Part VI. Functional Styles of the English Language 4 страница

The interaction of the logical dictionary meaning and the logical contextual meaning assumes different forms. Sometimes this interaction is perceived as a deliberate interplay of the two meanings. In this case each of the meanings preserves its relative independence. Sometimes, however, the metaphoric use of a word begins to affect the source meaning, i.e. the meaning from which the metaphor is derived, with the result that the target meaning, that is, the metaphor itself, takes the upper hand and may even oust the source meaning. In this case we speak of dead metaphors.

In such words as to melt (away), as in "these misgivings gradually melted away" we can still recognize remnants of the original meaning and in spite of the fact that the meaning 'to vanish', 'to disappear' is already fixed in dictionaries as one of the derivative meanings, the primary meaning still makes itself felt.

Trite metaphors are sometimes injected with new vigour, i.e. their primary meaning is re-established alongside the new (derivative) meaning. This is done by supplying the central image created by the metaphor with additional words bearing some reference to the main word. For example: "Mr. Pickwick bottled up his vengeance and corked it down." The verb to bottle up is explained in dictionaries as follows: 'to keep in check' ("Penguin Dictionary"); 'to conceal, to restrain, repress' ("Cassell's New English Dictionary"). The metaphor in the word can hardly be felt. But it is revived by the direct meaning of the verb to cork down. This context refreshes the almost dead metaphor and gives it a second life. Such metaphors are called sustained or prolonged. Here is another example of a sustained metaphor:

"Mr. Dombey's cup of satisfaction was so full at this moment, however, that he felt he could afford a drop or two of its contents, even to sprinkle on the dust in the by-path of his little daughter." (Dickens, "Dombey and Son")

We may call the principal metaphor the central image of the sustained metaphor and the other words which bear reference to the central image — contributory images. Thus in the example given the word cup (of satisfaction) being a trite metaphor is revived by the following contributory images: full, drop, contents, sprinkle. It is interesting to note that the words conveying both the central image (the cup) and the contributory images are used in two senses simultaneously: direct and indirect. The second plane of utterance is maintained by the key word—satisfaction. It is this word that helps us to decipher the idea behind the sustained metaphor.

Sometimes, however, the central image is not given, but the string of words all bearing upon some implied central point of reference are so associated with each other that the reader is bound to create the required image in his mind. Let us take the following sentence from Shakespeare:

"I have no spur to prick the sides of my intent." The words spur, to prick, the sides in their interrelation will inevitably create the image of a steed, with which the speaker's intent is identified.

The same is to be seen in the following lines from Shelley's "Cloud":

"In a cavern under is fettered the thunder, It struggles and howls at fits."

Here the central image—that of a captive beast—is suggested by the contributory images—fettered, struggles and howls.

The metaphor is often defined as a compressed simile. But this definition lacks precision. Moreover, it is misleading, inasmuch as the metaphor aims at identifying the objects, while the simile aims at finding some point of resemblance by keeping the objects apart. That is why these two stylistic devices are viewed as belonging to two different groups of SDs. They are different in their linguistic nature.

True, the degree of identification of objects or phenomena in a metaphor varies according to its syntactic function in the sentence and to the part of speech in which it is embodied.

Indeed, in the sentence 'Expression is the dress of thought' we can hardly see any process of identification between the concepts expression and dress, whereas in the lines

"Yet Time, who changes all, had altered him In soul and aspect as in age: years steal

Fire from the mind as vigour from the limb; And Life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.

(Byron, "Childe Harold")

The metaphors steal, fire, cup, brim embodied in verbs and nouns not used predicatively can be regarded as fully identified with the concepts they aim at producing.

Genuine metaphors are mostly to be found in poetry and emotive prose. Trite metaphors are generally used as expressive means in newspaper articles, in oratorical style and even in scientific language. The use of trite metaphors should not be regarded as a drawback of style. They help the writer to enliven his work and even make the meaning more concrete.

There is constant interaction between genuine and trite metaphors. Genuine metaphors, if they are good and can stand the test of time, may, through frequent repetition, become trite and consequently easily predictable. Trite metaphors, as has been shown, may regain their freshness through the process of prolongation of the metaphor.

Metaphors may be sustained not only on the basis of a trite metaphor. The initial metaphor may be genuine and may also be developed through a number of contributory images so that the whole of the utterance becomes one sustained metaphor. A skillfully written example of such a metaphor is to be found in Shakespeare's Sonnet No. 24.

Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath stell'd

Thy beauty's form in table of my heart;

My body is the frame wherein 'tis held,

And perspective it is best painter's art.

