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1. Focus, mode and the nucleus
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Introduction
This article argues for the hypothesis that the location of the
nucleus of the intonation contour is rule-governed. The term
‘nucleus’ is taken to refer to what has elsewhere been discussed as
the ‘nuclear syllable’ (Crystal 1969),
‘tonic’ (Halliday 1967a), ‘sentence
stress’ (Schmerling 1976), ‘[1 stress]’
(Chomsky &
Halle 1968), and ‘Designated Terminal
Element’ (Liberman &
Prince 1977) (ignoring certain differences of
analysis, such as that between double-nucleus and single-nucleus interpretation
of some contours). Drawing on the facts of English and Dutch, it does so by
attempting to identify the linguistic options available to speakers that are
relevant to the location of the nucleus. The main argument hinges on the
assumption that the chief functions of the location of the nucleus are (1) to
signal the focus distribution of the sentence and (2) to signal whether the
sentence is or is not meant as a counter-assertion, with the proviso that in
many instances the location of the nucleus allows of more than one
interpretation of one or both variables. Section 1 devotes some discussion to
the problem of predictability, while the concepts of ‘focus’ and
‘normal stress’ are explored in sections 2 to 4. Section 5 states
the Sentence Accent Assignment Rule (SAAR), giving illustrations of its
application. In section 6, special attention is devoted to the pragmatic
effects of SAAR in subject + predicate sentences. Section 7 attempts to give a
fuller definition of the constituents the rule refers to and puts a general
condition on its application. Section 8 introduces the variable mode,
while section 9 defines the problem of the location of the nucleus in sentences
with minimal focus and introduces another accent assignment rule (PFR). A
summary in the form of a set of propositions concludes the article. I should
like to point out that most of the examples in this article are attested; it is
only the more pedestrian ones that have been made up for the purpose of
illustrating certain points.
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1.0 Predictability vs free choice
Linguistic theories usually contain sets of elements, and rules
that operate on those elements to form well-formed sentences.
1 When linguists require such theories to have predictive power,
they usually mean that, given a choice from a set or sets of elements, the
rules will generate a sentence, or a number of sentences, that look like X
rather than Y.
2 If X is well-formed and Y is
ill-formed, the theory is fine; if either is not the case, it is not. This
would seem a fairly uncontroversial, if simplified, interpretation of what
linguistic theories are about. It is not, however, the interpretation that
linguists dealing with intonation, or more particularly with the position of
the nucleus, have typically adopted. Before roughly 1976, when
discussions like those in
Schmerling (1976) and
Ladd (1980) began appearing, there were basically two
kinds of linguists, as described below.
1. Those who held that, given a syntactically well-formed
sentence, the position of the nucleus ought to follow from the lexico-syntactic
choices that the speaker has made. (Invariably, allowance was made for semantic
factors to account for what is known as ‘contrastive stress’.)
Chomsky &
Halle's Nuclear Stress Rule (1968) and the subsequent
contributions to Language by those taking part in the debate about
Bresnan's modification of the way the NSR ought to
apply (Bresnan 1971, 1972,
Lakoff 1972,
Berman &
Szamosi 1972) fall in this category. Also Chafe's
discussion of ‘old’ versus ‘new’ information in
sentence-type s (Chafe 1970) can be seen as belonging to this
category in that the emphasis is laid on predicting the new-old distribution on
the basis of syntactic structure. It is clear that this position does not
correspond to the interpretation that was sketched above of what linguistic
theories are like. Rather, those holding this view expected that, given a
choice from sets of elements in one component of the linguistic system
(syntax and lexis, or ‘transitivity’ in
Halliday's term (1967b)), it was possible to predict
the final result as produced by another component (phonology, in our
case intonational phonology). To make the same point perhaps over-emphatically:
it is rather as if phonologists were to try and predict the lexico-syntactic
content of a sentence on the basis of a given intonation contour.
