three times after 1550, Rainer's first and last example being (36)

(37)

...so the Popes holiness[e] will have lesse leasure to ministre such wicked and detestable cownceills to the chris[tian]princes as hetherto he dothe (1573, Rainer 1989: 117) ... but I hear nothing as yet of their arrival (1688, Rainer 1989: 117)

If we add these instances to the ones where hitherto goes with the past tense, it turns out that tense theories of the present perfect reflect the actual usage in only three quarters of the cases. My own outlook, on the other hand, gathers momentum from these findings. Insofar as the present perfect in now-oriented environments appears to have been previously competing with both the past and the present, its interpretation as an idiomatized tensesubstitute obtains historical support.78 In short, to me the data suggest that the two types of deviance, i.e., the present perfect occurrence in a past environment and the past/present occurrence in now-oriented environments, are by no means accidental. But Rainer nonetheless tries to bring her theoretical assumptions home. She plays down the problem verbally, as in the following quotation: Ob das allerdings zur Aussage berechtigt, daß das Perfekt z.B wegen der häufigeren Kollokation mit einer deutlich einen vergangenen Zeitpunkt

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The present

perfect

indizierenden Temporalbestimmung zu einer "freieren" Anwendung im Laufe des untersuchten Zeitraums gelangt sei, ist zweifelhaft. (Rainer 1989: 87) [It is, however, questionable whether this justifies the claim that, for example, due to the more frequent collocation with a temporal characterization definitely referring to a past point in time, the present perfect develops toward a "greater freedom" of application over the period under investigation, (translation A.H.)] And she pursues her objective in statistical terms: Instead of correlating the cases that deviate from her theoretical position with those conforming to it, as I have done (i.e., past environment + present perfect« past environment + past tense and now-oriented environment + past «· now-oriented environment + present perfect), she correlates them with the entire set of present perfect occurrences. Since her figures show that the set in its entirety mainly consists of examples that do not fall in either one of the two critical time-frames, the deviant cases, consequently, appear statistically minimized. I find this reasoning dubious, mainly because she argues her case with the 69% of all present perfect occurrences before 1550 and the 76 % after 1550 where the present perfect seems freely interchangeable with the past (Rainer 1989: 87), which she elsewhere (Rainer 1989: 155-157) considers "unmarked" and "functionally irrelevant". While Rainer minimizes the importance of such problematic cases for the period examined in order to draw the conclusion in favor of a continuity hypothesis, I explicitly include them and draw the same conclusion, but on different theoretical grounds, grounds which Modern English data have suggested as a theoretical alternative. I would like, finally, to put my present perfect hypothesis to the test using Late Middle English data in their natural environment, the text.

5.6.1. Case study: Some Cely Letters19 The Cely Letters are a collection of 247 letters written between 1472 and 1488 by members and affiliates of the Cely family, a London based merchant family dealing in wool. The letters count as a unique early record of the commercial English that had been developing over some four centuries of English involvement in international trade, and as a general unselfconscious reproduction of the speech and writing habits of middleclass Londoners. (Hanham 1975: VIII)

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From this collection, I have selected those letters which Rainer includes in her text corpus, i.e., letters no. 11-13, 20, 23, 24, 26, 27, 38 written by Richard Cely the Elder, no. 78, 81, 83, 84, 86, 91, 95 written by Richard Cely the Younger, and no. 182, 234-237 written by William Cely. To begin with, I would like to look at one letter as a whole. (38)

5

10

15

20

25

30

91. Richard Cely the younger at London to George Cely at Calais or the mart, 2 June 1480 S.C.I. 53/46 Jhesu Mhiif iiif* Ryught interly whelbelouyd and my syngeler good brother, I recomende me wnto you in as louyng whys as hartte con thynke. Plese hyt yow to wndyrstonde at the makyfng] of thys howr father and mother, my godfather Maryon and whe aull wher at London in good heyll, thankyd be the good Loorde. Syr, I haue bene in Cottyssowlde and bohut for hus xxvc pellys, pryse le C of xrf: iij li., and of a M1: heuery C iij li.iij s.iiij d.,and I haue payd and a mwste pay vythin thys ν days in parte of ρ (a )yment of thes fellys and for caryayge, xl li. and aboue, and I mwste pay to Wylliam Mydwynter at Bartyllmewys tyd xx li., and at Hallontyd xx li. for the forsayd fellys. Syr, I pray yow haue theys days in rememerans, my powr honeste lyes ther apon. And at my commyngys howte of Cottyssowlde apone a schorte pwrpos howr father has schypyd xvij sarpellerys ofhys wooll that whos packyd at Norlache syn Ester, and ther ysvj of them myddyll, and that ys aull the myddyll woll of that soorte. I know hyt whell, ther come not better myddyll woll of howr fathers thys vij eyr; and at the next schyppyng howr father wyll schype the remenand of good whooll of thys sorte, and hawlle hys fellys, and so wyll I howrys. And I haue ressauyd ij lettyrs frome you, whon of howr brother Robarde, and therin whos of hys own hande contanyng iiij li.starlyng payabull the iij day of (June). I pray God send ws good payment, and another Edwhard Lenawllys, the qweche I do whell wndyrston(d). I pwrpos be the gras of God to be at Lontelays whoddyng on Sonday next, and my godfather to. Syr, heyr ys yowr blake hors and youer gray at London: thay ar in good plyte. Ther ys no mane byd no mony for them, and thay stond you to grete coste dayly. As for horsse and hawkys, I pwrpos neuer to haue paste whon at onys. Syr, I wndyrstond be yowr wrytyng that e haue leuyd Thomas Grayngar to be your atornay at Calles whyll e go to the marte. I do send hym a letter, and therin the schyps namys and the whette of howr fathers, and

120

35

The present

perfect

nwmbyr that he schawlle ressaue hyt by, be the grasse ofJhesu, haue you in hys blessyd kepyng. Wrytyn at London the sekund day of June. Be your brother, Rychard Cely. Dorse: Wnto my ryught whelbelouyd brother George Cely merchand of the Estapell at Calleys or at the marte be thys delyuerydd.

Being a letter addressed - as usual - to a family member (in this case to the writer's brother), it shows a not untypical mixture of business and private affairs. The letter contains seven present perfect occurrences; they are all connected to business affairs. The first business topic attracts four present perfects in a row (lines 5-18). The reader learns about Richard's purchase of sheep fleece in the Cotswolds, the quantity, and the price. Had Richard, the writer, not been a businessman in the field or had George, the addressee, not been his business partner, he might have used the non-committal past tense. But as things are, die past transaction acquires for Richard the value of being of current interest, and he chooses to show his emotional attachment as a businessman to this past affair by using the present perfect. The object of discussion is the obligation to pay the still outstanding balance in due time, and this obviously falls upon brother George. ("Syr, I pray yow haue theys days in rememerans, my powr honeste lyes ther apon", lines 10-11). 80 We notice the (slight) tension that derives from subsequently marking this affair as past, which is what the initial phrase of the next clause, in effect, does: "And at my commyngys howte of Cottyssowlde" (lines 11-12). The present perfect that follows the adverbial phrase just cited (line 12) represents another instance of a conflicting interaction between a strong past adverbial and a proper present perfect. It is motivated by the writer's intention to discuss current affairs (after all, George will have to take care of the wool) without wanting to omit the circumstances of their origin. (In passing, I would like to draw attention to the writer's choice of the present tense in coordination with a now-oriented adverb, when discussing the quality of the wool sent and to be sent by his father (lines 15-16).) With the next present perfect (line 18), George makes reference to four letters sent to him, two by George, the addressee of his own letter; one by Robert, their brother; and one by a certain Edwhard Lenawllys. A past tense would have turned this passage into a factual account. The present perfect, however, signals current significance. This has certainly nothing to do with the fact that George still has the letters. Rather, it has something to do with their content. And here again, the present perfect does not signal that their

The use of the present perfect in the history of English

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content is still true, but rather that Richard takes a personal interest in at least some aspects of what they contain, namely those which he consequently discusses. Most prominent in this respect is obviously Robert's letter. It had an obligation enclosed, a fact which may provide reason enough for a businessman to get attached to it. But what seems to be still more salient for Richard is that he has his doubts about the quality of the obligation: "I pray God send ws good payment" (lines 20-21). But even Edwhard Lenawllys' letter may appear to be discussed and thus considered to be of interest to Richard, if we take the relative clause "the qweche I do whell wndyrston" (lines 21-22) as an abbreviated form of it. We learn from a note by the editor that George had left £6 at Calais with "Edewharde Lenallys" in December 1478. If this has something to do with the letter in question, it may explain why Richard is not more explicit about it: George may already be familiar with what the letter says, and therefore all that remains for discussion is to assure mutual comprehension or mutual agreement. With the last present perfect (line 27), Richard, finally, picks up a piece of information found in one of George's letters, maybe in one of the two referred to earlier in the letter under inspection, namely the information that George has appointed Thomas Grayngar his legal representative for the time of his absence. Richard's attaching a particular importance to this fact, by using the present perfect, is due to the necessity that he has to act accordingly: it is now Graynger to whom he has to send the names of the ships with their wool on board, the weights, and the numbers of the bales; "I do send hym a letter, and therin the schypys namys..." (line 28), he assures his brother. Turning to the other Cely Letters, we find more or less the same picture. Over and over the present perfect is used where past business transactions acquire a certain value for the writer's and the receiver's business interests, e.g., buying and shipping wool as in (39) and (40), selling as in (41), and settling or receiving payments as in (42) and (43). (39)

(40)

(41)

John Cely hathe bogwyt for me iij M1 fell, but thay be not com to London yete. I pray the send me wrytyng as sone as ye can of youre avyse, for I wyll aponte me thereafter in schepyng of my woll, and as I haue conford from you. Cely Letter 20, lines 26-29 Whe haue sente yow be a mane of master Thewhaytys the whete of the wolle and schpys namys acordyng to yowr desyr Cely Letter 83, lines 5-6 Item, syr, ρ lese hyttyowre mastyrschyppys to vnderstond that I hawe oldyowre ffellys to Jacob Gyesbryghtson and John Doo of

122

The present perfect £

(42)

(43)

Dellfe: sum vij fellys - the rest [be] reffewce - prys le C, xvj nobullys ν s. ster., sum xxxix li [j s. viij d.J; Cely Letter 234, lines 31-35 Also I hauepayd my byll of xvj s. viij d. the sarplere...andyoure byll - iiij li. xv s.x d. - and WyllMaryons byll - ix li. vij s. vj d. I understand that I schall haue anoder byll in doket of my custom at Caleys, Cely Letter 38, lines 20-24 Syr, I hue ressauyd at the day whell and trewly the iiij li. ster. of hour brother Rob arde. Cely Letter 95, lines 21-22

(39) is linked to a request ("I pray the..."); (40) and (41) serve as feedback for the addressee ("acordyng to yowr desyr, Plese hytt yowre masterschyppys to vnderstond that.."); in (42), the writer accounts for his expenses to the addressee; in (43), he emphasizes a fact, thereby expressing his pleasant surprise at it. Interesting for its content as well as for its present perfect/past distribution is the following excerpt, which deals with a problematic case of payment. (44)

Syr, heyr ys Phelype Sellar ys factors come... Be the meyn of a brocar hos name ys John Jacope, a Lombar, whe bar them on hand at the byll wosprodesteil and owr father pwt the matter in John Jakopys hand, and he has labord for payment, and the viij day of thys present monythe of Desembyr I ressayued iif crowny, the qweych ar chosyn be the brocar howt of j iiif, euery crown iiij s. The Kynge payd them euery crown at iiij s. vj d. The brocar has awardyt thatlschaull ryd to owr father into Essex and bryng a letter ofhys hand to them, derectyd to you, that ze may delyuer them the fardell wyth arras that Pelype Sellar lefjfyt wyth you, and I schawll haue ν li. for the prodest and aull hother costys; byt the brocars parte wyl be myche, etc. Cely Letter 78, lines 8-22

We find past and present perfect forms alike in this passage. The present perfect, however, is reserved for the actions of the key-figure, the mediator. This is what Richard considers particularly important and what he consequently discusses: the way the broker "has labord for payment" comprises what he "has awardyt" for the Celys to do, and this involves Richard as well as George; and the fact that he "has labord for payment" means that he has got to be paid a fee that will, unfortunately, eat up a good part of the sum received in compensation.

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A more reflective use of the present perfect is provided by Richard Cely the Elder. (45)

(46)

...for the weche I fere me euery man wyll fende the mene for the sale and delyuer ys woll and fellys into svre men ys handys be the mene of sale to marchauntys strangers the weche have repayryd to Calays afor thys tyme, ... Cely Letter 12, lines 3-6 Spare not for a long day, for I fere me it wyll com thereto, for I widerstände wyll there be dyvers men of the Felychepe of the Stapyll of Caleys haue solde woll for iij zere day, the laste payment, and the pryse kepyt82, and the money xxij s. viij d. for the li. Cely Letter 12, lines 12-16

The two examples enter into a context that is not a report, as has been the case with the examples so far, but an examination of a situation. It is war time on the continent and the selling in Calais is not going well; the usual local customers do not buy wool. Richard therefore broaches the possibility of doing business with outsiders, which he fears is the only possible solution to this problem. And it is for this reason that he uses the present perfect when he goes on specifying them as the ones who "haue repayred to Calays" even if this happened already "afor thys tyme". But this is not the only consequence that is to be drawn. The conditions of payment have to be made more convenient for the clients, and therefore, he advises his son to extend the deadlines for payment. That "dyvers men of the Felychepe...have sold woll for iij yere day.. ." serves as an argument in support of his advice. This motivates his use of the present perfect and would do so even if the practice referred to were no longer in use. It is worth noting that both instances of the present perfect are linked to an emotive expression, i.e., "I fere". On these two occasions,83 the emotional basis underlying the language of discussion in general, and the present perfect as a device for actualizing past events for current concerns in particular, comes right to the surface. Private affairs receive the writer's emotional attention as well. Stimulated by the letter received from his father, Richard discusses the time schedule for Christmas: (47)

Syr, my Lord has wryttyn to me to cum se hym thys Crystemas. I pwrppos to go to hym iij days afor Crysteme(s) and be ther iiij days and cum agen. And ze cum not to London iiij days afo{r) Crystemes I pray you send me my ryng be sum trwsty man. Cely Letter 78, lines 24-28

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The present perfect

In the following example there are two topics that the present perfect marks as being of current concern to Richard: the death of Wylliam Fawkenar and the well-being of two goshawks: (48)

Syr, Tomas Grawng has wryttyn a letter to owre fadyr and informyd hws of the dysses of the sayd Wylliam and how he has pwte the ij goshaukys in good kepyng tyll yowr comyng to Calles. Cely Letter 81, lines 7-10

Whereas for the first topic we find the condition for the present perfect fully met, the second remains somewhat empty. While the first topic gets discussed on the spot, even if briefly and somewhat casually ("on hos sowyle Jhesu have marsy"), we have to turn to other letters for the second topic. George obviously has a big hobby horse, hawks, and horses. We remember that it was also touched upon in letter 91, and the following quote gives further evidence of it. (49)

Bawll [the name of one of George's horses, A.H.] ys in good plyte: he mornyd tyll he had felleschype, and the smythe has geuyn hym a drynke for the kow, and I have sente hym to Awelay be Lontelay till I cwm agen. Cely Letter 83, lines 18-20

When Richard sets such past matters in the present perfect, he discusses them as a matter of current interest because they are of particular interest to his brother George. Example (47) draws attention to a methodical point: interpreting a present perfect adequately may necessitate going beyond the intratextual context of a letter; the present perfect can also operate intertextually. For further illustration, I would like to refer to an occasion where Richard talks about a private affair concerning his brother Robert. (50)

Syr, ther is a deuysyon fawllyn betwen owr brother Robard and sehe that schowlde a be hys wyfe, and he has geuyn hyr ower, and he pwrpos to absente hymsellfe and com to Calles schorttly, Cely Letter 83, lines 11-14

The intratextual context does not provide a clue as to what Richard discusses. Only if linked to the following quotation

The use of the present perfect in the history of English

(51)

125

Syr, hyt is so be grehyt labor that the whoman that howr brother Robard whos tangyllyd wyth, sehe has made hyme a qwyetans, and sehe has aull her awne good that... howr brother leuyd wyth her, saue a gyrdyll...and a lyttyll golde ryng...and a typete of damaske. Cely Letter 86, lines 5-11

does it become probable that the topic of (51) is the background of (50) as well; here it has the form of a skeptical anticipation of the imminent difficulties that a separation is likely to bring about. If we do not stop at this point but connect these two excerpts to the previously mentioned two passages concerning Robert (38 and 43), we may come up with still another interpretation. What is discussed and what, consequently, justifies the use of the present perfect in these cases is not some behavior or problem of Robert's, but Robert himself. He was in many respects the black sheep of the family and, for a long time, object of concern. ...in Robert's case parental misgivings proved amply justified. In 1478 his brother Richard threatened to have him arrested at Calais for debt. He had been given 30s. to pay his board and lost it all at dice (32). The following year he was still in debt, and Richard advised George to be very careful about lending him anything further, but in September 1480 Robert was again appealing to George to pay a bill of £ 14. 15s. (47, 102). The family were also involved in his matrimonial troubles. He was married by 1474, long before his brothers, and his wife died...on 19 July 1479 (58). By the following April he had been betrothed to a lady named Joan Hart and quarrelled with her. While he was changing his mind again, his father, who regarded the match as disastrous, persuaded the woman to call it off (85, 86). After this Robert is scarcely mentioned in the letters, and he seems to have dropped out of the wool business. (Hanham 1975: XIII) These last examples give me the opportunity for some brief concluding remarks on the standing of the criterion of discussing as the cornerstone of my present perfect hypothesis. To recover for any present perfect its being linked to such a context is certainly a methodologically necessary and conclusive step for proving and/or applying the approach. In practice, however, this step may not always be easily realized. On the one hand, there may be various solutions, depending on how far we want to go with our interpretative activity. On the other hand, there may be limits to such attempts because the grounds justifying the present perfect may be outside of what we have access to. Yet this is not a drawback on the theoretical concept proposed, but rather evidence of the complexity of human behavior.

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The present

perfect

5.6.2. On the linearity of language change As will be remembered from previous references to Traugott, her theory of language change proposes certain cognitively motivated patterns of development. Of particular interest is, again, what she hypothesizes as Tendency I and III: Tendency I: Meanings based in the external described situation > meanings based in the internal (evaluative/perceptual/cognitive) described situation. (Traugott 1989: 34) Tendency III: Meanings tend to become increasingly based in the speaker's subjective belief state/attitude toward the proposition. (Traugott 1989: 35) The general claim she attaches to such developmental tendencies is that they are unidirectional and non-reversible. The findings in this chapter, however, are not easy to accommodate to such a proposal. Apart from problems similar to the ones met with in the preceding chapter (cf. pp. 72-73), the following line of reasoning seems to be particularly instructive. Taking into account that my interpretation of the function of the present perfect works for the Middle English usage and, again, for contemporary usage much better than the traditional temporal interpretations, but that the traditional outlook seems to work well for the time in between, we may justly infer that the present perfect was temporarily redefined in more rational, as opposed to emotional, terms. This, however, would represent a path of semantic change from a stage resulting from tendency III to a stage resulting from tendency I. Such a development is also in line with the cyclical patterns identified by Matsumoto (1988) and Akatsuka - Sohn (1994). Traugott's theory on the development from propositional to expressive meaning does not explicitly offer such a view. Elsewhere, however, she herself remarks that, for language change in general, unidirectionality is not definitional.

5.7. Synopsis While it was not denied that the present perfect can have a tensing function, it was shown that (traditional) approaches which rely on time-based explanations cannot cope well with quite a number of naturally occurring uses in present-day English and even less so with the astonishingly large

Synopsis

127

number of examples that can be found in the literature of the fifteenth to the seventeenth centuries. Apart from those cases in which the present perfect seems to be in free variation with the past tense, the most conspicuous cases were judged to be those where the present perfect collocates with time adverbial expressions of the past, in particular with so-called strong past adverbs, a group that forms part of a taxonomy introduced on that occasion. We proposed a view instead that was shown to draw on some stimulating insights from recent linguistic literature but radicalizes them; and we advanced the claim that the function of the present perfect must be sought for within a pragmatic framework: the present perfect signals the speaker's interest in a past event or state of affairs for independent current communicative purposes and thus counts for an expression of her/his adoptive attachment to it. The non-temporal function assigned to the present perfect is more flexible for a collocation with time adverbials, their collocability becomes a matter of tolerance. A case study of a selection of the Late Middle English Cely Letters demonstrated the rich possibilities of this approach. It also illustrated that the identification of the remarkable element (representing the raison d 'etre for becoming emotionally involved) may sometimes necessitate an elaborate and/or subtle interpretative reasoning. The historical perspective, however, brought it to the fore that the attachment function of the present perfect was not actualized at all times during its existence; after reaching a peak toward the end of the sixteenth century the use of the form as attachment device declined and did not have a revival until the twentieth century. The conclusion was drawn that grammaticalization processes indeed do not only develop in a unidirectional way.

6. The periphrastic do

6.1. Plan of discussion The non-grammaticalized use of the do-periphrasis in Modern English (e.g., I do know) is related to the usage of the construction in Early Modern English, before its grammaticalization. The view that the do-periphrasis is meaningless in comparison to the simple verb is opposed. Instead, an account of its function as a further grammatical means of expressing a speaker's emotional attachment to the state of affairs described is presented. That this attachment can, furthermore, be specified as adoptive is demonstrated by a detailed analysis of the use of the do-periphrasis in an Early Modern English text document (a political pamphlet by Fish). The use of an expressive device such as the do-periphrasis is shown to need "economization" in order to maintain its expressivity. This also provides a plausible explanation for the way the form is positioned within the structure of the text as a whole.

6.2. Introduction In present-day English, the do-periphrasis is highly grammaticalized, both in the sense that do - apart from being a full verb - has developed into an auxiliary and in the sense that its use is almost completely rule-governed. Except for subject questions, its use is obligatory in questions and in negative sentences if they do not contain another auxiliary or modal verb, and the most one can say about its function is that it serves as a tense carrier. There are, however, also non-grammaticalized uses, apart from imperatives mainly in affirmative statements, where they commonly go under the heading of "emphatic do" as in, for instance, Quirk et al. (1985: 124). They either have the function to deny a negative, which has been stated or implied. (1)

a. b.

You do not listen to your mother. You should listen to your mother.

Or they are used purely for emotive force: (2)

I DO wish you would listen.

1 But I DO I listen to her.

Introduction

129

While for the first type of use, the expression "emphatic" can still be interpreted formally as stress-emphasis, it must be understood as emotion for the second type. Should this reading be excluded when we apply the term to the first type? Or could we rather assume that emphatic do always has something to do with emotional emphaticness - maybe even more so than with stress-emphasis? Spoken language use shows, after all, that where no contrast is given explicitly or implicitly, the auxiliary may, but need not necessarily be stressed. Nevalainen - Rissanen (1986: 37) quote, among others, the following example from the Survey of English Usage with the auxiliary being unstressed and non-nuclear:84 (3)

A but //1 Δ noticed that Δ Joseph C> went Δ out for 'quarter of an,, Δ HOUR • at //ONEpoint • //I'm Asure he 'wentfor a SMOKE u(-laughs)B //1 did 'know Δ one > Indian 'who .Δ I Δ RONICALLYm - // learnt to CHAIN SMOKE u //in this Δ COUNTRYm (S. 1.6.606-612)

As has been acknowledged for quite some time,85 the ungrammaticalized optional do (whether stressed or unstressed may be open to dispute) is gaining ground even in written English.86 And interestingly enough, examples like (4)

(5)

We do know collapse of the lung does occur not only post-operatively but in other conditions as well. (Osselton 1983: 469) ...the extent to which the established school does dominate the new teacher. (Osselton 1983: 471)

are considered to be "reminiscent of the common early modern English use of do as an unemphatic verbal operator [i.e., unemphatic in terms of stress, A.H.] in sentences such as I do pity him (= I pity him)" (Osselton 1983: 470). This early use of the do-periphrasis will be at the center of the discussion to follow; however, the final section 6.6., outlining further developments, will eventually come back to such examples of contemporary English and show how they link up with the early use. In Early Modern English, and to a certain degree already in Late Middle English, the do-periphrasis competes in all syntactic environments with the simple do-less verb form; grammaticalization has not yet fully taken place, i.e., there are no grammatical conditions that would restrict the mutual interchangeability of the two forms. If compared to other do-uses such as the

130

The periphrastic do

causative do, as in example (6) or the anaphoric do, as in example (7), the periphrastic use of do could justly be characterized as lexically empty. (6) (7)

The king did hang all the traitors. (Visser 1969: 1488) Bill stayed and so did Henry. (Quirk et al. 1985: 125),

But is it meaningless or not if compared to its grammatical alternative, the simple verb form? Both stances have been argued for in the literature. The stance in favor of a meaningless do-periphrasis has found its most prominent advocate in Ellegärd (1953). He interprets its use in purely syntactic terms, drawing on arguments based on word order, position of adverbs, and the modal character of the aux + verb pattern, and takes it as a preliminary stage of its later grammaticalization. The stance in favor of a meaningful do-periphrasis has more recently been advanced by D. Stein in a series of publications culminating in his monograph of 1990. The various meanings he assigns to the use of the periphrastic do during the period under consideration support in part the interpretation of the form in emotive terms, topical for the present studies. As a consequence, D. Stein's treatment will be a constant point of reference, both where my outlook coincides with his and where it deviates from it. One principal difference, though, should be pointed out immediately. It concerns the focus of interest. Whereas Stein topicalizes the do-periphrasis as such, my own interest in the form is more limited because it is selective. In line with the general argument of this book, I shall mainly discuss the possibility of interpreting the form as a grammatical device for expressing the speaker's attachment.

6.3. The rfo-periphrasis in affirmative statements Affirmative statements will be the primary frame for the examination of the do-periphrasis. The syntactic environment deserves particular attention for two reasons. Firstly, the do-periphrasis in affirmative declarative sentences (= affirmative statements) goes out of use during the seventeenth century, whereas its use in questions and negative declaratives becomes more and more established until it is completely grammaticalized. Secondly, it seems to be originally the most characteristic environment for

The do-periphrasis

in affirmative statements

131

occurrences of the periphrastic do. Looking at Ellegärd's corpora and at his list of references (1953: 256-313), it turns out that quite a number of the works examined show the ifo-periphrasis only in affirmative declarative sentences. Out of 26 corpora from the fifteenth century where all three sentence types occur, eight show the do-periphrasis exclusively with affirmative declaratives, the highest number being at the beginning of the century; in contrast, an exclusive do-use with negative declaratives and questions is found only once. Of his corpora of the sixteenth century, there is still one with exclusive use of do in affirmative declaratives, but there is none that would show a cfo-use in negative declaratives or in questions only. 87 In addition, Ellegärd's absolute figures of periphrasis frequency, despite their limitations (cf. note 87), show that in the sixteenth century, the majority of tokens (ca. 70%) have an affirmative declarative environment.