For through the painter must you see his skill,

To find where your true image pictured lies;

Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still,

That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes.

Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done:

Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me

Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun

Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee;

Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art, They draw but what they see, know not the heart.

The central image—'The eye—the painter' is developed through a number of contributory images: to draw, to stell, table, frame, hanging (picture) and the like.

In conclusion it would be of interest to show the results of the interaction between the dictionary and contextual meanings.

The constant use of a metaphor gradually leads to the breaking up of the primary meaning. The metaphoric use of the word begins to affect the dictionary meaning, adding to it fresh connotations or shades of meaning. But this influence, however strong- it may be, will never reach the degree where the dictionary meaning entirely disappears. If it did, we should have no stylistic device. It is a law of stylistics that in a stylistic device the stability of the dictionary meaning is always retained, no matter how great the influence of the contextual meaning may be.

Metonymy

Metonymy is based on a different type of relation between the dictionary and contextual meanings, a relation based not on identification, but on some kind of association connecting the two concepts which these meanings represent.

Thus, the word crown may stand for 'king or queen', cup or glass for 'the drink in contains', woolsack for 'the Chancellor of the Exchequer who sits on it, or the position and dignity of the Lord Chancellor', e.g., "Here the noble lord inclined his knee to the Woolsack." (from Hansard).

Here also the interrelation between the dictionary and contextual meanings should stand out clearly and conspicuously. Only then can we state that a stylistic device is used. Otherwise we must turn our mind to lexicological problems, i.e. to the ways and means by which new words and meanings are coined. The examples of metonymy given above are traditional. In fact they are derivative logical meanings and therefore fixed in dictionaries. However, when such meanings are included in dictionaries, there is usually a label- fig ('figurative use')-. This shows that the new meaning has not replaced the primary one, but, as it were, co-exists with. it.

Still the new meaning has become so common, that it is easily predictable and therefore does not bear any additional information, which is an indispensable condition for an SD.

Here are some more widely used metonymical meanings, some of which are already fixed in dictionaries without the label fig: the. press for '(the personnel connected with) a printing or publishing establishment', or for 'the newspaper and periodical literature which is printed by the printing press'. The bench is used as a generic term for 'magistrates and justices'. A hand is used for a worker; the cradle stands for infancy, earliest stages, place of origin, and the grave stands for death.

Metonymy used in language-in-action, i.e. contextual metonymy, is genuine metonymy and reveals a quite unexpected substitution of one word for another, or one concept for another, on the ground of some strong impression produced by a chance feature of the thing, for example:

"Miss Tox's hand trembled as she slipped it through Mr. Dombey's arm, and felt herself escorted up the steps, preceded by a cocked hat and a Babylonian collar." (Dickens)

'A cocked hat and a Babylonian collar' stand for the wearer of the articles in question. One can hardly admit that there is a special characterizing function in such a substitution. The function of these examples of genuine metonymy is more likely to point out the insignificance of the wearer rather than his importance, for his personality is reduced to his externally conspicuous features, the hat and red collar. Here is another example of genuine metonymy:

"Then they came in. Two of them, a man with long fair moustaches and a silent dark man... Definitely, the moustache and I had nothing in common." (Doris Lessing, "Retreat to Innocence")

Again we have a feature of a man which catches the eye, in this case his facial appearance: the moustache stands for the man himself. The function of the metonymy here is to indicate that the speaker knows nothing of the man in question, moreover, there is a definite implication that this is the first time the speaker has seen him. Here is another example of the same kind:

"There was something so very agreeable in being so intimate with such a waistcoat; in being on such off-hand terms so soon with such a pair of whiskers that Tom was uncommonly pleased with himself." (Dickens, "Hard Times")

In these two cases of genuine metonymy a broader context than that required by a metaphor is necessary in order to decipher the true meaning of the stylistic device. In both cases it is necessary to understand the words in their proper meanings first. Only then is it possible to grasp the metonymy.

In the following example the metonymy 'grape' also requires a broad context:

"And this is stronger than the strongest grape Couldeer express in its expanded shape." (Byron)

Metonymy and metaphor differ also in the way they are deciphered. In the process of disclosing the meaning implied in a metaphor, one image excludes the other, that is, the metaphor 'lamp' in the 'The sky lamp of the night', when deciphered, means the moon, and though there is a definite interplay of meanings, we perceive only one object, the moon. This is not the case with metonymy. Metonymy, while presenting one object to our mind, does not exclude the other. In the example given above the moustache and the man himself are both perceived by the mind.