2. Those who held that human beings are endowed with a free will
and enjoy - in many societies - freedom of speech, and that therefore the
position of the nucleus cannot be predicted. The nucleus is seen as a
‘highlighter’ of particular | | | | lexical elements and since
speakers are perfectly free to highlight word A rather than word B or word C,
it is futile to go on trying to find rules that will predict which one they
will choose. This is the view that
Bolinger adopted (1972) and that Schmerling borrowed
to account for a sizeable, recalcitrant part of her data. To give an example,
Schmerling (1976: 67) pointed out that the difference
between
(1) This is the MAN I was telling you about
and
(2) This is the man I was TELLing you about
could not possibly be accounted for by any conceivable linguistic
theory. Without wanting to argue about the validity of the observations made by
Bolinger and Schmerling, it must be said that this view, too, is incompatible
with the above sketch of what linguistic theories are supposed to be doing for
us. In this view, the unexpressed demand that is put on the power of a theory
is that, instead of predicting what a speaker's sentence will look like once he
has made his choices from the sets of elements available to him, it will
predict which choices the speaker will make. Even in variationist
theory, which goes a long way towards predicting what speakers will do in what
circumstances, such a demand would be unheard of. It is tantamount to wanting
to predict what people are going to say.
The purpose of this article, then, is to identify the formal
linguistic options available to speakers that are relevant to nucleus
placement, and thereby define the boundary-line between this part of the
linguistic system and pragmatics. That is, we do not pretend to be able to do
more than predict the position of the nucleus given a choice from sets of
linguistic primes. The reason for the choice is seen as falling
outside the scope of the article proper, although it is not suggested that that
choice is impervious to explanatory theories. Indeed, the question will be
touched on at various points in the discussion below. It should be realised,
however, that theories accounting for speakers’ choices cannot be of the
same ‘mechanical’ type as theories that take speakers’
choices as their input. Rather, these will be probabilistic in nature, and be
based on the fact that human beings are not only endowed with a free will, but
are also reasonable. Thus, given the sentence in (3) | | | |
(3) They're beating a poLICEman up!
the location of the nucleus on policeman will have to be
accounted for in terms of some (underlying) linguistic structure which
determines this position. A Bolingerian objection of the type ‘the
speaker could also have put the nucleus on up’ is therefore as
valid as saying that the speaker could also have used a passive construction,
or a lexically specified subject, or assault instead of beat up,
or copper instead of policeman, or whatever. Just as the latter
‘objections’ do not generally count as relevant linguistic
arguments, so the former objection, which incidentally represents an emendation
that affects the semantics of the sentence rather more drastically than any of
the lexico-syntactic ones, should be seen as irrelevant to the point at
issue.
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2.0 Focus
The first concept we will postulate is that of focus. Focus
is seen as a binary variable which obligatorily marks all or part of a sentence
as [+focus], i.e. no sentence can be entirely [-focus]. In the relevant
examples, [+focus] is usually symbolised as underscoring, although more
explicit symbolisations will also be introduced. The concept of focus has been
discussed in the literature as focus (Chomsky 1969,
Jackendoff 1972,
Quirk et al. 1972,
Dik 1978,
Ladd 1980), comment (Bloomfield
1933,
Kraak 1970,
Schmerling 1976), rheme (Prague School), new
(information) (Halliday 1967b,
Chafe 1970, 1976), while their counterparts are
called, respectively, presupposition (Chomsky 1969, Jackendoff 1972,
Quirk et al. 1972) or deaccenting (Jackendoff 1972, Ladd 1980),
topic, theme and given (Halliday 1967b) or old
(information) (Chafe 1970, 1976). The definitions that these various terms
are given are not the same, however, and may refer to such varied things as the
intonation contours of utterances, preceding elements in discourse, thematic
organisation, and the communicative intentions of the speaker. (For analyses of
some of these concepts see
Allerton 1978,
Prince 1979.)
We will here leave ‘focus’ semantically undefined, but
nevertheless assume that it exists as a formal category available in
speakers’ grammars. It is important to keep the concept of focus,
as a linguistic prime, distinct from, on the one hand, the reason or
reasons why speakers mark part or all of their sentences as [+fo- | | | | cus],and on the other, what such a choice implies for the
phonetic/syntactic realisation of those sentences.
3 It is the latter relationship that this article is trying
to come to grips with. It should be carefully noted that the relationship is
not the other way around: we do not define focus on the basis of the position
of the nucleus. Indeed, for all we know, a given [-focus] - [+focus] structure
may well require the nucleus to fall outside the material marked
[+focus]. It is also important to see that every sentence is marked for
focus. We should not resort to a classification of sentences into e. g.
‘topic-comment sentences’ and ‘news sentences’, the way
Schmerling (1976) does:
(4) Truman DIED (topic-comment sentence)
(5) JOHNson died (news sentence)
since this can only lead to circularity in the description. If we
carry this method to its logical extreme, we will end up with as many sentence
types as there are intonation contours to be explained, and we could start all
over again.