6.3.1. Sign and basic meaning Both the simple and the periphrastic verb form name an event, state, or action, both define it in temporal terms, and both relate it syntactically to the participants involved, whether subject or objects. The means, however, by which both forms perform the same job, differ. The periphrastic variant involves more morphological material and is thus more "costly". From a naturalness-based outlook on language structure and language use (cf. D. Stein 1990, chapter 13), this increase in form seems to suggest an increase in meaning. It is a meaning surplus, though, that cannot be described in terms of propositional semantics; in this respect, both forms mean exactly the same thing. A most handy, though minimal, solution to the problem of identifying the meaning surplus for the periphrastic form is offered by Rissanen (1991: 323) who interprets it as "simply a device to make the verbal group more marked". Any further specification then has to rely on contextual clues that give the phrase its more specific meaning; and if context type and the resultant meaning specification reach a certain degree of recurrence, then this meaning can be interpreted as being marked by the form. This is not only the way in which Rissanen tries to accommodate some aspectual readings of the do-periphrasis as proposed by Denison (1985) for the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries and by Ihalainen (1976) for a contemporary dialect, but this is also the way in which Stein seems to develop his proposal for the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. I think the basic meaning of the c/o-periphrasis can be described more

132

The periphrastic do

precisely. In my view, the periphrastic form is not simply a marked form and a marker of what the typical contexts ascribe to it; rather it exerts a distinctive marking function. The marking function derives from the "costlier" way in which it performs the same job as the simple form. In contrast to the simple form, the periphrasis divides the functional load between its constituents. The ifo-auxiliary carries the tense, while the full verb names the activity generically referred to by the auxiliary. This division of tasks has the effect that the content part of the verb form comes out purely, as it were. Since this effect is achieved by the ί/ο-auxiliary, we may be justified in considering the auxiliary a content emphasizer. Insofar as the afo-periphrasis is not obligatory in any environment in Late Middle and Early Modern English, its occurrence depends on the speaker's choice alone. It should therefore be considered a speaker-related category and its function as content emphasizer should be open to an elaboration in pragmatic terms. The question, then, is why a speaker would emphasize a content in the way characteristic of the ifo-periphrasis. The answer that I shall subsequently support in more detail amounts to the following: s/he emphasizes the content because s/he attributes an emotional value to it. The claim is based on the observation that the marking occurs only in circumstances that can be considered remarkable. This typical contextual condition qualifies the c/o-periphrasis as indexical sign; it is founded on a metonymic process of change, which underlies the development of do from a full verb to a carrier of non-propositional information, in the sense proposed by Traugott - König (1991). It thus represents another case, besides the present perfect and the expanded form, where a pattern seems to evolve that combines - in a short-cut, if you will - the first part of Traugott's (1989) Tendency I with her Tendency III. The result reads something like Meanings based in the external described situation > meanings based in the speaker's subjective belief state/attitude toward the proposition. (Traugott 1989: 34) This pattern does not only apply to the device under consideration, it just as well accounts for the developmental "facts" emerging from the expanded form and the present perfect under the premises of my interpretation.

The do-periphrasis

in affirmative

statements

133

6.3.2. Remarkableness and contrast Assuming that the speaker gets emotionally involved entails the assumption that the propositional content of the statement, or some part of it, shows characteristics that in some way or another motivate her/his involvement. It is at this point that the particulars of the content come into play. As already noted (cf. p. 132), the content must show qualities that can be classified as remarkable. This condition is the basis of the hypothesis advocated. Remarkableness of content is a notion that D. Stein (1990) also employs in his approach, but he applies a different value to it. He equates it with contrast, and he equates contrast with the basic meaning function of the ifo-periphrasis (cf. 1990: 63). In my approach, remarkableness of content is merely a condition for attributing to the periphrastic form the function of expressing the speaker's involvement; and it is not equated with contrast. Contrast is certainly a feature by which the remarkableness of a proposition may often be explained. Thus, the propositional content in the following example is remarkable in relation to some entailed cultural norm or value to which the action or state of affairs at issue is in contrast. (8)

These Autem Mortes be maried wemen, as there be but a fewe. For Autem in their Language is a Churche; so she is a wyfe maried at the Church, and they be as chaste as a Cowe I haue, that goeth to Bull euery moone, with what Bull she careth not. These walke most times from their husbands companye a moneth or more to gether, being associate with another as honest as her selfe. These wyll pylfar clothes of hedges: some of them go with children of ten or xii. yeares of age; yf tyme and place serue for their purpose, they wyll send them into some house, at the window, to steale and robbe, which they call in their language, Milling of the ken ; and wil go with wallets on their shoulders, and slates at their backes. There is one of these Autem Mortes, she is now a widow, offyftyyeres old; her name is Alice Milson : she goeth about with a couple ofgreat boyes, the yongest of them is fast vpon xx. yeares of age; and these two do lye with her euery night, and she lyeth in the middes: she sayth that they be her children, that beteled be borne babes of such abhominable bellye. Harman, A Caveat or Warning for Common Curseters, 1567 (quoted in D. Stein 1991: 358)

Cultural norms or values can form the background against which a propositional content qualifies as remarkable. What may vary is the scope of

134

The periphrastic do

these norms and the way in which the contrast is established. As to the first variable, norm and contrast to the norm may be valid for a whole society, as in (8), they may be restricted to a particular group of people, as in (9), or apply to the world, or world view, of an individual, as in (10). (9)

(10)

He out of hande, dyd caste downe all Images, he destroied al Idolatrie, and clearly dyd extirpate all superstition. Latimer, Sermon, 37 (quoted in D. Stein 1990: 78) And I myself did once mistake it. Latimer, Sermon, 33 (quoted in D. Stein 1990: 87)

The second variable accounts for differences in the way in which deviance from a norm or standard is established; this aspect comes to the fore when comparing (8) with (11) or (12). (11) (12)

In faith, my lord did quit him so courageously as I wist man do. Paston Letter 659 (quoted in D. Stein 1990: 87) Att my departyng y schewyd to hys holynes that sethyn the deyth ande passyon off Synt Peter theyr ways never a man that dyde schow more for the lyberteys off the Churche than Syntt Thomas off Cantorbery. Christ Church Letters, p. 72 88

Unlike (8), examples (11) and (12) have adverbial additions that explicitly qualify the propositional content, with the verb content at its center, as contrasting with a norm. 89 The concept of contrast does not hold all the way through, however. For Stein's approach, this amounts to a serious drawback. In the following examples (13)-(15), it may still be possible to apply the notion of contrast, if we give it the turn Stein proposes. (13) (14) (15)

our saviour Christ therfore did promise. Fisher, The Sermon ofJohan, p. 2 (quoted in D. Stein 1990: 64) Vegece did put in his book. Caxton, Fayttes, p. 148 (quoted in D. Stein 1990: 64) As the Scripture sayeth, that "God through faithe dothe puryfye & make cleane all hartes ". Fish, Beggers, p. 25 90

Stein classifies the first two, and would probably do so for the last one as well, as instances of an "authority"-type of periphrasis use where the sentences "express what God, the Holy Spirit or some other authority does or

The do-periphrasis in affirmative statements

135

says" (D. Stein 1990: 64). Such sentences, he says, are a subspecies of a more general text-structural phenomenon, the "peak" or "foreground" in argumentation or narrative discourse (p. 66); since foregrounding "involves a setting-off against background" (p. 78), a relation of contrast is given that "connects these examples to the other do uses" (p. 78). An example illustrating Stein's class of a peak-marking use of the do-periphrasis is provided by example (8). For the following examples from the Cely Letters, however, 91 there seems to be no fairly reasonable possibility to employ the notion of contrast. (16)

(17)

(18)

Allso owr father has ressauyd from yow ij lettyrs and the rekenyng of the sale ofhys Cotsolde feiles, the qweyche he doys well wndyrstond, etc. Cely Letter 19, lines 5-7 9 2 But syr, I cannott hawe yowre wull yett awarddyd, for I hawe doo cast owte a sarpler the whych yspyntyd be the Lefftenaunte to be casten owte... Cely Letter 234, lines 46-51 Fyrddyrmore, plese hytt yowre mastyrschyppys to vnderstond that I doo send yow at thys passage be Wylliam Smyth, packer of wullys, a letter whereyn ys enclossyd ij letters of payment, one of John Flewelen ... and anoder of Roger Bowser... Cely Letter 239, lines 3-8

While (16) may still be easy to dispense with - the periphrastic do in collocation with understand occurs another nine times in the Cely Letters and may consequently be interpreted as a set phrase 93 - (17) and (18) remain critical. Though the periphrasis in (17), at first sight, still seems to render itself to an interpretation as a text-based contrast (i.e., peak marker), the subsequent context clearly shows that the content marked by the periphrasis is not the outstanding part: (17')

he whych sarpler that I hawe casten owte ys no. xxiiij, and theryn ys ffovnd be Wylliam Smyth, paker, a Ix myddyll fflessys, and hytt ys a very gruff wull, and so I hawe causyd Wylliam Smyth preuely to cast owte anoder sarpler, No. viij, andpackyd vpp the wull of the fyrst sarpler yn the sarpler of No. viij, for thys last sarpler ys ffayr wull inowjth. And therffor Ie muste vnderstond how many be of that sortte and the nombyr of them, for they muste be pakkyd agayne. Cely Letter 234, lines 51-58

136

The periphrastic do

Neither for (17) nor for (18) is it appropriate to argue with either a contrastive foil of norms/expectations or with text-contrastive concepts such as peak or foregrounding. Though the notion of contrast does not apply for these cases, remarkableness may still remain a valid notion. All we have to do is to tum it into a functional concept: the examples are taken from letters written by businessmen to their partners, in this case other members of the family. The propositional facts/states of affairs about which they inform relate to the business these people are engaged in. For them as businessmen the facts and states of affairs referred to have a value in themselves because they are part of the objective they are pursuing. In this sense, they can also be said to be remarkable. In generalized terms, where a propositional fact/state of affairs is linked to the speaker's pursuing some practical goal/objective of interest to her/him, this fact or state of affairs qualifies for being considered remarkable and thus provides the opportunity for the speaker to express her/his involvement by choosing the cfo-periphrasis. This description typically applies to discourses in which a speaker discusses rather than tells things. The terms have been adopted from Weinrich ([1985]) and slightly adapted, as was described on various occasions in the preceding chapters (3.3.2. and 5.2.). It may therefore suffice to merely point out that the terms denote not only different formal properties of a text, but also and foremost different enunciative (speech-behavioral) attitudes of the speaker corresponding to different states of mind: when s/he tells a story, s/he typically tells it for its own sake, and s/he is relaxed. When s/he discusses, the matter discussed is typically of interest to her/him; in this case s/he is tense. By embedding the notion of remarkableness in the discoursive attitude of discussing, we can not only cope with the last examples, which were problematic for D. Stein's approach, but also with the examples (13) - (15) (Stein's authority group). And furthermore, it even fits example (8). In fact, it supersedes the initial considerations on cultural norm and deviation. My claim, in other words, is that the c/o-periphrases in the passage on the Autum Mortes (8) is not so much motivated by the deviance of the content from a cultural norm or expectation, but by the speech behavioral attitude the speaker assumes. The "scandalon" (Stein) about the Autum Mortes may surely be worth disseminating, but what triggers the cfo-periphrases is that they are the subject of a discussion; it is an ethnographic description with the "scandalon" being the most telling detail, which even has a practical goal, viz., - as the title lets us know - to warn the reader.94

The άο-pheriphrasis in affirmative statements

137

There is also some quantitative support for the claim that the i/o-periphrasis as an expressive device is typically used in contexts that discuss matters rather than tell about them. Rissanen (1991) provides frequency figures for various text-types for part of the period under consideration, which clearly show the form's propensity toward oral discourse. Examples (19) and (20), by which Rissanen illustrates his findings, leave no doubt that oral here is tantamount to discussing rather than telling. (19)

Hare: But how say you to this, that Wyat and you had Conference togither sundry times at Warner's House, and in other places? Throckmorton: This is a very general Charge, to haue Conference; but why was it not as lawful for me to confer with Wyat, as with you, or any other Man? I then knew no more by Wyat, than by any other; and to proue to talke with Wyat was lawful and indifferent, the last Day I did talke with Wyat, I sawe my Lord of Arondel, with other noble Men and Gentlemen, talke with him familiarly in the Chamber of Presence. Hare: But they did not conspire nor talke any stur against the Spanyards as you did pretend, and meant it against the Queen; for you, Croftes, Rogers and Warner, did oftentimes deuise in Warner's House aboute youre traiterous purposes, or else what did you so often there? Throckmorton: I confess I did mislike the Queenes Mariage with Spain, and also the comming of the Spanyards hither: and then me thought I had reason to doe so, for I did learne the Reasons of my misliking of you M. Hare, M. Southwell, and others in the Parliament House; there I did see the whole Consent of the Realm against it; and I a Hearer, but no Speaker, did learne my misliking of those Matters, confirmed by many sundry Reasons amongst you: but as concerning any sturr or vprore against the Spanyards, I neuer made any, neyther procured any to be made; and for my much resort to M. Warner's House, it was not to conferre with M. Wyat, but to shew my Friendship to my very good Lord the Marques of Northampton, who was lodged there when he was enlarged. Trial of Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, p. 66, cols. 1-2 (quoted in Rissanen 1991: 326)

Particularly interesting is (20), a text on geometry in which the personalized form of explanation and the exemplification at the end of the quotation give the passage the character of a didactic discussion.

J 38

(20)

The periphrastic do

then open I the compas as wide as K.L. (that is all .v. partes) and set one foote in G, (that is the iij. pricke) and with the other I draw an arch line towardH. also: and where those .ij. arch lines do Crosse (whiche is by H.) thence draw I a line vnto F, and that maketh a very plumbe line to F.G, as my desire was. The manner of workyng of this conclusion, is like to the second conclusion, but the reason of it doth depend of the xlvi. proposicion of the first boke of Euclide. An other waie yet, set one foote of the compas in the prick, on whiche you would haue the plumbe line to light, and streiche forth thother foote toward the longest end of the line, as wide as you can for the length of the line, and so draw a quarter of a compas or more, then without stirring of the compas, set one foote of it in the same line, where as the circular line did begin, and extend thother in the circular line, settyng a marke where it doth light, then take half that quantitie more there vnto, and by that prick that endeth the last part, draw a line to the prick assigned, and it shall be a perpendicular. Example. A.B. is the line appointed, to whiche I must make a perpendicular line to light in the prickl assigned, which is A. Therfore doo I set one foote of the compas in A, and extend the other vnto D, makyng a part of a circle, more then a quarter, that is D.E. Then do I set one foote of the compas vnaltered in D, and stretch the other in the circular line, and it doth light in F. R. Record's Geometry, Fol. C3V - C4R (quoted in Rissanen 1991:327)

This view prefigures a kind of involvement that I have previously called adoptive and contrasted with an adaptive attitude. It will not be an involvement in which the speaker emotionally participates (in the sense of sympathy or antipathy) in some propositional affair that otherwise has nothing to do with her/him; it will rather be an involvement in which the speaker emotionally embraces the propositional affair because it serves her/his practical goal.95 That the ßfo-periphrasis may typically be a device for expressing adoptive involvement gains support from the following systematic peculiarity, peculiar because no other involvement device offers this possibility: the do-periphrasis can not only occur with the proposition linked up to a certain speech act function, but it can also appear with this speech actfrinctionitself when it is made explicit by a corresponding speech act formula, i.e., a performative verb in the first person singular present.

The άο-pheriphrasis in affirmative statements

(21)

(22)

139

Ryght Reverent and moost intirely beloved, Sir Doctor, as hartely I can or may possybull have me commended unto you, and innolesse manner do thank you off all kyndness shewde to me and to my company... Christ Church Letter 62 My Lord, in my most herty wise do recommend me unto you... Christ Church Letter 79

This use of do neither constitutes, as Trnka (1930: 47) proposes, an extra class nor does it show, as Stein (1990: 93) holds, "an essential link...to both intensity...and foreground" [my emphasis]. What can be shown, however, is that the do occurring with a propositional content and the do occurring with an explicit speech act formula express virtually the same thing. Had the writer of the Christ Church Letter 62 (example (21)) used a finite clause instead of the nominal phrase off all kyndness shewde to me, he could have used the do-periphrasis with its verb just as well and with the same effect. Conversely, in the following example the writer could have just as well expressed his involvement by attaching the auxiliary to the speech act formula {we pray you that). (23)

Wherfore we ... pray you, that in performyng your said promise, ye will do send unto us the presentacion under your convente seale of the said benefice... Christ Church Letter 60

In other words, the positioning of the periphrastic do is interchangeable where the speech act is explicitly performed, the reason being in either case the speaker's emotional involvement in the practical goal he pursues.

6.3.3. The speaker's involvement In D. Stein's view, an emotive element is associated with the ifo-periphrasis in a twofold way: (a) The emotive element is a text-structural feature linked to what he calls the peak-marking function of the periphrastic do in discourse; with respect to narrative discourse (in his understanding) in particular, Stein states: The high point, peak or foreground of a narrative is that section of a narrative which has the highest involvement or "affective intensity" (Osgood and Bock 1977: 89, fii. 4). (D. Stein 1990: 36)

140

The periphrastic do

(b) The emotive element is a local feature related to the collocation of a doperiphrasis with certain adverbial expressions (quantifiers like always, never, manner adverbs of a high degree etc.); Stein takes it as the intensity which Labov (1984: 43) defines as "the emotional expression of social orientation toward a linguistic proposition" (cf. D. Stein 1990: 87). Both aspects are systematically linked and frequently overlap. The two features co-occur very frequently, in fact as a rule foreground marking always implies intensity ... but it is advisable to keep the two logically separate To keep the two related qualities apart, one should see foreground as a ... discourse-structural phenomenon, prototypically occurring in narrative texts ..., and intensity as a prototypically local phenomenon. (D. Stein 1990: 92-93) Instead of going into the merits of this approach, I simply would like to briefly mention two important points where our views drift apart. First, where Stein diversifies the concept of intensity into a local and a discourse-structural variant, I would unify them. That we often find the ifo-periphrasis used as an intensity/involvement marker in places that, from Stein's text-structural point of view, appear as peak, is not really pertinent. To me, it rather has to do with what I will later treat as the problem of economizing the expression of involvement (see section 6.5.2.). Secondly, the emotional values that Stein's proposal seems to provide for are rather limited in scope. The peak-marking function of the t/o-periphrasis is correlated with the general motivational basis of a discourse. For the narrative discourse in Stein's sense, it is equivalent to "the reason why the speaker reports the story at all" (D. Stein 1990: 36): because s/he evaluates the content and considers it erzählenswert 'worthy of being recalled in the form of a story'. In this case, the peak becomes the "point" of the story (p. 36). The auxiliary's intensity marking function as a local phenomenon in certain adverbial environments appears to have surprise as its only emotive correlate, this value being the only one repeatedly applied and discussed by Stein (cf. 1990: 88, 90). In contrast, I think the cfo-periphrasis must be an expressively more powerful device. Both points of divergence are, of course, connected with the fact that Stein develops his view out of the notion of contrast, which I do not. My view rests on a notion of remarkableness that is linked to the speaker's pursuit of a goal - a goal, I might add, in which s/he is interested. With this specification, we have opened die periphrastic form to the whole range of emotions underlying human speech behavior as its possible meanings. What meaning value the do-periphrasis acquires in any single instance depends on its pragmatic interpretation in context.

The do-periphrasis in affirmative statements

141

Consider the following example: (24)

Than I told hym that I was noght, and he seid it was gode-j-now. I bad hym take it me for my discharge, and he seid pleynly I shuld not haue it. Than I told hym I wold haue my prisonere. The seid Gonnore seid I shuld not haue hym, and dede set all the tenauntes vp-on me and made a gret noyse, and seydyn all pleynly I shuld not haue hym jfhe wold a-byde with hem. Than I told Gonnore than I shuld certifie a rescuse, andprayd the baly of the hundred that he wold record the same. Item, the seid Gonnore seid I myght haue favoryd the seid Bettes the more be-cause the seid Bettes was my Mayster Stapylton man, and that his men shuld not be bownd and I shuld go lose. He seid I shuld be tyed or aght longe, and all my feleshep bothyn; but God yeld hym, he hath yovyn me iiij days respyte. Than I told hym it shuld neuer lye in his powere to bynde me nere non of my feleshep so fast but that it shuld ly in your powere to make hym to losyn vs, and if that he α-bode in Norffolk he shuld be made to seke the skyrtes of his sadill or Estern. And if he had kept his wey that nyght I shuld haue kept hym trewe comenaunte, for I lay on wayte vp-on hym on the heth as he shuld haue comen humward, and if I myght haue met with (hym) I shuld haue had Bettes from hym; but he remembred Wymdhams manhood, that iij swyft fete were better than ij handes, and he toke his hors with the spores and rode to Felbrygge Hall as fast as he myght rydyn; and I suppose he lay there all (that) nyght. Item, the seid Gonnore manased and thret John ofBeston for he wuld not warn hym here-of and he dede sease all his lond in Routon and warned hym that he shuld not occupy his lyme kyll nere no lond that he had in Routon. Paston Letter 473 (quoted in D. Stein 1990a: 124-125)

In this example, Margret Paston when writing to her husband about the incident with Gonnore she pursues a practical goal: complaining and maybe inducing her husband to think of some adequate countermeasure or the like. Assuming that this is her intention, we can also assume that it corresponds to a certain emotional state, whether anger, fright or indignation, which may even go along with some feelings of bitter resentment. The i/o-periphrases she uses are symptoms/indices of all that. On the other hand, if Gonnore, for instance, had discussed the incident, his account would certainly have had another pragmatic function with another emotional state at its base, which in turn would have determined the interpretation of any do-periphrasis, even if found in the same spots ("Gonnore... dede set all the tenauntes vp-on her and

142

The periphrastic

do

made a gret noyse, and he dede sease all his lond in Routon", Paston Letter 473). Cely Letter 19 (example (16)) can illustrate another point. The same message provided, and not only technically written, by a clerk would hardly have justified the c/o-periphrasis, unless he had identified himself with the company's "weal and woe". To define the act's emotional basis for either version in more specific terms and consequently the indexical meaning of the c/o-periphrasis, is difficult, however. Not all action goals seem to have a specific emotional state as defining element, although all can be emotionalized by the individual actant and are thus accessible to the ifo-periphrasis. My outlook can be enhanced by drawing on Searle's well-known speech act theory (1969). Among the conditions for successful speech acts, we find one that he calls the "sincerity condition". Under this label, Searle takes account of the emotional basis of speech acts wherever it represents a constitutive feature. Among the acts he paradigmatically analyzes are thanking and congratulating, whose sincerity condition is feeling grateful and being pleased, respectively (cf. 1969: 67). Other acts have sincerity conditions that are less pronouncedly emotive, though still emotional in nature; the act of requesting, for example, has as its sincerity condition that the speaker wants the hearer to do something. For yet others, an emotional grounding is not a defining property at all. For example, when advising, the sincerity condition is merely that the speaker believes that the suggested future act of the hearer will be for her/his benefit. And yet, when it comes to performing an act of advising, it makes a difference, for instance, whether I give advice out of so-called moral correctness or out of true concern for this particular person. In the latter case, the hearer's future act at issue is no longer only her/his business, but mine as well; my strategies may, consequently, be more elaborate, and the arguments I employ will be put forward more vigorously. Searle's following comment seems to take into account similar considerations, even though he tackles them as a taxonomic problem: Contrary to what one might suppose advice is not a species of requesting. It is interesting to compare "advise" with "urge", "advocate" and "recommend". Advising you is not trying to get you to do something in the sense that requesting is. Advising is more like telling you what is best for you. (Searle 1969: 67) The role that an involvement indicating device, such as the i/o-periphrasis, plays in a speech act (of whatever size) may be seen to vary accordingly. For acts like advising, it effects a specification by turning advice into urgent

The do-periphrasis in negations and questions

143

advice, while for acts like complaining, it effects the surfacing of the emotion upon which the act rests. Whatever the particular role may be, the general function of the c/o-periphrasis in a speech act context can be described as turning a speech act (unqualified!) into an emphatic speech act (qualified!). The emphatic speech act is another example of what Bally ([1965]) calls the mode νέοι. Its systematic complement, the mode pur, would be the corresponding speech act without c/o-periphrasis but with some sort of meta-comment instead, such as attitudinal disjuncts or clauses explicating the speaker's emotional attitude. Semantically, they may well be considered equivalent; but pragmatically, a lot changes if a speaker merely describes his emotional attitude instead of actually "living" or performing it.

6.4. The rfo-periphrasis in negations and questions My approach attributes the same function to the use of the periphrastic do in negations and questions as it does in affirmative statements, i.e., to indicate an adoptive speaker involvement. The differences to D. Stein (1990) should therefore be similar to those outlined above. Stein's best examples, in the sense that they best illustrate his contrastive view, of periphrasis in negations are sentences that comprise a foregrounding contrast between single propositional elements of a structural unit, the most obvious patterns being not only...but, not this but the other, as in (25)

(26)

(27)

which thing Saint James doth not only say but also proveth. Fisher, The sermon of Johan the Bysshop of Rochester, p. 19 (quoted in D. Stein 1990. 85) Christ did not pray for James and John, but he prayed for Saint Peter. Fisher, The sermon of Johan the Bysshop of Rochester, p. 9 (quoted in D. Stein 1990: 85) the sacraments of Christ's church doth not justify but only faith. Fisher, The sermon of Johan the Bysshop of Rochester, p . 18 (quoted in D. Stein 1990: 85)

Against this, I would maintain an argument analogous to the one Stein himself justly advanced against Ellegärd's syntactic stance. The c/o-periphrasis is not there because there is a contrast to be marked; rather the contrast is there because it is an effective means of maximizing the functional

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The periphrastic do

load of the ^-periphrasis; the contrast effectively emphasizes a point in which the speaker shows himself involved, in this case because he utilizes it to discuss theological matters he is interested in. If contrast/foregrounding were the key for the use of do in negations, a do-negated proposition, as a whole, would indeed have to contrast "with another one that is explicitly mentioned" (D. Stein 1990: 87). This may be the case, as in (28)

(29)

...so low by the ground that his beams than sklanteth (slanteth, D.S.) upon the ground and doth not rebound nor double Fisher, The sermon of Johan the Bysshop of Rochester, p. 14 (quoted in D. Stein 1990: 85) ...the whych letter the Pop dyd nott red, but gaffhyt toMyLorde ofWorcetter... Christ Church Letter 68

But it need not be the case. (30)

Such then as loiter and live idly are not good prelates or ministers. And of such as do not preach and teach, nor do not their duties: God saith by his Prophet Hieronymus: Maledictus... Latimer, Sermon, p. 21 (quoted in D. Stein 1990: 86)

The preceding example is already not easy for Stein to reconcile with his view: The concerns of the sermon are the various complaints about how prelates and ministers go about their duties. The negative with do appears here in an opposition of different types of misbehaving prelates. The do could equally well occur if there was no negative. What counts here is the fact that different types of misbehaving prelates are juxtaposed. (D. Stein 1990: 86) Similar efforts would be required for (31)

Whan they do heare masse, & se the sacrament, they do inclyne, & doth clap theyr hand on theyr mouth, and do not knock them self on the breast Boorde, Introduction of Knowledge. A Dyetary ofHelth, p. 185 (quoted in Engblom 1938: 133).

The do-periphrasis in negations and questions

145

But the following three examples are not reconcilable at all. (32)

(33)

(34)

I have grete mervaylle...that they doo not attaine an accion ayenst Sir Thomas Paston Letter 162, 198. 2 (quoted in Visser 1969: 1530, see also Engblom 1938: 129) Counsailing that ye in the meane tyme doo not entremedyll in any wise Paston Letter III 401 (quoted in Engblom 1938: 129) as a man dyd ones eyther with the Mayre of London or Yorke I can not tel whether, whiche dyd commaund by proclamation, euerye man in the Citie, to hange a lanterne wyth a candell, afore his dore: whiche thynge the man dyd, but he dyd not lyght it Ascham, Toxophilus 97 (quoted in Engblom 1938: 134)

What is the case, however, in every one of these examples is that their propositional content is remarkable in the context of discussion, which motivates, in turn, the use of the i/o-periphrasis in its interpretation as a speaker involvement device. I do agree, though, with Stein that it is important to note, in view of the discussion of the ... development of do, that this type of early occurrence of do in negatives does not show focus on the truth of the proposition. (D. Stein 1990: 86) In principle, the explanation of the use of do in questions - limited and biased as the data base may be96 - follows the same rationale. As with negations, the i/o-periphrasis does not appear to focus on the truth aspect of the proposition, but on the emotive basis underlying the speech act that instrumentalizes the question. In other words, questions that have a i/o-periphrasis are typically not used by the speaker as real questions, in the sense that s/he would aim at obtaining some piece of information/truth, but as a strategy of pursuing an action goal that does not rely on the piece of information apparently requested. Of the yes/no type of questions, it is the so-called rhetorical questions in particular that seem to attract the i/o-periphrasis (cf. D. Stein 1990: 82-83) and thus represent the most prominent case for illustration. It is certainly accurate to say that they can be considered indirect affirmations of the opposite of the proposition questioned. Accordingly, (35)

doth godpe love andhatyth me? Ludus Coventriae 32 (quoted in Visser 1969: 1552)

146

(36)

The periphrastic do

Dednot Crist hym-selfpay trybutt unto Cesar? John Bale, Kynge Johan 608 (quoted in Visser 1969: 1556)

can be said to mean "it is not the case that God loves you and hates me" and "also Christ payed tribute to Caesar", respectively. But I do not agree with Stein when he elaborates this aspect as the raison d'etre of the c/o-periphrasis: The point of the rhetorical question is the proposition to the contrary, the creation of tension between this hypothesized proposition and the one which the speaker actually believes to be true and the truth of which he wishes to convince his communication partner. He invites his addressee to share his conviction of the truth of the proposition by implying it as a tacit presupposition which is not directly questioned... To the extent that rhetorical questions involve the opposing or contrasting of propositions they are part and parcel of the basic contrastive meaning of do ...(D. Stein 1990: 84) In my view, the do-periphrasis is, again, indicative of the emotive basis of the do-periphrastic in negations and questions speaker's action goal for which he utilizes the propositional affair referred to by the rhetorical question. In the above examples, the affairs actually stated are fiinctionalized for accusing and defending; the do-periphrases indicate that the speaker pursues these goals with involvement. Contrast, furthermore, is not even a notion that can always be applied when wA-questions come into focus, even where they are rhetorical; it works for (37), but not for (38): (37)

(38)

Kynge Arthur, wher-fore doost thow suffre thi peple to be slayn and distroied. Merlin 627 (quoted in Engblom 1938: 145) Ο thou fals knyght and traytour vnto knyghthode/ who dyd lerne the to dystresse ladyes and gentylwymmen. Malory, Morte d 'Arthur 197, 16 (quoted in Engblom 1938: 147)

What works in either case, however, is the notion of speaker involvement linked to the respective action goal pursued, i.e., complaining, lamenting, or the like, which in turn guarantees the remarkableness of the content and provides the clue for specifying the emotional value of which the do-periphrasis is the symptom.