Many attempts have been made to pin-point the types of relations which metonymy is based on. Among them the following are most common:

1. A concrete thing used instead of an abstract notion. In this the thing becomes a symbol of the notion, as in

"The camp, the pulpit and the law For rich men's sons are free." (Shelley)

2. The container instead of the thing contained: The hall applauded.

3. The relation of proximity, as in:

"The round game table was boisterous and happy." (Dickens)

4. The material instead of the thing made of it, as in: "The marble spoke."

5. The instrument which the doer uses in performing the action instead of the action or the doer himself, as in:

"Well, Mr. Weller, says the gentleman, you're a very good whip, and can do what you like with your horses, we know." (Dickens),a. "As the sword is the worst argument that can be used, so should it be the last." (Byron)

The list is in no way complete. There are many other types of relations which may serve as a basis for metonymy.

It must also be noted that metonymy, being a means of building up imagery, generally concerns concrete objects, which are generalized. The process of generalization is easily carried out with the help of the definite article. Therefore instances of metonymy are very often used with the definite article, or with no article at all, as in "There was perfect sympathy between Pulpit and Pew", where 'Pulpit' stands for the clergyman and 'Pew' for the congregation.

This is probably due to the fact that any definition of a word may be taken for metonymy, inasmuch as it shows a property or an essential quality of the concept, thus disclosing a kind of relation between the thing as a whole and a feature of it which may be regarded as part of it.

Irony

Irony is a stylistic device also based on the simultaneous realization of two logical meanings—dictionary and contextual, but the two meanings stand in opposition to each other. For example:

"It must be delightful to find oneself in a foreign country without a penny in one's pocket."

The italicized word acquires a meaning quite the opposite to its primary dictionary meaning, that is, 'unpleasant', 'not delightful'. The word containing the irony is strongly marked by intonation. It has an emphatic stress and is generally supplied with a special melody design, unless the context itself renders this intonation pattern unnecessary, as in the following excerpt from Dickens's "Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club":

"Never mind," said the stranger, cutting the address very short, "said enough—no more; smart chap that cabman—handled his fives well; but if I'd been your friend in the green jemmy—damn me— punch his head—, Cod I would—pig's whisper—pieman too,—no gammon."

"This coherent speech was interrupted by the entrance of the Rochester coachman, to announce that..."

The word 'coherent', which describes Mr. Jingle's speech, is inconsistent with the actual utterance, and therefore becomes self-contradictory. In no other device where we can observe the interplay of the dictionary and contextual meanings, is the latter so fluctuating, suggestive, and dependent on the environment as is irony. That is why there are practically no cases of irony in language-as-a-system.

Irony must not be confused with humour, although they have very much in common. Humour always causes laughter. What is funny must come as a sudden clash of the positive and the negative. In this respect irony can be likened to humour. But the function of irony is not confined to producing a humorous effect. In a sentence like "How clever of you!" where, due to the intonation pattern, the word 'clever' conveys a sense opposite to its literal signification, the irony does not cause a ludicrous effect. It rather expresses a feeling of irritation, displeasure, pity or regret. A word used ironically may sometimes express very subtle, almost imperceptible nuances of meaning, as the word 'like' in the following lines from "Beppo" by Byron.

I like a parliamentary debate, Particularly when 'tis not too late.

I like the taxes, when they're not too many;

I like a seacoal fire, when not too dear; I like a beef-steak, too, as well as any;

Have no objection to a pot of beer; I like the weather, when it is not rainy,

That is I like two months of every year.

And so God save the Regent, Church and King! Which means that I like all and everything.

In the first line the word 'like' gives only a slight hint of irony. Parliamentary debates are usually long. The word 'debate' itself suggests a lengthy discussion, therefore the word 'like' here should be taken with some reservation. In other words, a hint of the interplay between positive and negative begins with the first 'like'.

The second use of the word 'like' is definitely ironical. No one would be expected to like taxes. It is so obvious that no context is necessary to decode the true meaning of 'like'. The attributive phrase 'when they're not too many' strengthens the irony.

Then Byron uses the word 'like' in its literal meaning. 'Like' in combinations with 'seacoal fire' and 'a beef-steak' and with 'two months of every year' maintains its literal meaning, although in the phrase "I like the weather" the notion is very general. But the last line again shows that the word 'like' is used with an ironic touch, meaning 'to like' and 'to put up with simultaneously.

Richard Altick says, "The effect of irony lies in the striking disparity between what is said and what is meant."1 This "striking disparity" is achieved through the intentional interplay of two meanings, which are in opposition to each other.