A third point to note is that focus marks semantic
material, not syntactic constituents or words. Because there is, in general, a
rather close relationship between semantic structure and lexico-syntactic
structure, making it possible to associate semantic constituents with lexical
or syntactic ones, our notational device of underscoring does not normally run
into difficulties, certainly not in case of the three major semantic
constituents recognised in this article: Arguments, Predicates and Conditions.
Thus, Arguments (e.g. John, Mary) and Predicates (e.g. kissed)
invariably correspond to some lexical material, and if any of these are
[+focus], underlining is clearly unproblematic. This also goes for Conditions
that are put on propositions (e.g. on Sunday as a condition on the
proposition John kissed Mary). and any modifiers (e. g. silly John,
beautiful Mary, last Sunday). If any of the above elements is incremented
(e.g. John or Bill, kissed and fondled, on Sunday or Saturday), then one
or both terms, or the relation between them, could be [+focus] (John AND
Mary, etc.), and underlined. In many cases, however, the focus cannot be
associated with any particular word. Trivially, this may happen when a speaker
utters (6) in reply to Is this Beverley a bachelor?
(6) Well, this Beverley is a SPINster. YES.
which reply does not have the full semantic representation of
spinster in focus, but only its component FEMALE. (The yes, of
course, is added to confirm the | | | | rest of the representation.) Such
focus-markings are particularly relevant in the case of predicates, where the
verb phrase breaks down into the elements polarity, tense, aspect, voice, and
lexical item. Consider the following example:
4
(7)
A (Tour guide in Canada): I want you all to speak FRENCH now
B (Tourist): I hadn't realised we were IN Quebec
In B's reaction, the [+focus] material is not realise plus
the positive polarity of the embedded sentence. Note that even if we can
associate the focus with a particular word, this does not necessarily mean that
the nucleus goes to it. In (8), the element in focus includes certain
special aspects, but the nucleus goes to to.
(8) But you do accept that there are certain special
aspects TO this case?
It should also be observed that certain words do not themselves
take part in the focus distribution (if we can exclude from consideration
utterances in which such words are talked about, such as some of the ones that
follow), but rather add to the meaning of the material that is [+focus].
Examples of such focus-governing morphemes are also, even, only, purely,
etc. They tend to have a syntax of their own, and most of them are obligatorily
assigned an accent by the accent assignment rules. (This particular rule is not
stated explicitly here.) An exception is even, which is never assigned
an accent: compare John/ALso vs Also/JOHN with JOHN even
vs Even JOHN, where in the former case two accents are assigned, and in
the latter only one. In terms of focus distribution such morphemes had best be
regarded as governing the focus, a la Jackendoff (1972). Diagrammatically, the
structures of (9) and (10) could therefore be represented as (11) and (12)
respectively. (Note that the appended illocution-marker please normally
falls outside the focus.)
5
(9) JOHN's on the dole even
(10) (Shall I bring John and Mary?) John ONLY,
please | | | |
(11)

(12)

A final point to be made, already hinted at above, is that there
is an upper limit to the amount of material to be put in a focus. By contrast,
the tone group, like the sentence, has no upper limit, in linguistic terms. In
(13) for example, there is a focus boundary within a tone group:
(13) Strikes have been reported/in Gdansk
Accent assignment rules apply as often as there are foci in the
tone group. In section 5 the concept of focus domains will be dealt with.
Briefly, then, in the model proposed here, all sentences are
obligatorily marked for focus. Accent assignment rules, taking the [+focus]
material as their input, assign accents in a purely mechanical way. If there
are more than one [+focus] stretches in a tone group, the assignment rules
apply to all these stretches individually, with the last of these accents so
assigned being the nucleus. In addition, as will be seen in section 6, the
rules are sensitive to a feature mode, which is a binary variable
specifying whether the sentence is meant as a count-erassertion or not.