Case study: A Supplicacyon for the Beggers, by S. Fish

147

6.5. Case study: A Supplicacyon for the Beggers, by S. Fish Fish's pamphlet, published around 1528/29, is in a certain way a complement to Fisher's pamphlet chosen for analysis by D. Stein (1990). Being a criticism of the state of the Roman Catholic Church in England, it takes the position opposite the one exhibited by Fisher's document. Fish's text moves in certain repetitive or circular patterns along and around three topics interacting with one another. The first focuses on the desolate state of contemporary English society, in Christian moral terms, implying, but not explicating a counter-concept. This is the topic from which the discourse starts out. Marveling at why the situation is that way, especially in a society where the Church plays an important role, Fish turns to discussing the Church. He finds that the Church has done things it should not have done (i.e., playing the power game) and has refrained from doing things it should (i.e., spiritual instruction) 97 In his criticism, Fish often assures himself with indubitable authorities - the Bible and the Church fathers - to give his arguments the utmost weight and dignity. The third topical element that makes up the text consists in an appeal to the King (Henry VIII), who is also the official addressee of the supplication. It should be his duty to take care of his subjects, primarily in societal terms of course, but what happens to their souls should not leave him untouched either. Due to the role that the Church plays to different degrees in both spheres of discontent, the King could and should make a constructive contribution to improving both problem areas by taking away from the Church all the worldly power it has recently taken delight in and thus forcing it to do what it is supposed to do.

6.5.1. The do-occurrences Diagram 6.1. represents the main topical elements of Fish's discourse and locates all the c/o-occurrences except for those in imperative sentences and speech act formulas. The figures in the diagram refer to the ensuing list of examples. These are grouped according to their grammatical environment, with a further subdivision according to some formal properties tackled earlier.

148

The periphrastic do

Diagram 6A.

The topical structure of Fish's Supplicacyon distribution of do-periphrases

and the

41,54

criticism of society

reflection on 'why', marveling 47,49,50,51,53,66,68,72

73,75 i

biblical authorities

Τ Church

Church criticism 39,42,43,45,46,48,55 56,58, 60,61,63,64,65, 67,69,70,74,76

appeal to the King 40,44,52,57

62

I. Affirmative-declaratives (a) with adverbials (39)

(40)

(41)

(42)

(43)

(44)

it will appere manyfestly to all reasonable and godly wyttes, that they do brynge noo maner commodyte, proffet, or vtylyte, other spyrituall or temporall, to this your publyche wealthe. (p. 42) 98 And, in the meane season, I doo no lesse thynke, and also pray hartely to God, that your Magestye will prouide and make ordinaunce, that... (p. 44) seing there were sucheprofounde Clerkes...and studentes in the same, which dyd teache & preache vnto the people contynually. (p. 22) And all these the faithfull, through the true and syncere vmderstandinge of Gods Wörde, doo euer studye and labour to ouercome, and vtterly to abholyshe by faythe. (p. 24) And some suche which ded neuer knowe what is a soule...be nowe admytted to haue charge ouer an hundreth and many moo... (p. 27) Yt is nowe tyme, Lorde, to shewe thyne accustomed goodnes & mercye, for the whiche we doo dayly and hartely praye... (p. 46)

(b) with explicit evaluation (45)

Some of the blynde ignorante prestes teache the people that God is honowred ... through the rynginge of belles ... and

Case study: A Supplicacyon for the Beggers, by S. Fish

149

candelles...whom the blynde prestes doo bothe sence & spryncle with holy water, (p. 41) (c) with explicit contrast (46) (47)

(48)

Youre Grace and your cyuile power doo punnyshe synne... But the office and dewtye of the pastor is to preache Goddes Wörde... (Ρ· 37) The prophete Osee sayethe: - "There is noo trewethe, no mercye...cursynge, lyenge murdre, thefte, adulterye, hathe broken in "; and yet doo owre shepherdes holde theyr peace, (p. 53) And so longe as they do not exercyse their offyce and vocatyon, but doo persecute the Wörde...so longe shall synne increase, (p. 54)

(d) with reference to authorities (49) (50) (51) (52) (53)

As Paul sayeth: "They which be Christes, doo crucyfye the fleshe, with her lustes and concupiscence ". (p. 24) through occasyon taken of the infirmyte of the fleshe, steareth vp synne, as sayethe Paul: "I knowe not what luste dyd meane, except the lawe had sayed, thow shalte not luste. (p. 25) As the Scripture sayeth, that "God through faithe dothe puryfye & make cleane all hartes ". (p. 25) I wolde wyshe that all gouernowres ... wolde...folowe Christ, whiche... ded demaunde this question of Peter before he ded commytt the cure of his flocke to hym; (p. 39) ...shall be extremely persecuted and tormented ... as Christe sayethe: - "...but I haue chosen you from the worlde, therfore the worlde dothe hate you ". (p. 56)

(e) others (54) (55)

Consideringe, that by all that tyme and space, this your realme (as the most parte of men dyd then iudge and esteame) was well endowed... (p. 21) For so longe as Godes Wörde was kepte secrete and hyden from gouemours, so longe the clergys dyd leade, not onely the kynges, but also... (p. 35)

150

(56)

(57) (58)

The periphrastic do

whiche not onely haue lytle lernynge, but also they be enemyes to all men which can and doo preache Gods Wörde syncerely and trewly, (p. 37) Therfore it behoueth the presenter of the clerclce...to be cyrcumspect and well ware what clerke he doth present; (p. 38) And surely euen as Cayphas and Annas,..., ded iudge Christ to be crucifyed, so owr byshops, so longe as they, contrarye to their callynge, doo exercyse the offyce of temporall iudges, so longe shall they persecute Christe... (p. 51)

II. Negative - declaratives (a) with their positive counterpart (59)

but when itpleaseth God to take their sowles... than yowr Grace is dyscharged of all gouernance...as of suche which, after their death,doo not appertayne to yowr Grace...but onely of the kyngedome of God, (p. 43)

(60)=(48) And so longe as they do not exercyse their offyce and vocatyon, but doo persecute the Wörde...so longe shall synne increase, (p. 54) (b) without their positive counterpart (61)

(62)

(63)

(64) (65)

Most myghty Prynce, wherfor, if the pastours appoynted to preache & teache Gods Wörde, within this your Graces realme, doo not dyligently instructe...all kynde of synne shall increase... (p. 26) And I shall euer desyer of God...that...they doo not make any suchevngodly suytes...for any parson to be admytted to any offyce...whome they doo not certeynly knowe, (p. 31) ministers...which can not or doo not feade their flocke ... because they other can not or doo not execute the offyce to that belonginge. (p. 32) For byshops and other pastors... which other doo not or can not executethe offyce perteyninge to his or their callynge, (p. 32) For if Christ... doo not endowe the offycer wythlernynge, grace ... the electe...shall contynually abyde and remayne an hypocryte: and suche one, which dothe not enter in by the dore, (p. 33)

Case study: A Supplicacyon for the Beggers, by. S. Fish

(66)

(67) (68)

(69) (70)

151

For, in tymes paste, kynges haue geuen theyr bysshoprycks to theyr councellers...where Gods Wörde dothe not approue any byshopricke to be geuen to any man for any suche seruice done, (p. 34) For, if a pastour doo not feade the flocke of Christe... (p. 38) Christ ded not commytt to Peter the cure and charge of his shepe, before he asked thryse of Peter whether he loued hym. (p. 39) bysshopps, and other spyrytuall shepherdes, which doo not dylygently execute theyr offyce and vocation, (p. 41) Wherfore (moste redoubted Prynce) seinge that theyr greate posessyons, ryches...be the impedyment and let that they do not execute theyr vocacyon... (p. 56)

III. Interrogatives (a) rhetorical questions, positively biased (71) (72) (73)

Doth not God commaunde straytely shepherdes to feade their flocke dyligently? (p. 31) Doo not these thinges fayntely agree with the sayenge of theyr predecessour, Paule the Apostle, which sayeth:...(p. 50) If they wolde loke well therunto, doo not they see on euery syde detestable synne raigne throughowt all this your realme? (p. 52)

(b) rhetorical questions, negatively biased (74)

Doo we, which thinke vs Christen men, esteame spirituall benefyces to be nothinge els but lyvinges to be geuen at owre pleasure toprystes or seruyce done? (p. 30)

(c) wh-questions (75) (76)

What honest louinge harte doth not bewayle the habundaunce of synne...? (p. 41) What is the cause that they doo not execute this their offyce? (p. 53)

Chart 6.1. presents a distributional profile for the c/o-periphrases, with the highest frequency being where Fish criticizes the Church and the lowest

152

The periphrastic do

occurring where he diagnoses a desolate moral state of society and then starts wondering why. Even a global, and as such only approximative, treatment of the do-occurrences confirms the proposal advanced. The diagnostic and reflective passages have their origin in emotions comprised of wonder, surprise or preoccupation. In his point of departure, Fish is very explicit, spelling out his emotional state rather than hinting at it. I coulde not but meruell how, and by what meanes suche pestilent errours and horrible darke blyndenes coulde ... entre ... this your realme ... Contemplatinge and reuoluinge these things in my mynde - not a lytle moued, troubled, and vexed with the same - I applyed me with all my powre & dyligence, exquysytely to serche & to knowe the originall grounde & cause therof. (pp. 21-22) This sets the tone. It is not simply going to be a portrayal of life and customs in the England of the early sixteenth century, but rather a discussion of current concern to the speaker who is looking for an answer to what puzzles him. This discussion turns out to be a strong criticism of the Church. Thus, all do-periphrases occurring in this topical context can be assumed to meet the characteristics proposed. The propositional contents can be considered remarkable in that they are functionalized for the author's criticism; and the criticism as such can be seen to rest on a distinct emotional grounding. Discussing Church matters could well have been an action goal in itself. Fish, however, links it up with yet another, farther reaching goal in that he takes a step toward a possible change by appealing to Henry VIII. This goal and its emotional foundation not only justify the do-periphrases occurring with propositions that define this appeal, but they also exert a retro-active effect on Fish's Church criticism and his use of the do-periphrasis there. The appeal to the King reinforces and enriches the emotional basis with which the discussion is performed and of which the do-periphrases give evidence. Whatever the value may be that can be reconstructed by the reader for every single do-occurrence, the fact that it rests on a pragmatic interpretation of a discourse with a clear practical goal will render it coherent with the emotive meaning of the other do-occurrences, due to the pragmatic coherence of the discourse itself. Generally speaking, the relatively high frequency of do-occurrences and their distribution over all major topics result in an overall effect that can be adequately described as passionateness, or the like. At least for the early sixteenth century, this effect may still be justly assumed to correspond to an inner state of the speaker. As far as Fish and his pamphlet are concerned, there is, in fact, even some strong evidence. From

Case study: A Supplicacyon for the Beggers, by S. Fish

J 53

Foxe's Story ofM. Symon Fyshe, which is included in the Fish edition used, we learn that Fish had appeared in a play as a character nobody else had wanted to play because this personage had to pronounce heavy criticism against Cardinal Wolsey. As a consequence, Fish had to flee from persecution, and during his time in exile, he wrote the pamphlet against the Church. In other words, Fish's life gives the passionateness of his discourse its ultimate credibility. What Bally ([1965]) meant by his notion of mode vecu can be fully recovered here.

6.5.2. Economizing the use of the do-periphrasis Texts such as Fish's Supplicacyon for the Beggers, broadsheets, pamphlets, and the like, may well provoke the following question: if the do-periphrasis should exert the function advocated, why is it not used more often, in this particular text more often than 42 times. In fact, one may wonder why it is not used with all finite verb forms, given that the speaker may justly be assumed to be involved throughout. In the light of how the argument is running, exact figures as to the proportion of verb forms with do-periphrasis to verb forms without are not needed. Attention should be given to at least the following three considerations. Firstly, to avoid a possible misconception, if the speaker chooses the simple form instead of the periphrastic one, it cannot be concluded that s/he is not involved. Due to the "non-categoricalness of the form - function relationship" (Stein 1990: 141) in this instance, the two forms are not in a complementary distribution. Whereas the do-periphrasis is marked for the speaker's involvement as I suggest, the simple form is unmarked. It does not give any clue as to the speaker's emotional involvement. Being emotively neutral, the simple form, consequently, cannot be inappropriate even in cases where the periphrastic form would be fully justified. In short, though we can explain why a do-periphrasis actually occurred (in the sense of recovering its motivation), we cannot predict its occurrence, even if we may occasionally be able to predict its non-occurrence (i.e., in circumstances where the speaker involvement is not a category readily applicable). Thus, it is entirely up to the speaker, if and where to use it. Secondly, whenever the speaker would have good reason for choosing the involvement indicating do-periphrasis, her/his decision against it and in favor of the neutral, simple form may not be all that arbitrary, after all. Raising the frequency of the do-periphrasis, as with any other expressive means, is likely to yield negative, unwanted effects; the form is likely to be worn out by

154

The periphrastic do

being used too often." This would be an example both of markedness reversal (H. Andersen 1972), and of ritualization in the sense of Plooij (1978) and Haiman (1994). It is a phenomenon that has figured in some of the preceding chapters as well (primarily in chapter 4), without having been explicitly referred to, however. The further historical development of the do-periphrasis can, in fact, partly provide an illustration (see section 6.6 ). In spoken discourse, the speaker may well express her/his prolonged involvement through an obstinate, or at least highly recurrent, use of a rich array of appropriate paralinguistic and nonverbal means (voice quality, speed, loudness, etc., and mimics, gestures, etc., respectively). Written discourse must do without these resources. The few linguistic means that exist may require a more restrictive handling due to the genericness of their emotive function, to their weak stance within a language system that generally shows a higher functional profile and, moreover, to a bias toward other than emotive functions. Thirdly, there is also an historical aspect to be taken into consideration. In times and/or cultures that are either suspicious of or not yet ready for a free, unrestricted expression of one's emotions, writing is a form that may exert an additionally suppressive influence. Whereas in oral form acts of transgressing a presumed norm of non-expressivity do not leave any traces, they get recorded by the written form. Guarded use may be the appropriate response.100 Either one of the last two considerations suggests that the speaker's use of the do-periphrasis is subjected to economizing, the best use being where the form has the greatest possible effect in a text. This textual dimension, however, is external to (he form as such; it is, therefore, not to be mistaken for a paradigmatic example of what Traugott (1989) suggests to be the second semantic path of change. Tendency II: Meanings based in the external or internal described situation > meanings based in the textual and metalinguistic situation. (Traugott 1989: 35) The same applies to the other grammatical phenomena under consideration whose use in texts were found to be economized in a similar fashion. One of the points that best guarantee a pay-off is what D. Stein calls the peak of a discourse unit. Since Stein himself does not offer a definition, I content myself with the following minimal working definition: within a discourse unit, which develops a topic of varying complexity at varying length, the peak is a propositional content that, in comparison with the "rest" of the unit, excels either for norm deviancy or for conciseness or

Case study: A Supplicacyon for the Beggers, by S. Fish

155

conclusiveness. It may occur at any point within the unit, the least likely being at the beginning where a developmental phase would be missing. If the do-periphrasis often occurs where there is such a peak, it occurs there not so much because peak-marking is its function, as Stein would maintain, but rather because the peak is a really good place for a speaker to choose if he has little to spend! In expressing it at this point, he has virtually done so for the whole passage for which the point chosen serves as the peak. The speaker's involvement expressed in example (57), for instance, extends at least over the next thirteen lines, for which the proposition at issue functions as peak. (57)

Therfore it behoueth the presenter of the clercke...to be cyrcumspect and well ware what clerke he doth present; and that he haue good knowleage, experience, and proue of his clercke before he present hym...And if the patron..present a clerke which he knoweth not to be so lerned that he be able to instructe and teache the people...,every such patron consenteth to the deathe & dampnacion of the sowles commytted to the charge of suuche vnlernedpreste. (p. 38-39)

Fish often chooses a peak for expressing his involvement. In fact, the majority of tfo-occurrences can be said to go with a peak if we also include cases in which the part hosting the do is not the peak itself but is locally and functionally closely related to it. Most of the ί/o-occurrences in quotations from authorities belong to this latter group, as in (50) where the quote from Paul "I knowe not what luste dyde meane/, except the lawe had sayed, thow shalte not luste" is an immediate follow-up to the peak "but the lawe of God not onely worketh no obedyence...but rather...steareth vp synne" within a passage that makes a reappraisal of the Christian law in favor of faith (p. 25). But peaks are not the only points where an expression of involvement has a profit-maximizing effect. Particularly noteworthy is the positioning of the do-periphrasis at transition points, a strategy that Fish employs twice, see examples (41) and (55). For instance, (41)

seing there were sucheprofounde clerkes...and studentes in the same, which dyd teache & preache vnto the people contynually. (p. 22)

not only relates to the entire opening passage, stretching over almost two pages in which Fish talks about the state of the society and wonders, still somewhat generically, about the role of the Church, but also relates to the subsequent passage that discusses, over one page, two types of doctrines that

156

The periphrastic do

can be taught and preached. Final and initial positioning of the speaker's expression of involvement are here combined, thus, one investment produces a double profit. Exclusively final positioning of the do-periphrasis is not employed by Fish. Remarkably enough, initial positioning is used twice, viz., (40) and (44). Discussing one example may suffice as an illustration: (40)

And, in the meane season, I doo no lesse thynke, and also pray hartely to God, that your Magestye will prouide and make ordinaunce, that... (p. 44)

The expression of involvement in (40) is attached to a content-introducing verb (think) thus setting an emotional key for the whole content unit depending on this verb: (40')

that your Magestye will prouide and make ordinaunce/, that all such landes and possessyons, wherevpon so many ydle hypochrytes and deceyuers be greate burdeyn & charge to your realme/, which hytherto haue lyued vngodly and vnprofytablely/, maye, from henceforthe, be partly conuerted to the supportation and mayntenaunce of common scoles/, wherby errours crepte vp through ingnorance maye be through knowlege repressed/, and godly lernynge and knowleage more plentuously planted and dmynistred/; andpartely that your poore louing subiectes maye be more mercyfully releued & succoured/, whyle they lyue vnder your subjection, charge, and gouernaunce. (p. 44)

Apart from techniques that provide the widest possible effect for the single do-occurrence, we can also observe a certain economizing circumspection on the macrotextual level in terms of frequency distributions. Phases with higher frequencies of do-periphrases are counterbalanced by phases without any. The highest frequency can be found in the second third of the pamphlet, where we have nine do-periphrases on less than three pages (bottom of p. 30 to top of p. 33). It is the passage in which Fish expounds the crucial aspect of his concern, i.e., the bad state of the clergy. The preceding three pages, in contrast, show no do-periphrasis at all. The passage unfolds Fish's ideal of the clerk as shepherd and as such merely provides the foil against which the clergy of Fish's time can subsequently appear to be standing out negatively. A similarly balanced distribution, less pronounced but equally well motivated by the pragmatic discourse structure, can be encountered in the last third of the pamphlet. After a passage extending over three-and-a-half pages (middle of p. 46 to top of p. 50) where no do-periphrasis would signal the speaker's involvement, we, again, regularly find do-occurrences from

The development of the do-periphrasis

157

page 50 onward up to the end (p. 57), with a frequency above the statistical mean (= 1 per page). This concluding part provides the final and decisive pragmatic twist of the discourse, i.e., Fish's appeal to the King for help, whereas the former part without do-periphrases is more or less a recapitulation of what Fish has already presented - and on that occasion cum ira et studio (thus with do-periphrases), i.e., the bad shape of the Church in England.

6.6. The development of the rfo-periphrasis toward presentday English usage In line with my general argument, it has been my aim to show that the do-periphrasis is another grammatical device which for a certain period of time typically served the speaker to express her/his emotional attitude. Since its use was found to be characteristically linked to practical goals, the device at issue has ultimately been specified as signaling the speaker's emotional involvement in her/his own practical actions (speech acts). Though for this rather limited aim, the further historical development of the form and its use are not really of importance, it may nevertheless be worthwhile to give some indication as to whether and how the proposal advanced fits into its history, especially in view of the fact that even in present-day English there are still traces of optionality (see section 6.2.). The eventually füll grammaticalization of the do-periphrasis starts out from yes/nο - questions and then extends to wA-questions and negations (in the sense of clausal/nexal negation). The result is a use of the do-periphrasis that D. Stein (1990: 268) aptly characterizes as having to do with the truth of the proposition. This shift from emotive to epistemic meaning, however, would appear to be a mere chance result if Stein's argumentation were to apply. His central thesis interprets the shift as phonotactically triggered. Certain consonant clusterings, especially with the second person singular as in saidst thou this?, came to be considered undesirable if not offensive. The solution was the use of the do-periphrasis deprived of its former function(s). One may have one's doubts, however, as does Görlach (1992) in fact, that /dst/ at the end of auxiliaries is less offensive than at the end of full verbs. Görlach, moreover, questions the appropriateness of the whole approach "since thou [which went along with the .^-ending for the second person singular, A.H.] was going out of use before do was used in the majority of questions and long before not-negated sentences were affected" (Görlach 1992: 450).

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The periphrastic do

Essentially, Stein's phonotactic analyses bring two regularities to the fore: (1) Within the various syntactic environments examined (i.e., declaratives, yes/wo-questions and w/z-questions), the "degree of periphrasing frequency" is the higher the more problematic the phonotactic make-up of the tense/person verb form is; and (2) under the same phonetic conditions, the degree of periphrasing frequency varies among the different sentence types, being the highest for yes/no-questions and the lowest for declaratives, with wh-questions holding a middle position. The explanation Stein gives for these findings, however, seems somewhat circular, and their suggestiveness, therefore, is not all that obvious: the higher overall level in questions goes together with, and is a consequence of, a greater sensitivity to phonotactic undesiredness in questions than in declarative sentences. Do-periphrasis is obviously a strategy to avoid undesired, word-final consonant clusters. Periphrasis is strongest where the syntactically differentiated sensitivity to such clusters is highest: in questions - with the obvious suggestion for a diachronic hypothesis on the rise of do in questions. (D. Stein 1990: 156-157) I would find an hypothesis more convincing that better took into account the very fact that the development of the periphrastic form from Late Middle English to Early Modern English starts out from a situation where its optional use exerts an indexical function, viz., signaling speaker involvement, and ends up in a situation where its obligatory use still is not meaningless. Such an hypothesis can be derived from considerations which Stein uses as arguments, to be sure, but does not fully exhaust.101 With the accession of Henry VIII, a courtly culture developed that found its literary-stylistic expression in what is known as Euphuism;102 with the rise of the middle class toward the end of the sixteenth century, however, this cultural set-up changed and with it, Euphuism fell out of favor. Stein justly assigns the status of a mere external factor to the end of Euphuism and courtly culture in influencing the development of the cfo-periphrasis. For an internal, language-specific motivation of the change in the function of the ifo-periphrasis, however, it is not necessary to turn to phonotactic arguments. Rather it can be retrieved from the way in which Euphuistic literature made use of the form, especially when confronted with its use in the Latinate, Ciceronian style, which had already developed in the fifteenth century but was still alive in the sixteenth century; Fish's pamphlet is a fine example of it. Outside Euphuism, i/o-periphrases and the rhetorical environments favoring them are expressions of the speaker's actual involvement; in Euphuistic literature, however, they seem to serve the speaker as a means of becoming involved. Example (77) provides a good illustration.

The development of the do-periphrasis

(77)

159

And forsomutch as I doe feele for the debility that is in me, that lam not able any longer to beare the sowre shockes of my bitter torments and artyrdome that 1 presently doe suffer, yet before my life doe fayle, and death doe sease vpon my senses, I haue written vnto you this present letter for a testimoniall of your rigour, which is the marke that iustifieth my vnguiltynesse. And although I doe complayne of mine vnhally fortune, yet I meane not to accuse you, onely contented that eche man doe know, that flrme affection and eternall thraldome do deserue other recompence than a farewell so cruell... One only thing cheereth vpy heart agayne, and maketh my death more myserable, which is, that in dying so iinnocent as I am, you shall remayne guilty, and the onely cause of my ruine. My Lyfe will depart like a Puffe, and the Soule shall vanish like a sweete Sommer's blast: whereby you shall be euer deemed for a cruell Woman and bloudy Murderer of your deuout and faythfull Seruaunt. I pray to God mine owne sweete Lady, to giue you such Contentation, Ioye, Pleasure, and Gladnesse, as you do cause through your Rigor, Discontentment, Griefe, and Displeasure to the poore languishing Creature, and who for euermore shall bee Your most obedient and affected seruaunt Dom Diego. Painter, Palace of Pleasure (quoted in D. Stein 1990: 112-113)

Emphaticness has developed into a pose. The rich production of practical manuals of eloquence shows that emphatic forms of speech, the c/o-periphrasis included, have become an ever-ready instrument for achieving aesthetic effects; emotivity is the product of these means rather than the trigger for their use. In brief, the ßfo-periphrasis ceases to lend its emotive credibility to discourse. I consider this to be the "catastrophic" event: that a fad - which Euphuism was, after all, despite all the significance it has for the English language and literature - took hold of the form and perverted its function into something that was doomed to die with the fad itself The turn that the ifo-periphrasis took with "the demise of courtly do" (Stein 1990: 126) can now be interpreted in terms of a functional readjustment to the new Age of Reason. The change that took place can be described as a change in truth orientation brought about by Euphuistic abuse. Pre-Euphuistic use of the c/o-periphrasis can be said to have pertained to the emotional truth of a speaker and her/his pursuit, whereas post-Euphuistic use of the ifo-periphrasis relates to the epistemic truth of a propositional state of affairs. 103 This is, by the way, yet another instance of the same sort of

J 60

The periphrastic do

semantic change, as previously hypothesized for the present perfect, that is not covered by Traugott's proposal (see chapter 5.6.2.). My outlook accounts well for the gradual grammaticalization of the c/o-periphrasis, in the sense of rule-governed, restricted usage; it seems to move along a scale of decreasing complexity in relation to the problem of epistemic truth and knowledge; a yes/Wo-question raises this problem globally, i.e., for the whole proposition, a w/2-question raises it partially;104 and a negative declarative resolves it insufficiently in that it does not reveal what is the case. That the periphrastic do, on the other hand, retreats from assertive declaratives is in perfect syntony with this view, given that they do not topicalize the epistemic truth problem, although they remain, of course, subjected to it. For the same reason, it also appears plausible that phonetically unstressed do ceases to co-occur with explicit speech acts except for highly standardized or ritualized formulas, such as I do arrest you. Describing the aforesaid developments merely as a shift from emotional/pragmatic to epistemic propositional truth offers, furthermore, the advantage of accommodating later developments with ease, such as the emphatic do in example (2), and even the latest developments resulting in language data like examples (3)-(5) "reminiscent of the common early modern English use of do" (Osselton 1983: 470). It is basically the same process as the one outlined, but in reversed form. 106 Truth being the common denominator for either rationale of usage,107 the alternation and mingling of both functions of the do-periphrasis seems absolutely plausible.

