PART V

SYNTACTICAL EXPRESSIVE MEANS

AND STYLISTIC DEVICES

A. GENERAL CONSIDERATIONS

Within the language-as-a-system there establish themselves certain

definite types of relations between words, word-combinations, sentences
and also between larger spans of utterances. The branch of language
science which studies the types of relations between the units
enumerated is called syntax.
In the domain of syntax, as has been justly pointed out by L. A. Bula-
khovsky, it is difficult to distinguish between what is purely grammatical,
i. e. marked as corresponding to the established norms, and what is
stylistic, i. e. showing some kind of vacillation of these norms. This
is particularly evident when we begin to analyse larger-than-the-sen-
tence units.
Generally speaking, t he examination of syntax provides a deeper
insight into the stylistic aspect of utterances.
The study of the sentence and its types and especially the study of
the relations between different parts of the sentence has had a long his-
tory. Rhetoric was mainly engaged in the observation of the juxtaposition
of the members of the sentence and in finding ways and means of building
larger and more elaborate spans of utterance, as, for example, the period
or periodical sentence. Modern grammars have greatly extended the
scope, of structural analysis and have taken under observation the pecul-
iarities of the relations between the members of the sentence, which
somehow has overshadowed problems connected with structural and
semantic patterns of larger syntactical units. It would not be an exaggera-
tion to state that the study of units of speech larger than the sentence is
still being neglected by many linguists. Some of them even consider such
units to be extralinguistic, thus excluding them entirely from the domain
of linguistics.
Stylistics takes as the object of its analysis the expressive means and
Stylistic devices of the language which are based on some significant struc-
tural point in an utterance, whether it consists of one sentence or a string
of sentences. In grammar certain types of utterances have already been
patterned; thus, for example, we have all kinds of simple, compound or
complex sentences, even a paragraph long, that may be regarded as neu-
tral or non-stylistic patterns.
At the same time, the peculiarities of the structural design of utter-
ances which bear some particular emotional colouring, that is, which
191
 are stylistic and therefore non-neutral, may also be patterned and pre-
sented as a special system.
Stylistic syntactical patterns may be viewed as variants of the general
syntactical models of the language and are the more obvious and conspic-
uous if presented not as isolated elements or accidental usages, but as
groups easily observable and lending themselves to generalization.
This idea is expressed by G. O. Vinokur in his "Маяковский — но-
ватор языка" where he maintains that in syntax it is no new material
that is coined, but new relations, because the syntactical aspect of speech
is nothing more than a definite combination of grammatical forms, and
in this sense the actual words used are essentially immaterial. Therefore
syntactical relations, particularly in poetic language, are that aspect of
speech in which everything presents itself as actualization of the poten-
tial and not merely the repetition of the ready-made. 1
By "the potential" G. Vinokur apparently means variations of syn-
tactical patterns.
It follows, therefore, that in order to establish the permissible fluc-
tuations of the syntactical norm, it is necessary to ascertain what is
meant by the syntactical norm itself. As a matter of fact any change in
the relative positions of the members of the sentence may be regarded
as a variant of the received standard, provided that the relation between
them will not hinder the understanding of the utterance.
But here we are faced with the indisputable interdependence between
form and content; in other words, between the syntactical design of
the utterance and its concrete lexical materialization.
Syntactical relations can be studied in isolation from semantic con-
tent. In this case they are viewed as constituents of the whole and assume
their independent grammatical meaning. This is most apparent in forms
embodying nonsense lexical units, as in Lewis Carroll's famous lines,
so often quoted by linguists.
"Twas brilling, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimbol in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogroves,
And the mome raths outgrabe."
The structural elements of these lines stand out conspicuously and
make sense even though they are materialized by nonsense elements.
Moreover, they impose on the morphemes they are attached to a definite
grammatical meaning making it possible to class the units. So it is due to
these elements that we can state what the nonsense words are supposed to
mean. Thus, we know that the sequence of the forms forcibly suggests
that after twas we should have an adjective; the у in slithy makes the
word an adjective; gyre after the emphatic did can only be a verb. We
know that this is a poem because it has rhythm (iambic tetrameter) and
rhyme (abab in 'toves—borogroves;' 'wabe—outgrabe').
A closer examination of the structural elements will show that they
outnumber the semantic units: nineteen structural elements and eleven
1
See: Винокур Г. О. Маяковской — новатор языка. М., 1943, с. 15—16.
192
which are meant to be semantic. The following inferences may be drawn
from this fact:
1) it is the structural element of the utterance that predetermines
the possible semantic aspect;
2) the structural elements have their own independent meaning which
may be called structural or, more widely, grammatical;
3) the structural meaning may affect the lexical, giving contextual
meaning to some of the lexical unite.
B. PROBLEMS CONCERNING THE COMPOSITION OF SPANS
OF UTTERANCE LARGER THAN THE SENTENCE
In recent years a new theory concerning the inner relations between
context and form within the sentence has appeared. This theory, elabo-
rated by S. Harris, M. Postal and others, is called Generative
Grammar. It maintains that grammar must not only describe the
laws which regulate the functioning of linguistic units but must also
be capable of generating new sentences.
"A grammar of this kind," writes John Lyons, "is 'predictive' in
that it establishes as grammatical, not only 'actual' sentences, but also
'potential' sentences."1
The reference to Lyons's statement has direct bearing on the
problems of stylistic syntax. The fact is, as will be seen later, that any one
of the syntactical SDs is capable of generating an unlimited number of
sentences within the given pattern. However, according to orthodox
generative grammar, some of them are regarded as 'ill-formed' and even
'ungrammatical' inasmuch as they fail to meet the requirements of the
basic (kernel) structures.
The theory further maintains that there are two kinds of structures —
a deep structure and a surface structure. The latter are the actual senten-
ces produced by the former, which is not presented in language units and
therefore unobservable.
Mention of this theory is made here, firstly, because in modern sty-
listics attempts are being made to build up a grammar which would
generate deviant constructions and thus broaden the limits of the 'well-
formed' sentences which are regarded as the only ones that are 'grammat-
ical'. Another reason is that transformation, one of the basic methods
employed in generative grammars, is very effectively used in stylistics
when it is necessary to find the stylistic meaning of this or that sentence
structure. A third reason is that generative grammars aim at reconstruct-
ing the processes connected with the formation of sentences. This has
direct bearing on the interpretation of syntactical SDs and particularly
on their linguistic nature.
This theory enables the interpreter to look at a sentence from the point
of view of what is 'behind' the sentence.
As J. P. Thorne states, "Generative grammar is important to stylist-
ics because in addition to these 'surface structure' facts, it is concerned
1
Lyons, John. Introduction to Theoretical Linguistics. Cambridge, 1971, pp. 155—
156.
193
with the so-called 'deep structure' aspects of language, that is, those
facts about linguistic structure which cannot be directly related to what
can be observed. Most stylistic judgments relate to deep structure."1
It follows then that the so-called generative grammar is not so strik-
ingly new. This is also noted by the well-known linguists John Lyons
and D. Bolinger,2 who state positively that there is nothing new in the
theory of generative grammar.
Another development in linguistics also having direct bearing on the
problems which concern us when dealing with syntactical SDs, is 'text-
linguistics', as it is called. This development, which as yet has not been
formed as a separate theory, aims at investigating the objective criteria
concerning ways and means of constructing texts of different kinds and
genres.3
For this purpose it is first of all necessary to find the elements into
which any text may fall. In other words, there must be certain constituent
units of which any text is composed.
Phonemes, the smallest language units, function within morphemes
and are dependent on them, morphemes function within words, words —
within sentences, and sentences function in larger structural frames
which we shall call "supra-phrasal units". Consequently, neither words
nor separate sentences can be regarded as the basic constituents of a
text. They are the basic units of lower levels of language-as-a-system, as
is shown above.
Supra-Phrasal Units
The term supra-phrasal unit (SPU) is used to denote a
larger unit than a sentence. It generally comprises a number of sentences
interdependent structurally (usually by means of pronouns, connectives,
tense-forms) and semantically (one definite thought is dealt with). Such
a span of utterance is also characterized by the fact that it can be extract-
ed from the context without losing its relative semantic independence.
This cannot be said of the sentence, which, while representing a complete
syntactical unit, may, however, lack the quality of independence. A sen-
tence from the stylistic point of view does not necessarily express one
idea, as it is defined in most manuals of grammar. It may express only
part of one idea. Thus the sentence: "Guy glanced at his wife's untouched
plate", if taken out of the context, will be perceived as a part of a larger
span of utterance where the situation will be made clear and the purport
of verbal expression more complete.
Here is the complete SPU.
Guy glanced at his wife's untouched plate.
"If you've finished, we might stroll down. I think you ought to
be starting."
1
Thorne, J. P. Generative Grammar and Stylistic Analysis.— In: "New Horizons
in Linguistics", Ldn, 1971, p. 189.
2
See: Lyons, John. Introduction.— In: "New Horizons in Linguistics", Ldn, 1971,
p. 24; Bolinger, D. The Atomization of Meaning.—"Language", 1965, vol. 41, 4, p. 555.
3
See: Гальперин И. Р. О понятии «текст». ВЯ, 1974, № 6.
194
 She di d not answer. She rose from the table. She went into her
room to see that nothing had been forgotten and then side by side with
him walked down the steps. (Somerset Maugham)
The next sentence of the paragraph begins: "A little winding path..."
This is obviously the beginning of the next SPU. So a supra-phrasal unit
may be defined as a combination of sentences presenting a structural and
semantic unity backed up by rhythmic and melodic unity. Any SPU
will lose its unity if it suffers breaking.
But what are the principles on which the singling out of an SPU can
be maintained? In order to give an answer to this question, it is first
of all necessary to deepen our understanding of the term u t t e r a n c e .
As a stylistic term the word 'utterance' must be expanded. Any utterance
from a stylistic point of view will serve to denote a certain span of speech
(language-in-action) in which we may observe coherence, interdepend-
ence of the elements, one definite idea, and last but not least, the pur-
port of the writer.
The purport is the aim that the writer sets before himself, which
is to make the desired impact on the reader. So the aim of any utterance
is a carefully thought-out impact. Syntactical units are connected to
achieve the desired effect and it is often by the manner they are connected
that the desired effect is secured.
Let us take the following paragraph for analysis:
"1. But a day or two later the doctor was not feeling well. 2. He
had an internal malady that troubled him now and then, but ha was
used to it and disinclined to talk about it. 3. When he had one of his
attacks, he only wanted to be left alone. 4. His cabin was small and
stuffy, so he settled himself on a long chair on deck and lay with his eyes
closed. 5. Miss Reid was walking up and down to get the half hour's
exercise she took morning and evening. 6. He thought that if he pre-
tended to be asleep she would not disturb him. 7. But when she had
passed him half a dozen times she stopped in front of him and stood
quite still. 8. Though he kept his eyes closed he knew that she was
looking at him." (Somerset Maugham)

This paragraph consists of eight sentences, all more or less independ-

ent. The first three sentences, however, show a considerable degree of
semantic interdependence. This can be inferred from the use of the
following cluster of concepts associated with each other: 'not feeling
well', 'internal malady', 'one of his attacks'. Each phrase is the key to
the sentence in which it occurs. There are no formal connectives, the con-
nection is made apparent by purely semantic means. These three senten-
ces constitute an SPU built within the larger framework of the paragraph.
The fourth sentence is semantically independent of the preceding three.
It seems at first glance not to belong to the paragraph at all. The fact that
the doctor's 'cabin was small and stuffy' and that 'he settled himself...
on deck' does not seem to be necessarily connected with the thought ex-
pressed in the preceding SPU. But on a more careful analysis one can
195
 clearly see how all four sentences are actually interconnected. The link-
ing sentence is 'he only wanted to be left alone'. So the words 'lay with
his eyes closed' with which the fourth sentence ends are semantically
connected both with the idea of being left alone and with the idea ex-
pressed in the sentence: 'He thought that if he pretended to be asleep she
would not disturb him.' But between this sentence and its semantic
links 'lay with his eyes closed' and 'wanted to be left alone', the sentence
about Miss Reid thrusts itself in. This is not irrelevant to the whole
situation and to the purport of the writer, who leads us to understand that
the doctor was disinclined to talk to anybody and probably to Miss Reid
in particular.
So the whole of the paragraph has therefore semantic and structural
wholeness. It can, however, be split into two SPUs with a linking sen-
tence between them. Sentence 5 can be regarded as an SPU, inasmuch as
it enjoys considerable independence both semantically and structurally.
Sentences 6, 7 and 8 are structurally and therefore semantically inter-
woven. But when and though in the seventh and eighth sentences are the
structural elements which link all three sentences into one SPU.
It follows then that an SPU can be embodied in a sentence if the sen-
tence meets the requirements of this compositional unit. Most epigrams
are SPUs from the point of view of their semantic unity, though they
fail to meet the general structural requirement, viz. to be represented
in a number of sentences.
On the other hand, an SPU, though usually a component part of the
paragraph, may occupy the whole of the paragraph. In this case we say
that the SPU coincides with the paragraph.
It is important to point out that this structural unit, in its particular
way of arranging ideas, belongs almost exclusively to the belles-lettres
style, though it may be met with to some extent in the publicistic style.
Other styles, judging by their recognized leading features, do not require
this mode of arranging the parts of an utterance except in rare cases
which may be neglected.
Let us take a passage from another piece of belles-lettres style, a
paragraph from Aldington's "Death of a Hero."
It is a paragraph easy to submit to stylistic and semantic analysis:
it falls naturally into several SPUs.

"1. After dinner they sat about and smoked. 2. George took his
chair over to the open window and looked down on the lights and
movement of Piccadilly. 3. The noise of the traffic was lulled by the
height to a long continuous rumble. 4. The placards of the evening
papers along the railings beside the Ritz were sensational and bellicose.
5. The party dropped the subject of a possible great war; after decid-
ing that there wouldn't be one, there couldn't. 6. George, who had
great faith in Mr. Bobbe's political acumen, glanced through his last
article, and took great comfort from the fact that Bobble said there
wasn't going to be a war. 7. It was all a scare, a stock market ramp...
8. At that moment three or four people came in, more or less together,
196
 though they were in separate parties. 9. One of them was a youngish
man in immaculate evening dress. 10. As he shook hands with his host,
George heard him say rather excitedly,
"I've just been dining with..."
Analysis of this paragraph will show how complicated the composi-
tion of belles-lettres syntactical units is. There is no doubt that there
is a definite semantic unity in the paragraph. The main idea is the anxi-
ety and uncertainty of English society before World War I as to whether
there would be, or would not be, a war. But around this main sense-
axis there centre a number of utterances which present more or less in-
dependent spans of thought. Thus, we can easily single out the group
of sentences which begins with the words 'After dinner' and ends with
'...and bellicose'. This part of the text presents, as it were, the back-
ground against which the purport of the author stands out more clearly,
the last sentence of this SPU preparing the reader for the main idea of
the paragraph—the possibility of war—which is embodied in the next
supra-phrasal unit. This second SPU begins with the words 'The party
dropped the subject of a possible great war' and ends with '...a stock
market ramp... '. It is made structurally independent by the introduction
of elements of uttered represented speech (see p. 239), the contractions
wouldn't, couldn't, wasn't, the purely colloquial syntactical design there
wouldn't be one, there couldn't, the colloquial word scare.
The shift to the third SPU is indicated by the dots after the word
ramp (. ..). Here again it is the author who speaks, there are no further
elements of represented speech, the shift being rather abrupt, because
George's thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of the newcomers.
The connecting 'At that moment' softens the abruptness.
The author's purport grows apparent through the interrelation—
an interrelation which seems to be organic—between the three SPUs:
sensational and bellicose placards in the streets of London, the anxiety
of the people at the party, the conviction backed up by such a reassuring
argument as Mr. Bobbe's article that there was not going to be a war,
and the new guests bringing unexpected news.
SPUs are not always so easily discernible as they are in this paragraph
from "The Death of a Hero". Due to individual peculiarities in combining
ideas into a graphical (and that means both syntactical and semantic)
unity, there may be considerable variety in the arrangement of SPUs
and of paragraphs, ranging from what might be called clearly-marked
borderlines between the supra-phrasal unit to almost imperceptible se-
mantic shifts. Indeed, it is often from making a comparison between
the beginning and the end of a paragraph that one can infer that it con-
tains separate SPUs.
It follows then that the paragraphs in the belles-lettres prose style
do not necessarily possess the qualities of unity and coherence as is
the case with paragraphs in other styles of speech and particularly in
the scientific prose style.
SPUs are to be found in particular in poetical style. Here the SPUs,
as well as the paragraphs, are embodied in stanzas. Due to the most
197
typical semantic property of any poetical work, viz. brevity of expres-
sion, there arises the need to combine ideas to that seemingly independent
utterances may be integrated into one poetical unity, viz. a stanza.
Let us take for analysis the following stanza from Shelley's poem
"The Cloud":
"I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers
From the seas and the streams;
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
In their noon-day dreams.
From my wings are shaken the dews that waken
The sweet buds every one,
When rocked to rest on their mother's breast,
As she dances about the sun.
I wield the f l a i l of the lashing hail,
And whiten the green plains under;
And then again I dissolve it in rain,
And laugh as I pass in thunder."
Here there are three SPUs separated by full stops.
Within the first, which comprises four lines, there are two more or
less independent units divided by a semicolon and integrated by paral-
lel constructions (I bring fresh showers; I bear light shade).
Within the second SPU—also four lines—there are also two inter-
dependent ideas—the buds awakened by the dews and the earth moving
around the sun. These are strongly bound together by the formal ele-
ments when and as forming one complex sentence and an SPU. The for-
mal means used to connect different spans of utterance affect their seman-
tic integrity.
The three SPUs of the stanza are united by one idea—the usefulness
of the cloud giving all kind of comfort, here moisture and shade, to what
is growing... showers, shade, dews, hail, rain.
The SPUs in sonnets are especially manifest. This is due to their
strict structural and semantic rules of composition.