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3.0 The ‘meaning’ of [+focus]
While no attempt is made to define the semantic difference between
[+focus] and [-focus] in any formal way, something ought to be said about what
semantic material can be marked [+focus]. In order to account for intonational
data, linguistic communication had best be seen as the manipulation by speakers
of certain semantic material with respect to a discourse background, which
could crudely be thought of as a set of propositions that speakers assume is
shared by their | | | | hearers. The first, from now on called the Variable,
is what speakers obligatorily assign [+focus] to, while, in addition, [-focus]
may be assigned to the Background. The term ‘Variable’ has only its
semantic blandness to recommend itself. A more meaningful formulation might be
that [+focus] marks the speaker's declared contribution to the conversation,
while [-focus] constitutes his cognitive starting point. In this sense, the
contribution causes a ‘Background update’, which term expresses the
fact that af ter it, the Background has been modified. This formulation lays no
claim on the predictability or otherwise of either the [+focus] or the [-focus]
material.
The number of different manipulations of the Variable with respect
to the Background that speakers can choose from is limited. It is suggested
that these manipulations are signalled by the particular nuclear tone used to
realise the nucleus. It is these manipulations, then, that are proposed as the
meanings of the nuclear tones. These tones are thus seen to form an
intonational lexicon (Liberman 1975,
Ladd 1980), a paradigm of mutually exclusive units,
each of which has a consistent meaning which is independent of whatever other
semantic material goes into the construction of sentences. While the choice of
any one tone always implies an addition to the semantics of the
lexico-syntactic material in the sentence, the eventual semantic effect is
always integrative with that material. To quote Liberman (cited in Ladd
1978):
The meanings [of words in ideophonic systems] are extremely
abstract properties, which pick out classes of situations related in some
intuitively reasonable, but highly metaphorical way: the general
‘meaning’ seems hopelessly vague and difficult to pin down, yet the
application to a particular usage is vivid, effective, and often very exact.
(Liberman 1975: 142)
While I neither subscribe to Liberman's idea that these meanings
are attached to holistic intonation contours, nor to his comparison of these
meanings to ‘ideophones’, the sentiment expressed seems appropriate
enough. This article is not about the meanings of nuclear tones. Yet, I should
here like to give three examples of such tones, not just in order to illustrate
what their role is, but mainly to demonstrate that the choice of nuclear tone
may have an influence on our intuition about where the nucleus should be
located in sentences presented in written form, as in this and many other
articles. Three tones will be illustrated with the house is on fire as
the Variable, to which no material from the Background is added. In section 5
it will be shown that this focus distribution re- | | | | quires the nucleus
to be put on house. It should perhaps be noted that this same nucleus
placement would result if only the house was the Variable and be on
fire belonged to the Background (as it is likely to do in a conversation
about fires); this latter focus distribution is nowhere intended below.
1.
One type of manipulation available to the speaker is adding the
Variable to the Background, which will require him to use the nuclear tone
fall. The corresponding sentence is
(14) The \HOUSE is on fire
Its meaning could be paraphrased as ‘I want you to know that
from now on I consider the house is on fire to be part of our
Background’. The speaker may of course have any number of reasons for
employing this option: the sentence could serve as a warning, or it could be
meant to signal to the hearer that the speaker has just made an inference. We
will call this manipulation V-addition. It is of some interest to note
that readers of isolated example sentences generally assume that this is the
manipulation intended by the writer.
2.
A second type of manipulation is the selection of a Variable from
the Background, which would require the speaker to use nuclear tone
fall-rise. The corresponding sentence is
(15) The vHOUSE is on fire
(The notation is British: the phonetic realisation of the
fall-rise is a pitch-drop on house, and a pitch-rise on fire,
with is on low in pitch, cf e.g.
O'Connor &
Arnold (1973: 13).) The meaning can be paraphrased as
‘I want you to take note of the fact that the house is on fire is
part of our Background’. The pragmatic effects of this manipulation can
be quite varied. It could be a reminder to the hearer that this Variable is in
fact part of the Background (as an answer to, for example, a masochist's
complaint that There are hardly any major personal tragedies these
days!), or an expression of surprise over the fact that it should be.
Again, just why the speaker chose to employ the semantic option he did employ
is up to the hearer to determine on the basis of the pragmatics of the speech
situation. We will call this option V-selection. It should be noted that
white speakers must associate [-focus] with the Background and [+focus] with
the Vari- | | | | able there is no reason why the Variable could not be a
subset of the Background, as it is in V-selection.
3.
A third type of manipulation open to speakers is to leave it up to
the hearer to determine whether it is relevant for the Variable to be part of
the Background or to be added to the Background, which will require him to use
the nuclear tone rise. The corresponding sentence is
(16) The /HOUSE is on fire
Its meaning can be paraphrased as ‘I will leave it up to you
to determine whether we should establish this Variable as being part of the
Background’. The interpretative possibilities are, as always, multiple.