6.7. Synopsis We have demonstrated that, originally, the non-grammaticalized use of the i/o-periphrasis competed in all syntactic environments with the simple verb and was a means to express emotive meaning, viz., the adoptive attachment of the speaker to the state of affairs denoted. In speech-act theoretical terms, the device was shown to intensify the speech act function, thus turning the speech act into an emphatic one. We traced back the capacity of the construction to (indexically) signal a speaker's emotion to the peculiar "division" of tasks of the two elements of the periphrastic do: the do, which functions as tense carrier, and the infinitive verb, whose content is thus emphasized. The (extralinguistic) situation topicalized in such a way was demonstrated to qualify as "remarkable" for the speaker in that it links up with her/his current communicative goals. By introducing the notion of

Synopsis

161

"remarkableness", the hypothesis offered went beyond the approach suggested in D. Stein (1990), which relied on the narrower notion of "contrast" and could not account for many of the occurrences of the doperiphrasis in the text presented. We have argued that the need to "economize" on the use of the periphrastic do as an expressive device offers plausible explanations of its particular locations and the frequency of its occurrence in discourse - with the peak of a discourse unit being the most economical and "rewarding" position. From an historical perspective, we have demonstrated that the shift toward the grammaticalization of the form with negative affirmatives and questions during the seventeenth century can indeed be understood as the response of the "Age of Reason" to the extensive overuse of the c/o-periphrasis as an expressive device during the preceding era of courtly culture, known as "euphuism".

7. The ^ - p a s s i v e

7.1. Plan of discussion While most analysts at best distinguish the gef-passive from the £e-passive by assigning some prepositional meaning element to the former, our account offers a pragmatic interpretation instead. In line with the interpretation of the devices tackled in the preceding chapters, the ger-passive is considered as a means for the speaker to indicate her/his emotional attitude toward a propositional content that is remarkable enough to give the speaker a reason for getting emotionally involved. Particular attention is paid to the question of how remarkableness manifests itself in a text. The gef-passive is shown to occur both in contexts that discuss ( a problem) and that tell (a story) and it is, consequently, interpreted as expressing either an adaptive or an adoptive attachment. An historically and semiotically oriented analysis of the getformative substantiates its interpretation as an attachment device. Its emotive indeterminateness, a characteristic of the attachment devices in general, is interpreted as an effective and suitable means against ineffability. Beyond verifying the hypothesis advanced, the concluding case study of contemporary interviews shows that the perspective pursued here as well as in the other chapters is not only useful for an in-depth analysis of a text, but it can also serve as a text-based method for obtaining insights into questions of a mainly sociological nature.

7.2. Main-stream concepts and alternatives The ge/-passive as a modern variant of the 6e-passive has been treated only marginally in the literature, if at all. It has often been considered a socially stigmatized form or at least a form restricted to the colloquial, informal level of communication (cf. Svartvik 1966: 92-93). It is often interpreted as a form whose function does not go beyond the 6e-passive although it is occasionally a welcome means for underlining the actional character where the combination be + second participle appears to be ambiguous, as, for example, in χ is used (reading a: χ gets used up, reading b: χ is second-hand). Nevertheless, there have also been various attempts to attribute some distinctive feature to the gei-passive. The majority offer proposals

Main-stream concepts and alternatives

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conceptualizing it in aspectual terms; among the advocates of such an approach are Kruisinga (1925), Poutsma (1926) and Curme (1931), more recently Palmer (1974) and Quirk et al. (1972 and 1985) and, most recently, Vanrespaille (1989) and Tobin (1993), who adopts most of Vanrespaille's ideas. These proposals, partly based on taking into consideration not only the competing Ae-passive, but also the become-passive, can be schematized using the following list taken from G. Stein (1979: 48). - The gei-passive has a perfective aspect. - It has a mutative aspect. - It represents a resultative copula. - It reports both the action and the resultative state. - It has ingressive force. As the following examples illustrate, none of these readings of the getpassive can be considered exclusively valid. (1) (2) (3) (4)

He got hit. Our house is getting painted. We are going to work as a team once Iget elected. (Vanrespaille 1989: 6) I fear that all books... get used up. (Curme 1931: 446) 108

Even an attempt to lump together the various readings and to claim that this sum represents the distinctive characteristics of the gei-passive does not seem to lead to a satisfying solution, since variants overlap, as in "perfective" - "resultative", or contrast, as in "perfective" - "ingressive". Occasionally, especially in recent times, proposals have been advanced that ascribe to the gef-passive a specific connotation. For example, Swan (1980: 268) attributes the connotation of SUDDEN, UNEXPECTED, or BY ACCIDENT to the form. And Huddleston (1984) claims that get lends itself more readily than be to the imputation to the subjectreferent of some measure of initiative or responsibility. (Huddleston 1984:445) Givon (1993: 67-69) propagates a similar stance, which he warrants by empirical findings showing a preference for the gei-passive with human subjects. Against the "responsibility"-interpretation (cf. Chappell 1980, inter alii)

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The get-passive

the same doubts may be articulated as they are by G. Stein in respect to a partially similar idea advanced by Hatcher (1949). I cannot see any active involvement... of the subject in a sentence like He got fired if he was fired because he was too stupid. Is stupidity an 'active involvement'? (G. Stein 1979: 58) The preference for a human subject of ^/-passives remains to be accommodated (see section 7.6.). As far as the connotation of the "unexpected" is concerned, it cannot be taken as a defining feature if examples like (5) and (6) are acceptable. (5) (6)

As usual, I got stuck in the rush hour at Reading. (adapted from Granger 1983: 366) For weeks I had been fighting for this letter. Yesterday, at last, it got written.

All the approaches mentioned, as far as they try to establish the gei-passive as functionally distinct from the Ae-passive, have one common denominator: in every given instance, the meaning of the gef-passive is more specific in comparison to the 6e-passive and is cast in terms that belong to the propositional meaning of an utterance. While sharing the stance that the getpassive does have a meaning surplus in comparison to the 6e-passive, I would argue that it has to be conceptualized at the speaker's level where it is seen as an emotive language device. Such an approach is not entirely original; in parts at least, it has been previously pursued, most prominently by Hatcher (1949) and R. Lakoff (1971). First, I will briefly sum up their contributions to this view and then proceed from there to developing my own proposal. As far as Hatcher is concerned, I find three of her ideas particularly noteworthy: (1) she relates the use of the gei-passive with two types of events, namely "those felt as having either fortunate or unfortunate consequences for the subject" (Hatcher 1949: 441); (2) she relates, at least indirectly - that is, in footnotes (e.g., her footnote 16) and ex negativo -, the gef-passive to the emotiveness of an utterance: This construction [i.e., the geNpassive, A.H.] would be utterly impossible in such non-affective statements as... She was described (as a hard-working person). (Hatcher 1949: 441) She finally (3) characterizes the gei-passive as a form focusing on the superficial subject of the passive sentence:

Mainstream concepts and alternatives

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...in the construction with get, the passive action is presented from the point of view of the subject: it is considered only as something (good or bad) happening to him, a stage in his private career. (Hatcher 1949: 441) The more Hatcher elaborates her proposal, however, the more it becomes evident that she attributes the highest importance to the third idea, thus diverging from the line of reasoning that I would like to pursue: To sum up, then: the construction with get is used only when the subject is presented as free from...the timing of events: an autonomous (though vulnerable) being, moving within his personal orbit; and it is used only when the passive act represents a happening ...which has meaning within this orbit alone. (Hatcher 1949: 442) So far as R. Lakoffs (1971) paper tackles such questions, we find certain overlaps with the first two points outlined in Hatcher; in Lakoff, however, they have undergone some modifications. What was at best implied in Hatcher is now stated expressly, with certain provisos, as the function of the gef-passive, i.e., to indicate a speaker's attitude; whereas Hatcher attributed the values "good" - "bad", "fortunate" - "unfortunate" to the event as such, Lakoff links them to the speaker and infers the speaker's emotional involvement from these speaker-dependent evaluations. The gei-passive in English, unlike the ie-passive, is frequently used to reflect the attitude of the speaker toward the events described in the sentence: whether he feels they are good or bad, or reflect well or poorly on him or the superficial subject of the sentence (for whom he thus expresses implicit sympathy). (Lakoff 1971: 154) Gradually, however, this idea gets lost. The speaker is pushed into the background in favor of the subject of the passive sentence. In Lakoffs final conclusion, there is basically nothing left of what was particularly attractive for my own viewpoint. Though the keyword emotional is still used it refers to the subject and, moreover, becomes interchangeable with other forms of involvement. My proposal is in many respects indebted to these two contributions, both where it takes up certain ideas and elaborates them and where it stands out against them. In short, I take the gef-passive as a pragmatic language means for the speaker to indicate her/his emotional attitude toward a propositional state of affairs in which something happens to the subject that gives the speaker a reason for getting emotionally involved. This stance rests on a series of considerations that shall be subsequently expounded.

166

The get-passive

7.3. What's passive about get + V-ed? Any discussion of the gei-passive raises the propaedeutical problem, as it were, of how to define it at all. In other words, starting out from the following examples are we to say that each and any combination of get + -ed should be considered a passive and should therefore be included in our theory? (7)

(8) (9) (10)

(11)

The wife was reported as having said that she was having her ex-husband investigated and he, in return, was having her investigated, but she was too clever to get caught. (Vanrespaille 1989: 2) No wonder they all get confused, these doctors. (Vanrespaille 1989: 6) Look, mate, you got me sacked. (Vanrespaille 1989: 7) You'd better get changed, dear. Whatever would your father say if he saw you like that. (Vanrespaille 1989: 6) The owners of the firm have been trying to get their licence extended to cover more routes. (Vanrespaille 1989: 4)

Lakoff s treatment pleads for that. But this may be the very reason why she loses sight of the speaker's emotional attitude as the basic function of the gei-passive. Hatcher, on the other hand, delimits the passive to those cases which have a corresponding active sentence. This stance, however, is severely criticized by G. Stein (1979). I think that the attitude adopted here by Hatcher is a classic instance of how scholars have treated the passive in the long tradition of linguistics. It is exactly this attitude which I tried to describe earlier either as an historically motivated interpretation of the passive or as a perpetuated preconceived idea of the passive itself which is only partly based on linguistic evidence. ... Scholars, and in our case also Hatcher, have been and still are too ready to deny certain linguistic structures passive status. Since there are only two voices in English, the active and the passive voice, anyone who claims that a certain structure does not qualify as a passive in his view should immediately raise the question of whether it then qualifies for the active voice. ... The existence of such structures as the get dressed type as well as verbs that behave like start in modern English contradict the traditional interpretation of the passive and

What's passive about get + V-ed?

167

therefore raise the problem of a reconsideration of the passive as such, for instead of setting up or creating an intermediate voice class into which one might fit the above structures it might well be worth first reconsidering the definition of the passive. (G. Stein 1979: 77-78) In passing it should be mentioned that it is debatable to take it for granted that there are simply two voices in English. The active - passive distinction goes back to a transitive type of semantic organization of a sentence where the process described by the verb may extend to a further participant, the GOAL, or not (cf. The tourist hunted and The tourist hunted the lion). Then the transitive standpoint can be complemented by an ergative one, where the process described by the verb is seen as either self-engendered or not (cf. The vase broke and Tom broke the vase). Halliday ([1994]) therefore suggests a broader concept of the voice system. The way the voice system works is as follows. A clause with no feature of agency is neither active nor passive but MIDDLE. One with agency is non-middle, or EFFECTIVE, in voice. An effective clause is then either active or passive: active if Agent/Subject, passive if Medium/Subject. (Halliday [1994]: 168) Moreover, there are, differing from English, a number of languages that offer the ergative as a case, which is in effect semantically comparable to the passive in English; in both cases the direct object is labeled as a transactor with transitive verbs. P. K. Andersen (1991) has, as it were, reconsidered the definition of the passive in a comparative study with the programmatic title A new look at the passive. Ironically enough, in light of G. Stein's invective, he advances the view that, formally speaking, i.e., mainly from the morphological point of view, there is no passive voice in English at all. The English forms in be/get + V-ed are merely used for expressing the passive. Rather than relating the so-called passive sentence in English to the active sentence, it should be related to the intransitive sentence describing the subject's state (which could then be linked to the ergative). Only where this concept is further enhanced by an external initiator does it eventually coincide with the passive concept. And it is not until then that the form get + V-ed assumes the corresponding function. Andersen's analysis, though not committed to this type of traditional reasoning, reinforces the traditional definition of the passive in cognitive terms. Primary to any formal approach, the passive is first and foremost a natural cognitive concept, guiding our intuition about language (which, in grammatical terms, is linked to the underlying agentive structure where

168

The get -passive

agency does not necessarily have to correlate with the subject). Accordingly, only example (7) can be classified as having a passive meaning, (9) and (10) have an active meaning, and (8) is ambiguous; example (11), finally, would have to be considered fuzzy. My further considerations will rest on these assumptions. Consequently, only those occurrences of the combination get + V-ed that are passive in the semantic cognitive sense will form the basis for my proposal. Under this premise, the ger-passive must historically be considered an even later latecomer than commonly maintained. Instead of the mid-seventeenth century (cf. Visser 1973: 2031), it probably was the eighteenth century that gave rise to this passive. The earliest example I have found that may have a real passive meaning dates back to 1731. (12)

you may not only save your life, but get rewarded for your roguery (Fielding)

The first examples that the Oxford English Dictionary provides for get + Ved as a passive in the sense defined are from the nineteenth century.110 But certainly, it has been in the twentieth century that the gei-passive has become really popular (cf. Visser 1973: 2032 and his relevant examples and Svartvik 1966: 92-93). I will therefore treat it as a contemporary linguistic phenomenon.

7.4. Instrumental condition of the gel-passive The passive as a cognitive category is complementary to the active. Both share an event structure which could be characterized in terms of Halliday's notion of transitivity. But ordinary language expressions, such as to do something to somebody or to happen to somebody and many others, suggest that the transitive event structure is cognitively conceived in metaphorical terms. The underlying metaphor comes most clearly to the fore in the way in which Kress - Hodge (1979) introduce their so-called "transactive model", an adaptation from Halliday: in order to render their idea more vivid and concrete, they describe the action expressed by the verb "as passing from the actor across to the affected" (Kress - Hodge 1979: 7). In other words, the transactive/transitive event is metaphorized as a movement between two points. In order to properly account for the perspectival difference between active and passive, we could specify the metaphor as to go from... to... for the active and as to come to...from... for the passive.

Instrumental condition of the get-passive

169

The gei-passive corroborates such an analysis in that it varies the metaphor in a characteristic way. This is due to the particular properties of get as a passive formative. It is true that, morphologically speaking, get functions, like be, as an auxiliary (she got promoted - she was promoted), but in other respects, it is like a full verb. Grammatically speaking, get behaves like a full verb in that it requires the insertion of a form of to do in negative and interrogative sentences (She didn't get promoted vs. She wasn't promoted Did she get promoted? vs. Was she promoted?) and cannot be used as a proform under verb phrase deletion but must be substituted by a form of to do {John got killed in an accident and Bill did too, cf. Haegeman 1985: 5455, Quirk et al. 1985: 160-162, 121-128). The passive formative can therefore justly be assumed to be derived from get as a main verb (cf. Denison (1990 and 1993), who otherwise differs from my views, however). Semantically speaking, get has a fully fledged profile whose various readings can be grouped together around two basic meanings: (1) to cause (± intentional) and (2) to receive or to obtain (cf. Lindstromberg 1991). If we furthermore assume that an abstract concept of MOVING (cf. Miller 1985) underlies both meanings, we may interpret get as defining its subject in a way similar to the one in which the metaphoric conceptualization of transitive actions defines the subject of any passive sentence. The getauxiliary of a passive, we conclude, reinforces the focus that the Ae-passive would normally put on the subject as the receiver of an action coming to this very subject.1 We may even go as far as to recover a possessive meaning element for the gef-passive. Possession would have to be conceived of, though, in similarly abstract terms as those proposed by Langacker (1990: 337-341) in his discussion of the present perfect (cf. p. 114). In fact, the concept would have to be handled more openly; the notion of possessor could equally apply to the subject as well as to the event (as "empossessor").112 In terms of the approach pursued by Traugott (1989) and Traugott - König (1991), we may find that we are dealing here with quite a peculiar case of ongoing grammaticalization. For the first time in the context of my investigations, we consider a phenomenon involving a metaphorically structured process of semantic change; it concerns the very verb get in its transformation into an auxiliary for forming a passive, which is accompanied by the characteristic bleaching effect. But the change involves more than that. As will become evident from the analyses to follow, a metonymical process is nonetheless involved as well, as was the case with all other devices examined; this process pertains to the composed passive form in that it acquires the status of an index for the speaker's attachment - which process, in turn, will be found to be rooted in the regularity of its occurrence in contexts qualified as remarkable. Furthermore, as had to be admitted

170

The get-passive

previously, the development thus emerging is not in line with the developmental tendencies identified by Traugott. Hatcher aptly correlates the subject enfocussing effect of the gef-passive with certain notorious syntactic restrictions. The question of the fry-agent, however, may not be as central as she would have it. Hatcher (1949: 436) herself offers one counter-example to her stance that the by-agent is in contrast to the nature of the gei-passive: (13)

He got killed by the other four. (Hatcher 1949: 436)

And we can easily find more: (14)

(15) (16)

She gets flatly contradicted by Bernard every time she opens her mouth. (G. Stein 1979: 51) He went to Africa and got eaten by a lion. (Poutsma 1926: 100) So I sort of swooned gently away clutching my good suit in Bond Street and I got walked on by a rather large and muddy boxer dog... (Granger 1983: 367).

The proposed metaphoric concept makes it clear, I think, that the by-agent is acceptable because it does not run counter to the concept of receiving something; it merely adds the source of the action coming to the subject. Other restrictions are more binding and they concur with what the metaphoric concept predicts: any additional element not compatible with the focus that the gef-passive sets on the subject will not be acceptable. (17) (18) (19) (20)

*He got run over in cold blood. (Hatcher 1949: 437) *He got fired unjustly. (Hatcher 1949: 437) *Radicals must get exterminated ruthlessly. (Lakoff1971: 156) *More gin got deliberately spilt. (G. Stein 1979: 60),

In the previous examples, each adverbial expression relates to the implied öy-agent and, while enhancing this aspect, gives rise to a conflict with the reinforced focus on the subject.113 But wherever the adverbial expression

Propositional condition of the get-passive

171

relates to the subject, as in (21), or to the entire state of affairs described, as in (22), no such conflict arises: (21) (22)

The thief clumsily got caught by the police. (Gee 1974: 7) 1 1 4 He got fired, unjustly.

A similar reasoning applies to restrictions operating across sentences, as in the following example: (23)

For the next few days he stayed with friends and managed to escape detection; the third night he went back to his family; and the next morning early he was arrested in his home. (Hatcher 1949: 439)

According to Hatcher, a gef-passive "is difficult to imagine" here. Nevertheless, it would be perfectly acceptable in an isolated sentence like (23a) or in a slightly modified version, such as (23b). (23) a. b

He got arrested in his home For a few days he stayed with friends and managed to escape detection. But then he wanted to go back to his family; I warned him, I implored him not to do so, but he wouldn't listen to me. He went back and promptly got arrested.

The preceding context of the original example (23) establishes a perspective aptly characterized by Hatcher as "flow of events". This, however, is not compatible with the strong focus on the subject as effected by the getpassive.

7.5. Propositional condition of the gef-passive Comparing examples (24) - (27), in which the gef-passive is acceptable, with examples (28) and (29), in which it is not, we observe that the examples accepting the gei-passive have a property in common that the others do not have, i.e., the property of being remarkable. (24) (25)

My brother got killed in an accident. She got fired.

172

(26) (27) (28) (29)

The get-passive

He got elected President. The eighteenth century vase got broken. *My brother got buried in the family graveyard. *The vase got purchased in London.

The quality "remarkable" overlaps with the values "fortunate""unfortunate" or "good" - "bad", as employed by Hatcher and Lakoff. But I prefer the notion "remarkable", because it seems to be more explicitly speaker-related and, furthermore, it can even be applied where a propositional state of affairs does not easily fall into either of those binary categories, as is illustrated by example (30). (30)

After a lot of pushing in commercials, the claim of Zotz, the miracle detergent, finally got believed. (Lakoff 1971: 157)

Against the following view of Stein, viz., Whether something is good or bad for somebody is not a sound linguistic criterion; it is too subjective and is an invitation to speculation. (G. Stein 1979: 58) it may be maintained that such categories simply cannot be avoided where language is treated not merely as an abstract system but as a social phenomenon. Moreover, such categories are not necessarily subjective and uncontrollable: where a proposition can be put into the gef-passive, it can be expanded by such commenting phrases as I find that remarkable/amazing etc. - as (24)-(27) confirm in a positive and (28) and (29) in a negative way. The question of whether a comment of this sort is possible or not does not ultimately depend on the verb and its content alone, but rather on the proposition as a whole. The following two pairs of examples, with the verb for each pair being identical, can well prove this point. (31) a.

*She got introduced to the hostess. (Hatcher 1949: 441) b. She got introduced to General Eisenhower. (Hatcher 1949: 441) (32) a. *She got sent to school. (Hatcher 1949: 441) b. He has all the luck: he gets sent to a private school. (Hatcher 1949: 441)

Propositional condition of the get-passive

J 73

The examples provide some further insights into the notion of remarkableness. Whether a given propositional state of affairs is remarkable or not is highly culture-dependent. A person who has never heard of Eisenhower cannot attach to the proposition of (3 lb) the value "remarkable"; therefore, the gei-passive here should be as unacceptable for her/him as in (31a). Conversely, (32a) is unacceptable only where its content, due to Western norms, is not remarkable; in a Third World country, however, the same state of affairs may well be remarkable and should therefore allow for the gei-passive. (32b), in turn, would appear odd if uttered in an English upper-class context. Example (32b) can lead us to still another line of reasoning, which may support the argument at issue. The sentence containing the gef-passive is prefaced by a comment that expressly characterizes the subsequent proposition as remarkable. This is not an isolated case. On the contrary, the example illustrates a general strategy available for rendering a propositional content remarkable which as such does not culturally connote this value, thus providing the rationale for the use of the gef-passive. Since the means vary widely, I shall content myself with briefly mentioning and illustrating four such strategies. (I) A propositional state of affairs can be contrasted with another one and thus be rendered remarkable, as in (33)

She ΊΙ try and get some shrimps, but everything in the way of fish gets sent up to London. (Kruisinga 1925: 124)

(II) Quantifications can be introduced that characterize the propositional content as something singular/rare or excessively frequent, as in (34)

(35)

If they don't offer it this time, I won't drag it away once somebody mentioned it but it hasn 't got mentioned very much. (Granger 1983: 194) You've no idea how often I get asked this question.

(III) By means of certain expansions, the event referred to can be characterized as something that had almost not taken place, as in (30)

After a lot of pushing in commercials, the claim of Zotz, the miracle detergent, finally got believed. (Lakoff 1971: 157)

174

The get-passive

(IV) Evaluative comments can explicitly attach to a propositional content the quality of being remarkable, as in (32b) or in (36) (36)

It is, however, an excellent thing that bicycles should be getting called simply wheels. (Kruisinga 1925: 124)

7.6. Attachment The preceding analysis of the conditions under which a gei-passive is used provides basically all the arguments for sustaining its interpretation as a form of speaker attachment. In the first stance, it provides a reasonable basis for assuming that it does express a speaker's attachment at all. We have seen that the gei-passive cannot substitute for every 6e-passive, but we have not come across an example where the £e-passive cannot be substituted for a gei-passive (cf., however, below). It thus appears that the speaker, though not having a completely free choice, does have the choice not to select the gef-passive where s/he actually could. Where s/he has the choice, s/he decides for the gei-passive preferably in the syntactic environment of a human subject, as table 7.1. shows. Table 7.1. Distribution of human and non-human subjects in BE- and GETpassives

BE·•passive

GET·•passive

%

Ν

%

subject type

Ν

human non-human

240 205

54% 46%

124 16

89% 11%

total:

445

100%

140

100%

(after Herold 1986)

Analogous to Kuno (1987), I would argue that this reflects a general principle of graded natural propensity for involvement. Accordingly, it is more natural for a speaker to be attached to what happens to a human subject than to a non-human one. 115

Attachment

175

Where the speaker actually chooses the gei-passive, we are - because of what Clark (1990) identified as Principle of Contrast (cf. p. 15) - firmly induced to ask why, thus substantiating the hypothesized difference between this gef-passive and the ie-passive. Why does s/he use a selectively restricted form instead of the ordinary ie-passive, which has no such restrictions, given that both forms describe the same state of affairs? The motivation must lie outside her/his intention to describe the affair at issue. Hatcher answered the question in an ingeniously simple way. What she ultimately holds is that the speaker wants to achieve exactly the effect that the meaning of get produces in contrast to be, i.e., setting a strong focus on the subject: ...the agent [or, as we may add, any other possible complement, A.H.]...is created for the sole purpose of fulfilling the destiny of the subject - who has "gotten what was coming to him": it is always his story that get tells. (Hatcher 1949: 446) Nonetheless, I find her answer unsatisfactory. After all, the ie-passive, when used within the same environments, should produce a very similar effect. Furthermore, the answer does not take full account of what Hatcher herself points out in another context, i.e., that the passive event typically is in one way or another remarkable. When we do consider this condition as important as it seems to be, we find a better answer: the speaker focuses on the subject in the particular manner that the gef-passive brings about because s/he finds what happens or happened to the subject remarkable. This motivational link represents the cornerstone of my interpretation of the gei-passive as an attachment device. Get, as passive formative, thus does not tell us the story of the subject, rather, its purpose goes beyond that. It shows that the story of the subject also appertains to the emotional world of the speaker. On the other hand, where speaker and subject are identical (as in the case study to follow in section 7.7.), the gef-passive, as well as other attachment devices, gives the personal story the personal flavor almost required in this case: without such attachment devices, the speaker would appear "detached" from his story, rather than "not attached" to it. Having made a point of the speaker's choice, I must briefly consider a group of gei-passives that cannot be substituted by a 6e-passive. I am referring to sentences of the type (37) where subject and object stand in an inalienable possessive relationship (cf. ρ 23). (37)

Mephistopheles insisted to me until I told him that he would get his teeth kicked in by the dancers. (Vanrespaille 1989: 7)

176

The get -passive

Taking (37) as the passive version of (37a) it becomes evident that (37) topicalizes the possessor. (37) a.

...that the dancers would kick in his teeth for him116

(37a), however, shows the possessor as playing only a marginal role in the transactive structure. The possessor, after all, is not the direct and not even the indirect object but merely has the role of a beneficiary. Her/his being taken as the topic of the passive sentence therefore represents such an unusual choice that it cannot be explained in other than emotive terms. Basing the attachment interpretation of the gef-passive on the link between the markedness of the form and the propositional condition under which it is used (i.e., the propositional remarkableness) emphasizes that the attachment meaning is not symbolically, but indexically encoded by the gei-passive. The gei-passive indicates a speaker's attachment and it has no fixed emotive meaning. The precise value of this attachment, the particular emotional attitude that the speaker takes toward the propositional state of affairs, can only be reconstructed in an interpretative process. Out of context, a gei-passive can often be interpreted in many ways, an illustrating example being (38): (38)

Fifty students got arrested during the demonstration. (Dirven - Radden 1977: 197).

At least four interpretations come to my mind: (a) The speaker indicates her/his sympathy for the students {Poor guys!), (b) s/he indicates her/his malicious joy (That serves them right!), (c) s/he expresses her/his satisfaction about the event (At last, the authorities show their teeth!), and (d) s/he expresses her/his preoccupation (What will happen next in this country?). But in reality, any sentence as an utterance, no matter whether written or spoken, is embedded in a context which, in turn, normally provides the possibility of a conclusive interpretation. The corresponding textual signals may, of course, vary widely with regard to their make-up as well as their position relative to the gei-passive. For instance, in (39) it is the warning in the preceding sentence that justifies the interpretation of the gef-passives as expressions of preoccupation, if not anxiety; in (40) it is the description of the speaker's hopeless perspective expanding over more than two sentence units that motivates the interpretation of the gei-passive in terms of joy or even happiness.