The Paragraph
A p a r a g r a p h is a graphical term used to name a group of sen-
tences marked off by indentation at the beginning and a break in the line
at the end. But this graphical term has come to mean a distinct portion
of a written discourse showing an internal unity. As a linguistic category
the paragraph is a unit of utterance marked off by purely linguistic
means: intonation, pauses of various lengths, semantic ties which can
be disclosed by scrupulous analysis of the morphological aspect and
meaning of the component parts, etc. It has already been stated elsewhere that
the logical aspect of an utterance will always be hacked up by purely
linguistic means causing, as it were, an indivisible unity of extralin-
guistic approach.
Bearing this in mind, we shall not draw a mark of demarcation
between the logical and the linguistic analysis of an utterance, because
198
the paragraph is a linguistic expression of a logical, pragmatic and aesthet-
ic arrangement of thought
Paragraph structure is not always built on logical principles alone,
as is generally the case in the style of scientific prose. In the building
of paragraphs in newspaper style, other requirements are taken into
consideration, for instance, psychological principles, in particular the
sensational effect of the communication and the grasping capacity
of the reader for quick reading. Considerations of space also play an im-
portant part. This latter consideration sometimes overrules the neces-
sity for logical arrangement and results in breaking the main rule of
paragraph building, i.e. the unity of idea. Thus, a brief note containing
information about an oil treaty is crammed into one sentence, it being,
in its turn, a paragraph:
"The revised version of an international oil treaty is to-day before
the Senate Relation Committee, which recently made it clear that the
Anglo-American oil treaty negotiated last August would not reach
the Senate floor for ratification, because of objections by the American
oil industry to it."
Paragraph building in the style of official documents is mainly
governed by the particular conventional forms of documents (charters,
pacts, diplomatic documents, business letters, legal documents and
the like). Here paragraphs may sometimes embody what are grammati-
cally called a number of parallel clauses, which for the sake of the whole-
ness of the entire document are made formally subordinate, whereas
in reality they are independent items. (See examples in the chapter on
official style, p. 313.)
Paragraph structure in the belles-lettres and publicistic styles is
strongly affected by the purport of the_author. To secure the desired
impact, a writer finds it necessary to give details and illustrations, to
introduce comparisons and contrasts, to give additional reasons and,
finally, to expand the topic by looking at it from different angles and
paraphrasing the idea. He may, especially in the publicistic style, intro-
duce the testimony of some authority on the subject and even deviate
from the main topic by recounting an anecdote or even a short story to
ease mental effort and facilitate understanding of the communication.
The length of a paragraph normally varies from eight to twelve
sentences. The longer the paragraph is, the more difficult it is to fal-
low the purport of the writer. In newspaper style, however, most рara-
graphs consist of one or perhaps two or three sentences.
Paragraphs of a purely logical type may be analysed from the way
the thought of the writer develops. Attempts have been made to classify
paragraphs from the point of view of the logical sequence of the sentences.
Thus, in manuals on the art of composition there are models of paragraphs
built on different principles:
1) from the general to the particular, or from the particular to the
general,
2) on the inductive or deductive principle;
3) from cause to effect, or from effect to cause;
199
 4) on contrast, or comparison.
So the paragraph is a compositional device aimed either at facilitat-
ing the process of apprehending what is written, or inducing a certain
reaction on the part of the reader. This reaction is generally achieved
By intentionally grouping the ideas so as to show their interdepend-
ence or interrelation. That is why the paragraph, from a mere compo-
sitional device, turns into a stylistic one. It discloses the writer's man-
ner of depicting the features of the object or phenomenon described. It
is in the paragraph that the main function of the belles-lettres style
becomes most apparent, the main function, as will be shown below,
being aesthetico-cognitive and pragmatic.
In the paragraph from the "Death of a Hero", as we saw, there are
three SPUs which together constitute one paragraph. If we were to
convert the passage into one of the matter-of-fact styles it would be neces-
sary to split it into three paragraphs. But Aldington found it necessary
to combine all the sentences into one paragraph, evidently seeing closer
connections between the parts than there would be in a mere imperson-
al, less emotional account of the events described.
The paragraph in some styles, such as scientific, publicistic and
some others, generally has a t о p i с s e n t e n c e , i.e. a sentence
which embodies the main idea of the paragraph or which may be inter-
preted as a key-sentence disclosing the chief thought of the writer. In logi-
cal prose the topic sentence is, as a rule, placed either at the beginning or
at the end of the paragraph, depending on the logical pattern on which
the paragraph is built. In the belles-lettres style the topic sentence may be
placed in any part of the paragraph. It will depend on how the writer
seeks to achieve his effect.
Thus in the paragraph we have been referring to, the topic sentence
('The party dropped the subject of a possible great war, after deciding
that there wouldn't be one, there couldn't') is placed in the middle of
the paragraph. The parts that precede and follow the topic sentence
correspondingly lead to it ('the placards...') and develop it ('George,
who...'). The topic sentence itself, being based on uttered represented
speech, is stylistically a very effective device to show that the conclu-
sion (no war) was not based on sound logical argument, but merely on
the small talk of the party ('there wouldn't', 'there couldn't').
However, paragraph building in belles-lettres prose generally lacks
unity, inasmuch as it is governed by other than logical principles, two
of the requirements being emotiveness and a natural representation of
the situation depicted. Hence it is sometimes impossible to decide which
sentence should be regarded as the topic one. Each SPU of several com-
bined into one paragraph may have its own topic sentence or be a topic
sentence. In other words, there are no topic sentences in emotive prose as
a rule, though there may be some paragraphs with one due to the pre-
valence of the logical element over the emotional or the aesthetic.
In publicistic style paragraphs are built on more apparent logical
principles, this style being intermediate between the belles-lettres and the
scientific style. Let us subject to stylistic analysis the following para-
graph from Macaulay's essay on Oliver Goldsmith:
200
 "While Goldsmith was writing "The Deserted Village" and "She
Stoops to Conquer," he was employed in works of a very different
kind, works from which he derived little reputation but much prof-
it. He compiled for the use of schools a "History of Rome," by which
he made £ 300; a "History of England," by which he made £ 600;
a "History of Greece," for which he received £ 250; a "Natural Histo-
ry," for which the book-sellers covenanted to pay him 800 guineas.
These works he produced without any elaborate research, by merely
selecting, abridging and translating into his own clear, pure, and
flowing language what he found in books well known to the world,
but too bulky or too dry for boys and girls. He committed some strange
blunders; for he knew nothing with accuracy. Thus in his "History
of England" he tells us that Naseby is in Yorkshire; nor did he correct
this mistake when the book was reprinted. He was nearly hoaxed into
putting into the "History of Greece" an account of a battle between
Alexander the Great and Montezuma. In his "Animated Nature" he re-
lates, with faith and with perfect gravity, all the most absurd lies
which he could find in books of travels about gigantic Patagonians,
monkeys that preach sermons, nightingales that repeat long con-
versations. "If he can tell a horse from a cow," said Johnson, "that
is the extent of his knowledge of zoology." How little Goldsmith
was qualified to write about the physical sciences is sufficiently
proved by two anecdotes. He on one occasion denied that the sun is
longer in the northern than in the southern signs. It was vain to cite
the authority of Maupertuis. "Maupertuis!" he cried; "I understand
those matters better than Maupertuis." On another occasion he, in
defiance of the evidence of his own senses maintained obstinately,
and even angrily, that he chewed his dinner by moving his upper jaw.
Yet, ignorant as Goldsmith was, few writers have done more
to make the first steps in the laborious road to knowledge easy and
pleasant..."

The topic sentence of this paragraph is placed at the beginning. It

consists of two ideas presented in a complex sentence with a subordi-
nate clause of time. The idea of the topic sentence is embodied in the
main clause which states that Goldsmith derived ' l i t t l e reputation
but much profit' out of some of his works. The subordinate clause of
time is used here as a linking sentence between the preceding paragraph
which deals with "The Deserted Village" and "She Stoops to Conquer"
and the one under scrutiny.
The next paragraph of the passage, as the reader has undoubtedly
observed, begins with a new topic sentence and is built on the same
structural model: the subordinate clause sums up the idea of the pre-
ceding paragraph ('Yet, ignorant as Goldsmith was'), and the main
clause introduces, a new idea. This pattern is maintained throughout
the essay and, by the way, in most of Macaulay's essays. This easy, flow-
ing manner of exposition has a high degree of predictability. The
201
 reader, having read the first sentence and being conscious of the au-
thor's manner of building paragraphs, will not fail to grasp the gist of
the passage at once.
It is interesting to point out how Macaulay develops the idea ex-
pressed in the topic sentence. He wished to show why Goldsmith derived
1) 'little reputation' and 2) 'much profit' from certain of his works. Of the
two, Macaulay considers the former to be undoubtedly more significant
than the latter. That is why he begins with insignificant details—enu-
merating Goldsmith's profits, and then devotes all the rest of the para-
graph to instances of Goldsmith's ignorance.
A paragraph in certain styles is a dialogue (with the reader) in the
form of a monologue. The breaking-up of a piece of writing into para-
graphs can be regarded as an expression of consideration for the reader
on the part of the author. It manifests itself in the author's being aware
of limits in the reader's capacity for perceiving and absorbing informa-
tion. Therefore paragraphs in matter-of-fact styles, as in scientific prose,
official documents and so on, are clear, precise, logically coherent, and
possess unity, i.e. express one main thought. Paragraphs in emotive
prose are combinations of the logical and the emotional. The aim of
the author in breaking up the narrative into paragraphs is not only to
facilitate understanding but also for emphasis. That is why paragraphs
in the_belles-lettres prose are sometimes built on contrast or on climax,
as in the paragraph from "A Christmas Carol" by Dickens, quoted on
p. 221. The paragraph as a unit of utterance, is so far entirely the
domain
of stylistics. Yet there are obvious features of a purely syntactical char-
acter in the paragraph which must not be overlooked That is why there
is every reason to study the paragraph in syntax of the language where
not only the sentence but also larger units of communication should be
under observation. This would come under what we may call the 'mac-
ro-syntax' of the language.