It could be a straightforward request for information, requiring the hearer to
either confirm pr deny that this Variable is part of the Background, it could
represent a tentative guess as to whether it is, or it could, again, signal
surprise, but unlike the V-selection sentence above, at the same time carry the
implication of a strong appeal to the hearer for confirmation. We will call
this option V-relevance testing.
It may be noted that ‘V-addition’ and
‘V-selection’ would appear to correspond to what Brazil has called
‘proclaiming’ and ‘referring’ respectively
(Brazil 1975, Brazil,
Coulthard &
Johns 1980), while the distinction between
‘V-addition’ and ‘V-relevance testing’ might be seen as
a more specific characterisation of what Cruttenden (1981) calls
‘closed’ and ‘open’, Note, however, that Cruttenden and
Brazil group the fall-rise and the rise together.
These hypotheses concerning the meanings of these nuclear tones of
English of course require testing against a large body of data. They are given
here, however, not only to put the descriptive model in its proper perspective,
but also to illustrate how the choice of nuclear tone may interfere with our
intuitions as to where the nucleus should naturally come, as it would seem to
do in some of the examples used by
Berman &
Szamosi (1972) to argue against Bresnan's proposal
that the NSR could be salvaged by having it apply to deep structure
representations (Bresnan 1971). They claim that (17), for
instance, represents a ‘non-normal’ nucleus placement:
(17) The volCANoes are dormant | | | |
and that the normal position for the nucleus is on dormant.
It is suggested that the oddity of (17) is caused by the combination of choices
- assumed by the reader on the basis of the representation of the sentence in
(17) - from the intonational lexicon as well as from the possible focus
distributions. These choices are: the Variable is the volcanoes are
dormant and the manipulation is V-addition. Since in the reader's
Background volcanoes are dormant by way of reference point, these choices lead
to a non-interpretable discourse context (unless the reader is to assume that
the intended speaker was making a point of stating the obvious).
The sentence can be made acceptable in two ways: either we change
the manipulation or the focus distribution. With a fall-rise tone, the
utterance could suitably be taken as a reminder, and the oddity of the nucleus
location on volcanoes would disappear (cf A: Nothing's RIGHT on this
island, there's nothing we can attract TOURists with. B: (with shrug of
shoulders) The volvCANoes are dormant). Alternatively, we
could change the focus distribution, and leave the volcanoes in the
Background: the hearer can now assume that he ought to be able to identify the
referent of the volcanoes, presumably a set of volcanoes that was not
previously dormant because the predication, the Variable added to the
Background, is that they are. This focus distribution of course requires the
nucleus to fall on dormant, the reading that Berman & Szamosi
designate as ‘normal’. There is, perhaps trivially, a third way in
which we could alter the speaker's choices so as to make the sentence
acceptable: if we change dormant into erupting, the full-focus
interpretation combined with the speech act V-addition would no longer clash
with the Background. In (18), Berman & Szamosi consider the nucleus
placement on volcanoes to be ‘normal’:
(18) The volCANoes are erupting
Thus, we may establish a felicity condition on V-addition, viz.
that the added Variable must not already be part of the Background. It will be
clear that in a discussion of the mechanics of nucleus assignment, it is
important to factor out the effects of the choice from the intonational lexicon
as well as of Background on the focus distribution of the sentence.
6
The terms used in this section can be summarised as
follows: | | | |
| Background: | body of knowledge about the
world operated upon by speakers and hearers which they assume to be mutually
shared; |
| Variable: | semantic material to which
speakers apply one of a number of manipulations with respect to the
Background; |
| Focus: | linguistic category,
specifying the size of the Variable; |
| Intonational
lexicon: | set of tones signalling (‘realising’) the
particular manipulation
chosen; |
| Nucleus: | location of the tone in the
sentence, the chief means of signalling (‘realising’) the focus
marking. |
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4.0 On ‘normal stress’
From the above analysis it will be clear that what people have
called ‘normal stress’ may be a more complex phenomenon than is
sometimes thought. What happens when a reader is presented with a written
sentence and is asked to pronounce it - or simply does so silently for himself
- is that, assuming the manipulation V-addition, he first puts a
focus/non-focus interpretation on the semantic material represented by that
sentence, and then the position of the nucleus follows as a mechanical
consequence of that choice. People's natural tendency when dealing with this
somewhat unnatural task is to give the producer of that sentence the benefit of
the doubt and assign as much of it as is reasonable to the Variable. What is
reasonable here not only depends on the semantic material itself, but also on
the reader's world. For example, when someone is called upon to read out
(19)
(19) He said the princess had laughed!