Attachment (39)

(40)

177

Never ... refer to intelligence or espionage ... Things get overheard, as you know. They get misunderstood and misreported. (Visser 1973: 2033) It looked as if I would never get a chance to wear my new evening dress; nobody asked me out anywhere for weeks; but just as I was beginning to give up hope, I got invited to this dinner. (Hatcher 1949: 440-441)

The final point to be made here regards the manner in which the getpassive attachment relates to the propositional content. From previous analyses of other attachment devices, we know that it may range from emotionally adapting oneself to a propositional state of affairs to emotionally adopting it. The instrumental condition identified for the ge/-passive seems to settle this point. The focus that get sets on the subject of the passive sentence pushes one into an interpretation of it as an adaptive device, used in contexts where things are "told", to once again employ a modified version of Weinrich's ([1985]) concept. Readings (a) and (b) of example (38) certainly support this view. But readings (c) and (d) point toward an interpretation of it in complementary terms, i.e., as an adoptive device, used in contexts where things get "discussed". Looking through the data available, the shift in direction seems to depend on the type of reference that the speaker makes. The more specific the reference, the more likely it is that the speaker is adaptively attached to the subject, as is the case in (30) and (34); in the case of a generic or indefinite reference, as in (33) and (36), the speaker's attachment tends to embrace the whole proposition, adopting it as currently of interest. (That the different interpretation does not rest on the different tenses, as (30)/(34) and (33)/(36) suggest, is proved by example (38); though showing the past tense, it still allows for either interpretation.) The accessibility of the gef-passive to both modes of attachment allows us to classify the form as neutral. There seems to be a correspondence with the somewhat ambiguous possessive relationship that the ge/-passive was shown to establish between the subject and the event (cf. p. 169).

7.6.1. Attachment and describability What we as hearers empathetically reconstruct in a more or less complex interpretative act can ideally be summed up in the form of a paraphrase.

178

The

get-passive

Accordingly, we could represent our interpretation of (41) by paraphrasing it as (41a) or, more briefly, as (41b). (41)

He's never yet got punished enough. (Curme 1931:446) (41) a. He's never yet been punished enough, which is a pity/which I find unfortunate/annoying. b. Unfortunately/annoyingly, he's never yet been punished enough. Both types of paraphrase certainly preserve the meaning substance of the original version, but the form has changed, or better, the mode in which the speaker's attitude materializes has changed. What the original version expressed indexically is now described symbolically. The periphrastic versions realize the total content in two phrases, each one representing another language function in the sense of Bühler ([1965]) and Jakobson (1960), i.e., the descriptive and the expressive function respectively. In the original version, however, those two language functions are mutually mediated and intertwined within one single phrase. Bally ([1965]) grasped this difference in terms of a dichotomy, i.e., mode pur and mode vecu (cf. chapter 1.2.1.). He seems to intimate that the mode vecu is the more natural form of coping with the world. Focusing on emotions, in particular on emotional attitudes, which we may either describe in the mode pur or express in the mode vecu (through the gef-passive in this instance), the idea of naturalness may lead us on to the question of how far the competing linguistic means are adequate in respect to the expressive needs. Attempting to explicate the emotive meaning of the gei-passive in (41) by paraphrases such as (41a) and (41b), I used alternatives that certainly all go in the same direction but nevertheless show different nuances. This points to the dilemma that communicating emotions in the mode pur amounts to forcing them into words and notions which may not, after all, be entirely appropriate. The descriptive instruments that the lexicon provides are rather limited (cf. Langer 1955: 6, quoted in chapter 1.2.2.). As far as emotional attitudes toward a propositional state of affairs are concerned, the dilemma becomes even more acute. The more one tried to make the description fit one's emotional attitude the more one would lose sight of the primary goal, i.e., describing the given state of affairs. The gef-passive, however, does not aim at describing one's attitude, but it still fully expresses it. We can even go a step further. There are (not exceptionally rare) cases where it is difficult, if not impossible, to describe the attitude expressed by the gei-passive in explicit terms. The following example, which I have become aware of thanks to G. Stein (1979: 49), is particularly interesting. It

Attachment

179

is taken from the novel A Fairly Honourable Defeat by Iris Murdoch and stands at the end of the passage quoted. (42)

7 don't think you can quite wear that with that, dear, ' said Simon to Morgan. Morgan had called in unexpectedly. She rang up from Barons Court station and then came round. She had been at a cocktail party near by, she said, but got bored and wanted to see Simon. It was half past six and Axel was not yet home. Simon was delighted. Morgan was sitting beside him on the yellow sofa in the diminutive drawing room. She was rapidly consuming a glass of gin. She was flushed and perhaps faintly tipsy. She seemed to be rather elated. She fingered the necklace of dark amber beads. She was wearing a silk dress of a dark blue and scarlet zigzag pattern. A small tasselled blue velvet cap sat, a little awry, on the back of her head, making her steel-rimmed spectacles and her clever face seem to belong to some handsome learned Jewish boy. 'The beads? I thought they'd go all right with the dress.' 'With a strongly patterned dress like that you shouldn t really wear any jewellery, darling. It just confuses the effect.' 'Dearest Simon, you were always on at me about my clothes in the old days, remember? And you were always quite right of course. I haven't really got the faintest idea how to dress.' 'Let me plan your wardrobe!' 'I'd love that! You are so clever at making things pretty. Look at the way you've arranged those artificial flowers on the mantelpiece.' 'They aren 't artificial, they 're dried.' 'Well, look at them anyway. And those yellow roses in the black vase with eucalyptus and iris leaves or whatever they are. Who would have thought of that?' 'Montbretia, actually. I got them from Rupert's garden. It's a fallacy that roses have to be by themselves.' 'Darling Simon, you always make me want to laugh so. I am so glad to see you. How happy you make me feel!' Thrusting out the hand containing the glass and spilling a little upon the carpet she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Simon hastened to kiss her back. More gin got spilt. Murdoch, A Fairly Honourable Defeat, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1983: 195.

180

The get-passive

The context suggests that the gef-passive in this case indicates an attitude on the part of the narrator that is adequately labeled by the term "irony", an attitude that the öe-passive would not create, to be sure. But no speaker/writer could possibly describe her/his attitude as ironic without thereby destroying it. The term is not even descriptive in the sense that it would describe a particular emotional state. It is basically nothing but a summary shorthand symbol for a thousand different, mixed feelings. Even its successful substantiation in a given case would still miss the essential, i.e., the ironic quality. The example shows that there are, indeed, emotional attitudes that are not only difficult, but impossible to describe. But even the indescribable can be communicated in the mode vecu of the ge/-passive. In conclusion, the getpassive as a device for conveying an emotional attitude in the mode νέαι is functionally more adequate to expressive needs than all means that the mode pur offers, and in this sense, it may also be considered the more natural mode. Saying this, I do not mean to imply that the mode vecu is the better one. This evaluative aspect belongs to the ideological dimension of the concept of communication, and any such treatment would ask for another discourse.

7.7. Case study: S. Terkel, Working. People talk about what they do all day and how they feel about what they do111 The text with which I am going to test the validity of my proposal consists of biographical interviews. They provide more or less spontaneously produced language material - even if elicited and subsequently edited. Since the interviewees are all American, the interviews should provide a rich data source, given that "North American English has more such constructions [i.e., ger-passives, A.H.] than either British or Australian English" (Sussex

1982: 90). The approach will be somewhat different from the way I have previously organized the applicative part. Instead of trying to recover those conditions and features that had been claimed to be characteristic for the grammatical device under discussion in the text chosen, I will use the grammatical device to gain insight into the text and the content itself. Expressing attachment is not only linguistically meaningful, but also behaviorally significant. If we presuppose that there generally is a certain consistency in a person's behavior, we may also expect there to be a certain coherence in what a speaker is attached to. And by learning what s/he is attached to, we may

Case study: S. Terkel, Working

181

eventually grasp a part of how s/he experiences the world; that is to say, we may eventually find access to some segments of her/his culture. In short, we switch from hermeneutics to content analysis, a basically sociological instrument. I shall consider my gef-passive hypothesis warranted by this type of analysis in as much as it turns out that a speaker's use of this grammatical device gives us insights into what counts for her/him. Below are two sets of ge/-passives, each taken from a different interview and each exhaustive in the sense that the list represents the total number of gei-passives to be found in these two interviews. A (43)

You never used your own name in ... I used a different name practically every week. If you got busted, it was more difficult for them to find out who you really were. Terkel, Working 78 (44/45) The judge said I was rehabili table. Instead ofgiving me thirty days, he gave me three years in the reformatory. It was very friendly of him. Iwas out on parole a couple of times before I'd get caught and sent back. -1 once really got trapped. Terkel, Working 84 (46) The understanding is: it doesn't get conducted as a business transaction. The myth is that it's a social occasion. Terkel, Working 81 Β (47) If you get hit, you get hit - with impersonal force. The guy ΊI hit you as hard as he can. Terkel, Working 318 (48) When you get hurt, they don't look at you. Terkel, Working 318 (49) Invariably it's the younger... who gets hurt. Terkel, Working 318 (50) Orr got hurt pretty badly the first couple of years... Terkel, Working 318 (51) Now that I've become a ...,you 're always worried about... and gettin' hurt. Terkel, Working 299 (52) There's an irony that one get (sic!) paid for... Terkel, Working 317 Had we nothing else but these quotations, and were we to focus on the getpassive occurrences only, we would know already that these two people pursue a somewhat dangerous activity. Each set recurrently topicalizes one specific event-type typical of their respective activities, viz., being caught and being hurt. From (46) and (52) respectively, we also get an idea about

182

The get -passive

what they think about their activity in social terms. The speaker of set A points to the hypocrisy with which society treats the activity in question, while the other speaker wonders about the social (=economic) value attributed to his activity. And had we nothing else but these quotations, we would also know - from the words omitted - that, in the first set, the speaker is a prostitute and, in the second set, a professional hockey player. That their actual profession is revealed in the immediate neighborhood of gei-passives is not an insignificant finding. In short, it appears that the gei-passives are linked to biographical details that may well serve for the construction of a professional identikit of the speakers and highlight their crucial points of concern. The two interviews are part of a collection of some eighty, all on "Working", as the title reads. Focusing on the gei-passive and applying my interpretation of it, we could hence ask, more specifically, "What are (American) people working (really) concerned about most?" and expect to have the answer ready when turning to the gcNpassives. Not every text may render itself suitable for such an approach, however. The use of gef-passives (in alternation with &e-passives) does not seem to depend exclusively on the influence of psychological factors, such as spontaneity, expressivity, etc., but also on sociological determinants. In a study on the distribution of be- and gef-passives among Americans, Weiner Labov (1983) come up with the following findings. Adults show a preponderant use of be, as do female teenagers to a lesser extent; male teenagers are significantly different from all other groups in their heavier use of get, and this tendency is stronger among blacks than whites ... A shift to the get passive appears to be one of the most active grammatical changes taking place in English; and at least in the North, it seems to be also a stigmatized sociolinguistic variant which is used more by males than females. (Weiner - Labov 1983: 43) Taking this into consideration, the source I have chosen seems to be a proper object of inquiry. Turning to the self-portrayal of a Wisconsin interstate truck driver of about forty at the time he was interviewed, we find that he uses the gef-passive 11 times (compared to 14 ie-passives). (53) (54)

We'd wait as high as twelve, fifteen hours to get loaded. Terkel, Working 187 Prior to '67, we never got paid a penny for it. Terkel, Working 188

Case study: S. Terkel, Working

(55)

(56)

(57)

(58)

(59)

(60) (61) (62)

183

You tell 'em they 're liberal and you 're liable to get your head knocked o f f . Terkel, Working 191 The first couple of years when I got abused, I howled and yelled... Terkel, Working 191 In twenty-four hours we'd be getting loaded out there so fast we couldn't keep our hat on our head. Terkel, Working 192 Truckdrivers used to spend ninety percent of their time bitchin ' about how they got screwed at the mill, how they got screwed by the state trooper. Terkel, Working 192 But the signs aren't well enough marked and he's out in the third lane and gets trapped. Terkel, Working 193 We sat for about six hours waiting to get loaded. Terkel, Working 195 The sticker alone sometimes gets 'em loaded twice as fast. Terkel, Working 198 You can't beat 'em. They 're too big.... If you fight it, you get hurt. Terkel, Working 198

No longer surprisingly, we find ge/-passives in reference to job-specific problems pertaining to driving (59), the police (58) and colleagues (55). What is striking, however, is the relatively high recurrence with one particular event-type, i.e., being loaded (examples (53), (57), (60), and (61)). Indeed, it is a crucial moment in the life of a truck driver. Waiting to be loaded not only means boredom (cf. Terkel, Working 187), but also, and preeminently, a loss of time and money. "The trucking companies didn't charge the corporations for any waiting time, demurrage - like they did on railroad cars" (Terkel, Working 187); as an owner-operator, he was not paid either (see example (54)). Therefore, thinking of better working conditions and better money amounts to thinking of better loading conditions (example (57)), the end of abuse (example (56)). Fighting abuse is the occupation of his later life. He talks about wild-cat strikes in which he actively participated, about negotiations and about partial success. Any of these topics could have induced him to employ a getpassive, but he uses it only where he portrays himself, as an individual and a member of a group, as "getting" hurt (example (62)). And since joy, which his working-life is not void of (cf. Terkel, Working 189, 194, 198), does not attract ge/-passives either, we may infer that suffering is the most prominent

184

The get-passive

mode in which he experiences his working life. This is the emotive message to be derived from his use of gef-passives; it finds impressive support from a formulation toward the end of the interview, which, though metaphoric in character, spells out his view: "You gotta climb up on the cross every day" (Terkel, Working 198). Widening the scope of attention to a more general outlook on the whole collection of interviews, the picture becomes richer but does not essentially change. Admittedly, there are several instances where the gei-passive is not used as selectively as in the truck driver's self-portrayal (though in each case they can be shown to fit my proposal), but the host of gei-passive occurrences leads us to the center of the workers' world: the concern about physical risks. (63) (64)

That's the first time I got cut at the plant. (utility man) Terkel, Working 158 The difference is that a man goes out and maybe gets smashed. (steel mill worker) Terkel, Working 16

They lead us to the workers' concern about regular work and adequate pay. (65) (66) (67)

(68)

I 'm getting fired because I'm different. (copy boy) Terkel, Working 374 Then I got laid o f f . So I took off back south. (utility man) Terkel, Working 158 I got broke down to a lower grade and lost twenty-five cents an hour, which is a hell of a lot. (steel mill worker) Terkel, Working 17 There was one hired as a copy girl, through some uncle who had pull, and within a month she was an editorial assistant. There were two copy boys that had worked there for a couple of years, that were married and had kids, and weren't getting fucking paid as editorial assistants. (copy boy) Terkel, Working 368

They lead us to the aggression and humiliation workers are suffering from daily. (69)

(70)

A lot of young girls who are coming in now, they get pushed too fast. (bank teller) Terkel, Working 230 If I'm talking to a friend, I have to make it quick before I get interrupted. (receptionist) Terkel, Working 60

Synopsis

185

Occasionally, they give us a view of their work ethics (71)

Most people, if you try to be nice, they 're nice. But you get some of these guys that got hurt, they really got fiicked, they got arrested for not doing anything. (former policeman) Terkel, Working 470-471

or grant us a glimpse on how workers emotionally survive. (72)

When it's cold, it gets very hard, 'cause you gotta wipe the snow off the windshield. Hard on everybody, you gotta get home, get rubbed down by my wife or your girl friend. (parking lot attendant) Terkel, Working 200

In his introduction to his collection of working portrayals, Terkel writes: This book, being about work, is, by its very nature, about violence - to the spirit as well as to the body. It is about ulcers as well as accidents, about shouting matches as well as fistfights, about nervous breakdowns as well as kicking the dog around. It is, above all (or beneath all), about daily humiliations. To survive the day is triumph enough for the walking wounded among the great many of us. It is about a search, too, for daily meaning as well as daily bread, for recognition as well as cash, for astonishment rather than torpor; in short, for a sort of life rather than a Monday through Friday sort of dying. (Terkel 1975: 1) In conclusion, the gef-passives appear to have given prominence to that edge of the picture (emerging from the interviews as a whole) to which the editor, independently, seems to have given prominence as well.118

7.8. Synopsis We defined the passiveness of the corresponding English forms cognitively and showed how even approaches that do operate with an emotive meaning element as distinctive feature of the gei-passive ultimately fail to establish it as a speaker-related category, as we propose. Our hypothesis was supported by reflections on the gef-formative, which, on the whole, aligned well with current theories on grammaticalization, with both metaphorization and

186

The get-passive

metonymization applying as underlying principles. The way the gef-passive was shown to focus on the patient could be employed for explaining certain characteristic restrictions on the use of time adverbials and the agent. It also made it plausible that the gef-passive can occur both in contexts that discuss (a problem) or tell (a story) and, consequently, signal either adoptive or adaptive attachment toward prepositional events/states of affairs as a whole or toward the (human) subject. Attachment being motivated, as is typical of all attachment devices examined, by the remarkableness of the propositional content, the means that establish this remarkableness were surveyed and four strategies identified, viz., contrasting an event or state of affairs with another one, characterizing it as extremely rare or frequent, characterizing it as almost not having taken place, and evaluating it. Since attachment is encoded indexically, here as well as with the other grammatical phenomena under consideration, its resulting indeterminacy was proven to be a most efficient means of expressing complex emotional attitudes whose rendering in explicit terms may at times not only be cumbersome but even impossible to accomplish. The concluding case study demonstrated that the proposal of interpreting this grammatical phenomenon (as well as others) as an attachment device can not only reveal the emotive overtones of an individual text and thus open up an additional, non-propositional meaning dimension of it; the perspective can also be reversed so that the attachment device reveals to us what a writer/speaker, as an individual or member of a particular cultural group, considers worth her/his attachment, and thus leads us to the social context in which the text is embedded.

8. Putting the results in perspective: Grammar and the Self

8.1. The major results In the preceding chapters, six grammatical phenomena have been investigated that have been shown to function, at one time or another within the course of roughly a thousand years, as primary means of indexically expressing emotional attitudes toward propositional states of affairs. All of them were characterized as means of living one's attachment instead of describing/identifying it. Along with Bally ([1965]), we have lumped them together under the heading of mode vicu and contrasted them with such mode pur expressions as attitudinal disjuncts. The six devices represent a mere selection from a yet undetermined, though certainly not very large, group of expressive means in the mode vecu. Other grammatical phenomena that would most readily recommend themselves for a similar analysis are the longstanding choice of double negation as an alternative to single negation (e.g., I can't get no satisfaction -1 can't get any satisfaction119) or, as an example of quite recent origin (cf. Barber 1964: 140-141 and Potter 1975: 135-140), phrasal verbs in substitution for simple verbs (e.g., to face up - to face). Some deictic pronouns such as so in It was so beautiful! instead of a booster (very beautiful or really beautiful) and that or this for the or a zero-element, as in That's bullshit or This Henry Kissinger is really something!, may also be worth tackling (cf. Kryk-Kastovsky 1995). Their treatment would certainly provide us with additional details, but could not, I think, invalidate our insights. A criterion that served to further subdivide our repertoire of expressive means was provided by the two types of discourse that were called Erzählen 'telling' and Besprechen 'discussing', following Weinrich ([1985]). Accordingly, we differentiated between two directions of the speaker's attachment. Devices typically occurring in contexts that discuss things signal adoptive attachment; of the devices tackled, it was the present perfect, the do-periphrasis and the ethic dative which were shown to function this way. Devices typically occurring in contexts that tell about (past) events signal adaptive attachment; the only device that proved to function that way was the possessive dative. The remaining two devices examined, i.e., the expanded form and the gei-passive, were found to appear with equal chance in either type of discourse; consequently, they were considered neutral in this respect and taken to represent a third principal possibility in its own right.

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In most instances, the indexicalness of the single grammatical device could be shown to derive from developmental processes as have been identified by Traugott and König (1989) and (1991). The development from propositional meaning to attitudinal/emotive meaning proved to be describable in mainly metonymical terms, the gei-passive being the only phenomenon that combined the metonymical with a metaphorical process. My investigations, however, could not fully support Traugott's claims as to a unidirectionality of such developments; a more flexible view seems to be more appropriate. Due to the fact that an (unmarked) alternative is always available, the grammatical devices under investigation could be regarded as mere options; and this, in turn, was considered a prerequisite for not becoming hackneyed and thus inefficient as an attachment indicating device. This view accounted well for a recurrence that was lower than one might have anticipated. Their selective use, however, could be shown to follow the rationale of economization in the sense that their occurrence within a text structure could be attributed to high pay-offs; it was shown that the devices mainly occur at points where it is possible to interpret them as operating over a large stretch of text. What has been left out of consideration is the systematics of combining the single devices. This is, however, a less severe neglect than it may appear. Chart 8.1. substantiates this view. Chart 8.1. The distribution of the six devices in time OE

ME

1000

1100

1200

Late ME

1300

1400

Early Modem English

1500

1600

1700

Modern English

1800

1900

poss.dat. (adaptive) exp.form (neutral) present perfect (adoptive) do-periphrasis (adoptive) ethic dative (adoptive) get-passive (neutral)

1— — -5»-

A straight line indicates the use of the form at issue as an attachment device. A dotted line indicates that the form, though continuing to exist, ceases to be an attachment device, and a broken line that the attitudinal function reappears, though it competes with some other, propositional, meaning function.

The major results

189

Except for the present time, the co-occurrence of several devices has always been rather limited; at any given time, no more than two devices offer themselves, basically, for combination. Of the combinations historically possible (i.e., possessive dative with expanded form during Old English times, present perfect with do-periphrasis and/or ethic dative in (Late) Middle/Early Modern English and, finally, ethic dative with gei-passive in the eighteenth century) we find no combination between an adaptive and an adoptive device; the combinations possible are either of the same type or a combination with one device that is neutral with regard to the adoptive/adaptive distinction. As far as the present time is concerned, the situation is certainly more complex, but it ultimately shows a very similar constellation. We find that four phenomena are still or again being used as attachment devices, i.e., getpassive, expanded form, present perfect and do-periphrasis; the last three devices, however, no longer exert this expressive function exclusively or predominantly. Nevertheless, what can be shown without great effort - and that is the most important aspect at this point - is that, under normal circumstances, a combination of devices that would result in a conflict of directionality (adaptive vs. adoptive) can be almost excluded. The grammatical phenomena that can be envisaged as co-occurring either represent a combination of two directionally neutral devices (viz., gei-passive + expanded form, as in getting beaten up) or of one neutral device with one of the two marked types (viz., present perfect + expanded form, as in have been beating up or present perfect + gei-passive, as in have got beaten up). The improbability of a conflict between the various means is certainly reassuring for the proposal made. The chart also draws the attention to the historicity of the devices examined. By pursuing this perspective, I finally hope to show that the preceding analyses have a "higher order" consistency. This will emerge from ideas and concepts well beyond the familiar scope (see section 8.3.). The six grammatical devices exhibit a characteristic distributional pattern across time; it embodies the following facts, which call for some explanation. (1) There is a change in directionality when we compare the attachment devices in Old English with those of the subsequent few centuries. Whereas adoptive attachment devices prevail for the latter period, neither one of the two phenomena of the Old English period falls into this category; rather, we find that one, i.e., the possessive dative, is adaptive and the other, i.e., the expanded form, neutral, a conjuncture that can be understood as resulting in an adaptive bias. (2) The devices of the adoptive kind show a conspicuous concentration in the sixteenth century, when the present perfect device, dating back to Middle English times, and the do-periphrasis, originating in the Late Middle English

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period, are still in use, and the ethic dative has just become popular. (3) The turn of the eighteenth century, when the (neutral) ge/-passive joins the adoptive ethic dative, appears to mark a shift, at least a shift away from exclusively adoptive means of attachment. (4) The diachronic distribution of all means considered is neither constant nor linearly changing. There is a slight increase from Old English times up to the sixteenth century, whereas for the whole seventeenth century the chart shows only one device; afterwards, the repertoire widens once again. Thus, we find that the seventeenth century is not only marked in qualitative (see point 3 above), but also in quantitative respects. (5) For our present time, the chart documents a remarkable rediscovery of lost territories of expressivity. Apart from the Old English possessive dative, which as a form died long ago, we may say that all but the ethic dative have had a strong comeback as attachment devices, especially in American English, as will be recalled from the preceding chapters. And as far as the ethic dative is concerned, it too has not yet died out, and therefore, we may not have heard the last of it. Are all these facts mere chance?

8.2. Subjectification Expressing one's emotions presupposes or entails a certain degree of selfawareness and, above all, a certain concept of the self. Particularly in the mode vecu devices of expressivity, the idea of self gains momentum. With the feeling self not being propositionally present or, in Langacker's (1990) terms, "objectified on stage", but "subjectified" in more or less grammaticalized forms (see chapters 1.2.1. and 3.4.1.), it becomes feasible to combine systematically topic-oriented discourse and self-expression; it is subjectification that, in a linguistically marked way, opens up the possibility for the self to be ever-present. Both, self-awareness and self-conceptualization, are by no means simply given, but must be considered as being subjected to historicity. 120 This becomes evident if one merely looks at the history of the word self itself and other similar expressions, as was done by Rosenthal (1984) in a chapter with the very telling title From "God sylfa" to "I celebrate myself"121 We learn that, originally, from the tenth up to the sixteenth century, self had only an emphatic, reflexive and identifying function, as in God sylfa 'God himself, hire selfre suna 'her own son', of this selfe opinion 'of the same opinion', and it was not marked in terms of good or bad.

Subjectification

191

This neutrality of self seems appropriate, since in itself self had no content, no substance. It just pointed elsewhere. (Rosenthal 1984: 9) From about 1300 onward, another meaning function was added, i.e., the nominal one, as, for example, in my own self but it tended either to be a neutral concept or to take on negative implications. Self didn't at first, in other words, have much positive attraction: it drew little attention and little praise. (Rosenthal 1984: 10) During the sixteenth century, the Renaissance, the concept became widely topicalized. Though words other than self were preferred (e.g., soul or simply man), we find numerous self- compounds, with self "as a living formative element", as the Oxford English Dictionary puts it, for example, self-praise (1549), self-love (1563), self-pride (1586), self-contained (1591) or selfregard (1595). The seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, in turn, put the noun itself in its own right, impressing on it three different and even somewhat conflicting mouldings, viz., self as interest, self as a principle of unified identity (what philosophers now call the problem of the self), and self as an element of a divided identity (my former self). These three new definitions of self... are familiar to us because they're still our basic definitions of self today. New concepts have been added to these definitions over the years..., but no new basic definitions have arisen. (Rosenthal 1984: 15) The shadings that the nineteenth and the twentieth centuries added amount to an upgrading of the value of self, establishing it as the divine self against society. Romanticism did its great work on the concept of self without making any more use of self than of related words like individual or /; it was modern (post-Freudian) psychology that took special hold of the word self and made it central to the concept - and to millions of people's daily lives. (Rosenthal 1984: 18) Such a "history of the individual", as becomes apparent from the history of the esteem for the self/individual, should also find an echo in the historical use of expressive devices. And this, in turn, may let us envisage the possibility of outlining a history of expressive devices that would read like another reconstruction of the "history of the individual", on independent

J92

Putting the results in perspective: Grammar and the Self

grounds, seen from the viewpoint of expressivity. On the basis of the language phenomena under investigation, however, such an ambitious objective cannot be accomplished. The expressive means that have been taken into closer consideration are in more than one respect too scattered.122 What seems feasible, however, is an attempt at relating the historical distribution of the devices discussed in this book to some independently established historical-cultural account of the development of the self, in order to examine whether our linguistic facts can be accommodated in this context. 123 In the event of a positive outcome, our historical facts would be validated as significant and our analyses on which they rest, would be given the final blessing.

8.3. A cultural-historical frame Zwilgmeyer (1981) provides a survey of the development of human consciousness in society and culture, a good part of which may well serve as a guideline for our cultural-historical framing. In a typological manner, he examines cultures across time and space and isolates four main stages or steps in the development of human consciousness: the archaic society, the early advanced civilization, the primary reflective culture, and the reflective culture of the new bourgeoisie of the Western world. The outcome is a comparative and contrastive study according to a limited number of aspects, most of which seem to boil down to one basic criterion. This turns out to be crucial for our own interest as well, namely the degree of being able to distance oneself from the world of phenomena, no matter if they concern inner or outer worlds. The last three developmental stages will be relevant for the current discussion.