С. COMPOSITIONAL PATTERNS OF SYNTACTICAL ARRANGEMENT

The structural syntactical aspect is sometimes regarded as the crucial

issue in stylistic analysis, although the peculiarities of syntactical ar-
rangement are not so conspicuous as the lexical and phraseological prop-
erties of the utterance. Syntax is figuratively called the "sinews
of style".
Structural syntactical stylistic devices are in special relations with
the intonation involved. Prof. Peshkovsky
points out that there is an interdependence between the intonation and
syntactical properties of the sentence, which may be worded in the fol-
lowing manner: the more explicitly the structural syntactical relations
are expressed, the weaker will be the intonation-pattern of the utterance
(to complete disappearance) and vice-versa, the stronger the intonation,
the weaker grow the evident syntactical relations (also to complete
202
disappearance) 1. This can be illustrated by means of the following two
pairs of sentences: 'Only after dinner did I make up my mind to go there'
and 'I made up my mind to go there only after dinner. 'It was in Bucharest
that the Xth International Congress of Linguists took place' and 'The
Xth International Congress of Linguists took place in Bucharest.'
The second sentences in these pairs can be made emphatic only by
intonation; the first sentences are made emphatic by means of the syn-
tactical patterns: 'Only after dinner did I...' and ' I t was... that...'
The problem of syntactical stylistic devices appears to be closely
linked not only with what makes an utterance more emphatic but also
with the more general problem of predication. As is known, the English
affirmative sentence is regarded as neutral if it maintains the regular
word-order, i.e. subject—predicate—object (or other secondary mem-
bers of the sentence, as they are called). Any other order of the parts of
the sentence may also carry the necessary information, but the impact
on the reader will be different. Even a slight change in the word-order
of a sentence or in the order of the sentences in a more complicated syn-
tactical unit will inevitably cause a definite modification of the mean-
ing of the whole. An almost imperceptible rhythmical design introduced
into a prose sentence, or a sudden break in the sequence of the parts
of the sentence, or any other change will add something to the volume
of information contained in the original sentence.
Unlike the syntactical expressive means of the language, which are
naturally used in discourse in a straight-forward natural manner, syn-
tactical stylistic devices are perceived as elaborate designs aimed at hav-
ing a definite impact on the reader. It will be borne in mind that any
SD is meant to be understood as a device and is calculated to produce a
desired stylistic effect.
When viewing the stylistic functions of different syntactical designs
we must first of all take into consideration two aspects:
1. The juxtaposition of different parts of the utterance.
2. The way the parts are connected with each other.
In addition to these two large groups of EMs and SDs two other
groups may be distinguished:
3. Those based on the peculiar use of colloquial constructions.
4. Those based on the stylistic use of structural meaning.
Stylistic Inversion
W o r d - o r d e r is a crucial syntactical problem in many languages.
In English it has peculiarities which have been caused by the concrete
and specific way the language has developed. O. Jespersen states that
the English language.' ...has developed a tolerably fixed word-order
which in the great majority of cases shows without fail what is the Sub-
ject of the sentence." 2 This "tolerably fixed word-order" is Subject—
Verb (Predicate)— Object (S—P—0). Further, Jespersen mentions
 a statistical investigation of word-order made on the basis of a series of
representative 19th century writers. It was found that the order S—
P—О was used in from 82 to 97 per cent of all sentences containing all
three members, while the percentage for Beowulf was 16 and for King
Alfred's prose 40.
This predominance of S—P—Q word-order makes conspicuous any
change in the structure of the sentence and inevitably calls forth a mod-
ification in the intonation design.
The most conspicuous places in the sentence are considered to be the
first and the last: the first place because the full force of the stress can
be felt at the beginning of an utterance and the last place because there
is a pause after it. This traditional word-order had developed a definite
intonation design. Through frequency of repetition this design has
imposed itself on any sentence even though there are changes introduced
in the sequence of the component parts. Hence the clash between seman-
tically insignificant elements of the sentence when they are placed in
structurally significant position and the intonation which follows the
recognized pattern.
Thus in Dickens' much quoted sentence:
"Talent Mr. Micawber has; capital Mr. Micawber has not."
The first and the last positions being prominent, the verb has and
the negative not get a fuller volume of stress than they would in ordina-
ry (uninverted) word-order. In the traditional word-order the predicates
has and has not are closely attached to their objects talent and capital.
English predicate-object groups are so bound together 1 that when we
tear the object away from its predicate, the latter remains dangling in
the sentence and in this position sometimes calls forth a change in mean-
ing of the predicate word. In the inverted word-order not only the objects
talent and capital become conspicuous but also the predicates has and
has not.
In this example the effect of the inverted word-order is backed up
by two other stylistic devices: antithesis and parallel construction. Unlike
grammatical inversion, stylistic inversion does not change the structur-
al meaning of the sentence, that is, the change in the juxtaposition of
the members of the sentence does not indicate structural meaning but
has some superstructural function. S t y l i s t i c i n v e r s i o n aims
at attaching logical stress or additional emotional colouring to the sur-
face meaning of the utterance. Therefore a specific intonation pattern
is the inevitable satellite of inversion.
Stylistic inversion in Modern English should not be regarded as a
violation of the norms of standard English. It is only the practical
realization of what is potential in the language itself.
The following patterns of stylistic inversion are most frequently met
in both English prose and English poetry.
1.The object is placed at the beginning of the sentence (see the example
above).
1
See: Ярцева В. Н. Основной характер словосочетаний в английском языке.—
«Изв. АН СССР, ОЛЯ», 1947, вып. 6.
204
 2. The attribute is placed after the word it modifies (postposition
of the attribute). Thi s model is often used when there is more than one
attribute, for example:
"With fingers weary and worn..." (Thomas Hood)
"Once upon a midnight dreary..." (E. A. Poe)
3. a) The predicative is placed before the subject, as in
"A good generous prayer it was." (Mark Twain)
or b) the predicative stands before the link-verb and both are placed
before the subject, as in
"Rude am I in my speech..." (Shakespeare)
4. The adverbial modifier is placed at the beginning of the sen-
tence, as in:
"Eagerly I wished the morrow." (Poe)
"My dearest daughter, at your feet I fall." (Dryden)
"A tone of most extraordinary comparison Miss Tox said it in."
(Dickens)
5. Both modifier and predicate stand before the subject, as in:
"In went Mr. Pickwick." (Dickens)
"Down dropped the breeze..." (Coleridge)
These five models comprise the most common and recognized mod-
els of inversion.
However, in modern English and American poetry, as has been shown
elsewhere, there appears a definite tendency to experiment with the
word-order to the extent which may even render the message unintelligi-
ble. In this case there may be an almost unlimited number of rearrange-
ments of the members of the sentence.
Inversion as a stylistic device is always sense-motivated. There is
a tendency to account tor inversion in poetry by rhythmical consider-
ations. This may sometimes be true, but really talented poets will never
sacrifice sense for form and in the majority of cases inversion in poetry
is called forth by considerations of content rather than rhythm.
Inverted word-order, or inversion, is one of the forms of what are
known as emphatic constructions. What generally called traditional
word-order is nothing more than unemphatic construction. Emphatic
constructions nave so far been regarded as non-typical structures and
therefore are considered as violations of the regular word-order in the
sentence. But in practice these structures are as common as the fixed
or traditional word-order structures. Therefore inversion must be re-
garded as an expressive means of the language having typical structural
models.
Detached Construction
Sometimes one of the secondary parts of a sentence by some specific
consideration of the writer is placed so that it seems formally independ-
205
ent of the word it logically refers to. Such parts of structures are called
d e t a c h e d , They seem to dangle in the sentence as isolated parts.
The detached part, being torn away from its referent, assumes a
greater degree of significance and is given prominence by intonation.
The structural patterns of detached constructions have not vet Seen
classified, but the most noticeable cases are those in which an attri-
bute or an adverbial modifier is placed not in immediate proximity to
its referent, but in some other position, as in the following examples:
1) "Steyne rose up, grinding his teeth, pale, and with fury in his eyes".
(Thackeray)
2) "Sir Pitt came in first, very much flushed, and rather unsteady in
his gait." (Thackeray)
Sometimes a nominal phrase is thrown into the sentence forming
a syntactical unit with the rest of the sentence, as in:
"And he walked slowly past again, along the river—an evening
of clear, quiet beauty, all harmony and comfort, except within his
heart." (Galsworthy)
The essential quality of detached construction lies in the fact that
the isolated parts represent a kind of independent whole thrust info
the sentence or placed in a position which will make the phrase (or word)
seem independent. But a detached phrase cannot rise to the rank of
a primary member of the sentence-it always remains secondary from
the semantic point of view, although structurally it possesses all the fea-
tures of a primary member. This clash of the structural and semantic
aspects of detached constructions produces the desired effect—forcing the
reader to interpret the logical connections between the component parts
of the sentence. Logical ties between them always exist in spite of the
absence of syntactical indicators.
Detached constructions in their common forms make the written
variety of language/akin to the spoken variety where the relation be-
tween the component parts is effectively materialized by means of into-
nation. Detached construction, as it were, becomes a peculiar device
bridging the norms of written and spoken language.
This stylistic device is akin to inversion. The functions are almost
the same. But detached construction produces a much stronger effect,
inasmuch as it presents parts of the utterance significant from the au-
thor's point of view in a more or less independent manner.
Here are some more examples of detached constructions:
"Daylight was dying, the moon rising, gold behind the poplars."
(Galsworthy)
'"I want to go,' he said, miserable." (Galsworthy)
"She was lovely: all of her — delightful." (Dreiser)
The italicized phrases and words in these sentences seem to be isolat-
ed, but still the connection with the primary members of the correspond-
ing sentences is clearly implied. Thus 'gold behind the poplars' may be
206
 interpreted as a simile or a metaphor: the moon like gold was rising behind
the poplars, or the moon rising, it was gold...
Detached construction sometimes causes the simultaneous realiza-
tion of two grammatical meanings of a word. In the sentence " 'I want to
go,' he said, miserable", the last word might possibly have been under-
stood as an adverbial modifier to the word said if not for the comma,
though grammatically miserably would be expected. The pause indicated
by the comma implies that miserable is an adjective used absolutely
and referring to the pronoun he.
The same can be said about Dreiser's sentence with the word delightful.
Here again the mark of punctuation plays an important role. The dash
standing before the word makes the word conspicuous and, being iso-
lated, it becomes the culminating point of the climax—lovely...—de-
lightful, i.e. the peak of the whole utterance. The phrase all of her is also
somehow isolated. The general impression suggested by the implied
intonation, is a strong feeling of admiration; and, as is usually the case,
strong feelings reject coherent and logical syntax.
In the English language detached constructions are generally used
in the belles-lettres prose style and mainly with words that have some
explanatory function, for example:
"June stood in front, fending off this idle curiosity—a little
bit of a thing, as somebody said, 'all hair and spirit'..."
(Galsworthy)
Detached construction as a stylistic device is a typification of the
syntactical peculiarities of colloquial language.
Detached construction is a stylistic phenomenon which has so far
been little investigated. The device itself is closely connected with the
intonation pattern of the utterance. In conversation any word or phrase
or even sentence may be made more conspicuous by means of intonation.
Therefore precision in the syntactical structure of the sentence is not
so necessary from the communicative point of view. But it becomes
vitally important in writing. 1 Here precision of syntactical relations
is the only way to make the utterance fully communicative. Therefore
when the syntactical relations become obscure, each member of the
sentence that seems to be dangling becomes logically significant.
A variant of detached construction is p a r e n t h e s i s .
"Parenthesis is a qualifying, explanatory or appositive word, phrase.
clause, sentence, or other sequence which interrupts a syntactic construc-
tion without otherwise affecting it, having often a characteristic into-
nation and indicated in writing by commas, brackets or dashes." 2
In fact, parenthesis sometimes embodies a considerable volume of
predicativeness, thus giving the utterance an additional nuance of mean-
ing or a tinge of emotional colouring.

1
See Peshkovsky's remark on p. 203.
2
Random House Dictionary of the English Language. N. Y., 1967.
207
 Parallel Construction

P a r a l l e l c o n s t r u c t i o n is a device which may be encoun-

tered not so much in the sentence as in the macro-structures dealt with
earlier, viz. the SPU and the paragraph. The necessary condition in par-
allel construction is identical, or similar, syntactical structure in two
or more sentences or parts of a sentence in close succession, as in:
"There were, ..., real silver spoons to stir the tea with, and real
china cups to drink it out of, and plates of the same to hold the cakes
and toast in". (Dickens)
Parallel constructions are often backed up by repetition of words
(lexical repetition) and conjunctions and prepositions (polysyndeton).
Pure parallel construction, however, does not depend on any other kind
of repetition but the repetition of the syntactical design of the sentence.
Parallel constructions may be partial or complete. Partial parallel
arrangement is the repetition of some parts of successive sentences or
clauses, as in:
"It is the mob that labour in your fields and serve in your
houses—that man your navy and recruit your army,—that have
enabled you to defy all the world, and can also defy you when
neglect and calamity have driven them to despair." (Byron)
The attributive clauses here all begin with the subordinate conjunc-
tion that which is followed by a verb in the same form, except the last
(have enabled). The verbs, however, are followed either by adverbial
modifiers of place (in your fields, in your houses) or by direct objects
(your navy, your army). The third attributive clause is not built on the
pattern of the first two, although it preserves the parellel structure in
general (that + verb-predicate + object), while the fourth has broken
away entirely.
Complete parallel arrangement, also called b a l a n c e , maintains
the principle of identical structures throughout the corresponding sen-
tences, as in:
"The seeds ye sow — another reaps,
The robes ye weave—another wears,
The arms ye forge—another bears."
(P. B. Shelley)
Parallel construction is most frequently used in enumeration, an-
tithesis and in climax, thus consolidating the general effect achieved by
these stylistic devices.
Parallel construction is used in different styles of writing with slight-
ly different functions. When used in the matter-of-fact styles, it car-
ries, in the main, the idea of semantic equality of the parts, as in sci-
entific prose, where the logical principle of arranging ideas predomi-
nates. In the belles-lettres style parallel construction carries an emotive
function. That is why it is mainly used as a technical means in building
up other stylistic devices, thus securing their unity.
208
 In the following example parallelism backs up repetition, allitera-
tion and antithesis, making the whole sentence almost epigrammatic.
"And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot." (Shakespeare)
In the example below, parallel construction backs up the rhetorical
address and rhetorical questions. The emotional aspect is also enforced
by the interjection 'Heaven!'
"Hear me, my mother Earth! behold it, Heaven!—
Have I not had to wrestle with my lot?
Have I not suffered things to be forgiven?
Have I not had my brain seared, my heart riven,
Hopes, sapped, name blighted, Life's life lied away?" (Byron)
In some cases parallelism emphasizes the similarity and equates
the significance of the parts, as, for example:
"Our senses perceive no extremes. Too much sound deafens us;
too much light dazzles us; too great distance or proximity hinders
our view."
In other cases parallel construction emphasizes diversity and con-
trast of ideas. (See the example on p. 223 from the "Tale of Two Cities"
by Dickens).
As a final remark it must be stated that the device of parallelism al-
ways generates rhythm, inasmuch as similar syntactical structures repeat
in close succession. Hence it is natural that parallel construction should
very frequently be used in poetical structures. Alternation of similar
units being the basic principle of verse, similarity in longer units—i.e.
in the stanza, is to be expected.

Chiasmus (Reversed Parallel Construction)

C h i a s m u s belongs to the group of stylistic devices based on the

repetition of a syntactical pattern, but it has a cross order of words and
phrases. The structure of two successive sentences or parts of a sentence
may be described as reversed parallel construction, the word-order of
one of the sentences being inverted as compared with that of the other,
as in:
"As high as we have mounted in delight
In our dejection do we sink as low." (Wordsworth)
"Down dropped the breeze,
The sails dropped down." (Coleridge)
Chiasmus is sometimes achieved by a sudden change from active
voice to passive or vice versa, for example:
"The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk,
the undertaker and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. (Dickens)
209
 This device is effective in that it helps to lay stress on the second
part of the utterance, which is opposite in structure, as 'in our dejection';
'Scrooge signed it'. This is due to the sudden change in the structure
which by its very unexpectedness linguistically requires a slight pause
before it.
As is seen from the examples above, chiasmus can appear only when
there are two successive sentences or coordinate parts of a sentence.
So distribution, here close succession, is the factor which predetermines
the birth of the device.
There are different variants of the structural design of chiasmus.
The first example given shows chiasmus appearing in a complex sentence
where the second part has an opposite arrangement. The second example
demonstrates chiasmus in a sentence expressing semantically the rela-
tion of cause and effect. Structurally, however, the two parts are pres-
ented as independent sentences, and it is the chiasmatic structure
which supports the idea of subordination. The third example is composed
of two independent sentences and the chiasmus serves to increase the
effect of climax. Here is another example of chiasmus where two paral-
lel constructions are followed by a reversed parallel construction linked
to the former by the conjunction and:
"The night winds sigh, the breakers roar,
And shrieks the wild sea-mew." (Byron)
It must be remembered that chiasmus is a syntactical, not a lexi-
cal device, i.e. it is only the arrangement of the parts of the utterance
which constitutes this stylistic device. In the famous epigram by Byron:
"In the days of old men made the manners;
Manners now make men,"
there is no inversion, but a lexical device. Both parts of the parallel
construction have the same, the normal word-order. However, the witty
arrangement of the words has given the utterance an epigrammatic
character. This device may be classed as l e x i c a l c h i a s m u s
or chiasmatic repetition. Byron particularly favoured it. Here are some
other examples:
"His jokes were sermons, and his sermons jokes."
'"Tis strange,—but true; for truth is always strange."
"But Tom's no more—and so no more of Tom."
"True, 't i s a pity—pity 'tis, 'tis true."
"Men are the sport of circumstances, when
The circumstances seem the sport of men."
"'Tis a pity though, in this sublime world that
Pleasure's a sin, and sometimes sin's a pleasure."
Note the difference in meaning of the repeated words on which the
epigrammatic effect rests: 'strange-strange', 'no more—no more',
'jokes—jokes.'
Syntactical chiasmus is sometimes used to break the monotony of
parallel constructions. But whatever the purpose of chiasmus, it will
210
always bring in some new shade of meaning or additional emphasis on
some portion of the second part.
The stylistic effect of this construction has been so far little inves-
tigated. But even casual observation will show that chiasmus should
be perceived as a complete unit. One cannot help noticing that the first
part in chiasmus is somewhat incomplete, it calls for continuation,
and the anticipation is rewarded by the second part of the construction,
which is, as it were, the completion of the idea.
Like parallel construction, chiasmus contributes to the rhythmical
quality of the utterance, and the pause caused by the change in the syn-
tactical pattern may be likened to a caesura in prosody.
As can be seen from this short analysis of chiasmus, it has developed,
like all stylistic devices, within the framework of the literary form of
the language. However, its prototype may be found in the norms of
expressions of the spoken language, as in the emphatic:
'He was a brave man, was John.'