he may either imagine himself to be a citizen of a country ruled
by a king whose daughter was afflicted with the inability to laugh, in which
case he will be able to assign [+focus] to the entire embedded clause, or he
may assume that in this world princesses are just as likely to laugh as not to
laugh, in which case he will not look upon the whole of the embedded sentence
as the Variable. The next best interpretation is that reference is made to one
of those princesses who had | | | | somehow already been identified, and
that the point made is that she had laughed, and not not laughed, which could
also have been the case. In the first interpretation we get (20), in the second
(21).
7
(20) He said the prinCESS had laughed!
(21) He said the princess had LAUGHED!
What this means is that the concept of normal stress cannot
reasonably be part of a linguistic theory of accent assignment, as it
necessarily involves a prior interpretation of semantic material as either
Background or Variable. The best one could do is to provide an explanation of
why a particular accent assignment is called ‘normal’: the answer
is that it is that position that results from the widest reasonable
interpretation of the semantic material as the Variable with speech act
V-addition.
‘Normal stress’ has been characterised, implicitly by
Chomsky (1969) and explicitly by
Höhle (1979) and
Ladd (1980), as that nucleus placement that results
from the interpretation of the entire sentence as [+focus]. Höhle says
that the nucleus placement that allows for the largest possible number of
focus/non-focus interpretations is normal, while Ladd states that the nucleus
placement that results from an interpretation of the sentence as one with
‘unmarked focus’ or ‘focus unspecified’ is normal.
(From this discussion it is clear that this is conceptually the same thing as
our ‘with nothing marked [-focus]’, cf also Halliday 1967b.) Both
definitions of course amount to the same thing, by virtue of the fact that it
is natural for larger things to comprise smaller ones rather than the other way
around. This can be illustrated by (22), which is a paraphrase of the example
given by Höhle:
(22)
| What's happened? | Papa has given Tommy a
GUN |
| What's Papa done? | Papa has given Tommy a
GUN |
| What happened to Tommy? | Papa has given
Tommy a GUN |
| What's Papa done to Tommy? | Papa
has given Tommy a GUN |
| What's Papa given
Tommy? | Papa has given Tommy a GUN |
All other nucleus placements allow for fewer focus
interpretations. (The same point arises from Chomsky's discussion of the focus
interpretations of the noun phrase an ex-convict in a red SHIRT (Chomsky
1969)). Of the two definitions Ladd's would seem to be the more
straightforward. The point that arises from höhle's discussion is that we
are dealing with five different intonational struc- | | | | tures in the
right-hand column of (22). Indeed, since every [+focus] Argument will be
assigned an accent - as will be argued below - we are in fact dealing with four
phonetically different surface structures, only the last two being truly
homophonous.
From our discussion so far it will be clear that neither
definition of ‘normal stress’ will cover all instances of what has
been called ‘normal stress’ in the literature. Many sentences are
excluded from having full focus interpretation because their semantic material
is too obviously part of the Background. Also, sentences that include a focus
governer cannot be given a full [+focus] interpretation either. In the
literature, the designation ‘normal’ for the accent in such
sentences depends crucially on the fact that there is only one focus/non-focus
interpretation possible, viz. the one marked by the lexical focus indicator. We
can illustrate this with (23).
(23) John would like to go there himSELF
When in English we wish to focus on the meaning ‘not an NP
other than the NP specified’, we produce (my/your etc.)self, -ves
as a matter of course, because that is the way our syntax works. And since we
specifically produce it when we wish to express that meaning, it can
only occur with [+focus] for that NP, and [-focus] for the rest of the
material, which is therefore also the obligatory interpretation.
8 (The same point is made
by
Ladd (1980: 76) with respect to the focus adjunct
even. Cf also
Schmerling (1976: 49).)
The important point is, however, that the notion ‘normal
stress’ has no role to play in our theory, simply because we cannot make
it do anything to account for the data. The only thing a
characterisation of the concept can do for us is to account for people's
intuitions about what is the most likely (‘normal’) place in which
they will put the nucleus in isolated ‘sentences’ that are
presented to them. I believe that the formulation I gave earlier in this
section does precisely that.