8.3.1. The twelfth century renascence124 - before and after The difference between the Early Middle Ages, during which we found the attachment devices biased toward adaptive attitudes, and the High and Late Middles Ages, during which the attachment devices were found to be adoptive, can be typologically described in terms of the differences that, according to Zwilgmeyer, hold between an early advanced civilization and a primary reflective culture. These differences, incidentally, group the Early

A cultural-historical

frame

193

Middle Ages together with Old Egypt and the Indusculture, for example, while the High and Late Middle Ages correspond with postHomeric Greece as well as India and China from the seventh century B.C. onward (cf. Zwilgmeyer 1981: 185). Human beings at the level of reflective culture, in our particular case during the High and Late Middle English period, are characterized as more capable of distancing themselves from the phenomena in and around themselves than previously, i.e., during the Early Middle Ages when the early advanced form of civilization existed, but still less capable than at the later stage. This can be estimated and substantiated, first of all, in synesthetic terms, so to speak, i.e., in terms of the share that both the cognitive and the emotional have in processing the "world". It is not, we learn, before the intellectual and emotional functions start separating that civilization becomes reflective. Was hier für das Alte Ägypten nachgewiesen werden kann - daß emotionale und intellektuelle Funktionen noch weniger getrennt sind als später -, muß wohl für alle Frühhochkulturen gelten, und damit auch für das damalige Empfinden, daß das Zentrum der Existenz mehr "unten", weniger "oben" liegt (Zwilgmeyer 1981: 68). [What has been possible to prove for Ancient Egypt - that emotional and intellectual functions are still less separated than later - should be valid for all early advanced civilizations, and thus also for the former feeling that the center of existence is located "in the lower" rather than "the upper regions", (translation A.H.)] The characterization in local terms (lower - upper part) is not merely a stylistic metaphor; rather, it alludes to an archaic cognitive metaphor, a metaphorical concept, prototypically still valid at the level of early advanced civilization, according to which thinking was located in the heart instead of the brain. Also the Latin language conceived the heart as the seat of the intellect, Early Greek located it in the diaphragm. Alkmaion, a contemporary of Heraklite, was among the first to claim that the brain is the place of the intellect; the intellect, however, appeared as the most important psychic capacity. Zwilgmeyer (1981: 92-93, 140) considers Snell's analysis (1955) of the Greek words for to see and Weisgerber's (1954) and Trier's (1932) treatment of German klug 'prudent/intelligent' as indicative of a significant change which consists in the growing apart of thinking and feeling. The words for see/look in pre-Homerian Greek define seeing through the object and the concomitant feeling, while in post-Homerian times words like ϋεωρβΐν (theorein) mark the new age's capacity to go into distance; the word can roughly be paraphrased by to observe attentively/reflectively, with a clear

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emphasis on the objective nature of seeing. Similarly, kluog had meanings embracing intellectual as well as emotional-ethical components up to about 1200; later, it was used only to designate and single out intellectual properties of human beings. As an example from an English context, we could refer to parts of Rosenthal's (1984) outline of the development of the word self, summarized in section 8.2.: it is around 1400 that self, originally restricted to emphasizing identity (of something with itself or with something else) or possession, acquires in addition the meaning that establishes self-awareness in the sense of conceiving oneself as a separate entity. The criterion of distance also helps to differentiate between developmental types of emotionality on a socio-cultural level. The point of departure is - as Zwilgmeyer (1981: 47) indicates by quoting Rothacker (1969) - fascination, an ecstatic way of encountering the world. The direction in which it develops is, negatively formulated, toward a decay of the unreflected solidarity which rested on identification; positively formulated, it is geared toward establishing a loose, purpose-oriented common ground of single individuals, whereby the "free-from" feeling that the individuals have developed for themselves is not threatened (cf. Zwilgmeyer 1981: 144). A handy nomenclature for the different types of emotionality can be found in the binary pair "centrifugal" and "centripetal", as used by Panofsky (1946) in his analysis of the differences between Medieval and Renaissance art.125 Though the centripetal personality, which absorbs the world rather than being absorbed by it, may well be considered the ultimate cultural achievement of the Renaissance, it is nevertheless heralded long before, at the stage of primary reflective culture in the High and Late Middle Ages.126 Most notable in the given context are the following points:127 The artists' practice of exposing their identity by including their names on their "product" can be found from the twelfth century onward (cf. Farrier 1990: 206) and pertains to fine arts as well as to literature. Specific to the fine arts is the occasional inclusion of a portrait of the artist (at times in company) at the margins of paintings with otherwise entirely different subjects. A specifically literary device is satire, a highly subjective form focusing on what falls outside existing norms, which becomes quite popular in the twelfth century (cf. Haug 1988: 295). And after all, as far as language matters in general are concerned, we have the grammatical attachment devices, first the present perfect, then the do-periphrasis, and finally, on the verge of modern times, the ethic dative, all of which echo in their adoptiveness the general development. If the contrast between the stage of early advanced Western civilization and that of reflective culture is commonly seen as epitomized in the contrast between the meaning perspective and the central spatial perspective in the field of fme arts (cf. Zwilgmeyer 1981: 20), then we can

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point to something analogous in language. While the expanded form of the Early Middle Ages follows the "logic" of the meaning perspective which, metaphorically speaking, increases a detail that seems emotionally conspicuous (in paintings we would find it literally enlarged),128 the ethic dative of the sixteenth century establishes the central perspective, with the speaker's/writer's ego as a fixed point to which everything aligns, analogous to the painter's eye.

8.3.2. The Renaissance and after With the Renaissance, Western society has fully reached the stage of a reflective civilization; what had its beginnings in the twelfth century (cf. Morris 1972) becomes complete during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Thinking "by heart" has been suspended in favor of brain thinking (cf. Descartes' cogito ergo sum). Emotionality has not been entirely done away with, however. Hobbes (1588-1679), for example, takes human passion - except independence! - for granted, when postulating that the state authorities provide the conditions for the individual's self-fulfilment; about fifty years later, Locke (1632-1704) considers human consciousness, which he calls understanding, an empty concept without the inclusion of perceptions and sensations; and after yet another half a century, Hume (1711-1776) postulates that individuality is founded in the emotional side of the human being, articulating itself as individual attitudes of approval or disapproval. He contrasts this independent self to the intellectual structure that is common to all humans and as such prefigures certain intellectual judgements (cf. Riedel 1989; 61-87). 129 Emotionality now appears neatly separated from the intellectual side (Zwilgmeyer 1981: 140-157), and - what may be even more significant in our context - it has itself been subjected to a rationalistic type of approach (Zwilgmeyer 1981: 20). By becoming accessible to rationality, emotionality becomes subject to manipulation. Hence we find a new concern for the "hidden" self (cf. Baumeister 1986: 36-38). The sixteenth century was "preoccupied to an extreme degree with dissimulation, feigning, and pretense" (Trilling, 1971, p. 13). This is evident in the advice of Machiavelli and in the disguises and mistaken identities of Shakespeare's characters. Indeed, the great rise in popularity of the theatre in England and France reflected the new interest in acting

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and playing roles (Trilling, 1971), although actors were not the culture heroes they are today.... A related and revealing development was the emergence of sincerity as an important virtue in sixteenth century society. The word sincerity first appeared in English early in the century, and at first it was used to describe the pure and uncontaminated condition of things (e.g., wine). Soon, however, it began to be applied to persons, with its modern meaning of honest self-presentation... (Baumeister 1986: 37) Another consequence, central to our argument, concerns the mode of emotionality. If rationality, in the reflective culture of the Western post-Renaissance type, becomes the key note for one's inner world, then it seems sensible to assume that there also be, beyond the clear-cut distinctiveness of the emotions themselves, an endeavor for a precise means of expressing them in explicit terms.130 The grammatical attachment devices surveyed certainly do not fit this standard; no wonder they fall back, giving way to more explicit means. Indeed, we find an unprecedented expansion of the vocabulary of emotions, comprised of nouns, verbs and adjectives denoting them, as well as adverbs representing value judgements in respect to propositionally given states of affairs. Before this claim can be fully substantiated, however, thorough and comprehensive investigations into the historical development of the lexis concerning emotions are necessary.131 Some indirect evidence, however, is available in Peters (1993). It is an investigation into the growth of grading adverbs of the so-called boosters categoiy in English, e.g., extremely (hot), immensely (generous), terribly (w/'ce). As adverbs that grade a propositional quality, they certainly do not operate on the proposition as do the sentence adverbs that signify speaker attitudes. However, taking boosters into consideration is not completely off the track, because some of them are derived from sentence adverbs that define the speaker's attitude. Compare, for instance, awfully in its function as an attitudinal sentence adverb in (1) to its occurrence in (2), where it may be seen as oscillating between an attitudinal and a grading function. (1)

Awfully (enough), the piece turned out to be expensive.

(2)

The piece turned out to be awfully expensive.

And then compare both to the use of the adverb in (3). (3)

The man turned out to be awfully nice.

Here, the adverb unambiguously exerts a grading function, given that the

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collocation of awfully with nice proves that the adverb, in this case, is semantically empty and thus fully grammaticalized. Of Peters' three adverbial groups, the group of qualitative adverbs is of particular interest to us; it contains semantic subcategorizations that, in part, represent sets of emotional expressions. For the Early Modern English period (fifteenth to eighteenth centuries) we find (Peters 1993: 178-205) such appropriate semantic subcategories as INDESCRIBABLE, INCONCEIVABLE, INCREDIBLE, INVALUABLE, REMARKABLE, OUTSIDE THE NORM, or, still more central, WONDERFUL, ASTONISHING, GOOD, BAD, DAMNABLE, ABOMINABLE, FURIOUS, INTOLERABLE, SAD, and ARDENT. Peters' treatment demonstrates that, compared to the Old and Middle English periods, the Early Modern English period excels both in its wealth of appropriate semantic subcategories that the boosters found align with, and in its quantity of boosters within each subcategory. Within the Early Modern English period, there is a clear increase observable (cf. Peters 1993: 241-242). The fifteenth century shows, compared to previous times, a higher frequency of adverbs with the meaning concept TERRIBLE and the introduction of a new meaning concept, i.e., INDESCRIBABLE; the sixteenth century evidences a considerable strengthening of adverbs with WONDERFUL as well as DAMNABLE, DEVILISH and HELLISH as underlying meaning concepts; and the seventeenth century witnesses a further increase of boosters with INDESCRIBABLE, WONDERFUL, OUTSIDE THE NORM, REMARKABLE, STRONG, BAD, DAMNABLE, DEVILISH, HELLISH, TERRIBLE, FURIOUS as their original meaning, it witnesses new types deriving from INCONCEIVABLE, INVALUABLE and particularly from ASTONISHING. It thus marks the peak within this development. It looks, in fact, as if the increase in emotive adverbs were meant to meet the needs which, according to Hume's theory, language has to satisfy. The value of these findings cannot be defined precisely; for practical though disputable reasons, Peters has abstained from systematically applying the criterion of grammaticalization in his analyses. We are therefore forced to content ourselves with rough estimates. It seems that in the majority of cases, the boosters are not completely grammaticalized, i.e., they not only grade, but also convey some remnants of an attachment on the part of the speaker. Though these are, of course, the cases that tell us the most, the others are not entirely unworthy of our attention. After all, they testify to a similar past, and, moreover, in spite of their grammaticalized, semantically emptied grading function, they still retain some slight trace of emotivity; as becomes evident by simply confronting an expression like terribly big with equivalent expressions such as extremely big or immensely big, where the

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boosters are etymologically not derived from a qualitative but from locative or quantitative adverbs. If this trend toward explicit forms of expressing emotionality could be proven to be substantial and if it could be shown to assert itself against such expressive devices as investigated, we would have nothing less than a veritable paradigm change, viz., a change in expressivity from the mode νέου. to the mode pur. In the place of hard evidence, which would have to be quantitative and which is impossible to offer within the scope of the current inquiry, I shall pursue a qualitative argument, trusting that it will at least show such an assumption to be plausible. The argument regards the change in the conceptualization of the words express, expression and expressive, which form part of a basic set of means to refer to language, language use, and communication. The aim is to outline a somewhat remarkable change in the metaphoricity attached to these words. 133 I use the terms metaphor and metaphoricity in the sense of Lakoff Johnson (1980) and Ortony (1979). They interpret a metaphor as a primarily cognitive device of the human mind that enables it to process an unlimited variety of experiential data in terms of already existing concepts. From this follows that "the essence of metaphor is understanding one kind of thing in terms of another" (Lakoff - Johnson 1980: 5). The hypothesis of a metaphoric mind has linguistic support in those metaphors of everyday language that are conventionalized to such an extent that they are hardly noticeable. Identifying metaphors involved in, or related to, the root-lexeme express and its variants could amount to a valid contribution to an account of peoples's ideas about language and its use, also for expressive purposes. Express shows the same metaphorical characteristics as Reddy (1979) identified for our language in general. Compare (4) - (6) with (7) - (9). (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9)

It's very hard to get that idea across. You know very well that I gave you that idea. The passage conveys a feeling of excitement. This expression was illegible. This expression has three words and six phonemes. This expression does not really fit the idea.

What examples (7) - (9) have in common with our language about language in general, as illustrated by examples (4) - (6), is the underlying metaphorical concept that Reddy calls the "conduif'-metaphor, with the "container"metaphor as part of it. These metaphors conceive the words of a language as containers in which a sender puts her/his thoughts and feelings (conceptualized as reified objects), which the sender then transmits to a

A cultural-historical

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receiver and which s/he subsequently empties, thus getting hold of their content. The container/conduit metaphor inherent in the concept of express in the present time relates to our more specific topic; in particular, it seems to have an affinity to the mode pur of linguistic expressivity. This becomes evident from the ease with which the concept of mode pur emotivity can be cast into terms characteristic of the conduit/container-metaphorization of the rootword express. The explicitness and, hence, the propositional status constitutive for the mode pur of expressivity finds correspondence in the concept of the word/sentence 'containing' the speaker's emotional state as information which, we may add, the speaker encoded, put into an appropriate lexematic/propositional container and which the hearer on receipt takes out of the container. This "elective attraction" between the currently prevailing express-concept and the mode pur emotivity is distinctive and strong enough not to yield to the emotive mode vecu counterpart; this mode can hardly be elaborated by the conduit/container metaphor. Under the given auspices, we might therefore feel encouraged to hope to (a) identify an alternative concept that, in turn, accommodates the mode vecu but excludes the mode pur type of expressivity, and (b) show that this alternative concept is historically older than the conduit/container-metaphor and was replaced by it just about the time when the Western world developed its culture of higher level reflectivity, i.e., during the Renaissance and thereafter. For Middle English - the linguistic stage in which we first encounter the root word express - the Oxford English Dictionary and the Middle English Dictionary by Kurath and Kuhn mainly give references that contextualize the lexeme at issue simply in terms of content, i.e., what is expressed, express showing various readings relating to notions such as DESCRIBING, REPORTING, DENOTING, MENTIONING, STATING. Where the lexeme is used as a verb, however, we sometimes find it supplemented by a phrase specifying that the means of expressing something are verbal in character. Whereas in modern times the local preposition in in formulations such as to express an idea in appropriate words is a more than valid option 134 - thus characterizing the underlying concept in terms of the container-metaphor we find, as far as I can see, in Middle English the instrumental prepositions with and by, instead, as in (10)

(11)

Orisouns or prayers is for to seyn a pitous wyl of herte that redresseth it in God and expresseth it by word outward. 1390 Chaucer Canterbury Tales, Parson's Tale 1039 Sehe myth newyr expressyn it wyth her word lych as sehe felt it in hyr sowie. a 143 8 Μ. Kempe A 3/7

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These prepositions certainly do not go with the container-metaphor. Where we do find the local preposition in, it collocates either with lexemes like book etc., as in (12) or with lexemes like language and tongue, as in (13). (12)

(13)

For wise folk in bokes it expresse, Men shal nat wowe a wight in hevynesse. cl390 Chaucer Troilus and Cressida 5.790 Til hawe of thame knawlage Expressyd... in oure Langage 1425 Wyntoun, De orygynale cronykil of Scotland \ III iv 236

It refers to a particular language as a system, and not to language as speech. In short, what emerges is a concept that conceives the notion of express in less technical terms than does the currently prevailing conduit/containermetaphor. The state of affairs "expressed" appears to be inextricably tied up with the speaker, to her/his convictions or wants and - underlying both - to her/his sincerity. This conceptualization may well be interpreted as a metaphoric extension of what dictionaries usually list as the first entry: to press s.th. (juice etc.) from or out of s.th. (14)

Forto expresse out the blode-brede infused in wine & expressed. 1425 Chauliac

The change toward the conceptualization that Reddy proved to be central for our present time took place around the seventeenth century. It is during this period that phrases like to express in words, or the metonymic variation a word expresses s.th., occur for the first time. The same holds for the nominal form expression in the sense of word or term. As first references the Oxford English Dictionary offers quotations from the first half of the seventeenth century: (15) (16)

What an excellent choice Phrase this Lady express in. 1609 B. Jonson, Silent Woman III 2 His eyes were dimme...caligarunt oculi, saith Jerom...which are expressions of diminution, and not of absolute privation. 1646 Sir T. Browne, Pseudodoxia epidemica or enquiries into very many received tenents III, XVIII 153

The change in the metaphoric conceptualization of express reflects a development toward a situation in which the word appears deprived of its original power and reduced to a communicative instrument to serve as an information vehicle. It had been theoretically prepared for, and foreshadowed by, the philosophical movement of the fourteenth century called nominalism.

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Up until the fourteenth century - from Heraklitus via Plato to Aristotle and from Augustine to Thomas Aquinas and Anselm of Canterbury (cf. Coseriu 1975) - "the aenigma of language was generally recognized as key to cognition of objective reality" (Colish 1968: 7). Starting with the late scholastic philosophy of the fourteenth century, language ceased to be considered a cognitive instrument. According to Occam, it is now the cognitive act of the intellect alone that reaches reality, and language itself becomes a mere medium for labeling entities in order to be able to handle them efficiently; inferring from language to reality is no longer possible (cf. Pinborg 1967: 182). The change outlined is of such a general nature that it also applies to our topic, i.e., expressivity, and the perspective thereby given accounts well for the reduced repertoire of mode vecu devices during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries - if this observation should turn out to hold true.

8.3.3. The present time For the current times, an outline of possible correspondences between the linguistic facts and cultural-historical developments is much more difficult to achieve; the overall situation has become more complex - or at least it appears to be more complex, due perhaps to the lack of distance from our ongoing historical epoch. Following Baumeister (1986), however, it is at least possible to get an idea of what might be at stake. Drawing on literary trends, particularly in the United States, he interprets the post World War II period as the decisive turning point in the recent history of "cultural change and the struggle for self', as the subtitle to his book reads. After "alienation" it is "accommodation" that may be considered the new key term for a wide array of otherwise diverging cultural phenomena. "Accommodation in this literature oscillated between adjusting oneself to fit into society and attempting to assert oneself' (Baumeister 1986: 84). The adjusting side goes hand in hand with a devaluation of selfhood, an early literary epitome of which can be found in Musil's The Man without Characteristics, with the protagonist observing that the center of gravity no longer lies in the individual but in the relation between things. ... The prevailing image of man is reduced to that of a "mere functionary", obviously a big loss of status from the "imperial self'(Anderson 1971) of the previous century (Sypher, 1962; also Pütz,

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1979). The same idea is expressed in Grenier's often quoted sentence "We now walk in a universe where there is no echo of T." (Baumeister 1986: 86) On the assertive side, we find the so-called "beat'Miterature of the 1950s and other literature propagating "orgiastic irrationality" (Pütz 1979: 40) as a positive value - with Brown, Marcuse, and Reich as their theorists; we also have the literature of the 1960s in which the struggle for identity takes on the form of "myth-making". This literature can be seen as a revival of the passivity of the transcendentalists and other late nineteenth century writers. Instead of arguing for massive social change, the protagonist either accepted given social conditions or sought to avoid society's intolerable aspects by using imagination to create subjective systems of interpretation. Salvation and fulfillment were again sought in personal vision rather than social restructuring. (Baumeister 1986: 85) Outside literature, a similar oscillation can be found. Some social scientists and other attentive observers like Habermas (1973) and Landmann (1971) have commented on the seeming demise of individuality, others (e.g., Fromkin 1970) have found that individuality still has a positive value, that uniqueness and the "personal touch" are sought after, and privacy is coveted (cf. Baumeister 1986: 87). In an attempt to make sense of these contrary observations, Baumeister draws the conclusion "that the appetite for individuality persists, but the possibility of achieving individuality has been greatly reduced" (Baumeister 1986: 87). This results in a situation where true individualism and simply a semblance of it coexist side by side, and the dividing line between them becomes fuzzy, especially if one takes into account the small scope that exists for living one's individuality, which often does not allow for more than a simple or even trivial expression. Everywhere the "personal touch" or "personal service" is stressed in order to conceal the impersonal nature of transactions. Computerized bank tellers are programed to say "Thank you". "Dear Friend" or "Dear Customer" from letters have given way to the new form letters that insert the addressee's name, even into the letter's text...Respect for the "uniqueness" of every person is ubiquitous and almost sacred. Another indication of the dogmatic valuation of individual uniqueness is its use in explaining all sorts of irrelevant phenomena, such as the tendency of professional athletes to describe and justify their competitive strategies and their personal lives in terms of the necessity of "being myself'.

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Recently, Larry Holmes, the heavy-weight boxing champion, defeated a major challenger in a difficult fight. Oddly, his first words to newscasters after the fight were an apology for his lack of glamour compared to previous champions. Still, his justification was ready: "I was born to be myself." (Baumeister 1986: 90) A notorious instance of mere semblance of individuality is narcissism and, on the societal level, 'the culture of narcissism', as the title of a provoking analysis of the American society in these terms by Lasch (1980) reads. What the analysis shows in great detail is, in essence, the elaboration and critical evaluation of the following synopsis of the main symptoms of narcissism: After the political turmoil of the sixties, Americans have retreated to purely personal preoccupations. Having no hope of improving their lives in any of the ways that matter, people have convinced themselves that what matters is psychic self-improvement: getting in touch with their feelings, eating health food, taking lessons in ballet or belly-dancing, immersing themselves in the wisdom of the East, jogging, learning how to "relate", overcoming the "fear of pleasure." Harmless in themselves, these pursuits, elevated to a program and wrapped in the rhetoric of authenticity and awareness, signify a retreat from politics and a repudiation of the recent past. (Lasch 1980: 4-5) To a greater or lesser degree, any of the trends mentioned may be brought into connection with this peculiar agglomeration of expressive means that has been acknowledged for current times, especially for the United States. Most convincing, though, may be arguments that focus in particular on the link between narcissism and the reflourishing repertoire of mode νέοι devices of expressivity (viz., besides the gei-passive the expanded form, the present perfect and, possibly, the cfo-periphrasis, as well as phrasal verbs with simplex counterparts, not treated but merely mentioned in section 8.1.). Even though I could not object to such a view, I would not like to leave it at a point where it seems as if these devices did nothing but mirror the helplessness of the endangered self. After all, we have seen that they also testify to a marvellous struggle for the self in the past all the way back to the twelfth century. From this perspective then, I would rather like to bring this survey to an end by underlining their positive, constructive potential even in times of deadly crisis.

Birdwhistell's verdict, dating back to the sixties, is particularly worth quoting for its embittered overtones: By and large those who have discussed communication have been concerned with the production of words and their proper usage. Communication has been seen as the result of mental activity which is distorted by emotional activity. Thus the conception has been that the brain, by definition a naturally good producer of logical thoughts composed of words with precise meanings, emits these under proper stimulation. That is, good, clean, logical, rational, denotative, semantically correct utterances are emitted out of the head if the membrane between mind and body efficiently separates this area of the body from that which produces the bad, dirty, illogical, irrational, connotative, and semantically confusing adulterants. (Birdwhistell 1971: 66) Another reason for the negligence of emotive language is hinted at by Stankiewicz (1989): The dislocation of emotive language from the area of langue to the sphere of parole could not but give the entire study of expressiveness a bad press. (Stankiewicz 1989: 75) Cf. also Haiman (1994): A symptomatic gesture or fidget (let us say, a cry of pain like [aaaa]) accompanies a psychological state. That is, originally the gesture connotes the state. It becomes a signal which still connotes that state once it is recognized and responded by some other animal. Finally, it becomes a sign (say the English word "ouch") which denotes the state only once it is emancipated both from the stimulus which produced it originally, and from the motivated state of which it served as a signal. (Haiman 1994: 15-16) From the seminal work by Langacker (1990) and Traugott (1989) on subjectification and grammaticalization, however, such a program is much less surprising or far fetched; cf. pp. 3-4. Interestingly enough, three of the phenomena I am going to tackle are also included in their list, two for English and one for Italian. Due to the specific topic, the approach throughout will tend to show a - literally - egocentric bias in setting the focus more on the speaker (and the corresponding productive prerequisites) rather than on the hearer (and the correspondent respective necessities).

Notes

7.

8. 9.

10.

11.

12.

13.

205

We might even call it stylistic if we equated style with the famous, often reinterpreted concept of the Comte de Buffon Le style est I'homme meme 'the style is the man himself (cf. Müller 1981. 4051). For an insightful discussion of this and related problems cf. Fiehler (1990: 63-73). This view coincides with Volek (1987: 3), who draws a distinction between utterances "with emotive dominance" and utterances "with emotive elements". Utterances with attitudinal disjuncts would enter into the category "with emotive dominance", consisting of notional expressions for emotions (as love, hate, surprise) where the emotion appears mediated by a concept (1987: 9). In contrast to my own view, she would even exclude such expressions from her concept of expressivity. Cf. Sbisa (1990). Though she makes explicit reference to this problem, she does not really tackle it. Her main concern focuses, rather, on something more global, namely the emotional rooting of speech acts - an aspect I have briefly touched upon in 1.2. - and in particular the relation between illocutionary force indicating devices and expressive phenomena. Eggs (1990) mentions a number of psychological investigations on the word field of emotions such as Lazarus-Mainka - Rose (1980), Hager et al. (1985) or Marx et al. (1987), but he finds fault with "the methodical abstinence in the content-analytic definition of the terms of emotions examined" (Eggs 1990: 46). Seen from such post-structuralist positions as advanced by Derrida or Lacan, the line of thinking employed here may appear utterly naive. The underlying model is, however, popular and, furthermore, it corresponds to the common subjective perception of oneself as reasonably unified and coherent. Thus, the model appears to be highly suitable for an effective handling and, above all, an easy understanding of some ideas that are more or less instrumental in the given circumstances. A good illustration of their efficiency is provided by Jakobson (1960): A former actor of Stanislavskij's Moscow theatre told me how at his audition he was asked by the famous director to make forty different messages from the phrase Segodnja vecerom 'This evening', by diversifying its expressive tint. He made a list of some forty emotional situations, then emitted the given phrase in accordance with each of these situations, which his audience had to recognize only from the changes in the sound shape of the

206

14.

15.

16.

17.

18. 19. 20.

21.

Notes

same two words. For our research work in the description and analysis of contemporary Standard Russian (under the auspices of the Rockefeller Foundation) this actor was asked to repeat Stanislavskij's test. He wrote down some fifty situations framing the same elliptic sentence and made of it fifty corresponding messages for a tape record. Most of the messages were correctly and circumstantially decoded by Moscovite listeners. May I add that all such emotive cues easily undergo linguistic analysis. (Jakobson 1960: 354-355) This difference in viewpoint echoes, it seems, a vivid philosophical dispute in the United States during the thirties on the so-called Emotive Theory which centered around such key words as good or beautiful and their interpretation as emotive or not (cf. Robinson et al. 1948: 79-93). For the concept of markedness, cf. Janda (1996). For markedness particularly in grammar, cf. Givon (1991). For the philosophical implication of the dichotomy marked - unmarked, cf. Holenstein (1984: 72,88-92). The systematicity that applies to their use as emotive device permits one to consider this emotive meaning not just a "stylistic" feature. This is not to say that I place little value on stylistic analyses, such as Biber - Finegan (1989) or Taavitsainen (1994). For technical reason, the grapheme to be found in the edition quoted by Havers is substituted by the grapheme . For the reader's convenience, I will usually add the Modern English translations to the Old English quotations. The translations of the quotations from Beowulf are taken from the prose translation by E. T. Donaldson, New York: Norton, 1966 . Clark's (1990) Principle of Contrast, referred to in 1.3., could provide adequate support for such reasoning. For German cf. Helbig - Buscha (1986: 557-558). The idea could probably be used for the good of describing another development which took place during the Middle English period: the transition from the impersonal to the personal construction with certain verbs (such as like, dream or think), i.e., OE. pe dremed ME. thou dremest. For these verbs in general, cf. Gaaf (1904) and Denison (1990a), inter alii. Of course, presently we would use the form of + the possessive pronoun, sc. of mine.