Repetition
It has already been pointed out that r e p e t i t i o n is an expres-
sive means of language used when the speaker is under the stress of strong
emotion. It shows the state of mind of the speaker, as in the following
passage from Galsworthy:
"Stop!"—she cried, "Don't tell me! I don't want to hear,
I don't want to hear what you've come for. I don't want to hear."
The repetition of 'I don't want to hear', is not a stylistic device; it
is a means by which the excited state of mind of the speaker is shown.
This state of mind always manifests itself through intonation, which
is suggested here by the words 'she cried'. In the written language, before
direct speech is introduced one can always find words indicating the in-
tonation, as sobbed, shrieked, passionately, etc. J. Vandryes writes:
"Repetition is also one of the devices having its origin in
the emotive language. Repetition when applied to the logical language
becomes simply an instrument of grammar. Its origin is to be seen
in the excitement accompanying the expression of a feeling being
brought to its highest tension."1
When used as a stylistic device, repetition acquires quite different
functions. It does not aim at making a direct emotional impact. On the
contrary, the stylistic device of repetition aims at logical emphasis,
an emphasis necessary to fix the attention of the reader on the key-word
of the utterance. For example:
"For that was it! Ignorant of the long and stealthy march of pas-
sion, and of the state to which it had reduced Fleur; ignorant of how
Soames had watched her, ignorant of Fleur's reckless desperation...—

1
Вандриес Ж. Язык. М., 1937, с. 147.
211
 ignorant of all this, everybody felt aggrieved."
(Galsworthy)
Repetition is classified according to compositional patterns. If the
repeated word (or phrase) comes at the beginning of two or more consec-
utive sentences, clauses or phrases, we have a n a p h оra, as in the
example above. If the repeated unit is placed at the end of consecutive
sentences, clauses or phrases, we have the type of repetition called epiph-
ora, as in:
"I am exactly the man to be placed in a superior position in such
a case as that. I am above the rest of mankind, in such a case as that. I can
act with philosophy in such a case as that.
(Dickens)
Here the repetition has a slightly different function: it becomes a
background against which the statements preceding the repeated unit
are made to stand out more conspicuously. This may be called t h e
b a c k g r o u n d function. It must be observed, however, that the
logical logical function of the repetition, to give emphasis, does not fade
when it assumes the background function. This is an additional
function.
Repetition may also be arranged in the form of a frame: the initial
parts of a syntactical unit, in most cases of a paragraph, are repeated
at the end of i t , as in:
"Poor doll's dressmaker! How often so dragged down by hands
that should have raised her up; how often so misdirected when
losing her way on the eternal road and asking guidance. Poor, little
doll's dressmaker". (Dickens)
This compositional pattern of repetition is called f r a m i n g .
The semantic nuances of different compositional structures of repeti-
tion have been little looked into. But even a superficial examination
will show that framing, for example, makes the whole utterance more
compact and more complete. Framing is most effective in singling out
paragraphs.
Among other compositional models of repetition is linking or
reduplication (also known as anadiplosis). The struc-
ture of this device is the following: the last word or phrase of one part
of an utterance is repeated at the beginning of the next part, thus hooking
the two parts together. The writer, instead of moving on, seems to double
back on his tracks and pick up his last word.
"Freeman and slave... carried on an uninterrupted, now hidden,
now open fight, a fight that each time ended, either in a revolution-
ary re-constitution of society at large, or in the common ruin
of the contending classes." (Marx, Engels)
Any repetition of a unit of language will inevitably cause some
slight modification of meaning, a modification suggested by a noticeable
change in the intonation with which the repeated word is pronounced.
Sometimes a writer may use the linking device several times in one
utterance, for example:
212
 "A smile would come into Mr. Pickwick's face: the smile extend-
ed into a laugh: the laugh into a roar, and the roar became
general." (Dickens)
"For glances beget ogles, ogles sighs, sighs wishes, wishes words,
and words a letter." (Byron)
This compositional pattern of repetition is also called сhain-rep-
etitiоn.
What are the most obvious stylistic functions of repetition?
The first, the primary one, is to intensify the utterance. Intensi-
fication is the direct outcome of the use of the expressive means em-
ployed in ordinary intercourse; but when used in other compositional
patterns, the immediate emotional charge is greatly suppressed and is
replaced by a purely aesthetic aim, as in the following example:
THE ROVER
A weary lot is thine, fair maid,
A weary lot is thine!
To pull the thorn thy brow to braid,
And press the rue for wine.
A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien
A feather of the blue,
A doublet of the Lincoln green—
No more of me you knew
My Love!
No more of me you knew. (Walter Scott)
The repetition of the whole line in its full form requires interpretation.
Superlinear analysis based on associations aroused by the sense of the.
whole poem suggests that this repetition expresses the regret of the
Rover for his Love's unhappy lot. Compare also the repetition in the line
of Thomas Moore's:
"Those evening bells! Those evening bells!"
Meditation, sadness, reminiscence and other psychological and emo-
tional states of mind are suggested by the repetition of the phrase with
the intensifier 'those'.
The distributional model of repetition, the aim of which is intensifi-
cation, is simple: it is immediate succession of the parts repeated.
Repetition may also stress monotony of action, it may suggest fa-
tigue, or despair, or hopelessness, or doom, as in:
"What has my life been? Fag and grind, fag and grind. Turn the
wheel, turn the wheel." (Dickens)
Here the rhythm of the repeated parts makes the monotony and
hopelessness of the speaker's life still mote keenly felt.
This function of repetition is to be observed in Thomas Hood's po-
em "The Song of the Shirt" where different forms of repetition are em-
ployed.
213
 "Work—work—work!
Till the brain begins to swim!
Work—work—work
Till the eyes are heavy and dim!
Seam, and gusset, and band,
Band, and gusset and seam,—
Till over the buttons I fall asleep,
And sew them on in a dream."
Of course, the main idea, that of long and exhausting work, is ex-
pressed by lexical means: work 'till the brain begins to swim' and 'the
eyes are heavy and dim', t i l l , finally, 'I fall asleep.' But the repetition
here strongly enforces this idea and, moreover, brings in additional nu-
ances of meaning.
In grammars it is pointed out that the repetition of words connected
by the conjunction and will express reiteration or frequentative action.
For example:
"Fledgeby knocked and rang, and Fledgeby rang and knocked,
but no one came."
There are phrases containing repetition which have become lexical
units of the English language, as on and on, over and over, again and
again and others. They all express repetition or continuity of the action,
as in:
"He played the tune over and over again."
Sometimes this shade of meaning is backed up by meaningful words,
as in:
I sat desperately, working and working.
They talked and talked all night.
The telephone rang and rang but no one answered.
The idea of continuity is expressed here not only by the repetition
but also by modifiers such as ' a l l night'.
Background repetition, which we have already pointed out, is some-
times used to stress the ordinarily unstressed elements of the utterance.
Here is a good example:
"I am attached to you. But I can't consent and won't consent
and I never did consent and I never will consent to be lost in you."
(Dickens)
The emphatic element in this utterance is not the repeated word
'consent' but the modal words 'can't' 'won't' 'will', and also the em-
phatic 'did'. Thus the repetition here loses its main function and only
serves as a means by which other elements are made to stand out clear-
ly. It is worthy of note that in this sentence very strong stress falls on
the modal verbs and 'did' but not on the repeated 'consent' as is usually
the case with the stylistic device.
Like many stylistic devices, repetition is polyfunctional. The func-
tions enumerated do not cover all its varieties. One of those already
214
mentioned, the rhythmical function, must not be under-estimated when
studying the effects produced by repetition. Most of the examples given
above give rhythm to the utterance. In fact, any repetition enhances the
rhythmical aspect of the utterance.
There is a variety of repetition which we shall call "root-repetition",
as in:
"To live again in the youth of the young." (Galsworthy)
or,
"He loves a dodge for its own sake; being...— the dodgerest of all the
dodgers." (Dickens)
or, "Schemmer, Karl Schemmer, was a brute, a brutish brute." (London)
In root-repetition it is not the same words that are repeated but
the same root. Consequently we are faced with different words having
different meanings (youth: young; brutish: brute), but the shades of mean-
ing are perfectly clear.
Another variety of repetition may be called s y n o n y m i c a l
r e p e t i t i o n . This is the repetition of the same idea by using
synonymous words and phrases which by adding a slightly different
nuance of meaning intensify the impact of the utterance, as in
"...are there not capital punishments sufficient in your statutes?
Is there not blood enough upon your penal code?" (Byron)
Here the meaning of the words 'capital punishments' and 'statutes'
is repeated in the next sentence by the contextual synonyms 'blood'
and 'penal code'.
Here is another example from Keats' sonnet "The Grasshopper and
the Cricket."
"The poetry of earth is never dead...
The poetry of earth is ceasing never..."
There are two terms frequently used to show the negative attitude
of the critic to all kinds of synonymical repetitions. These are pleo-
nasm and tautology. The Shorter Oxford Dictionary defines
pleonasm as "the use of more words in a sentence than are necessary to
express the meaning; redundancy of expression." Tautology is defined
as "the repetition of the same statement; the repetition (especially in
the immediate context) of the same word or phrase or of the same idea
or statement in other words; usually as a fault of style."
Here are two examples generally given as illustrations:
"It was a clear starry night, and not a cloud was to be seen."
"He was the only survivor; no one else was saved."
It is not necessary to distinguish between these two terms, the distinc-
tion being very fine. Any repetition may be found faulty if it is not
motivated by the aesthetic purport of the writer. On the other hand,
any seemingly unnecessary repetition of words or of ideas expressed in
different words may be justified by the aim of the communication.
215
 For example, "The daylight is fading, the sun is setting, and night
is coming on" as given in a textbook of English composition is regarded
as tautological, whereas the same sentence may serve as an artistic exam-
ple depicting the approach of night.
A certain Russian literary critic has wittily called pleonasm "stylis-
tic elephantiasis," a disease in which the expression of the idea swells
up and loses its force. Pleonasm may also be called "the art of wordy
silence."
Both pleonasm and tautology may be acceptable in oratory inasmuch
as they help the audience to grasp the meaning of the utterance. In this
case, however, the repetition of ideas is not "considered a fault although
it may have no aesthetic function.

Enumeration
E n u m e r a t i o n is a stylistic device by which separate things,
objects, phenomena, properties actions are named one by one so that
they produce a chain, the links of which, being syntactically in the same
position (homogeneous parts of speech), are forced to display some kind
of semantic homogeneity, remote though it may seem.
Most of our notions are associated with other notions due to some
kind of relation between them: dependence, cause and result, likeness,
dissimilarity, sequence, experience (personal and/or social), proximity,
etc.
In fact, it is the associations plus social experience that have result-
ed in the formation of what is known as "semantic fields." Enumeration,
as an SD, may be conventionally called a sporadic semantic field, inas-
much as many cases of enumeration have no continuous existence in
their manifestation as semantic fields do. The grouping of sometimes
absolutely heterogeneous notions occurs only in isolated instances to
meet some peculiar purport of the writer.
Let us examine the following cases of enumeration:
"There Harold gazes on a work divine,
A blending of all beauties; streams and dells,
Fruit, foliage, crag, wood, cornfield, mountain, vine
And chiefless castles breathing stern farewells
From grey but leafy walls, where Ruin greenly dwells." (Byron)
There is hardly anything in this enumeration that could be regarded
as making some extra impact on the reader. Each word is closely associat-
ed semantically with the following and preceding words in the enumera-
tion, and the effect is what the reader associates with natural scenery.
The utterance is perfectly coherent and there is no halt in the natural
flow of the communication. In other words, there is nothing specially
to arrest the reader's attention; no effort is required to decipher the mes-
sage: it yields itself easily to immediate perception.
That is not the case in the following passage:
"Scrooge was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole as-
216
 sign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend and his sole mourner."
(Dickens)
The enumeration here is h e t e r o g e n e o u s : the legal terms placed
in a string with such words as 'friend' and 'mourner' result in a kind
of clash, a thing typical of any stylistic device. Here there is a clash
between terminological vocabulary and common neutral words. In addi-
tion there is a clash of concepts: 'friend' and 'mourner' by force of enu-
meration are equal in significance to the business office of 'executor',
'administrator', etc. and also to that of 'legatee'.
Enumeration is frequently used as a device to depict scenery through
a tourist's eyes, as in Galsworthy's "To Let":
"Fleur's wisdom in refusing to write to him was profound, for
he reached each new place entirely without hope or fever, and could
concentrate immediate attention on the donkeys and tumbling bells,
the priests, patios, beggars, children, crowing cocks, sombreros, cactus-
hedges, old high white villages, goats, olive-trees, greening plains, singing
birds in tiny cages, watersellers, sunsets, melons, mules, great churches,
pictures, and swimming grey-brown mountains of a fascinating land."

The enumeration here is worth analysing. The various elements of

this enumeration can be approximately grouped in semantic fields:
1) donkeys, mules, crowing cocks, goats, singing birds;
2) priests, beggars, children, watersellers;
3) villages, patios, cactus-hedges, churches, tumbling bells, sombre-
ros, pictures;
4) sunsets, swimming grey-brown mountains, greening plains, olive-
trees, melons.
Galsworthy found it necessary to arrange them not according to logical
semantic centres, but in some other order; in one which, apparently,
would suggest the rapidly changing impressions of a tourist. Enumera-
tion of this kind assumes a stylistic function and may therefore be regard-
ed as a stylistic device, inasmuch as the objects in the enumeration are
not distributed in logical order and therefore become striking.
This heterogeneous enumeration gives one an insight into the mind of
the observer, into his love of the exotic, into the great variety of miscella-
neous objects which caught his eye, it gives an idea of the progress of his
travels and the most striking features of the land of Spain as seen by one
who is in love with the country. The parts of the enumeration may be
likened to the strokes of a painter's brush who by an inimitable choice
of colours presents to our eyes an unforgettable image of the life and
scenery of Spain. The passage itself can be likened to a picture drawn for
you while you wait.
Here is another example of heterogeneous enumeration:

"The principal production of these towns... appear to be soldiers,

sailors, Jews, chalk, shrimps, officers and dock-yard men." (Dickens,
"Pickwick Papers")
217
 Suspense
Suspense is a compositional device which consists in arranging
the matter of a communication in such a way that the less important,
descriptive, subordinate parts are amassed at the beginning, the main
idea being withheld t i l l the end of the sentence. Thus the reader's atten-
tion is held and his interest kept up, for example:
"Mankind, says a Chinese manuscript, which my friend M. was
obliging enough to read and explain to me, for the first seventy thou-
sand ages ate their meat raw." (Charles Lamb)
Sentences of this type are called p e r i o d i c s e n t e n c e s , or
p e r i o d s . Their function is to create suspense, to keep the reader
in a state of uncertainty and expectation.
Here is a good example of the piling up of details so as to create a
state of suspense in the listeners:
"But suppose it 1 passed; suppose one of these men, as I have seen
them,—meagre with famine, sullen with despair, careless of a life
which your Lordships are perhaps about to value at something less
than the price of a stocking-frame:—suppose this man surrounded by
the children for whom he is unable to procure bread at the hazard of
his existence, about to be torn for ever from a family which he lately
supported in peaceful industry, and which it is not his fault that he
can no longer so support;—suppose this man, and there are ten thou-
sand such from whom you may select your victims, dragged into court,
to be tried for this new offence, by this new law; still there are two
things wanting to convict and condemn him; and these are, in my opi-
nion,—twelve butchers for a jury, and a Jeffreys for a judge!" (Byron)
Here the subject of the subordinate clause of concession ('one of
these men') is repeated twice ('this man', 'this man'), each time followed
by a number of subordinate parts, before the predicate ('dragged')
is reached. All this is drawn together in the principal clause ('there
are two things wanting...'), which was expected and prepared for by
the logically incomplete preceding statements. But the suspense is not
yet broken: what these two things are, is still withheld until the orator
comes to the words 'and these are, in my opinion.'
Suspense and climax sometimes go together. In this case all the
information contained in the series of statement-clauses preceding the
solution-statement are arranged in the order of gradation, as in the
example above from Byron's maiden speech in the House of Lords.
The device of suspense is especially favoured by orators. This is appar-
ently due to the strong influence of intonation which helps to create the
desired atmosphere of expectation and emotional tension which goes
with it.

1
A proposed law permitting the death penalty for breaking machines (at the time
of the Luddite movement).
218
 Suspense always requires long stretches of speech or writing. Some-
times the whole of a poem is built on this stylistic device, as is the case
with Kipling's poem "If" where all the eight stanzas consist of if-clauses
and only the last two lines constitute the principal clause.
"If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
And make allowance for their doubting too,
………………………………………………
If you can dream and not make dreams your master,
If you can think and not make thoughts your aim,
…………………………………………………
Yours is the earth and everything that's in it,...
And which is more, you'll be a Man, my son."
This device is effective in more than one way, but the main purpose
is to prepare the reader for the only logical conclusion of the utterance.
It is a psychological effect that is aimed at in particular.
A series of parallel question-sentences containing subordinate parts
is another structural pattern based on the principle of suspense, for
the answer is withheld for a time, as in Byron's "The Bride of Abydos":
"Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle...
Know ye the land of the cedar and vine. ..
…………………………………………….
…………………………………………….
'Tis the dime of the East — ' t i s the land of the Sun."
The end of an utterance is a specially emphatic part of it. Therefore
if we keep the secret of a communication until we reach the end, it will
lead to concentration of the reader's or listener's attention, and this is
the effect sought.
One more example to show how suspense can be maintained:
"Proud of his "Hear him!" proud, too, of his vote,
And lost virginity of oratory,
Proud of his learning (just enough to quote)
He revell'd in his Ciceronian glory." (Byron)
It must be noted that suspense, due to its partly psychological nature
(it arouses a feeling of expectation), is framed in one sentence, for there
must not be any break in the intonation pattern. Separate sentences
would violate the principle of constant emotional tension which is char-
acteristic of this device.