Like Schmerling (1974), we are therefore forced to reject the
notion of ‘normal stress’ as a meaningful concept, but for a
different reason. Schmerling rejected it because she came upon too many
sentences in which different nucleus placements seemed equally
‘normal’ (cf examples (1) and (2)) and which therefore could not be
explained by resorting to a concept of ‘normal stress’. Part of
the | | | | point in this article is that such different positions can be
accounted for, but that it is not ‘normal stress’ that will do this
for us.
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5.0 Accent assignment rules
Without wanting to prejudge the question of whether all languages
always require that the same (or equivalent) semantic material be marked
[+focus] if speakers' communicative intentions are the same, it may be
hypothesised that Variable, Background and focus are universal concepts. What
is clearly not universal are the ways in which languages realise focus.
This could - theoretically - be done with the help of focus-morphemes, to be
placed, say, at the beginning and end of the [+focus] material, or by means of
word order, by placing the [+focus] material at the end or the beginning of the
sentence. An example taken from
Edwards (1979) illustrates the effect of word order in
Haida, an Amerindian language. In this language, elements are placed ‘in
sentence-initial position (…) because of the speaker's intention to
place before the audience that Information which has the most communicative
importance.’ Thus, (24) means FRED killed the woman and (25) means
The WOMan killed Fred:
(24)
Fred nang jaades tiigan
Fred the woman killed
(25)
Nang jaades Fred tiigan
The woman Fred killed
Interestingly, the hearer is supposed to be aware of the deceased
state of the woman in (24) and of Fred in (25), because the same sentences
could also be used to mean The woman killed FRED and Fred killed the
WOMan, respectively. If we wanted to disambiguate the subject-object
relation, that is, if we wanted to express the equivalent of the English
sentence The woman killed FRED with full focus interpretation, the Haida
speaker would have to resort to a ‘topicalisation’ morpheme after
the sentence-initial element, which would then be taken as the object:
(26) Fred uu nang jaades tiigan
(a sentence that by Haida intuitions would be anything but
‘normal’!) | | | |
Languages like English and Dutch sometimes make use of word order
or other syntactic devices to aid their focus marking (e.g. clefting,
topicalisation, passivisation
9, but most importantly they employ
accent for this purpose. They have, in other words, accent assignment
rules that take focus distributions as their input. Again, there is no reason
why these accent assignment rules should be the same in the two languages. The
first rule to be presented here, called simply the Sentence Accent Assignment
Rule, or SAAR, is common to both languages, but the second, the Polarity Focus
Rule, or PFR (more properly an extension of SAAR), points up a number of
differences. It is this second rule, in particular, that makes it clear that
the relation between the location of the nucleus and the semantics of the
sentence can be very indirect, and cannot always reasonably be accounted for in
terms of the communicative importance of the word the nucleus happens to be
found on. SAAR attempts to capture in a more insightful way the observation
that
Schmerling (1976: 82) made when she formulated her
Principle II, which says:
The verb receives lower stress that the subject and the direct
object, if there is one; in other words, predicates receive lower stress that
their arguments, irrespective of their linear position in surface
structure.
Apart from the unfortunate appeal to degrees of stress in a stress
assignment rule, the mistake Schmerling made is that she intended her Principle
to apply to what she called ‘news sentences’, i.e. to sentences
that consist of [+focus] material only (e.g. (27)). What she failed to realise
is that it applied to [+focus] material, full stop. Trivially, this becomes
clear when we want to account for the location of the nucleus in B's reply in
(28), where her is [-focus]:
(27) (Have you heard?) JOHNson's died
(28) A: And what has SHE come to us for?