Notes

22.

23.

24.

25.

26.

207

The central passage reads as follows: Der adnominale Gebrauch entfaltet am vollkommsten (sic!) und deutlichsten die semantische Besonderheit des G-s und es ist kennzeichnend, daß er der einzige Kasus ist, welcher sich auf ein reines, d.h. von einer verbalen Bedeutungsnuance freies Dingwort beziehen kann. Wir können den adnominalen Gebrauch des G-s als die typische Äußerung dieses Kasus bezeichnen. (Jakobson 1971: 42) [The adnominal use uncovers the particularity of the genitive most perfectly and clearly, and it is the defining (characteristic) feature of the genitive that it is the only case that can refer to a pure noun, i.e., a noun independent of any verbal meaning element. We can say that the adnominal use is the typical form in which the genitive exists, (translation A.H.)] Deutschbein (1917: 284) and Ahlgren (1946: 196-197) share the same position. Since both, however, rely on Havers without elaborating or modifying his approach, we do not have to concern ourselves with them. The context of its introduction should prevent the notion "experiential" from being equated with the same term in the Hallidayan system. It is, by the way, this focus that suggests the conclusion that the possible beneficiary and experiential meanings of the dative are merely connoted under certain text conditions. In a way, though, the notion of a personally motivated focus interacts with the principles of FSP. Informationally speaking, a sentence typically has the structural sequence theme - rheme, where the theme pertains to what the speaker is talking about and the rheme to what s/he has to say about it. In either part the personal focus/dative can occur. In the initial position, the personal focus coincides with the theme. to bearme cwom madpum - faet maere 'the glorious cup had come to his possession' Beowulf2404/05 (quoted in Havers 1911:274) As part of the rheme, the personal focus typically relates to the person/possessor whose possessum represents the rhematic focus. ond sette his pasmdran hond him on paet 'and put his right hand on his head' Bede II. 12 (quoted in Havers 1911: 275) A fuller understanding of the interaction of both systems would certainly require in-depth research that also would have to take into consideration the concepts of given - new as such and in their interaction with the theme - rheme structure.

208

27.

28. 29.

30.

31. 32. 33. 34. 35.

36. 37.

Notes

Akatsuka - Sohn (1994) pursue a similar line of reasoning in respect to Japanese and Korean conditionals. They avoid specifying the speaker's "affective stance" (equaling my notion of attachment), but they specify my notion of remarkableness in terms of 'desirable undesirable', a specification that may well be appropriate for the particular phenomena under inspection. For an analogous treatment of a related phenomenon in modern Mexican Spanish, see Company (1995). Those not familiar with Beowulf should at least know that it is a heroic poem of some 3000 lines written in the alliterative verse form. The eponymous hero goes through a series of adventures. As a young warrior, he offers his help to Hrothgar, the king of the Danes, and successfully fights the monster Grendel, who is ravaging Hrothgar's land, and the monster's mother. After having been appointed king of the Geates, he has to fight a firebreathing dragon, which is oppressing his own country. In the combat, he kills the dragon but is injured so severely that he dies soon afterward. For the quotations in this subchapter, the edition by Fr. Klaeber, Boston: Heath and Company, 1950, is used. For the modern English translations, cf. note 17. A similar argumentation would apply to other instances such as him to/on bearm(e) as in verses 40, 2194, 2404 and 2775, see examples (30), (14), (39) and (37). Note that in a parallel case, verse 627, where Wealhtheow is involved, the dative is in fact artificially supported. The same argument applies to verses 1521 and 1566. For the notions of "egocentricity" and "personal hierarchy", cf. Seiler (1983). Other illustrating examples are verses 1842 and 2361. Sometimes the term ethic dative is also used to cover other phenomena, such as the reflexive use of the personal pronoun in connection with intransitive verbs. For partly different applications of the term cf. Kellner (1892), Spies (1897), Sorg (1912) or Pilch (1970). Cf. chapter 1 on Bally ([1965]). The interactional aspect, which Schmid emphasizes, is certainly the appropriate descriptive frame for an adequate treatment of the ethic dative in general. But I think we have to be more precise as regards the intentional basis. In this respect, the ethic dative is principally self-expressive. Aligning it - as Schmid (1922: 6) does - with hearer-directed strategies such as the (even contingent) use of the possessive pronoun our in

Notes

38.

39.

40. 41.

42.

43.

44.

209

our friends at Brompton were meanwhile passing their Christmas after their fashion... Thackeray, Vanity Fair XLVI (quoted in Jespersen 1954: 285) amounts to leveling out what should be kept apart. I have used only data found either in former treatments of the topic proper or a related subject matter, pre-eminently in those by Franz (1909), Onions (1904), Schmid (1922), Spies (1897), Visser (1963), and Voges (1883), or in dictionaries under the lemma me/you, sc. in the Oxford English Dictionary and the Middle English Dictionary, ed. by Kuhn - Reidy, Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1975-78. The dated nature of the sources reflect the fact that the topic has attracted little interest lately. The data collection used did not provide any example of this type (e.g., +Me waes geomor sefa). Besides, the dative could not be classified in this case as ethic. Cf. Anderson (1971) for the older transformationalist, Langacker (1988) for the more recent, cognitive version. Lyons (1982: 117) translates the two notions of Erzählen and Besprechen with "narration" and "commentary" - infelicitously, as I see it: the verbal noun form would be much more adequate for preserving the action character for either notion, and the root-lexeme comment does not really capture what is meant by besprechen, cf. the following brief characterization. The classification of utterances in terms of their appertainance to the three discourse types Erzählen - Besprechen - Handeln 'Acting' is certainly not an ideal response to the task ultimately called for, i.e., a systematic treatment of ethic datives according to a speech act typology. But as long as speech act typology remains a highly controversial issue (cf. Searle 1976, Ballmer 1979, Verschueren 1980, Ballmer - Brennenstuhl 1981, Sbisä 1984, Tsui 1987), we may be well advised to content ourselves with an approximative approach. The difference in specificity has a systematic correspondence. The present tenses together with the past tenses form an obstinate sign system (cf. Weinrich [1985]: 14-21) that the speaker cannot choose not to employ; for any utterance s/he has to make a choice between the two tense groups. The ethic dative, however, represents a one-member system; it allows the speaker to activate it only when appropriate. The term "benefactive dative" is used as a nomenclature that covers positive and negative readings, similar to the terms "dative of (dis-)advantage" or "dativus (in-)commodi". The positive reading,

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46. 47.

48.

49.

50. 51. 52.

Notes

however, may prevail; Wierzbicka (1988), at least, claims that datives preceding the accusative/direct object typically "carry an implication that the effect of the action could be expected to be good for the target person" (1988: 362). A similar continuum may hold between what I call the participative dative (He gave me a book) and the benefactive dative (Ingrid made me scrambled eggs). For an insightful treatment cf. Wierzbicka (1988: 359-364). Her classification of both datives as "internal", however, is questionable since it is debatable whether for me in Ingrid made scrambled eggs for me can be considered an external dative just as well as to me in He gave a book to me. The reasoning is related to Kuno (1987) and his concept of empathy, successfully employed for explaining certain pronominalization. This is the aspect that conforms to the difference between benefactive and ethic me. The alternative view that would interpret the achievement in possessive terms as continually enlarging one's personal sphere of interest goes beyond the line of investigation chosen, but would well fit into an investigation topicalizing possession rather than attachment. Even so, he found one earlier indubitable example: pe blype brepe at her bak, pe bosum he fyndes; he (sc., the wind) swenges me pys swete schip swefte fro pe hauen. 'the cheerful breath at her back, it finds the bosom of the sail; the wind swings (me) the beautiful ship swiftly from the habour'. c. 1380 Patience 107 (quoted in Visser 1963: 630). And at least one more example can be added: pat oper ... fechez hym his wedez & graypez me Sir Gawayn vpon a grett wyse 'the other fetches him his clothes and prepares (me) Sir Gawain in a great manner'. c. 1400 Gawain 2013 (quoted in the Middle English Dictionary). I prefer this term to the alternatives "progressive form" or "continuous form" because it is less interpretatively biased, and it still seems more specific than the terms "periphrastic form" or "-ing form" in that they are applied to other language phenomena as well. Another, somewhat more complex account can be found in Brinton (1988). Nehls (1974: 12-13.) is most explicit with this methodical premise. For further technicalities concerning this as well as other coefficients and for their discussion, cf. Nickel (1966: 17-58).

Notes

53.

54.

55.

56.

57. 58.

59.

60.

61.

62.

211

Deutschbein (1917) and Fehr (1918) focus, like Hatcher, on the propositional version of the emotive function; Goedsche (1932) on its pragmatic function, like van der Laan. Some authors, such as Äkerlund (1911), operate with both versions without even reflecting the difference. Others, such as Bergeder (1914), seem to consider both to be part of what the expanded form does. The Ecclesiastical History provides one of the richest sources for Nickel's treatment of the Old English expanded form (1966), one of the standard works on this topic. Choosing this work aligns with my (general) policy to use data that others have used for supporting claims different from mine. The fact that it is a translation from Latin, ascribed to Aelfred or someone of his collaborators, does not really represent a serious drawback. Comparing the Old English version of the Ecclesiastical History with the Latin original on the one hand, and with other Old English documents on the other, Nickel (1966: 176) has convincingly shown that the Old English system was, indeed, determinant for the use of the Old English expanded form, the closeness to the Latin original notwithstanding. All Old English quotations from Bede as well as their Modern English translation are taken from The Old English version of Bede 's Ecclesiastical History of the English People, edited with a translation and introduction by T. Miller. London etc.: Oxford University Press, 1959. The numbers in brackets refer to the page and line where the expanded form can be found in this edition. For a concise review of the main proposals, cf. Denison (1993: 397410). In comparison, a temporary/aspectual interpretation of the Old English form would, under the same developmental presumptions, be well accounted for by Traugott's Tendency I. As for a general discussion of animacy and subjecthood or subjecthood and agent properties, cf. Bock et al. (1992: 154-156) and Lakoff (1977: 244, 248) respectively. The difference is reflected in grammar by the distinction between adjuncts, to which manner adverbials belong, and disjuncts, comprising the so-called attitudinal disjuncts (cf. Quirk et al. 1972: 559). An analogous case can actually be studied with some adverbs of degree, such as terribly, where the emotive value has been lost due to their frequent use. That the expanded form has a textual dimension is thus of long standing and not of recent origin, as is claimed by Couper-Kuhlen (1995). It is not to be considered, however, a primary function. - For

212

63.

64.

65.

66.

Notes

this reason Traugott's Tendency II, as regards the paths of semantic change, is not going to be taken into consideration here. Tendency II: Meanings based in the external or internal described situation > meanings based in the textual and metalinguistic situation. (1989: 35) According to standard grammar, the agentive noun distinguishes itself from the other grammatical categories under discussion in that the nominative singular has -end instead of -ende. But in the face of many counter-examples, Mitchell (1976: 481) comes to the conclusion that the stand "that nom. sing, forms in -end belong only to nouns and nom. sing, forms in -ende only to participles seems now a post not to be defended". Another, syntactically distinctive feature is not waterproof either, i.e., the use of genitive for nouns dependent from agentive nouns as opposed to the use of an accusative for nouns dependent from participles (cf. Nickel 1966: 288-298). Cf. the insights articulated and the consequences drawn by Quirk et al. (1985): The constraints of the progressive [i.e., the expanded form, A.H.] cannot, it seems, be explained entirely in terms of meaning. Since the use of the progressive aspect has been undergoing grammatical extension over the past few hundred years, it is likely that its use is still changing at the present day, and that its description at any one time cannot be totally systematic. This would explain the difficulties faced by those attempting to account in every respect for the conditions for the use of the progressive in terms of semantic generalizations. (Quirk et al. 1985:202) Cf. also Ljung (1980) who has devoted almost an entire monograph on expanded form occurrences problematic for the standard theory. One of his key concepts by which he tries to rescue their grammatical acceptability is the "speaker's interpretation". If this entails speaker involvement, his stimulating discussions could be read as an (involuntary) contribution to my argument. Theoretically speaking, it cannot be excluded, however, that in (50), the expanded form is used as an expression of future pure by avoiding the implication of willingness. This idea could be complemented by a brief hint at a special characteristic of the so-called explicit speech acts, in which the principal difference between the absolute speaker's now and the tensed now becomes apparent. A speaker saying to the lady of his heart I propose to you actually performs the act of a proposal of

Notes

67.

68.

69.

70.

71.

213

marriage. This, however, works only as long as the speech act verb propose appears in precisely the form which the example shows. Usually, this form is categorized as simple present tense. Yet, to be precise, one ought to add that this form does not fulfill the same function as the present does in other contexts, i.e., to tense an event as a present one. As soon as the act of proposal is tensed into I am proposing to you, the speech act of proposing is likely to turn into another speech act that merely describes the act of proposing. Cf., however, contemporary American examples like (a) Hurray! He did it again! (Vanneck 1958: 238) (b) Here, we brought you some flowers Miller, Death of a Salesman (quoted in McCoard 1978: 243) (c) Spain 's a nice country. I know some people who were there (Vanneck 1958: 238) I would interpret the use of the past here as the speaker's refusal to open (for a/b) or to accept (for b/c) any further event processing. Cf. also 5.5. The present perfect, in my view, is a category of its own, much more so than was even argued for, though on different grounds, by Comrie (1985: 78-82). Cf., however, the opposite line of argument, as has been recently advanced by Kortmann (1995). Traditionally, the time adverb is characterized as holding the key position in the relation between the present perfect and the time adverb. The reversed perspective chosen here is not simply the converse option; it rather responds to the central role that my approach assigns to the present perfect for the discourse type of discussing. Meyer (1992 and 1995) groups the adverbs into "vague time adverbials" (such as in old days, in former times) and "adverbials of precise temporal reference" (e.g., in 1954)·, this grouping is certainly just as sensible as my own. Neither one, however, can account for the co-occurrence and co-occurrence restriction with the present perfect, as will be shown below. That such examples are not only found in some obscure sources, where they eke out an exotic existence, can be seen in the fact that the mass media - the BBC as the stronghold of norm governed English usage included! - provide ample data of this sort, as the following examples (from material collected by Mr. H. Wagener, a foreign language teacher in Brussels) illustrate: Talk of pulling out isn't new. We have heard it a year ago. Christiane Amanpour (CNN 7. 12. 1994)

214

72.

73.

74.

75. 76. 77.

78.

79.

Notes Profits will be very much lower than has been anticipated before today. (Sky Channel 25. 5. 1994) ... now that its military has been curbed two years ago. BBC correspondent from Baghdad (BBC I 8. 1. 1993) For further examples to be found in the written (mass) media, cf. Meyer (1992: 114-116) and Meyer (1995: 225-226). He does everything to dissolve the problem of temporal incompatibility - not very convincingly, however. Comrie (1976: 52-54) explains the incompatibility of the present perfect with "specifications of the time of a past situation" that exclude the present in terms of the aspect structure (i.e. eventinternal time organization) of the present perfect. The present perfect expresses the relation between two time-points, the "time of the state resulting of a prior situation" (Comrie 1976: 52) and the "time of that prior situation" and thus "partakes of both the present and the past" (Comrie 1976: 52). Klein (1992: 546) accounts for the same restriction of co-occurence by introducing the "p-definiteness constraint", which is a merely temporal notion, too. A cooler reaction is shown by Huddleston (1984: 159), who regards such examples "as sufficiently rare and questionable to be ignored under reasonable idealization of the data" and, in case "these occurrences turn out to be of more significance", argues with a handy theorem, namely neutralization: "this will reflect a weakening of the semantic contrast between the perfect and the past tense". Ikegami (1986) offers an interesting interpretation of this claim taking it as an instance of a general drift in English toward an intensified expression of "agentivity". For a more detailed, but concise account, cf. Denison (1993). Cf. also Carey's (1994) similarly oriented discussion of the perfect in Old English in particular. The only, in some respects quite appealing, explanation I have found is offered by Markus (1971: 51), who holds that the orientation toward the present, presupposed by the present perfect, does not work as naturally with negation as with affirmation. Additional support could come from an analysis proving that there is a correlation between the present/past distribution (in collocation with hitherto etc.) and a discussing and non-discussing environment respectively. All quotations are taken from The Cely Letters 1472-1488, edited by Alison Hanham. (=Early English Text Society Nr. 273) London: Oxford University Press 1975.

Notes

80.

81.

82. 83. 84.

85.

86.

215

Though the text, certainly, is not very explicit about it, this reading finds support in the introduction by the editor, A. Hanham (1975). ... something should be said about Cely's financial dealings, which play a large, and sometimes rather obscure, part in the correspondence. After inspecting a sample of wool, the stapler made a written agreement with the woolman to buy so many sacks, paying the same price for both good and middle wool (the second-grade sortings of the fleece). The wool was sorted and packed by a professional packer, and the sarplers sent to London by wain. Here the wool was weighed in the presence of both seller and buyer. The latter thereupon paid the seller one-third of the price ... The other two-thirds were due, usually, in two instalments, the last perhaps twelve months after the date of the agreement. To meet these payments the Celys often borrowed a sum in sterling from an English merchant adventurer in London, who received an obligation payable by their factor in Flemish money at specified mart. The exchange rate of the Flemish equivalent was agreed at the time the loan was made, but the valuation of the coin in which it was paid would be that obtaining at the mart. (Hanham 1975: XVIII) "'We maintained against them that bill had been protested', i.e., a formal declaration had been made that the bill had been presented and payment refused." (Note by the editor 1975: 265) i.e., "no reduction in price allowed (but an artificially low rate of exchange quoted in compensation)". (Note by the editor 1975: 252). These are not singular instances; we find analogous occurrences, for example in letters 24 and 38. The authors are certainly reluctant to argue for an emotive reading: 'emotive' is a very difficult feature to define in linguistic analysis. Although the influence and importance of emotive factors cannot be denied, an analysis based on more easily traceable covarying factors offers ä more solid point of departure for the discussion. (Nevalainen - Rissanen 1986: 36) But the example is open to such an interpretation; the attitudinal disjunct ironically provides a strong clue for this reading. Cf. Osselton (1983: 469): "Dr. K.C. Phillipps of Leicester University points out that comment on the phenomenon goes back at least to the 1960s". A reference is made to Brian Foster, The Changing English Language, 1968. The article on "The grammar of English phrasal verbs" by the Australian linguist R. M. Dixon (Australian Journal of Linguistics 21. 1982) is a particularly nice illustration, where I counted, on forty pages, twenty-two c/o-penphrases in affirmative sentences.

216

87.

88. 89. 90. 91.

92. 93.

94. 95.

Notes

Ellegärd's frequency diagram (1953: 162) - or the slightly modified version by Mustanoja (1960: 608) which depicts the frequencies of the do-form in the different sentence types relative to the frequencies of the corresponding simple form, is in this respect as misleading as his table 7 (Ellegärd 1953: 161), which shows the quantitative development of periphrasis frequency in absolute figures. Cf. also Stein (1990: 108-109) Quoted according to the edition by J. B. Sheppard. London: Camden Society, 1877 [reprint New York: Johnson 1965], Cf. the notion of 'expected average' by Bolinger (1977: 28-29). For edition quoted, cf. note 98. D. Stein's characterization of the Cely Letters needs to be revised: "The picture in the Cely Letters (1472 - 1488) is relatively simple: the only type of do use they contain is do you to wit. This is the old two-clause structure with a causative/perfective sense ..." (1990: 21) Quoted from the edition by Alison Hanham (The Early English Text Society), London etc.: Oxford University Press, 1975. I want to exclude the theoretically possible interpretation that the fact that Richard Cely, the addressee referred to by the letters, understood them is as such remarkable. There is, no doubt, also an element of entertainment attached to this collection, but this is not of interest here. This is a feature that the ifo-periphrasis shares with the ethic dative and the present perfect. - Since it is a verbal device like the present perfect, one may wonder what the difference between them is. I hold that there is, in fact, no difference except, perhaps, for the slight displacement in time. The following example supports this view in that it combines the present perfect and the cfo-periphrasis: ...informyngyou that I haue ressauyd a letter from you wryttyn at Calles the xxvij day of Marche, be the qweche I do well onderstonde the demenyng of owr brother Robard. Cely Letter 47 Because of the question environment, the following data are less telling - though not meaningless (due to the fact that the rfo-periphrasis and the rfo-less verb form compete in all syntactic environments in Early Modern English, cf. p. 129). They represent two different translations of the same Bibel text, the do-periphrasis being used in the (younger) version by Tyndale and the present perfect in the (older) one by Wycliff: (a) Ο thou oflytell fayth, wherfore diddest thou dout? (b) Whi hast thou doutid (quoted in Engblom 1938: 150)

Notes

96.

97.

98.

99.

100.

101.

102.

217

Questions naturally occur in dialogue only, but up to the mid-sixteenth century, there is practically no full fledged drama that would reflect natural dialogue. Hence, the data available may yield a specifically literary profile. Fish's preference for the past tense where he discusses basically current affairs is an interesting phenomenon worth studying. I would guess that it is a protective measure which may serve all parties involved: Church, King, and the author himself. Quoted from the edition by J. Meadows Cowper - Frederick J. Furnivall. Early English Text Society. Extra Series 13. (1871). Millwood, N.Y.: Klaus Reprint. Haiman (1994) gives a quite entertaining illustration from Brophy and Partridge (1931: 16-17), which may be nice to quote here. So common indeed was [the word fuck] in its adjectival form that after a short time the ear refused to acknowledge it and took in only the noun to which it was attached... Far from being an intensive to express strong emotion, it became merely a conventional excrescence. By adding -ing and -ingwell, an adjective and an adverb were formed and thrown into every sentence. It became so common that an effective way for the soldier to express emotion was to omit this word. Thus, if a sergeant said 'Get your —ing rifles!' it was understood as a matter of routine. But if he said 'Get your rifles!' there was an immediate implication of emergency and danger, (quoted from Haiman 1994: 9) This outlook could also contribute to an explanation of why it took the periphrastic do about 200 years, as is generally hypothesized, before it occurred with some regularity in written documents in the function hypothesized. Comparing D. Stein's English written monograph of 1990, which I have mainly discussed, with an earlier German version of 1985 that has the phonotactic argument as its core, one may get the impression at times that he might have written a different 1990 version if he had not tried to retain as much as possible from the earlier one. Cf. Beckson - Ganz (1960): EUPHUISM: The convoluted and highly colored style which takes its name from John Lyly's prose romance Euphues, published in 1579. The style, with its heavy alliteration, elaborate antitheses, and extended comparisons, was condemned by some and imitated by others, but it helped to demonstrate the capabilities of English as an instrument of expression. (Beckson - Ganz 1960: 56)

218

103.

104.

105.

106.

107.

108.

109. 110.

111.

Notes

This view aligns well with the one pronounced by Penhallurick (1985: 315) for contemporary English: the constant meaning signaled by do is that "the sender presupposes that something less than certainty attaches in some way to the event(s) designated by the lexical verb." His diachronic interpretation merely hinted at (1985: 328), however, seems less akin. To explain the progression of periphrastic do inside the class of w/i-questions, D. Stein (1990) pursues a similar line of reasoning (cf. pp. 259-260), even though he does not show how this goes with the phonotactic argument. In passing, it should be mentioned that Stein's difficulty in accommodating whether- and wAe«ce-questions could be overcome if we enhanced his approach by drawing on Heringer (1984), in particular his proposal of a differentiation between complementary and supplementary details (Angaben Ergänzungen); wA-questions correspond to that and could be differentiated analogously (cf. pp. 44-49). The co-occurrence of periphrastic do with imperatives is a different phenomenon; as pointed out by Ellegärd (1953: 174-178), it is a late-comer with an affinity to the so-called emphatic do. Brinton - Stein (1995: 42-43) give a different interpretation which, after all, is no surprise. What exactly this new discourse function of the old periphrastic do in affirmative sentences is, however, remains unclear to me. Cf. also Traugott's intimation "Do in formal phrases like I do arrest you seems clearly related to another, meaningful do that asserts the truth ofthe proposition "(1972: 139) Except for the material used for the case study in 7.7., the data are on purpose second-hand, taken over mainly from authors who use them in support of their own different proposals. For simplicity's sake, I am going to deal with descriptive statements only. The seeming contradiction to Miller (1985: 189), who gives 1652 as the year of the first recorded appearance, is obviously due to his applying another concept of passive to the same database used by myself, i.e., the Oxford English Dictionary. Also Givon - Yang (1994) acknowledge the gei-passive in written English for the end of the eighteenth century but assume that it existed in the colloquial much earlier. My understanding of the meaning of get (as passive formative) is half-way between Lindstromberg's (1991) and Miller's (1985), yet with a bias toward Miller because Lindstromberg does not take an emotive function of the gef-passive into consideration at all. The

Notes

112.

113.

114.

115.

116.

219

difference between my stance and Miller's is, nevertheless, considerable. Firstly, what Miller interprets as "moving" is not simply the event, as in my view. The semantic structure for The accountant got dismissed by the manager... can be glossed as 'The accountant moved into a state (where) dismissal came to him from the manager'. (Miller 1985: 177) Secondly, Miller merely mentions a possible link between the getpassive and emotion by making a reference to Lakoff (1971), and furthermore relegates it to a mere nuance, convinced that it is "difficult to maintain that there is a general distinction in meaning between get-and 6e-passives" (Miller 1985: 184). Langacker himself does not deal with the get- passive; and his treatment of the Ae-passive relies on completely different lines of argumentation. In the given context, I find it strange that Stein (1979: 60) takes the adverb deliberately, in examples such as (20), as a test case for proving that the semantic feature UNEXPECTED exists for the past of the gef-passive. In this example, the subject may, indeed, appear to be partially responsible, but here it is the adverb that expresses the subject's partial responsibility. I cannot share the opinion advanced by Hatcher (1949: 437) and Lakoff (1971: 155), as well as others (cf. 7.2.) that the partial responsibility of the subject for what happens to her/him represents a meaning component of the gei-passive itself On this point, I completely agree with Stein (1979: 58). Cf. chapter 3.4.1. for a more differentiated application of the same principle. It also accords with the following remark made by Slobin (1994) in respect to the present perfect: "This analysis also suggests that the perfect construal would have arisen in first- and secondperson contexts" (1994: 127). - Taking the difference that exists between the first, second and third person more consistently/ rigorously into consideration might be a rewarding measure, for all sorts of theoretical accounts. Matthews (1991) presents one of the few linguistic analyses exploiting this aspect systematically. There is an interesting systematic link between this type of getpassive construction and the Old English possessive dative, equivalent to ...that the dancers would kick him in the teeth. In fact, I suppose that this would be the real active version of (37), the beneficiary of (37a) being merely a grammatical substitute. Thus, taking both constructions as systematic complements, the

220

117. 118.

119. 120.

121. 122.

123.

124.

125.

Notes

arguments advanced in chapter 2 may well support and enhance the interpretation of the construction presently under consideration. Harmondsworth etc.: Penguin, 1975. There is, furthermore, a perfect agreement with Herold's (1986) frequencies as to the distribution of the adversive sense in the beand gei-passives, thus summarized by Givon (1993). While only 40% of the BE-passives in the sample involved an adversive use, fully 82% of the GET-passives involved such use. (Givon 1993: 70) Even if it may presently be more often than not a matter of class, it was a matter of free choice in former times. It is interesting to note that four of the six phenomena considered turned out to be related in one way or another to the notion of possessivity as well. Not only in a Marxist context, I think, could this state of affairs induce some musings as to a possibly materialistic foundation of the self. Cf. also Williams (1976); the "keywords" that interest in the given context are individual, personality and subjective. Nevertheless, double negation and phrasal verbs, for example, - if they really turned out to be attachment devices - would not cause a dramatic change of "facts", for the simple reason that the double negation would equally affect all periods up to the eighteenth century and the phrasal verb none except for the present. This goal does not embrace the history of the single device, how and why the single device came into being and later retreated or died out. A treatment of this sort, however, would also have to argue with some similar external, i.e., societal factors rather than with internallinguistic ones (cf. Lüdtke 1980a and 1980b) - and thereby pass the buck to mental history! This term was coined by the art historian Panofsky (1960) to avoid the necessity of applying a historically defined term, i.e., Renaissance, typologically, i.e., in reference to cultural resurgences at various points in time (in the Carolingian and Ottoman period and in the twelfth and fifteenth/sixteenth centuries). The passage in question reads as follows: "Yet there is a fundamental difference between the Renaissance man's thirst for fame and Suger's colossal but, in a sense, profoundly humble vanity. The great man of the Renaissance asserted his personality centripetally, so to speak: he swallowed up the world that surrounded him until his whole environment had been absorbed by his own self. Suger asserted his personality centrifugally: he projected his ego into the world that

Notes

126.