Another important observation must be borne in mind when analysing the linguistic nature of irony. Irony is generally used to convey a negative meaning. Therefore only positive concepts may be used in their logical dictionary meaning. In the examples quoted above, irony is embodied in such words as 'delightful', 'clever', 'coherent', 'like'. The contextual meaning always conveys the negation of the positive concepts embodied in the dictionary meaning.

2. INTERACTION OF PRIMARY AND DERIVATIVE LOGICAL MEANINGS

Stylistic Devices Based on Polysemantic Effect, Zeugma and Pun

As is known, the word is, of all language units, the most sensitive to change; its meaning gradually develops and as a result of this development new meanings appear alongside the primary one. It is normal for almost every word to acquire derivative meanings; sometimes the primary meaning has to make way for quite a new meaning which ousts it completely.

In dealing with the problem of nonce-words and new meanings we have already stated the fact that in the development of language units we are constantly facing the opposing concepts of permanence and ephemerality. Some meanings are characterized by their permanence, others, like nonce-words and contextual meanings, are generally ephemeral, i.e. they appear in some contexts and vanish leaving no trace in the vocabulary of the language. Primary and the derivative meanings are characterized by their relative stability and therefore are fixed in dictionaries, thus constituting the semantic structure of the word.

The problem of polysemy is one of the vexed questions of lexicology. It is sometimes impossible to draw a line of demarcation between a derivative meaning of a polysemantic word and a separate word, i.e. a word that has broken its semantic ties with the head word and has become a homonym to the word it was derived from.

Polysemy is a category of lexicology and as such belongs to language-as-a-system. In actual everyday speech polysemy vanishes unless it is deliberately retained for certain stylistic purposes. A context that does not seek to produce any particular stylistic effect generally materializes but one definite meaning.

However, when a word begins to manifest interplay between the primary and one of the derivative meanings we are again confronted with an SD.

Let us analyse the following example from Sonnet 90 by Shakespeare 1 where the key-words are intentionally made to reveal two or more meanings.

"Then hate me if thou wilt, if ever now.

Now while the world is bent my deeds to cross."

The word 'hate' materializes several meanings in this context. The primary meaning of the Word, according to the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, is 'to hold in very strong dislike*, this basic meaning has brought to life some derivative meanings which, though having very much in common, still show some nuances, special shades of meaning which enrich the semantic structure of the word. They are: 1) 'to detest'; 2) 'to bear malice to'; 3) the opposite of to love (which in itself is not so emotionally coloured as in the definition of the primary meaning: it almost amounts to being indifferent); 4) 'to feel a repulsive attitude'. Other dictionaries fix such senses as 5) 'to wish to shun' (Heritage Dictionary); 6) 'to feel aversion for' (Random House Dictionary); 7) 'to bear ill-will against'; 8) 'to desire evil to (persons)'(Wyld's Dictionary).

There is a peculiar interplay among derivative meanings of the word 'hate' in Sonnet 90 where the lamentation of the poet about the calamities which had befallen him results in his pleading with his beloved not to leave him in despair. The whole of the context forcibly suggests that there is a certain interaction of the following meanings: 2) 'to bear malice' (suggested by the line 'join with the spite of fortune')—4) 'to feel a repulsive attitude'— 'to wish to shun' (suggested by the line 'if thou wilt leave me do not leave me last' and also 'compared with loss of thee')—7) and 8) 'to desire evil and bear ill-will against' (suggested by the line 'join with the spite of fortune' and 'so shall I taste the very worst of fortune's might'). All these derivative meanings interweave with the primary one and this network of meanings constitutes a stylistic device which may be called the p o l y s e m a n t i c effect.

This SD can be detected only when a rather large span of utterance, up to a whole text, is subjected to a scrupulous and minute analysis. It also requires some skill in evaluating the ratio of the primary and derivative meanings in the given environment, the ratio being dependent on the general content of the text.

The word 'bent' in the second line of the sonnet does not present any difficulty in decoding its meaning. The metaphorical meaning of the word is apparent. A contextual meaning is imposed on the word. The micro-context is the key to decode its meaning.

The past participle of the verb to bend together with the verb to cross builds a metaphor the meaning of which is 'to hinder', 'to block', 'to interfere'.

The polysemantic effect is a very subtle and sometimes hardly perceptible stylistic device. But it is impossible to underrate its significance in discovering the aesthetically pragmatic function of the utterance.

Unlike this device, the two SDs—Zeugma and Pun lie, as it were, on the surface of the text.

Zeugma is the use of a word in the same grammatical but different semantic relations to two adjacent words in the context, the semantic relations being, on the one hand, literal, and, on the other, transferred.