Climax (Gradation)

Climax is an arrangement of sentences (or of the homogeneous

parts of one sentence) which secures a gradual increase in significance,
importance, or emotional tension in the utterance, as in:
219
 "It was a lovely city, a beautiful city, a fair city, a veritable gem
of a city."
or in:
"Ne barrier wall, ne river deep and wide,
Ne horrid crags, nor mountains dark and tall
Rise like the rocks that part Hispania's land from Gaul." (Byron)
Gradual increase in emotional evaluation in the first illustration
and in significance in the second is realized by the distribution of the
corresponding lexical items. Each successive unit is perceived as stronger
than the preceding one. Of course, there are no objective linguistic criteria
to estimate the degree of importance or significance of each constituent.
It is only the formal homogeneity of these component parts and the test
of synonymy in the words 'lovely', 'beautiful', 'fair,' 'veritable gem,
in the first example and the relative inaccessibility of the barriers 'wall',
'river', 'crags', 'mountains' together with the epithets 'deep and wide"
'horrid', 'dark and tall' that make us feel the increase in importance
of each.
A gradual increase in significance may be maintained in three ways:
logical, emotional and quantitative.
Logical climax is based on the relative importance of the
component parts looked at from the point of view of the concepts em-
bodied in them. This relative importance may be evaluated both objec-
tively and subjectively, the author's attitude towards the objects or
phenomena in question being disclosed. Thus, the following paragraph
from Dickens's "Christmas Carol" shows the relative importance in the
author's mind of the things and phenomena described:
"Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome
looks, 'My dear Scrooge, how are you? When will you come to see
me?' No beggars implored him to bestow a trifle, no children asked
him what it was o'clock, no man or woman ever once in all his life
inquired the way to such and such a place, of Scrooge. Even the blind
men's dogs appeared to know him, and when they saw him coming on,
would tug their owners into doorways and up courts; and then would
wag their tails, as though they said, 'No eye at all is better than an
evil eye, dark master!'"
The order of the statements shows what the author considers the cul-
mination of the climax. The passage by Dickens should be considered
"subjective", because there is no general recognition of the relative signif-
icance of the statements in the paragraph. The climax in the lines from
Byron's "Ne barrier. . ." may be considered "objective" because such things.
as 'wall', 'river', 'crags', 'mountains' are objectively ranked according
to their accessibility.
Emоtiоnal сlimax is based on the relative emotional ten-
sion produced by words with emotive meaning, as in the first example
with the words 'lovely', 'beautiful', 'fair'.
Of course, emotional climax based on synonymous strings of words
with emotive meaning will inevitably cause certain semantic differences
220
 in these words — such is the linguistic nature of stylistic synonyms —,
but emotive meaning will be the prevailing one.
Emotional climax is mainly found in sentences, more rarely in longer
syntactical units. This is natural. Emotional charge cannot hold long.
As becomes obvious from the analysis of the above examples of cli-
matic order, the arrangement of the component parts call for parallel
construction which, being a kind of syntactical repetition, is frequently
accompanied by lexical repetition. Here is another example of emotional
climax built on this pattern:
"He was pleased when the child began to adventure across floors
on hands and knees; he was gratified, when she managed the trick of
balancing herself on two legs; he was delighted when she first said 'ta-
ta'; and he was rejoiced when she recognized him and smiled at him."
(Alan Paton)
Finally, we come to qиantitative climax. This is an
evident increase in the volume of the corresponding concepts, as in:
"They looked at hundreds of houses; they climbed thousands of
stairs; they inspected innumerable kitchens." (Maugham)
Here the climax is achieved by simple numerical increase. In the
following example climax is materialized by setting side by side concepts
of measure and time:
"Little by little, bit by bit, and day by day, and year by year the bar-
on got the worst of some disputed question." (Dickens)
What then are the indispensable constituents of climax? They are:
a) the distributional constituent: close proximity of the component
parts arranged in increasing order of importance or significance;
b) the syntactical pattern: parallel constructions with possible lexical
repetition;
c) the connotative constituent: the explanatory context which helps
the reader to grasp the gradation, as no. .. ever once in all his life, nobody
ever, nobody, No beggars (Dickens); deep and wide, horrid, dark and tall
(Byron); veritable (gem of a city).
Climax, like many other stylistic devices, is a means by which the
author discloses his world outlook, his evaluation of objective facts
and phenomena. The concrete stylistic function of this device is to
show the relative importance of things as seen by the author (especially
in emotional climax), or to impress upon the reader the significance of the
things described by suggested comparison, or to depict phenomena dy-
namically.1
1
N o t e : There is a device which is called a n t i c l i m a x .
The ideas expressed may be arranged in ascending order of significance, or they may
be poetical or elevated, but the final one, which the reader expects to be the culminating
one, as in climax, is trifling or farcical. There is a sudden drop from the lofty or serious
to the ridiculous. A typical example is Aesop's fable "The Mountain in Labour".
"In days of yore, a mighty rumbling was heard in a Mountain. It was said to be
in labour, and multitudes flocked together, from far and near, to see what it would
221
 Antithesis
In order to characterize a thing or phenomenon from a specific point
of view, it may be necessary not to find points of resemblance or associa-
tion between it and some other thing or phenomenon, but to find points
of sharp contrast, that is, to set one against the other, for example:
"A saint abroad, and a devil at home." (Bunyan)
"Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven." (Milton)
A line of demarcation must be drawn between logical opposition
and stylistic opposition. Any opposition will be based on the contrast-
ing features of two objects. These contrasting features are represented
in pairs of words which we call antonyms, provided that all the prop-
erties of the two objects in question may be set one against another,
as 'saint'— 'devil', 'reign' — 'serve', 'hell' — 'heaven'.
Many word-combinations are built up by means of contrasting pairs,
as up and down, inside and out, from top to bottom and the like.
Stylistic opposition, which is given a special name, the term an-
t i t h e s i s , is of a different linguistic nature: it is based on relative
opposition which arises out of the context through the expansion of
objectively contrasting pairs, as in:
"Youth is lovely, age is lonely,
Youth is fiery, age is frosty" (Longfellow)
Here the objectively contrasted pair is 'youth' and 'age', 'Lovely'
and 'lonely' cannot be regarded as objectively opposite concepts, but
being drawn into the scheme contrasting 'youth' and 'age', they display
certain features which may be counted as antonymical. This is strength-
ened also by the next line where not only 'youth' and 'age' but also
'fiery' and 'frosty' are objective antonyms.
It is not only the semantic aspect which explains the linguistic nature
of antithesis, the structural pattern also plays an important role. Antith-
esis is generally moulded in parallel construction. The antagonistic
features of the two objects or phenomena are more easily perceived when
they stand out in similar structures. This is particularly advantageous
when the antagonistic features are not inherent in the objects in question
but imposed on them. The structural design of antithesis is so important

produce. After long expectation and many wise conjectures from the bystanders —
out popped, a Mouse!"
Here we have deliberate anticlimax, which is a recognized form of humour. Anti-
climax is frequently used by humorists like Mark Twain and Jerome K. Jerome.
In "Three Men in a Boat", for example, a poetical passage is invariably followed by
ludicrous scene. For example, the author expands on the beauties of the sunset on the
river and concludes:
"But we didn't sail into the world of golden sunset: we went slap into that old punt
where the gentlemen were fishing."
Another example is:
"This war-like speech, received with many a cheer,
Had filled them with desire of fame, and beer!' (Byron)
222
 that unless it is conspicuously marked in the utterance, the effect might
be lost.
It must be remembered, however, that so strong is the impact of the
various stylistic devices, that they draw into their orbit stylistic ele-
ments not specified as integral parts of the device. As we have pointed
out, this is often the case with the epithet. The same concerns antith-
esis. Sometimes it is difficult to single out the elements which distin-
guish it from logical opposition.
Thus in Dickens's "A Tale of Two Cities" the first paragraph is prac-
tically built on opposing pairs.
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age
of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief,
it was the epoch of incredulity, if was the season of Light, it was the
season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of
despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we
were all going direct to Heaven, we are all going direct the other way..."
(Dickens)
The structural pattern of the utterance, the pairs of objective anto-
nyms as well as of those on which antonymical meanings are imposed
by the force of analogy makes the whole paragraph stylistically signifi-
cant, and the general device which makes it so is antithesis.
This device is often signalled by the introductory connective but,
as in:
"The cold in clime are cold in blood
Their love can scarce deserve the name;
But mine was like a lava flood.
That boils in Etna's breast of flame." (Byron)
When but is used as a signal of antithesis, the other structural sig-
nal, the parallel arrangement, may not be evident. It may be unneces-
sary, as in the example above.
Antithesis is a device bordering between stylistics and logic. The
extremes are easily discernible but most of the cases are intermediate.
However, it is essential to distinguish between antithesis and what is
termed contrast. Contrast is a literary (not a linguistic) device
based on logical opposition between the phenomena set one against an-
other. Here is a good example of contrast.

"The river—with the sunlight flashing from its dancing wavelets,

gilding gold the grey-green beech-trunks, glinting through the dark,
cool wood paths, chasing shadows o'er the shallows, flinging diamonds
from the mill-wheels, throwing kisses to the lilies, wantoning with the
weir's white waters, silvering moss-grown walls and bridges, bright-
ening every tiny townlet, making sweet each lane and meadow, lying
tangled in the rushes, peeping, laughing, from each inlet, gleaming gay
on many a far sail, making soft the air with glory—is a golden fairy
stream.
223
 But the river—chill and weary, with the ceaseless rain drops
falling on its brown and sluggish waters, with the sound as of a wom-
an, weeping low in some dark chamber, while the woods all dark and
silent, shrouded in their mists of vapour, stand like ghosts upon the
margin, silent ghosts with eyes reproachful like the ghosts of evil ac-
tions, like the ghosts of friends neglected—is a spirit-haunted water
through the land of vain regrets." (Jerome K. Jerome)
The two paragraphs are made into one long span of thought by the
signal But and the repetition of the word river after which in both cases
a pause is indicated by a dash which suggests a different intonation
pattern of the word river. The opposing members of the contrast are
the 'sunlight flashing' —'ceaseless rain drops falling'; 'gilding gold
the grey-green beech-trunks, glinting through the dark, cool wood paths'—
'the woods, all dark and silent, shrouded in their mists of vapour, stand
like ghosts...'; 'golden fairy stream'—'spirit-haunted water'.
Still there are several things lacking to show a clear case of a stylistic
device, viz. the words involved in the opposition do not display any addi-
tional nuance of meaning caused by being opposed one to another; there
are no true parallel constructions except, perhaps, the general pattern of
the two paragraphs, with all the descriptive parts placed between the
grammatical subject and predicate, the two predicates serving as a kind
of summing up, thus completing the contrast.
'The river... is a golden fairy stream.'—'But the river. .. is a spirit-
haunted water through the land of vain regrets.' The contrast embodied
in these two paragraphs is, however, akin to the stylistic device of
antithesis.
Antithesis has the following basic functions: rhythm-forming (be-
cause of the parallel arrangement on which it is founded); copulative;
dissevering; comparative. These functions often go together and inter-
mingle in their own peculiar manner. But as a rule antithesis displays
one of the functions more clearly than the others. This particular func-
tion will then be the leading one in the given utterance. An interesting
example of antithesis where the comparative function is predominant is
the madrigal ascribed to Shakespeare:

A MADRIGAL

"Crabbed age and youth

Cannot live together:
Youth is full of pleasance,
Age is full of care;
Youth like summer morn,
Age like winter weather,
Youth like summer brave,
Age like winter bare:
Youth is full of sport,
Age's breath is short,
224
 Youth is nimble, Age is lame:
Youth is hot and bold,
Age is weak and cold,
Youth is wild, and Age is tame:—
Age, I do abhore thee,
Youth, I do adore thee;
О my Love, my Love is young!
Age, I do defy thee—
О sweet shepherd, hie thee.
For methinks thou stay'st too long.

D. PARTICULAR WAYS OF COMBINING PARTS

OF THE UTTERANCE (LINKAGE)

Much light can be thrown on the nature of linkage if we do not

confine the problem to such notions as coordination and subordination.
Most of the media which serve as grammatical forms for combining parts
within the sentence have been investigated and expounded in grammars
with sufficient clarity and fullness. But sentence-linking features
within larger-than-the-sentence structures—SPUs, paragraphs and still
larger structures— have so far been very little under observation.
The current of fashion at present, due to problems raised by text-
linguistics, runs in the direction of investigating ways and means of
combining different stretches of utterances with the aim of disclosing the
wholeness of the work. Various scientific papers single out the following
media which can fulfil the structural function of uniting various parts of
utterances: repetition (anaphora, epiphora, anadiplosis, framing), the
definite article, the demonstrative pronouns, the personal pronouns,
the use of concord (in number, form of tenses, etc.), adverbial words and
phrases (however, consequently, it follows then, etc.), prosodic features
(contrastive tone, the "listing" intonation pattern), parallel construc-
tions, chiasmus, sustained metaphors and similes, and a number of
other means.1
The definition of means of combining parts of an utterance, rests on
the assumption that any unit of language might, in particular cases,
turn into a connective. Such phrases as that is to say, it goes without saying,
for the which, however, the preceding statement and the like should also be
regarded as connectives. It follow? then that the capacity to serve as a
connective is an inherent property of a great number of words and phrases
if they are set in a position which calls forth continuation of a thought or
description of an event.
To follow closely how parts of an utterance are connected and to clarify
the type of interdependence between these parts is sometimes difficult
either because of the absence of formal signs of linkage (asyndeton),
or because of the presence of too many identical signs (polysyndeton).

1
See also David Crystal and Derek Davy. Investigating English Style. Ldn, 1969,
p. 44.
225
 Asyndeton
A s y n d e t o n , that is, connection between parts of a sentence
or between sentences without any formal sign, becomes a stylistic device
if there is a deliberate omission of the connective where it is generally
expected to be according to the norms of the literary language. Here is
an example:
"Soames turned away; he had an utter disinclination for talk, like
one standing before an open grave, watching a coffin slowly lowered."
(Galsworthy)
The deliberate omission of the subordinate conjunction because or for
makes the sentence 'he had an utter...' almost entirely independent. It
might be perceived as a characteristic feature of Soames in general, but
for the comparison beginning with like, which shows that Soames's mood
was temporary.
Here a reminder is necessary that there is an essential difference
between the ordinary norms of language, both literary and colloquial,
and stylistic devices which are skilfully wrought for special informative
and aesthetic purposes. In the sentence:
"Bicket did not answer his throat felt too dry." (Galsworthy)
the absence of the conjunction and a punctuation mark may be regarded
as a deliberate introduction of the norms of colloquial speech into the
literary language. Such structures make the utterance sound like one
syntactical unit to be pronounced in one breath group. This determines
the intonation pattern.
It is interesting to compare the preceding two utterances from the
point of view of the length of the pause between the constituent parts.
In the first utterance (Soames...), there is a semicolon which, being the
indication of a longish pause, breaks the utterance into two parts. In
the second utterance (Bicket...), no pause should be made and the whole
of the utterance pronounced as one syntagm.
The crucial problem in ascertaining the true intonation pattern of
a sentence composed of two or more parts lies in a deeper analysis of
the functions of the connectives, on the one hand, and a more detailed
investigation of graphical means—the signals indicating the correct
interpretation of the utterance-, on the other.