127. 128. 129.

130.

131. 132. 133. 134.

221

surrounded him until his whole self had been absorbed by his environment" (Panofsky 1946: 29). The dichotomy was successfully taken up by Misch (1959) in his history of the autobiography (cf. Guijewitsch 1980: 340-341). This is in line with Farrier (1990) who criticizes Burckhardt's classic study on The civilization of the Renaissance in Italy ([1958]) for having drawn too strict a dividing line between Renaissance and the Middle Ages. For a brief survey cf. Baumeister (1986: 29-58). Cf. the treatment of the expanded form by Langacker (1994) within the cognitive framework. These cognitive substantiations of the new concept of individuality, which places a value on unique characteristics and which claims that each person has a special destiny or potentiality (cf. Baumeister 1986: 38), correspond to certain social changes. The person is seen as an individual unity, with a separate existence, independent of her/his place in society; toward the end of the sixteenth century, the vendetta form of justice, based on family and lineage, had already been largely replaced in England with the more modern form, which only punishes the offender (Baumeister 1986: 40), and childhood and puberty had been widely accepted as qualitatively different stages in the development of the human being (Baumeister 1986: 45); and in the eighteenth century, a new concept of privacy aligned with that of individuality: houses began to have corridors, and rooms were assigned specialized functions (cf. Baumeister 1986: 41). It is perhaps worth mentioning in passing that sometimes even mode vecu devices receive a rational varnish. Thus the early defender of the English language, Richard Carew (1555-1620), claimed that English inteijections like phy (first record, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, 1297), haa (first record 1300) or alacke (first record 1480) were more naturally connected with the emotions they express than the corresponding ones of other languages. (Cf. Bailey 1991:43) Cf. G. Stein (1993), who gives a rather bleak diagnosis of the current state of lexicological research, in particular in its diachronic aspects. For the term itself, cf. Quirk et al. (1972: 445-446) and (1985: 591). This is a modified and abridged version of Hübler (1990). Languages may, of course, differ also in this respect. In German, for instance, the container-metaphor, though certainly of strong presence, is not quite as pervasive as in English.

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Index of authors

Adamson, Sylvia 226,241 Ahlgren, Arthur 18, 19, 24, 26, 28, 207, 222 Aitchison, Jean 230, 240 Akatsuka, Noriko 126, 208, 222 Akerlund, Alfred 211,222 Andersen, Henning 154,222,224, 225 Andersen, Paul Kent 167, 222 Anderson, John M. 209,222 Anderson, Quentin 201, 222 Aronstein, Philipp 14,222 Austin, John Langshaw 10,222 Bache, Carl 96, 100, 222 Bailey, Richard W. 221,222 Ballmer, Thomas T. 209, 222 Bally, Charles 5-6, 7, 9, 143, 153, 178, 187, 208,223 Barber, Charles 187,223 Bauer, Gero 95, 97, 101, 102, 115, 116,223 Baumeister, Roy F. 195-196, 201203,221,223 Beavin, Janet Η. 242 Beckson, Karl 217,223 Begin, Claude 64,230 Benveniste, Emile 4,49,223 Bergeder, Fritz 89-90, 211, 223 Biber, Douglas 206, 223 Birdwhistell, Ray L. 204,223 Bock, Kathryn, J. 139, 211, 223, 237 Bolinger, Dwight 14, 216, 223 Breal, Marcel 15,223 Breivig, Leiv-Egil 227 Brennenstuhl, Waltraut 209,222

Brinton, Laurel J. 31, 210, 218, 224 Brophy,John 217, 224 Brown, Penelope 10, 202, 224 Bühler, Karl 2, 3, 7, 97, 178, 224 Bull, William 97, 224 Burckhardt, Jacob 221,224 Buscha, Joachim 42, 206, 230 Bybee, Joan L. 67, 68, 94, 224 Carey, Kathleen 214,225 Casad, Eugene 231 Chappell, Η. 163,225 Charleston, Britta Μ. 14,225 Clark, Eve 15,65, 175,206,225 Carroll, William J. 227 Cole, Peter 228 Colish, Marcia L. 201,225 Company, Concepcion 208, 225 Comrie, Bernard 67, 94, 99, 108, 213,214, 225 Coseriu, Eugenio 201, 225 Couper-Kuhlen, Elizabeth 211, 225 Crystal, David 13, 225 Curme, George O. 163,178,225 Damasio, Antonio 6,226 Dahl, Osten 67-68, 94, 224 Declerck, Renaat 94, 226 Denison, David 131, 169, 206, 211,214,226 Dennis, Leah 65-66, 67, 226 Deutschbein, Max 207,211,226 Dietrich, Gerhard 100,112,226 Dirven, Rene 176,226 Downing, Angela 85 , 226

Index of authors

Eaton, Roger 226 Eggs, Ekkehard 11,205,226 Ekman, Paul 13, 226 Ellegärd, Alvar 130, 131, 143, 216,218,227 Elsness, Johann 115,227 Engblom, Victor 144, 145, 146, 216, 227 Enzinger, Andrea 234 Erades, Peter 112,227 Esser, Jürgen 73, 227 Farrier, Susan E. 194, 221, 227 Fehr, Bernhard 211,227 Fenn, Peter 96, 109, 227 Fiehler, Reinhard 205, 227 Finegan, Edward 206,223 Fisiak, Jacek 224 Foster, Brian 215, 227 Fox, Barbara 228 Frank, Manfred 229 Frank, Thomas 230, 240 Frankena, William K. 14, 227 Franz, Wilhelm 43, 46, 50, 53, 57, 209, 227 Fries, Norbert 13, 227 Fromkin, Howard L. 202, 228 Gaaf, Willem van der 206,228 Gadamer, Hans-Georg 230 Ganz, Arthur 217, 223 Gee, James Paul 171,228 Givon, Talmy 100, 163, 206, 218, 220, 228 Goedsche, C. Rudolf 211,228 Görlach, Manfred 157, 228 Goffman, Ervin 10, 228 Granger, Sylviane 164, 170, 173, 228 Graustein, Gottfried 85,228 Greenbaum, Sidney 238 Grewendorf, Günter 222

245

Grice, H. Paul 4,228 Guijewitsch, Aron J. 221,229 Habermas, Jürgen 202, 229 Haegeman, Liliane 169, 229 Hager, Willi 205,229 Haiman, John 154,204,217,229 Halliday, Michael A. K. 5, 29, 65, 167, 168, 207, 229 Hamburger, Käte 49, 229 Hanham, Alison 118, 125, 214, 215,216, 229 Hastorf, Albert Η. 11, 229 Hatcher, Anna Granville 67, 164165, 166, 170, 171, 172, 175, 177,211,219, 229 Haug, Walter 194,229 Haverkamp, Anselm 229 Havers, Wilhelm 19, 23, 25-26, 27, 28, 206,207, 230 Heine, Bernd 241 Helbig, Gerhard 42, 206,230 Henle, Paul 227 Heringer, Hans Jürgen 218, 230 Herold, R. 220, 230 Hille, Arnoldus 227 Hirtle, Walter H. 64, 90, 93, 230 Hodge, Robert 168,232 Hoffmann, Gerhard 113,230 Hogg, Richard M. 241 Holenstein, Elmar 206,230 Hopper, Paul J. 228 Huddleston, Rodney 64, 94, 108, 163,230 Hübler, Axel 221, 230 Hundt, Marianne 64, 65, 234 Ihalainen, Ossi 131,230 Ikegami, Yoshihiko 214,231 Jacobson, Sven 236 Jackson, Don D. 242

246

Index of authors

Jakobson, Roman 2, 3, 7, 24, 27, 178, 205-206, 207, 230,231 Janda, Laura A. 206,231 Jarvella, Robert J. 234 Jespersen, Otto 41,42, 68, 89, 90, 209,231 Johansson, Stig 227 Johnson, Mark 198, 233 Joos, Martin 3, 231 Jucker, Andreas H. 232 Kastovsky, Dieter 231, 238, 240 Keiper, Hugo 225, 232, 234, 235 Kellner, Leon 58, 60, 208,231 Klein, Wolfgang 94, 97, 99, 104, 108,214, 231,234 Knapp, Mark L. 13,231 Koch, Manfred 1,231 Koch, Walther A. 239,240 König, Ekkehard 22, 30, 64, 71, 72, 132, 169, 188,232 Kövecses, Zoltan 2,232 Kortmann, Bernd 94, 96, 213, 232 Koziol, Herbert 22, 112,232 Kress, Gunther 168, 232 Kruisinga, Etsko 163, 173, 174, 232 Kryk-Kastovsky, Barbara 187, 232 Kuno, Susumu 174, 210, 232 Laan, Jacobus van der 67, 211, 232 Labov, William 3, 94-95, 113, 140, 182, 232, 243 Lakoff, George 198,211,233 Lakoff, Robin 219, 164, 165, 166, 170, 172, 173,233 Landmann, Michael 202, 233 Langacker, Ronald W. 7, 22, 59, 66, 73,79, 114, 169, 190, 204, 209,219, 221,233 Langer, Susan Κ. 1,13,178,233 Lasch, Christopher 203,233

Lazarus-Mainka, Gerda 205, 233 Leech, Geoffrey 93,100,233,238 Lehmann, Winfried P. 241 Lersch, Philipp 231 Levinson, Stephen 10, 224 Lindstromberg, Seth 169, 218, 234 Ljung, Magnus 212, 234 Lock, Andrew 237 Locke, Philip 85, 226 Loebell, Helga 223 Lüdtke, Helmut 220, 234 Lutzeier, Peter 64, 232 Lyons, John 1, 6,49, 97,209, 234 Mätzner, Eduard 43, 44, 47, 50, 57,58,234 Mair, Christian 64, 65, 234 Malkiel, Yakov 241 Markus, Manfred 100, 116, 214, 234 Marty, Anton 2, 12, 13, 234 Marx, Wolfgang 205, 234 Mathesius, Vilem 2, 14,235 Matsumoto, Yo 126, 235 Matthews, Richard 219, 235 Maurice, William 112, 235 McCoard, Robert W. 96, 96, 97, 100, 103, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 114,213,235 McNeill, David 1, 7, 235 Mecklenbräuker, Silvia 229 Meyer, Matthias 93, 112, 213, 214,235 Miller, James 169, 211, 213, 218219,235 Misch, Georg 221, 235 Mitchell, Bruce 20, 26, 27, 28, 29, 68,212, 236 Moeller, Holger 229 Morey, Randal 223 Morgan, Jerry L. 228 Morris, Colin 195,236 Mosse, Fernand 65,236

Index of authors

247

Müller, Wolfgang G. 205,236 Mustanoja, Tauno F. 114, 216, 236

Quirk, Randolph 13, 44, 64, 65, 93, 128, 130, 163, 169, 211, 212,221,238

Nehls, Dietrich 68, 97, 210, 236 Nevalainen, Terttu 129,215,236 Nickel, Gerhard 65, 68, 88-89, 210,211,236

Radden, Günther 176,226 Rainer, Eva Maria 95, 113, 115118, 119,238 Rauh, Reinhold 234 Reddy, Michael J. 198, 200, 238 Reichenbach Hans 97, 98-99, 104, 238 Riedel, Christoph 195,238 Riehle, Wolfgang 225, 232, 234, 235 Rissanen, Matti 129, 131, 137, 138,215, 236, 238 Robinson, Richard 206, 238 Rose, Ann 205,233 Rosenberg, Shelden 237 Rosenthal, Peggy 190-191, 194, 238 Rothacker, Erich 194, 238 Rudzka-Ostyn, Brygida 233

Ochs, Elinor 3, 236 Ong, Walter 31, 236 Onions, Charles T. 41, 43, 46, 51, 209, 236 Ortony, Andrew 198, 237, 238 Osgood, Charles E. 139, 237 Osselton, Noel E. 129, 160, 215, 237 Pagliuca, William 224, 225, 229, 239 Palmer, Frank R. 163, 237 Panofsky, Erwin 194, 220-221, 237 Pantaleo, Nicola 230,240 Panzer, Baldur 240 Parret, Herman 1, 237 Partridge, Eric 217,224 Paszyna, Chrisoph 234 Paul, Hermann 15, 237 Penhallurick, John M. 218, 237 Perkins, Revere 224 Peters, Hans 196-197, 237 Pezzini, Isabella 1, 237 Pilch, Herbert 208, 237 Pinborg, Jan 201, 237 Plooij, Frans X. 154, 237 Polefka, Judith 229 Potter, Simeon 187, 238 Poutsma, Hendrik 67, 163, 170, 238 Pütz, Manfred 201, 202, 238

Saussure, Ferdinand de 15, 239 Sbisä, Marina 205,239 Scheffer, Johannes 65,239 Scherer, Klaus R. 226 Schieffelin, Bambi 3, 236 Schiffrin, Deborah 232 Schlosberg, Harold 11, 239 Schmid, Lydia 42, 43, 44, 45, 47, 48, 54, 55, 208, 209, 239 Schmidt, Siegfried J. 1,239 Schneider, David J. 229 Searle, John R. 4, 142,209, 239 Sebeok, Thomas 231 Seiler, Hansjakob 20-22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 29, 208, 239 Short, Michael 73, 239 Slobin, Dan I. 107,219,239 Snell, Bruno 193,239

248

Index of authors

Sohn, Sung-Ock S. 126, 208, 222 Sorg, Walther 208, 240 Spies, Heinrich 41, 57, 58, 208, 209, 240 Staiger, Emil 49, 240 Stankiewicz, Edward 204, 240 Stein, Dieter 130, 131, 133-135, 136, 139-141, 143-146, 147, 153, 154-155, 157-159, 161, 216,217,218, 224, 240 Stein, Gabriele 163, 164,166-167, 170, 172, 178,219, 221,240 Stickel, Gerhard 230 Sussex, Roland 180, 240 Svartvik, Jan 162, 168, 238, 240 Swan, Michael 163,240 Sypher, Wylie 201,241 Szwedek, Aleksander 231 Taavitsainen, Irma 206,241 Teriiel, Studds 180, 181, 182, 183, 184, 185,241 Thomae, Hans 231 Tobin, Yishai 163, 241 Toulmin, Stephen E. 14,241 Traugott, Elizabeth C. 16, 22, 27, 29, 30, 71, 72, 126, 132, 154, 160, 169-170, 188, 204, 211, 212,218, 241 Trier, Jost 193,242 Trilling, Lionel 195, 196, 242 Trnka, Bohumil 139,242 Tsui, Amy Β. Μ. 209, 242

Vachek, Josef 235 Vanneck, Gerard 111, 213, 242 Vanrespaille, Mia 163, 166, 175, 242 Vermant, Stefan 95, 96, 101-102, 103,104, 242 Verschueren, Jef 209,242 Visser, Fredericus Th. 41, 42, 43, 44, 54-55, 58, 60, 61, 65, 90, 115, 130, 145, 146, 168, 177, 209,210, 242 Voges, Ferdinand 42, 44, 45, 47, 51,52, 56,57,58, 60, 209, 242 Volek, Bronislava 13, 205, 242 Watzlawick, Paul 5,242 Weiner, E. Judith 182, 243 Weinrich, Harald 16, 48-49, 78, 84, 87, 95, 96, 105, 106, 136, 177,187,209, 243 Weisgerber, Leo 193, 243 Werner, Heinz 5, 7, 233, 243 Westermann, Rainer 229 Wierzbicka, Anna 17, 18, 210, 243 Williams, Raymond 220, 243 Yang, Lynne 218, 228 Zwilgmeyer, Franz 192-194, 195, 243

Index of subjects

adverb, -ial 14, 24, 29, 67, 71, 75, 76, 77, 100,108-113, 114-117, 127, 130, 134, 140, 148, 170, 186, 196-198, 211, 213, 217, 219; now-oriented 109-112, 116-118, 120; strong 109-113, 115, 120, 127; weak 109-110 appropriat-e, -ed, -ing, -ion 8, 5961,62, 104, 114 aspect, -ual 21,49, 63, 66,77, 8689, 90,91,92, 93, 94, 99, 107, 113, 114, 131, 163, 211, 212, 214 attachment 15-16, 17, 20, 29-40, 41, 43-46, 47, 50, 52, 54, 55, 56, 57- 61, 63, 66, 70, 71-76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 82-83, 85-86, 88, 89, 91, 92, 93, 104, 120, 127, 129, 130, 160, 162, 169, 174-177, 180, 186, 187, 188189, 190, 192, 194, 196, 197, 208, 210, 220; adaptive 16,47, 59, 60, 63, 76-79, 85, 91, 92, 104, 138, 162, 177, 186, 187, 189, 192; adoptive 16, 41, 47, 59, 60, 63, 76, 77-79, 85, 91, 92, 93, 104, 127, 129, 138, 143, 160, 162, 177, 186, 187, 189, 190, 192, 194; neutral 79, 177, 187, 189, 190; see also attitude and involvement attitud-e (emotional), -inal 1, 9, 10, 14, 15, 16, 29, 30, 31, 42, 61, 6 3 , 6 6 , 7 1 , 7 2 , 7 3 , 7 5 , 9 6 , 126, 132, 138, 143, 157, 162, 165, 166, 176, 178, 180, 186, 187, 188, 192, 195, 196; see

also attachment and involvement attitudinal disjuncts 9, 44, 73, 143, 187, 196, 205,211,215 beneficiary 20, 27, 29, 56, 58, 176, 207, 219; see also dative, benefactive Besprechen 16, 48-52, 54, 95, 105, 107, 187, 209; .see also discuss change 15, 18, 31, 47, 72, 89, 114, 126, 132, 154, 158-160, 169, 178, 182, 184, 189, 193, 198, 200, 201, 202, 205, 212, 221; see also development choice 4, 5, 15, 22, 24, 31, 32, 65, 70, 73, 74, 76, 83, 86, 111, 113, 120, 132, 174-176, 187, 209, 220; see also option, -al cognitive 1, 2, 3, 6, 14, 30, 66, 72, 101, 113, 114, 126, 167-168, 185, 193, 198,209, 221 communicative purposes/needs (farther reaching, current) 61, 93, 103, 104, 106, 107, 108109, 110, 111-113, 114, 127 dative, benefactive 41, 52-61, 62, 209, 210; see also beneficiary; ethic 41-62, 187, 189, 190, 194, 195, 208, 209, 216; of interest 26, 27, 29, 42, 55; of experience 28, 207; possessive 17-40, 41, 46-47, 49, 59, 60, 61, 187, 189, 190,219,

250

Index of subjects

describability, in- 75, 177-180; see also effability, indevelopment,-al 16, 18, 22, 60, 68, 88-89, 93, 107, 113, 115, 126, 129, 132, 145, 154, 157160, 170, 188, 192, 194, 196, 197,200,201, 206,211,216, 221, see also change discuss, -ing, -ion 16, 48-50, 61, 78, 79, 85, 91, 95, 104-107, 110, 111, 112, 113, 120-125, 136-137, 141, 144, 145, 147, 152, 155, 162, 177, 186, 187, 213, 214, 217, see also Besprechen distribution, -al 21, 41,43, 61, 88, 90, 116, 122, 148, 151, 152, 153, 156, 174, 182, 188-190, 192,214, 220 do-periphrasis / periphrastic do 129-161, 187, 189, 194, 203, 216,217,218 Early Modern English 113, 115, 129, 132, 158, 160, 189, 197, 216 econom-ical, -ics, -ization, -ize, -izing 83, 129, 140, 153-154, 156, 161, 188 ego, 59, 60, 97, 195,220 egocentric, -ity 54, 60, 204, 208 effability, in- 75, 162; see also describability emotion, -al, -ality, -ly 3, 4, 5, 89, 10, 11-14, 15, 20, 29, 30, 36, 39, 40, 42, 43, 45, 46, 50, 51, 54, 58, 61, 62, 63, 66, 68, 70, 71, 76, 77, 79, 80, 81, 82, 85, 90, 93, 95, 96, 104, 107, 113, 120, 123, 126, 127, 129, 132, 133, 138, 139, 140, 141, 142-143, 146, 152, 153, 156,

157, 159, 160, 162, 165, 166, 175, 176, 177, 178, 180, 185, 186, 187, 193, 194, 195-197, 198, 199, 204, 205; see also attachment and involvement emotive (means), -ly 8, 14, 15, 16, 41, 49, 52, 59, 66-68, 73, 74, 83, 91, 92, 123, 130, 139140, 142, 145, 146, 152, 153, 154, 157, 159, 160, 162, 164, 176, 178, 184, 185, 186, 188, 197, 199,204,205, 206,211, 215,218 epistemic 29, 157, 159, 160 Erzählen, 16, 48, 95, 105, 187, 209; see also tell evaluat-e, -ion, -ive 1, 6, 14, 45, 72, 76-77, 78, 102, 103, 107, 126, 148, 165, 174,180,186 expanded form 2, 62-92, 111, 132, 187, 189, 195, 203, 211, 212, 221 experien-ce, -cer, -tial 1, 5, 6, 7, 8, 13, 20, 25-29, 40, 49, 52, 66, 97, 99, 181, 184, 198, 207 explicit, -ly, -ness 2, 9, 15,22,24, 30, 35, 45, 51, 59, 64, 73, 77, 85, 121, 134, 138-139, 144, 148, 149, 152, 160, 172, 174, 178, 186, 196, 198, 199, 212; see also mode pur; non-explicit 42,61 expressiv-e, -ely, -eness, -ity 1, 2, 3-9, 10, 11, 13, 14, 16, 29,31, 63, 73-74, 75, 83, 126, 129, 137, 140, 153, 161, 178, 180, 182, 187, 189, 190, 191-192, 198, 199, 201, 203, 204, 205, 208; non-expressivity 154 gef-passive 2, 162-186, 187, 188, 189, 203,218,219, 220

Index of subjects

goal (practical) 48, 52, 136, 138, 139, 140, 141, 142, 145, 146, 152, 157; see also communicative purposes/needs grammaticaliz-ation, -ed 16, 2122, 30, 59, 127, 129, 130, 157, 160, 161, 169, 185, 190, 197, 204; non-grammaticalized 129, 160 illocutionary 10, 205; see also speech act implicit, -ly 2, 40, 46, 73, 129, 165; see also mode νέσα index, -ical(ly), -icality, -icalness 15, 30, 40, 45, 63, 72, 73, 80, 91, 104, 132, 142, 158, 160, 169, 176, 178, 186, 187, 188; see also inference individual, -ity 1, 10, 13, 134, 183, 186, 191, 194, 195, 201203, 220, 221; see also self inference (conventional) 30, 45, 72, 107; see also index intensification, -ify, -ity, -ive 3, 6, 13, 14, 67, 74, 76, 90, 94, 139, 140, 160,214,217 intention, -al, -ality 4, 10-11, 57, 120, 141, 169, 175,208 interchange-ability, -able 19, 100, 118, 129, 139, 165; see also option and choice interest, -ed 4, 5, 12, 16, 25-28, 29, 30, 40, 42, 53-56, 61, 67, 70, 75, 104, 120, 121, 124, 127, 136, 140, 144, 177, 191, 210 interpretative (act, activity, reasoning) 30, 40, 45, 46, 55, 80, 104, 125, 127, 176, 177; see also process, -ing

251

involv-e, -ed, -ement 1, 15, 16, 26, 27, 43, 58, 67, 68, 70, 71, 81, 83, 127, 133, 136, 138, 139-143, 162, 165; see also attachment and attitude Late Middle English 18, 60, 63, 93, 129, 189, 206 marked, -ness, un- 15, 21-22, 24, 49, 63, 72, 92, 100, 109-110, 118, 131-132, 135, 143, 153154, 176, 188, 189, 190, 206 meaning surplus 15, 17, 20, 2529, 32, 40, 131, 164 metaphor, -ical(ly), -icity, ization, -izing 13, 27, 30, 31, 61, 72, 102, 110, 114, 168-169, 170, 185, 188, 193,198-200, 221 metonym-ic, -ical, -y, -ization, -izing 30-31, 72, 132, 169, 186, 188,200 Middle English see Late Middle English mode pur 5, 7- 9, 10, 44, 73, 75, 143, 178, 180, 187, 198, 199 mode νέοιι 5, 8-9, 10, 13, 14, 15, 34, 35, 42, 44, 73, 74, 75, 91, 143, 153, 178, 180, 187, 190, 198, 199, 201,203,221 narrat-ion, -ive 36, 38, 39, 40, 4849, 79, 87, 92, 95, 135, 139140, 209; see also text nonverbal 9, 10, 13, 76, 154 objectiv-e, -ely, -ist, -ivity 2, 3, 6, 7, 25,59, 97, 114, 194, 201 Old English 17, 18, 19, 20, 22, 23, 25, 26, 27, 31, 40, 63, 66, 68, 74, 86, 88, 89, 92, 113, 189, 190, 206,211,214,219

252

Index of subjects

option, -al, -ality 15, 22, 53, 56, 63, 65-66, 68, 90, 91, 100, 103, 129, 157, 158, 188, 199; see also choice and interchange-ability peak 127, 135-136, 139, 140, 154-155 periphrastic do see ifo-periphrasis possess-ion, -ivity 17, 19, 20-25, 27, 31, 36, 40, 47, 62, 114, 169, 194,210, 220 pragmatic, -ally 10, 15, 16, 30, 42, 43, 46, 48-49, 66, 67, 70, 71, 75, 78, 85, 95, 96, 107, 109, 110, 111, 113, 127, 132, 140-141, 143, 152, 156-157, 160, 162, 165,211 present-day English 2, 17, 19, 93, 115, 126, 129, 157 present perfect 2, 93-127, 132, 160, 169, 187, 189, 194, 203, 213,214,216,219 process, -ing 45, 46, 55, 80, 104, 176; see also interpretative property 47, 54, 59, 60; alienable 23, 59, 201; inalienable 23, 175; see also appropriate proposition, -al 2, 10, 15-16, 19, 21, 26, 29, 34, 35, 40, 42, 44, 45.46, 47, 49, 52, 54, 56, 5759, 60, 61, 63, 64, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74-75, 7677, 86, 91, 93-94, 95, 100, 101, 102, 104, 105, 108, 110, 113, 115, 126, 131, 132, 133, 134, 136, 138, 139, 140, 143, 144, 145, 146, 152, 154, 155, 157, 159-160, 162, 164, 165, 171, 173, 174, 176, 177, 178, 186,187, 188, 190, 196, 199,

211, 218; non-propositional 16, 132, 186 remarkable, -ness 15, 30, 35, 4446, 52, 56, 58, 60, 61, 70-71, 72, 73,74, 77, 79, 80, 91, 101, 104, 117, 127, 132, 133, 136, 140, 145, 146, 152, 160, 161, 162, 169, 171-174, 175, 176, 186, 190, 197, 208, 216; culture-specific/dependent 45, 173; established 44-45, 70 self 1, 6, 187-203, 220, 221; see also individual; self-expression 1, 4, 190; self-expressive 4, 208 scope (of attachment) 41, 43, 4546,61,76 speech act 4, 10, 48, 52, 53, 64, 138-139, 142-143, 145, 147, 157, 160, 205, 209, 212, 213; see also illocutionary style 73-74, 158,205,217 subjectification 16, 22, 59, 61, 190-192,204 subjectiv-e, -ist, -ity 1-2, 4-7, 13, 14, 16, 25,31,59, 72, 97, 114, 126, 132, 172, 194, 202, 205, 220 symptom, -atic 115, 141, 146, 203, 204; see also index tell,-ing 48, 50, 51, 61,75, 79, 85-86, 95, 105-106, 111, 136, 137, 162, 175, 186, 187 temporal, -ist 4, 63, 64, 66, 68, 74, 77, 86-89, 90, 92, 93-94, 95, 96, 97, 100, 101, 107, 108-112, 114-118, 126, 127, 131,211,213, 214

Index of subjects

tense,-ing 41, 47,48-49,50,51, 54, 89, 93-96, 97-99, 100, 103104, 105, 106, 108,109-110, 126 text, -ual 14, 16, 39, 41,48-49, 64, 75, 80, 85, 87, 129, 135136, 139-140, 147, 154, 188, 211, 212; see also narrat-ion

253

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