"Dora, plunging at once into privileged intimacy and into the middle of the room." (B. Shaw)

'To plunge' (into the middle of a room) materializes the meaning 'to rush into' or 'enter impetuously'. Here it is used in its concrete, primary, literal meaning; in 'to plunge into privileged intimacy' the word 'plunge' is used in its derivative meaning.

The same can be said of the use of the verbs 'stain' and 'lose' in the following lines from Pope's "The Rape of the Lock":

"...Whether the Nymph Shall stain her Honour or her new Brocade Or lose her Heart or necklace at a Ball."

This stylistic device is particularly favoured in English emotive prose and in poetry. The revival of the original meanings of words must be regarded as an essential quality of any work in the belles-lettres style. A good writer always keeps the chief meanings of words from fading away, provided the meanings are worth being kept fresh and vigorous.

Zeugma is a strong and effective device to maintain the purity of the primary meaning when the two meanings clash. By making the two meanings conspicuous in this particular way, each of them stands out clearly. The structure of zeugma may present variations from the patterns given above. Thus in the sentence:

"...And May's mother always stood on her gentility, and Dot's mother never stood on anything but her active little feet." (Dickens)

The word 'stood' is used twice. This structural variant of zeugma, though producing some slight difference in meaning, does not violate the principle of the stylistic device. It still makes the reader realize that the two meanings of the word 'stand' are simultaneously expressed, one primary and the other derivative.

The, pun is another stylistic device based on the interaction of two well-known meanings of a word or phrase. It is difficult to draw a hard and fast distinction between zeugma and the pun. The only reliable distinguishing feature is a structural one: zeugma is the realization of two meanings with the help of a verb which is made to refer to different subjects or objects (direct or indirect). The pun is more independent. There need not necessarily be a word in the sentence to which the pun-word refers. This does not mean, however, that the pun is entirely free. Like any other stylistic device, it must depend on a context. But the context may be of a more expanded character, sometimes even as large as a whole work of emotive prose. Thus the title of one of Oscar Wilde's plays, "The Importance of Being Earnest" has a pun in it, inasmuch as the name of the hero and the adjective meaning 'seriously-minded' are both present in our mind.

Here is another example of a pun where a larger context for its realization is used:

'"Bow to the board" said Bumble. Oliver brushed away two or three tears that were lingering in his eyes; and seeing no board but the table, fortunately bowed to that.' (Dickens)

In fact, the humorous effect is caused by the interplay not of two meanings of one word, but of two words. 'Board' as a group of officials with functions of administration and management and 'board' as a piece of furniture (a table) have become two distinct words.

Puns are often used in riddles and jokes, for example, in this riddle: What is the difference between a schoolmaster and an engine-driver? (One trains the mind and the other minds the train.)

Devices of simultaneously realizing the various meanings of words, which are of a more subtle character than those embodied in puns and zeugma, are to be found in poetry and poetical descriptions and in speculations in emotive prose. Men-of-letters are especially sensitive to the nuances of meaning embodied in almost every common word, and to make these words live with their multifarious semantic aspects is the task of a good writer. Those who can do it easily are said to have talent.

In this respect it is worth subjecting to stylistic analysis words ordinarily perceived in their primary meaning but which in poetic diction begin to acquire some additional, contextual meaning. This latter meaning sometimes overshadows the primary meaning and it may, in the course of time, cease to denote the primary meaning, the derived meaning establishing itself as the most recognizable one. But to deal with these cases means to leave the domain of stylistics and find ourselves in the domain of lexicology.

To illustrate the interplay of primary and contextual meanings, let us take a few examples from poetical works:

In Robert Frost's poem "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" the poet, taking delight in watching the snow fall on the woods, concludes his poem in the following words:

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep."

The word 'promises' here is made to signify two concepts, viz. 1) a previous engagement to be fulfilled and 2), moral or legal obligation.

The plural form of the word as well as the whole context of the poem are convincing proof that the second of the two meanings is the main one, in spite of the fact that in combination with the verb to keep (to keep a promise) the first meaning is more predictable.

Here is another example.

In Shakespearian Sonnet 29 there are the following lines:

"When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries And think upon myself and curse my fate."

Almost every word here may be interpreted in different senses: sometimes the differences are hardly perceptible, sometimes they are obviously antagonistic to the primary meaning.

But we shall confine our analysis only to the meaning of the word 'cries' which signifies both prayer and lamentation. These two meanings are suggested by the relation of the word 'cries' to. 'trouble deaf heaven'. But the word 'cries' suggests not only prayer and lamentation; it also implies violent prayer and lamentation as if. in deep despair, almost with tears (see the word 'beweep' in the second line of the part of the sonnet quoted)-.

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