Polysyndeton
P o l y s y n d e t o n is the stylistic device of connecting sentences,
or phrases, or syntagms, or words by using connectives (mostly conjunc-
tions and propositions) before each component part, as in:
"The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast
of the advantage over him in only one respect." (Dickens)
In this passage from Longfellow's "The Song of Hiawatha", there is
repetition both of conjunctions and prepositions:
"Should you ask me, whence these stories?
226
 Whence these legends and traditions,
With the odours of the forest,
With the dew, and damp of meadows,
With the curling smoke of wigwams,
With the rushing of great rivers,
With their frequent repetitions,..."
The repetition of conjunctions and other means of connection makes
an utterance more rhythmical; so much so that prose may even seem
like verse. The conjunctions and other connectives, being generally un-
stressed elements, when placed before each meaningful member, will
cause the alternation of stressed and unstressed syllables—the essential
requirement of rhythm in verse. Hence, one of the functions of polysynde-
ton is a rhythmical one.
In addition to this, polysyndeton has a disintegrating function.
It generally combines homogeneous elements of thought into one whole
resembling enumeration. But, unlike enumeration, which integrates
both homogeneous and heterogeneous elements into one whole, poly-
syndeton causes each member of a string of facts to stand out conspic-
uously. That is why we say that polysyndeton has a disintegrating func-
tion. Enumeration shows things united; polysyndeton shows them iso-
lated.
Polysyndeton has also the function of expressing sequence, as in:
"Then Mr. Boffin... sat staring at a little bookcase of Law Pra-
ctice and Law Reports, and at a window, and at an empty blue bag,
and a stick of sealing-wax, and at a pen, and a box of wafers, and an
apple, and a writing-pad—all very dusty—and at a number of inky
smears and blots, and at an imperfectly disguised gun-case pretending
to be something legal, and at an iron box labelled "Harmon Estate",
until Mr. Lightwood appeared." (Dickens)
All these ands may easily be replaced by thens. But in this case too
much stress would be laid on the logical aspects of the utterance, where-
as and expresses both sequence and disintegration.
Note also that Dickens begins by repeating not only and, but also
at. But in the middle of the utterance he drops the at, picks it up again,
drops it once more and then finally picks it up and uses it with the last
three items.

The Gap-Sentence Link

There is a peculiar type of connection of sentences which for want of

a term we shall call the gap - s ent en се li nk (GSL). The conne-
ction is not immediately apparent and it requires a certain mental
effort to grasp the interrelation between the parts of the utterance,
in other words, to bridge the semantic gap. Here is an example:
"She and that fellow ought to be the sufferers, and they were in
Italy." (Galsworthy)
227
 In this sentence the second part, which is hooked on to the first by the
conjunction and, seems to be unmotivated or, in other words, the whole
sentence seems to be logically incoherent. But this is only the first impres-
sion. After a more careful supralinear semantic analysis it becomes clear
that the exact logical variant of the utterance would be:
'Those who ought to suffer were enjoying themselves in Italy
(where well-to-do English people go for holidays).'
Consequently, GSL is a way of connecting two sentences seemingly
unconnected and leaving it to the reader's perspicacity to grasp the idea
implied, but not worded. Generally speaking, every detail of the situa-
tion need not be stated. Some must remain for the reader to divine.
As in many other cases, the device of GSL is deeply rooted in the
norms of the spoken language. The omissions are justified because the
situation easily prompts what has not been said. The proper intonation
also helps in deciphering the communication. It is also natural in conver-
sation to add a phrase to a statement made, a phrase which will point to
uncertainty or lack of knowledge or to the unpredictability of the possi-
ble issue, etc., as in:
"She says nothing, but it is clear that she is harping on this en-
gagement, and—goodness knows what." (Galsworthy)
In writing, where the situation is explained by the writer and the
intonation is only guessed at, such breaks in the utterance are regarded
as stylistic devices. The gap-sentence link requires a certain mental
effort to embrace the unexpressed additional information.
The gap-sentence link is generally indicated by and or but. There is
no asyndetic GSL, inasmuch as connection by asyndeton can be carried
out only by semantic ties easily and immediately perceived. These ties are,
as it were, substitutes for the formal grammatical means of connection.
The gap-sentence link has no immediate semantic connections, therefore
it requires formal indications of connection. It demands an obvious break
in the semantic texture of the utterance and forms an "unexpected seman-
tic leap."
The possibility of filling in the semantic gap depends largely on
associations awakened by the two sentences linked cumulatively. In
the following utterance the connection between the two sentences needs
no comment.
"It was an afternoon to dream. And she took out Jon's letters."
(Galsworthy)
While maintaining the unity of the utterance syntactically the author
leaves the interpretation of the link between the two sentences to the
mind of the reader. It is the imaginative mind only that can decode a
message expressed by a stylistic device. Nowhere do the conjunctions
and and but acquire such varied expressive shades of meaning as in GSL
constructions. It is these nuances that cause the peculiar intonation with
which and or but are pronounced. Thus in the following sentence the
228
conjunction and is made very conspicuous by the intonation signalled
by the dash:
"The Forsytes were resentful of something, not individually,
but as a family, this resentment expressed itself in an added per-
fection of raiment, an exuberance of family cordiality, an exagger-
ation of family importance, and—the sniff." (Galsworthy)

The GSL and—the sniff is motivated. Its association with 'an exagger-
ation of family importance' is apparent. However, so strong is the emo-
tive meaning of the word sniff that it overshadows the preceding words
which are used in their primary, exact, logical meanings. Hence the dash
after and to add special significance to the cumulative effect. This exam-
ple shows that GSL can be accompanied by semantic gaps wider or narrower
as the case may be. In this example the gap is very narrow and therefore
the missing link is easily restored. But sometimes the gap is so wide that
it requires a deep supralinear semantic analysis to get at the implied
meaning. Thus in the following example from Byron's maiden speech:
"And here I must remark with what alacrity you are accustomed
to fly to the succour of your distressed allies, leaving the distressed
of your own country to the care of Providence or—the parish."

Here the GSL, maintained by or and followed by the dash, which

indicates a rather long pause, implies that the parish, which was supposed
to care for impoverished workers, was unable to do so.
By its intrinsic nature the conjuction but can justify the apparently
unmotivated coupling of two unconnected statements. Thus, in the fol-
lowing passage GSL is maintained by and backed up by but.
"It was not Capetown, where people only frowned when they saw a
black boy and a white girl. But here... And he loved her." (Abrahams)

The gap-sentence link as a stylistic device is based on the peculiari-

ties of the spoken language and is therefore most frequently used in
represented speech. It is GSL alongside other characteristics that moulds
the device of unuttered represented speech.
The gap-sentence link has various functions. It may serve to signal
the introduction of inner represented speech; it may be used to indicate
a subjective evaluation of the facts; it may introduce an effect result-
ing from a cause which has already had verbal expression. In all these
functions GSL displays an unexpected coupling of ideas. Even the cause-
and-effect relations, logical as they are, when embodied in GSL structures
are not so obvious.
In contra-distinction to the logical segmentation of the utterance,
which leaves no room for personal interpretation of the interdependence
of the component parts, GSL aims at stirring up in the reader's mind the
suppositions, associations and conditions under which the sentence
uttered can really exist.
229
 E. PARTICULAR USE OF COLLOQUIAL CONSTRUCTIONS
We have already pointed out some of the constructions which bear an
imprint of emotion in the very arrangement of the words, whether they
are neutral or stylistically coloured (see p. 39). Such constructions are
almost exclusively used in lively colloquial intercourse. The emotional
element can be strongly enforced by emphatic intonation, which is an
indispensable component of emotional utterance. But what is important
to observe is that the structure itself, independent of the actual lexical
presentation, is intended to carry some emotional charge.
Emotional syntactical structures typical of the spoken variety of
language are sometimes very effectively used by men-of-letters to depict
the emotional state of mind of the characters; they may even be used, in
particular cases, in the narrative of the author. But even when used in
the dialogue of novels and stories these emotional constructions, being
deprived of their accompaniment—intonation—assume a greater signifi-
cance and become stylistically marked. Here the emotional structures
stand out more conspicuously, because they are thrown into prominence
not by the intonation pattern but by the syntactical pattern.
Consequently, it will be found necessary to classify some of the most
typical structures of these kinds, in spite of the lurking danger of confus-
ing idiomatic phrases (set expressions, phraseological units) with
abstract patterns.
a) One of the most typical patterns is a simple statement followed by
the pronoun that+noun (pronoun)+verb to be (in the appropriate form),
for example:
"June had answered in her imperious brisk way, like the little
embodiment of will that she was." (Galsworthy)
"And Felix thought: 'She just wants to talk to me about Derek,
Dog in the manger that I am."'
b) Another pattern is a question form with an exclamatory meaning
expressing amazement, indignation, excitement, enjoyment, etc., for
example:
"Old ladies, Do I ever hate them?'"
"He said in an awestruck voice: 'Boy, is that a piece of boat!'"
"And boy, could that guy spend money!"
"And was Edward pleased!"
"'Look', she said. 'Isn't that your boss there, just coming in?'
'My God! Yes,' said Lute, 'Oh, and has he a nice package?'
' I ' l l say. That's his wife with him, isn't it?'" (O'Hara)
"A witch she is. I know her back in the old country. Sure, and
didn't she come over on the same boat as myself?" (Betty Smith)
Note that this pattern is generally preceded by an exclamatory word,
or an interjection, or the conjunction and in the same function.
c) The third pattern is a morphological one (generally use of contin-
uous forms), but mentioned here because it is closely connected with
syntactical structures, inversions, repetitions and others, for example:
230
 "You are not being silly, are you?" (Leslie Ford)
"Now we're not going to have any more of that, Mrs Euston."
(O'Hara)
d) The fourth pattern, also very common in colloquial English, is a
construction where a noun or pronoun subject followed by the verbs to
have (noun+object) or to be (noun+predicative) ends with the two com-
ponents in inverted order, for example:
"She had a high colour, had Sally."
"He has a rather curious smile, has my friend."
"She is a great comfort to me, is that lass." (Cronin)
Sometimes though, the noun or pronoun subject is predicated by
notional verbs. In this case to do is used in this trailing emphatic phrase,
as in:
"He fair beats me, does James Brodie." (Cronin)
Negative forms are frequently used to indicate an emotional out-
burst of the speaker, for instance:
"You don't say!"
"I do say. I tell you I ' m a student of this." (J. Steinbeck)
"Don't be surprised if he doesn't visit you one of these days."
(=if he visits you)
The emphasis is weaker in the second example.
The basic patterns of emotional colloquial constructions enumerated
above have a particularly strong stylistic effect when they are used in
the author's speech. The explanation of this must be sought in the well-
known dichotomy of the oral us the written variety of language.
As has been previously pointed out, the oral variety has, as one of
its distinctive features, an emotional character revealed mostly in the
use of special emotive words, intensifiers and additional semanticizing
factors caused by intonation and voice qualities. The written variety is
more intellectual; it is reasoned and, ideally, is non-emotional. So when
such constructions have travelled from their homeland—dialogue—
into the author's domain—monologue—, they assume the quality of an
SD. Some of the examples given above illustrate this with sufficient
clarity.
Among other cases of the particular use of colloquial constructions
are 1) ellipsis, 2) break-in-the-narrative, 3) question-in-the-narrative,
and 4) represented speech.

Ellipsis
E l l i p s i s is a typical phenomenon in conversation, arising out
of the situation. We mentioned this peculiar feature of the spoken
language when we characterized its essential qualities and
properties. But this typical feature of the spoken language assumes a
new quality when used in the written language. It becomes a
stylistic device
231
inasmuch as it supplies suprasegmental information. An elliptical sentence
in direct intercourse is not a stylistic device. It is simply a norm of the
spoken language.
Let us take a few examples.
"So Justice Oberwaltzer-solemnly and didactically from his
high seat to the jury." (Dreiser)
One feels very acutely the absence of the predicate in this sentence.
Why was it omitted? Did the author pursue any special purpose in leav-
ing out a primary member of the sentence? Or is it just due to careless-
ness? The answer is obvious: it is a deliberate device. This particular
model of sentence suggests the author's personal state of mind, viz. his
indignation at the shameless speech of the Justice. It is a common fact that
any excited state of mind will manifest itself in some kind of violation of
the recognized literary sentence structure.
Ellipsis, when used as a stylistic device, always imitates the com-
mon features of colloquial language, where the situation predetermines
not we omission of certain members of the sentence, but their absence.
It would perhaps be adequate to call sentences lacking certain members
"incomplete sentences", leaving the term e l l i p s i s to specify struc-
tures where we recognize a digression from the traditional literary sen-
tence structure.
Thus the sentences 'See you to-morrow.', 'Had a good time?', 'Won't
do.', 'You say that?' are typical of the colloquial language. Nothing is
omitted here. These are normal syntactical structures in the spoken
language and to call them elliptical, means to judge every sentence
structure according to the structural models of the written language.
Likewise, such sentences as the following can hardly be called elliptical.
"There's somebody wants to speak to you."
"There was no breeze came through the open window."(Hemingway)
"There's many a man in this Borough would be glad to have the
blood that runs in my veins." (Cronin)
The relative pronouns who, which, who after 'somebody', 'breeze',
'a man in this Borough' could not be regarded as "omitted"—this is
the norm of colloquial language, though now not in frequent use except,
perhaps, with the there is (are) constructions as above. This is due, per-
haps, to the standardizing power of the literary language. O. Jespersen,
in his analysis of such structures, writes:
"If we speak here of 'omission' or 'subaudition' or 'ellipsis', the
reader is apt to get the false impression that the fuller expression is
the better one as being complete, and that the shorter expression is to
some extent faulty or defective, or something that has come into
existence in recent times out of slovenliness. This is wrong: the const-
ructions are very old in the language and have not come into existence
through the dropping of a previously necessary relative pronoun."1
1
Jespersen, 0. A Modern English Grammar. Ldn, 1928, part I I I , p. 133.

232
 Here are some examples quoted by Jespersen:
"I bring him news will raise his drooping spirits."
". . .or like the snow falls in the river."
". . .when at her door arose a clatter might awake the dead."
However, when the reader encounters such structures in literary
texts, even though they aim at representing the lively norms of the spoken
language, he is apt to regard them as bearing some definite stylistic
function. This is due to a psychological effect produced by the relative
rarity of the construction, on the one hand, and the non-expectancy of any
strikingly colloquial expression in literary narrative.
It must be repeated here that the most characteristic feature of the
written variety of language is amplification, which by its very nature is
opposite to ellipsis. Amplification generally demands expansion of the
ideas with as full and as exact relations between the parts of the utterance
as possible. Ellipsis, on the contrary, being the property of colloquial
language, does not express what can easily be supplied by the situation.
This is perhaps the reason that elliptical sentences are rarely used as
stylistic devices. Sometimes the omission of a link-verb adds emotional
colouring and makes the sentence sound more emphatic, as in these lines
from Byron:
"Thrice happy he who, after survey
of the good company, can win a corner."
"Nothing so difficult as a beginning."
"Denotes how soft the chin which bears his touch."
It is wrong to suppose that the omission of the link-verbs in these
sentences is due to the requirements of the rhythm.

Break-in-the-Narrative (Aposiopesis)

Apоsiореsis is a device which dictionaries define as "A stop-

ping short for rhetorical effect." This is true. But this definition is too
general to disclose the stylistic functions of the device.
In the spoken variety of the language, a break in the narrative is
usually caused by unwillingness to proceed; or by the supposition that
what remains to be said can be understood by the implication embodied
in what has been said; or by uncertainty as to what should be said.
In the written variety, a break in the narrative is always a stylistic
device used for some stylistic effect. It is difficult, however, to draw a hard
and fast distinction between break-in-the-narrative as a typical feature
of lively colloquial language and as a specific stylistic device. The only
criterion which may serve as a guide is that in conversation the implica-
tion can be conveyed by an adequate gesture. In writing it is the context,
which suggests the adequate intonation, that is the only key to decoding
the aposiopesis.
In the following example the implication of the aposiopesis is a
warning:
233
 "If you continue your intemperate way of living, in six months'
time..."
In the sentence:
"You just come home or I ' l l ..."
the implication is a threat. The second example shows that without a
context the implication can only be vague. But when one knows that the
words were said by an angry father to his son over the telephone the im-
plication becomes apparent.
Aposiopesis is a stylistic syntactical device to convey to the reader
a very strong upsurge of emotions. The idea of this stylistic device is
that the speaker cannot proceed, his feelings depriving him of the ability
to express himself in terms of language. Thus in Don Juan's address to
Julia, who is left behind:
"And oh! if e'er I should forget, I swear—
But that's impossible, and cannot be." (Byron)
Break-in-the-narrative has a strong degree of predictability, which
is ensured by the structure of the sentence. As a stylistic device it is
used in complex sentences, in particular in conditional sentences, the
if-clause being given in full and the second part only implied.
However, aposiopesis may be noted in different syntactical structures.
Thus, one of Shelley's poems is entitled "To—", which is an aposio-
pesis of a different character, inasmuch as the implication here is so
vague that it can be likened to a secret code. Indeed, no one except those
in the know would be able to find out to whom the poem was addressed.
Sometimes a break in the narrative is caused by euphemistic consid-
erations—unwillingness to name a thing on the ground of its being offen-
sive to the ear, for example:
"Then, Mamma, I hardly like to let the words cross my lips, but
they have wicked, wicked attractions out there—like dancing
girls that—that charm snakes and dance without—Miss Moir with
downcast eyes, broke off significantly and blushed, whilst the down
on her upper l i p quivered modestly." (Cronin)
Break-in-the-narrative is a device which, on the one hand, offers a
number of variants in deciphering the implication and, on the other,
is highly predictable. The problem of implication is, as it were, a crucial
one in stylistics. What is implied sometimes outweighs what is expressed.
In other stylistic devices the degree of implication is not so high as in
break-in-the narrative. A sudden break in the narrative will inevitably
focus the attention on what is left unsaid. Therefore the interrelation
between what is given and what is new becomes more significant, inasmuch
as the given is what is said and the new—what is left unsaid. There is a
phrase in colloquial English which has become very familiar:
"Good intentions but—"
The implication here is that nothing has come of what it was planned to
accomplish.
234
 Aposiopesis is a stylistic device in which the role of the intonation
implied cannot be over-estimated. The pause after the break is generally
charged with meaning and it is the intonation only that will decode the
communicative significance of the utterance.

Question-in-the-Narrative
Questions, being both structurally and semantically one of the types
of sentences, are asked by one person and expected to be answered by
another. This is the main, and the most characteristic property of the
question, i.e. it exists as a syntactical unit of language to bear this partic-
ular function in communication. Essentially, questions belong to the
spoken language and presuppose the presence of an interlocutor, that is,
they are commonly encountered in dialogue. The questioner is presumed
not to know the answer.
Q u e s t i o n - i n - t h e - n a r r a t i v e changes the real nature of
a question and turns it into a stylistic device. A question in the narrative
is asked and answered by one and the same person, usually the author.
It becomes akin to a parenthetical statement with strong emotional
implications. Here are some cases of question-in-the-narrative taken
from Byron's 'Don Juan":
1) "For what is left the poet here?
For Greeks a blush — for Greece a tear."
2) "And starting, she awoke, and what to view?
Oh, Powers of Heaven. What dark eye meets she there?
'Tis—'tis her father's—fix'd upon the pair."
As is seen from these examples, the questions asked, unlike rhetorical
questions (see p. 244), do not contain statements. But being answered
by one who knows the answer, they assume a semi-exclamatory nature,
as in 'what to view?'
Sometimes question-in-the-narrative gives the impression of an inti-
mate talk between the writer and the reader. For example:
"Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be
otherwise? Scrooge and he were partners for I don't know how many
years." (Dickens)
Question-in-the-narrative is very often used in oratory. This is ex-
plained by one of the leading features of oratorical style—to induce the de-
sired reaction to the content of the speech. Questions here chain the atten-
tion of the listeners to the matter the orator is dealing with and prevent
it from wandering. They also give the listeners time to absorb what has
been said, and prepare for the next point.
Question-in-the-narrative may also remain unanswered, as in:
"How long must it go on? How long must we suffer? Where is the
end? What is the end? (Norris)
These sentences show a gradual transition to rhetorical questions.
There are only hints of the possible answers. Indeed, the first and the
235
second questions suggest that the existing state of affairs should be put
an end to and that we should not suffer any longer. The third and the
fourth questions suggest that the orator himself could not find a solution to
the problem.
"The specific nature of interrogative sentences," writes P. S. Po-
pov, "which are transitional stages from what we know to what we
do not yet know, is reflected in the interconnection between the
question and the answer. The interrogative sentence is connected
with the answer-sentence far more closely than the inference is con-
nected with two interrelated pronouncements, because each of the two
pronouncements has its own significance; whereas the significance of
the interrogative sentence is only in the process of seeking the
answer."1
This very interesting statement concerning the psychological nature
of the question, however, does not take into consideration the stimulating
aspect of the question.
When a question begins to fulfil a function not directly arising from
its linguistic and psychological nature, it may have a certain volume of
emotional charge. Question-in-the-narrative is a case of this kind. Here
its function deviates slightly from its general signification.
This deviation (being in fact a modification of the general function
of interrogative sentences) is much more clearly apparent in rhetorical
questions.
Represented Speech
There are three ways of reproducing actual spech: a) repetition
of the exact utterance as it was spoken (direct speeсh), b) con-
version of the exact utterance into the relater's mode of expression (in-
d i r e c t s p e e c h ) , and c) representation of the actual utterance by a
second person, usually the author, as if it had been spoken, whereas it
has not really been spoken but is only represented in the author's words
(represented speech).
There is also a device which conveys to the reader the unuttered or
inner speech of the character, thus presenting his thoughts and feelings.
This device is also termed represented speech. To distinguish between
the two varieties of represented speech we call the representation of the
actual utterance through the author's language u t t e r e d r e p r e -
s e n t e d s p e e c h , and the representation of the thoughts and feelings of
the character – u n u t t e r e d or i n n e r represented
speech.
The term d i r e c t s p e e c h came to be used in the belles-lettres
style in order to distinguish the words of the character from the author's
words. Actually, direct speech is a quotation. Therefore it is always in-
troduced by a verb like say, utter, declare, reply, exclaim, shout, cry,
yell, gasp, babble, chuckle, murmur, sigh, call, beg, implore, comfort,

1
Попов П. С. Суждение и предложение.— В сб.: Вопросы синтаксиса русского
языка. М., 1950, с. 20.
236
assure, protest, object, command, admit, and others. All these words help to
indicate the intonation with which the sentence was actually uttered.
Direct speech is always marked by inverted commas, as any quotation is.
Here is an example:
"You want your money back, I suppose," said George with a sneer.
"Of course I do—I always did, didn't I? says Dobbin.
(Thackeray)
The most important feature of the spoken language—intonation—
is indicated by different means. In the example above we have 1) graph-
ical means: the dash after 'I do', 2) lexical: the word 'sneer', and
3) grammatical: a) morphological—different tenses of the verb to say
('said' and 'says'), b) syntactical: the disjunctive question—'didn't I?'.
Direct speech is sometimes used in the publicistic style of language
as a quotation. The introductory words in this case are usually the follow-
ing: as... has it, according to. .., and the like.
In the belles-lettres style direct speech is used to depict a character
through his speech.
In the emotive prose of the belles-lettres style where the predominant
form of utterance is narrative, direct speech is inserted to more fully de-
pict the characters of the novel. In the other variety of the belles-lettres
prose style, i.e. in plays, the predominant form of utterance is dialogue.
In spite of the various graphical and lexical ways of indicating the
proper intonation of a given utterance, the subtleties of the intonation
design required by the situation cannot be accurately conveyed. The
richness of the human voice can only be suggested.
Direct speech can be viewed as a stylistic device only in its setting
in the midst of the author's narrative or in contrast to all forms of indi-
rect speech. Even when an author addresses the reader, we cannot classify
the utterance as direct speech. Direct speech is only the speech of a char-
acter in a piece of emotive prose.
We have i n d i r e c t s p e e c h when the actual words of a character,
as it were, pass through the author's mouth in the course of his narrative
and in this process undergo certain changes. The intonation of indirect
speech is even and does not differ from the rest of the author's narrative.
The graphical substitutes for the intonation give way to lexical units
which describe the intonation pattern. Sometimes indirect speech takes
the form of a precis in which only the main points of the actual utterance
are given. Thus, for instance, in the following passage:
"Marshal asked the crowd to disperse and urged responsible diggers
to prevent any disturbance which would prolong the tragic force of
the rush for which the publication of inaccurate information was chiefly
responsible." (Katherine Prichard)
In grammars there are rules according to which direct speech can
be converted into indirect. These rules are logical in character, they
merely indicate what changes must be introduced into the utterance
due to change in the situation. Thus the sentence:
237
 "Your mother wants you to go upstairs immediately" corresponds
to "Tell him to come upstairs immediately."
When direct speech is converted into indirect, the author not infre-
quently interprets in his own way the manner in which the direct speech
was uttered, thus very often changing the emotional colouring of the
whole. Hence, indirect speech may fail entirely to reproduce the actual
emotional colouring of the direct speech and may distort it unrecogniza-
bly. A change of meaning is inevitable when direct speech is turned into
indirect or vice versa, inasmuch as any modification of form calls forth a
slight difference in meaning.
It is probably due to this fact that in order to convey more adequately
the actual utterances of characters in emotive prose, a new way to re-
present direct speech came into being—re p r e s e n t e d s p e e c h .
Represented speech is that form of utterance which conveys the actual
words of the speaker through the mouth of the writer but retains the pecu-
liarities of the speaker's mode of expression.
Represented speech exists in two varieties: 1) uttered represented
speech and 2) unuttered or inner represented speech.

a) Uttered-Represented Speech

Uttered represented speech demands that the tense

should be switched from present to past and that the personal pronouns
should be changed from 1st and 2nd person to 3rd person as in indirect
speech, but the syntactical structure of the utterance does not change.
For example:
"Could he bring a reference from where he now was? He could."
(Dreiser)
An interesting example of three ways of representing actual speech
is to be seen in a conversation between Old Jolyon and June in Gals-
worthy's "Man of Property."
"Old Jolyon was on the alert at once. Wasn't the "man of property"
going to live in his new house, then? He never alluded to Soames
now but under this title.
'No'—June said—'he was not; she knew that he was not!'
How did she know?
She could not tell him, but she knew. She knew nearly for certain.
It was most unlikely; circumstances had changed!"
The first sentence is the author's speech. In the second sentence ' Wasn't
the "man. .."' there is uttered represented speech: the actual speech must
have been 'Isn't the...'. This sentence is followed by one from the au-
thor: 'He never...'. Then again comes uttered represented speech marked
off in inverted commas, which is not usual. The direct speech 'No—', the
introductory 'June said' and the following inverted commas make the
sentence half direct half uttered represented speech. The next sentence
'How did she know?' and the following one are clear-cut models of uttered
represented speech: all the peculiarities of direct speech are preserved,
238
i. e. the repetition of 'she knew', the colloquial 'nearly for certain', the
absence of any connective between the last two sentences and, finally,
the mark of exclamation at the end of the passage. And yet the tenses and
pronouns here show that the actual utterance passes through the author's
mouth.
Two more examples will suffice to illustrate the use of uttered repre-
sented speech.
"A maid came in now with a blue gown very thick and soft. Could
she do anything for Miss Freeland? No, thanks, she could not, only,
did she know where Mr. Freeland's room was?"
(Galsworthy)
The shift from the author's speech to the uttered represented speech
of the maid is marked only by the change in the syntactical pattern of
the sentences from declarative to interrogative, or from the narrative
pattern to the conversational.
Sometimes the shift is almost imperceptible—the author's narrative
sliding over into the character's utterance without any formal indications
of the switch-over, as in the following passage:
"She had known him for a full year when, in London for awhile
and as usual alone, she received a note from him to say that he had to
come up to town for a night and couldn't they dine together and go to
some place to dance. She thought it very sweet of him to take pity on
her solitariness and accepted with pleasure. They spent a delightful
evening." (Maugham)
This manner of inserting uttered represented speech within the au-
thor's narrative is not common. It is peculiar to the style of a number of
modern English and American writers. The more usual structural model
is one where there is either an indication of the shift by some introduc-
tory word (smiled, said, asked, etc.) or by a formal break like a full stop
at the end of the sentence, as in:
"In consequence he was quick to suggest a walk... Didn't Clyde
want to go?" (Dreiser)
Uttered represented speech has a long history. As far back as the
18th century it was already widely used by men-of-letters, evidently be-
cause it was a means by which was considered vulgar might be
excluded from literature, i.e. expletives, vivid colloquial words, expres-
sions and syntactical structures typical of the lively colloquial speech of
the period. Indeed, when direct speech is represented by the writer, he
can change the actual utterance into any mode of expression he considers
appropriate.
In Fielding's "History of Tom Jones the Foundling" we find vari-
ous ways of introducing uttered represented speech. Here are some inter-
esting examples:
"When dinner was over, and the servants departed, Mr. Alworthy
began to harangue. He set forth, in a long speech, the many ini-
239
 quities of which Jones had been guilty, particularly those which
this day had brought to light; and concluded by telling him, 'That
unless he could clear himself of the charge, he was resolved to
banish him from his sight for ever."'
In this passage there is practically no represented speech, inasmuch
as the words marked off by inverted commas are indirect speech, i.e.
the author's speech with no elements of the character's speech, and the
only signs of the change in the form of the utterance are the inverted
commas and capital letter of 'That'. The following paragraph is built
on the same pattern.
"His heart was, besides, almost broken already; and his spirits
were so sunk, that he could say nothing for himself but acknowledge
the whole, and, like a criminal in despair, threw himself upon mercy;
concluding, 'that though he must own himself guilty of many follies
and inadvertencies, he hoped he had done nothing to deserve what
would be to him the greatest punishment in the world.'"
Here again the introductory 'concluding' does not bring forth direct
speech but is a natural continuation of the author's narrative. The only
indication of the change are the inverted commas.
Mr. Alworthy's answer is also built on the same pattern, the only
modification being the direct speech at the end.
"—Alworthy answered, "That he had forgiven him too often
already, in compassion to his youth, and in hopes of his amend-
ment: that he now found he was an abandoned reprobate, and such
as it would be criminal in any one to support and encourage," 'Nay,'
said Mr. Alworthy to him, 'your audacious attempt to steal away
the young lady, calls upon me to justify my own character in puni-
shing you.—'"
Then follows a long speech by Mr. Alworthy not differing from indi-
rect speech (the author's speech) either in structural design or in the choice
of words. A critical analysis will show that the direct speech of the
characters in the novel must have undergone considerable polishing up in
order to force it to conform to the literary norms of the period. Colloquial
speech, emotional, inconsistent and spontaneous, with its vivid intona-
tion suggested by elliptical sentences, breaks in the narrative, fragmenta-
riness and lack of connectives, was banned from literary usage and re-
placed by the passionless substitute of indirect speech.
Almost in any work of 18th century literary art one will find that
the spoken language is adapted to conform to the norms of the written
language of the period. It was only at the beginning of the 19th century
that the elements of colloquial English began to elbow their way into
the sacred precincts of the English literary language. The more the process
became apparent, the more the conditions that this created became fa-
vourable for the introduction of uttered represented speech as a literary
device.
240
 In the modern belles-lettres prose style, the speech of the
characters is modelled on natural colloquial patterns. The device of
uttered represented speech enables the writer to reshape the utterance
according to the normal polite literary usage.
Nowadays, this device is used not only in the belles-lettres
style.
It is also efficiently used in newspaper style. Here is an example:
"Mr. Silverman, his Parliamentary language scarcely conceal-
ing his bitter disappointment, accused the government of breaking
its pledge and of violating constitutional proprieties.
Was the government basing its policy not on the considered
judgment of the House of Commons, but on the considered judg-
ment of the House of Lords?
Would it not be a grave breach of constitutional duty, not to
give the House a reasonable opportunity of exercising its rights
under the Parliament Act?"
'Wait for the terms of the Bill,' was Eden's reply."
Uttered represented speech in newspaper communications is some-
what different from that in the belles-lettres style. In the former, it is
generally used to quote the words of speakers in Parliament or at public
meetings.

b) Unuttered or Inner Represented Speech

As has often been pointed out language has two functions: the com-
municative and the expressive. The communicative function serves to
convey one's thoughts, volitions, emotions and orders to the mind of a
second person. The expressive function serves to shape one's thoughts and
emotions into language forms. This second function is believed to be the
only way of materializing thoughts and emotions. Without language forms
thought is not yet thought but only something being shaped as thought.
The thoughts and feelings going on in one's mind and reflecting some
previous experience are called inner speech.
Inasmuch as inner speech has no communicative function, it is very
fragmentary, incoherent, isolated, and consists of separate units which
only hint at the content of the utterance but do not word it explicitly.
Inner speech is а psychological phenomenon. But when it is wrought
into full utterance, it ceases to be inner speech, acquires a communicative
function and becomes a phenomenon of language. The expressive function
of language is suppressed by its communicative function, and the reader
is presented with a complete language unit capable of carrying informa-
tion. This device is called i n n e r r e p r e s e n t e d s p e e c h .
However, the language forms of inner represented speech bear а
resemblance to the psychological phenomenon of inner speech. Inner
represented speech retains the most characteristic features of inner
speech. It is also fragmentary, but only to an extent which will not
hinder the understanding of the communication.
Inner represented speech, unlike uttered represented speech, ex-
presses feelings and thoughts of the character which were not
material-
241
ized in spoken or written language by the character. That is why it
abounds in exclamatory words and phrases, elliptical constructions,
breaks, and other means of conveying feelings and psychological states.
When a person is alone with his thoughts and feelings, he can give vent to
those strong emotions which he usually keeps hidden. Here is an example
from Galsworthy's "Man of Property":
"His nervousness about this disclosure irritated him profoundly;
she had no business to make him feel like that—a wife and a hus-
band being one person. She had not looked at him once since they
sat down, and he wondered what on earth she had been thinking
about all the time. It was hard, when a man worked hard as he did,
making money for her—yes and with an ache in his heart—that
she should sit there, looking—looking as if she saw the walls of
the room closing in. It was enough to make a man get up and leave
the table."
The inner speech of Soames Forsyte is here introduced by two words
describing his state of mind—'irritated' and 'wondered'. The colloquial
aspect of the language in which Soames's thoughts and feelings are ex-
pressed is obvious. He uses colloquial collocations: 'she had no business',
'what on earth', 'like that' and colloquial constructions: 'yes and with...',
'looking—looking as if ...', and the words used are common colloquial.
Unuttered or inner represented speech follows the same morphological
pattern as uttered represented speech, but the syntactical pattern shows
variations which can be accounted for by the fact that it is inner speech,
not uttered speech. The tense forms are shifted to the past; the third per-
son personal pronouns replace the first and second. The interrogative
word-order is maintained as in direct speech. The fragmentary character
of the utterance manifests itself in unfinished sentences, exclamations
and in one-member sentences.
Here is another example:
"An idea had occurred to Soames. His cousin Jolyon was Irene's
trustee, the first step would be to go down and see him at Robin
Hill. Robin Hill! The odd—the very odd feeling those words brought
back. Robin Hill—the house Bosinney had built for him and Irene—
the house they had never lived in—the fatal house! And Jolyon
lived there now! H'm!" (Galsworthy)
This device is undoubtedly an excellent one to depict a character.
It gives the writer an opportunity to show the inner springs which guide
his character's actions and utterances. Being a combination of the au-
thor's speech and that of the character, inner represented speech, on the
one hand, fully discloses the feelings and thoughts of the character, his
world outlook, and, on the other hand, through efficient and sometimes
hardly perceptible interpolations by the author himself, makes the de-
sired impact on the reader.
In English and American literature this device has gained vogue in
the works of the writers of the last two centuries—Jane Austen, Thacke-
ray, Dickens, Charlotte and Emily Bronte, Jack London, Galsworthy,
242
Dreiser, Somerset Maugham and others. Every writer has his own way
of using represented speech. Careful linguistic analysis of individual
peculiarities in using it will show its wide range of function and will
expand the hitherto limited notions of its use.
Inner represented speech, unlike uttered represented speech, is usually
introduced by verbs of mental perception, as think, meditate, feel, occur
(an idea occurred to...), wonder, ask, tell oneself, understand and the like.
For example:
"Over and over he was asking himself: would she receive him?
would she recognize him? what should he say to her?"
"Why weren't things going well between them? he wondered."

Very frequently, however, inner represented speech thrusts itself

into the narrative of the author without any introductory words and
the shift from the author's speech to inner represented speech is more
or less imperceptible. Sometimes the one glides into the other, sometimes
there is a sudden clear-cut change in the mode of expression. Here are
examples:
"Butler was sorry that he had called his youngest a baggage;
but these children—God bless his soul—were a great annoyance.
Why, in the name of all the saints, wasn't this house good enough
for them?" (Dreiser)

The only indication of the transfer from the author's speech to inner
represented speech is the semicolon which suggests a longish pause.
The emotional tension of the inner represented speech is enhanced by
the emphatic these (in 'these children'), by the exclamatory sentences
'God bless his soul' and 'in the name of all the saints'. This emotional
charge gives an additional shade of meaning to the 'was sorry' in the au-
thor's statement, viz. Butler was sorry, but he was also trying to justify
himself for calling his daughter names.
And here is an example of a practically imperceptible shift:
"Then, too, in old Jolyon's mind was always the secret ache
that the son of James—of James, whom he had always thought
such a poor thing, should be pursuing the paths of success, while
his own son—!" (Galsworthy)

In this passage there are hardly any signs of the shift except, per-
haps, the repetition of the words 'of James'. Then comes what is half
the author's narrative, half the thoughts of the character, the inner
speech coming to the surface in 'poor thing' (a colloquialism) and the
sudden break after 'his own son' and the mark of exclamation.
Inner represented speech remains the monopoly of the belles-lettres
style, and especially of emotive prose, a variety of it. There is hardly
any likelihood of this device being used in other styles, due to its spe-
cific function, which is to penetrate into the inner life of the personages
of an imaginary world, which is the exclusive domain of belles-lettres.
243
 F. STYLISTIC USE OF STRUCTURAL MEANING

On analogy with transference of lexical meaning, in which words

are used other than in their primary logical sense, syntactical structures
may also be used in meanings other than their primary ones. Every syn-
tactical structure has its definite function, which is sometimes called its
s t r u c t u r a l m e a n i n g . When a structure is used in some other
function it may be said to assume a new meaning which is similar to
lexical transferred meaning.
Among syntactical stylistic devices there are two in which this trans-
ference of structural meaning is to be seen. They are rhetorical questions
and litotes.
Rhetorical Questions
T h e r h e t o r i c a l q u e s t i o n is a special syntactical stylistic
device the essence of which consists in reshaping the grammatical mean-
ing of the interrogative sentence. In other words, the question is no
longer a question but a statement expressed in the form of an interroga-
tive sentence. Thus there is an interplay of two structural meanings:
1) that of the question and 2) that of the statement (either affirmative
or negative). Both are materialized simultaneously. For example:
"Are these the remedies for a starving and desperate populace?"
"Is there not blood enough upon your penal code, that more must
be poured forth to ascend to Heaven and testify against you?"
(Byron)
One can agree with Prof. Popov who states: "...the rhetorical question
is equal to a categorical pronouncement plus an exclamation." l Indeed,
if we compare a pronouncement expressed as a statement with the same
pronouncement expressed as a rhetorical question by means of transfor-
mational analysis, we will find ourselves compelled to assert that the
interrogative form makes the pronouncement still more categorical, in
that it excludes any interpretation beyond that contained in the rhetori-
cal question.
From the examples given above, we can see that rhetorical ques-
tions are generally structurally embodied in complex sentences with
the subordinate clause containing the pronouncement. Here is another
example:
"...Shall the sons of Chimary
Who never forgive the fault of a friend
Bid an enemy live?..." (Byron)
Without the attributive clause the rhetorical question would lose
its specific quality and might be regarded as an ordinary question. The
subordinate clause, as it were, signalizes the rhetorical question. The
meaning of the above utterance can hardly fail to be understood: i.e.
The sons of Chimary will never bid an enemy live.
1
Op. cit., p. 20.
244
 There is another structural pattern of rhetorical questions, which
is based on negation. In this case the question may be a simple sentence,
as in:
"Did not the Italian Mosico Cazzani
Sing at my heart six months at least in vain?" (Byron)
"Have I not had to wrestle with my lot?
Have I not suffered things to be forgiven?" (Byron)
Negative-interrogative sentences generally have a peculiar nature.
There is always an additional shade of meaning implied in them: some-
times doubt, sometimes assertion, sometimes suggestion. In other words,
they are full of emotive meaning and modality.
We have already stated that rhetorical questions may be looked upon
as a transference of grammatical meaning. But just as in the case of the
transference of lexical meaning, the stylistic effect of the transference
of grammatical meaning can only be achieved if there is a simultaneous
realization of the two meanings: direct and transferred. So it is with
rhetorical questions. Both the question-meaning and the statement-
meaning are materialized with an emotional charge, the weight of which
can be judged by the intonation of the speaker.
The intonation of rhetorical questions, according to the most recent
investigations, differs materially from the intonation of ordinary ques-
tions. This is also an additional indirect proof of the double nature of
this stylistic device. In the question-sentence
"Is the poor privilege to turn the key
Upon the captive, freedom?" (Byron)
instead of a categorical pronouncement one can detect irony.
A more detailed analysis of the semantic aspect of different question-
sentences leads to the conclusion that these structural models have vari-
ous functions. Not only ordinary questions, not only categorical pronounce-
ments are expressed in question form. In fact there are various nuances
of emotive meaning embodied in question-sentences. We have already
given an example of one of these meanings, viz. irony. In Shakespeare's
"Who is here so vile that will not love his country?"
there is a meaning of challenge openly and unequivocally declared. It
is impossible to regard it as a rhetorical question making a categorical
pronouncement. In the rhetorical question from Byron's maiden speech
given above ('Is there not blood...') there is a clear implication of scorn
and contempt for Parliament and the laws it passes.
So rhetorical questions may also be defined as utterances in the form
of questions which pronounce judgments and also express various kinds
of modal shades of meaning, as doubt, challenge, scorn, irony and so on.
It has been stated elsewhere that questions are more emotional than
statements. When a question is repeated, as in these lines from Poe's
"The Raven":
"—Is there—is there balm in Gilead?! Tell me—
tell me—I implore!—"
245
the degree of emotiveness increases and the particular shade of meaning
(in this case, despair) becomes more apparent.
The rhetorical question re-enforces this essential quality of interrog-
ative sentences and uses it to convey a stronger shade of emotive mean-
ing. Rhetorical questions, due to their power of expressing a variety
of modal shades of meaning, are most often used in publicistic style
and particularly in oratory, where the rousing of emotions is the effect
generally aimed at.

Litotes
L i t o t e s is a stylistic device consisting of a peculiar use of nega-
tive constructions. The negation plus noun or adjective serves to establish
a positive feature in a person or thing. This positive feature, however, is
somewhat diminished in quality as compared with a synonymous expres-
sion making a straightforward assertion of the positive feature. Let us
compare the following two pairs of sentences: .
1. It ' s not a bad thing.—It's a good thing.
2. H e is no coward.— H e is a brave m an.
Not bad is not equal to good although the two constructions are synon-
ymous. The same can be said about the second pair, no coward and a
brave man. In both cases the negative construction is weaker than the
affirmative one. Still we cannot say that the two negative constructions
produce a lesser effect than the corresponding affirmative ones. Moreover,
it should be noted that the negative constructions here have a stronger
impact on the reader than the affirmative ones. The latter have no addi-
tional connotation; the former have. That is why such constructions are
regarded as stylistic devices. Litotes is a deliberate understatement used
to produce a stylistic effect. It is not a pure negation, but a negation that
includes affirmation. Therefore here, as in the case of rhetorical questions,
we may speak of transference of meaning, i.e. a device with the help
of which two meanings are materialized simultaneously: the direct (neg-
ative) and transferred (affirmative).
So the negation in litotes must not be regarded as a mere denial of the
quality mentioned. The structural aspect of the negative combination
backs up the semantic aspect: the negatives no and not are more emphati-
cally pronounced than in ordinary negative sentences, thus bringing to
mind the corresponding antonym.
The stylistic effect of litotes depends mainly on intonation. If we
compare two intonation patterns, one which suggests a mere denial
(It is not bad as a contrary to It is bad) with the other which suggests the
assertion of a positive quality of the object (It is not bad=it is good),
the difference will become apparent. The degree to which litotes carries
the positive quality in itself can be estimated by analysing the semantic
structure of the word which is negated.
Let us examine the following sentences in which litotes is used:
1. "Whatever defects the tale possessed—and they were not a few—
it had, as delivered by her, the one merit of seeming like truth."
246
 2. "He was not without taste..."
3. "It troubled him not a little..."
4. "He found that this was no easy task."
5. "He was no gentle lamb, and the part of second fiddle would
never do for the high-pitched dominance of his nature." (Jack
London)
6. "She was wearing a fur coat... Carr, the enthusiastic appreciator
of smart women and as good a judge of dress as any man to be
met in a Pall Mall club, saw that she was no country cousin. She
had style, or 'devil', as he preferred to call it."
Even a superfluous analysis of the litotes in the above sentences
clearly shows that the negation does not merely indicate the absence
of the quality mentioned but suggests the presence of the opposite qual-
ity. Charles Bally, a well-known Swiss linguist, states that negative sen-
tences are used with the purpose of "refusing to affirm".
In sentences 5 and 6 where it is explained by the context, litotes re-
veals its true function. The idea of 'no gentle lamb' is further strength-
ened by the 'high-pitched dominance of his nature'; the function and
meaning of 'no country cousin' is made clear by 'as good a judge of
dress...', 'she had style...'. Thus, like other stylistic devices, litotes dis-
plays a simultaneous materialization of two meanings: one negative, the
other affirmative. This interplay of two grammatical meanings is keenly
felt, so much so indeed, that the affirmation suppresses the negation, the
latter being only the form in which the real pronouncement is moulded.
According to the science of logic, negation as a category can hardly ex-
press a pronouncement. Only an assertion can do so. That is why we may
say that any negation only suggests an assertion. Litotes is a means by
which this natural logical and linguistic property of negation can be
strengthened. The two senses of the litotic expression, negative and
positive, serve a definite stylistic purpose.
A variant of litotes is a construction with two negations, as in not
unlike, not unpromising, not displeased and the like. Here, according
to general logical and mathematical principles, two negatives make a
positive. Thus in the sentence—"Soames, with his lips and his squared
chin was not unlike a bull dog" (Galsworthy), the litotes may be inter-
preted as somewhat resembling. In spite of the fact that such construc-
tions make the assertion more logically apparent, they lack precision. They
may truly be regarded as deliberate understatements, whereas the pat-
tern structures of litotes, i.e. those that have only one negative are much
more categorical in stating the positive quality of a person or thing.
An interesting jest at the expense of an English statesman who over-
used the device of double negation was published in the Spectator, May
23, 1958. Here it is:
"Anyway, as the pre-Whitsun dog-days barked themselves into
silence, a good deal of pleasure could be obtained by a connoisseur
who knew where to seek it. On Monday, for instance, from Mr.
Selwyn Lloyd. His trick of seizing upon a phrase that has struck
him (erroneously, as a rule) as a happy one, and doggedly sticking
247
 to it thereafter is one typical of a speaker who lacks all confidence.
On Monday it was 'not unpromising'; three times he declared that
various aspects of the Summit preparations were 'not unpromis-
ing', and I was moved in the end to conclude that Mr. Lloyd is a
not unpoor Foreign Secretary, and that if he should not unshortly
leave that office the not unbetter it would be for all of us, not unhim
included."
Litotes is used in different styles of speech, excluding those which may
be called the matter-of-fact styles, like official style and scientific prose.
In poetry it is sometimes used to suggest that language fails to adequately
convey the poet's feelings and therefore he uses negations to express the
inexpressible. Shakespeare's Sonnet No. 130 is to some extent illustrative
in this respect. Here all the hackneyed phrases used by the poet to depict
his beloved are negated with the purpose of showing the superiority of
the earthly qualities of "My mistress." The first line of this sonnet 'My
mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun' is a clear-cut litotes although the
object to which the eyes are compared is generally perceived as having
only positive qualities.