B: Her HUSband beats her
It will be clear that the nuclei in both (27) and (28) should be
accounted for by one and the same principle. Non-trivially, the unwarranted
distinction between ‘news sentences’ and sentences containing
[-focus] material can lead to serious errors of analysis. By restricting
Principle II to the class of ‘news sentences’, Schmerling finds
herself in the position of having to trump up additional principles to account
for other data, such as the other member of her well-known minimal pair
JOHNson died - Truman DIED. As will be recalled, her examples are
authentic. The first was used by her husband to inform her of the sudden | | | | death of President Johnson, while the second was uttered a few weeks
earlier: ‘one morning I came downstairs to breakfast, and my mother, who
had gotten up earlier and listened to the news, announced to me
(29) Truman died (=Truman DIED)’ (Schmerling 1976: 41)
Schmerling accounts for the nucleus placement in (29)
by postulating two principles. After correctly arguing that Truman is
topic, or [-focus] in our terms, she first introduces a principle that assigns
an accent to both the topic (Truman) and the comment (died), and
then postulates a principle that designates the last of a number of accents
(‘equal’ stresses for Schmerling) as the nucleus. In other words,
she assigns an accent to [-focus] material. It is easy to see that this cannot
be right. If we paraphrase (29), admittedly somewhat clumsily, as
(30) The disease KILLED Truman
we get the nucleus on killed, despite the fact that the
topic comes last. (It should be clear that the disease in (30) is
[-focus]: the Background for both (29) and (30) is ‘Truman is
(dangerously) ill’). By extending the application of Principle II to
[+focus] material as such, we not only account for sentences like (28), but
also for sentences like (29) and (30): in them, there is only one constituent
that is [+focus], and not surprisingly, it is given the nucleus
(Gussenhoven 1978).
There is a further problem with Principle II. Phrased the way it
is, it puts no condition on the linear adjacency of the Argument and the
Predicate. Consider, however, the following two ‘news
sentences’:
(31) Our DOG's disappeared
(32) Our dog's mysteriously disapPEARED
It would appear that if the speaker wishes to treat
mysteriously as [+focus], he must, by that very choice, give
disappeared an accent. What this suggests is that if an Argument and a
Predicate are to merge into a structure that can be marked [+focus] by just the
accent on the Argument, no other [+focus] constituents must be inserted between
them. It is clearly not the case that the information status of
disappeared in (31) differs from that in (32): both instances count as
equally new. It is rather that because of the interposition of the [+fo- | | | | cus] Condition, the [+focus] status of disappeared can no longer be
served by the accent on dog.
These facts suggest that SAAR operates over focus domains.
A focus domain can be defined as one or more constituents whose [+focus] status
can be signalled by a single accent. We will therefore formulate SAAR in terms
of (1) a domain assignment rule, and (2) a rule assigning an accent to every
domain formed. In (33), A, P and C stand for Argument, Predicate and Condition,
respectively, while X and Y stand for any of these. Underlining symbolises
[+focus], absence of underlining [-focus]. Square brackets are used to mark off
focus domains, and the asterisk indicates a sentence accent.
(33)
SAAR
| a. | Domain
assignment: | P(X)A | → | [P(X)A] |
| | | A(X)P | → | [A(X)P] |
| | | Y | → | [Y] |
| b. | Accent
assignment: | [ ] | → | [*]. In AP/PA, accent
A. |
Some examples of the operation of SAAR are given in (34).
10,
11 Note that any [-focus] material has been
included in the nearest focus domain, but is not, of course, accented. The last
assigned accent (the nucleus) corresponds to capitalisation in other
examples.
(34)
| A*P | → | [AP] | Our
do*g's disappeared |
| ACP | → | [A*]
[C*] [P*] | Our do*g's
myste*riously disappe*ared |
| ACP | → | [A*CP] | (Talking
about mysteries) Our do*g's mysteriously disappeared |
| APC | → | [A*P]
[C*] | Ja*ne's had an accident in
Lo*ndon |
| APAA | → | [A*]
[PAA*] | (Any news about Jane?) Jo*hn's promised
Jane a bi*ke |
| APA | → | [A*]
[PA*] | Jo*hn beats Ma*ry! |
| APA | → | [A*PA] | Her
hu*sband beats her |
| APA | → | [AP*A] | He
be*ats her |
| ACPCC | → | [AC*]
[P*] [C*] [C*] | Truman was
qui*etly bu*ried in Inde*pendence in
1972* |
Observe that the interposition of [-focus] constituents
(corresponding to (X) in (33)) do not prevent AP/PA focus domains from being
formed, as in (34c,e). | | | |
There is an important condition that must be put on the A in SAAR.
As a ‘news sentence’, (36) is not well-formed (compare (35)):
(35) The PRISoners have escaped!
(36) *EVerybody has escaped!
Similarly, (37) is ill-formed (as a ‘news sentence’
again, of course: if has escaped is [-focus], as in an echo question, it
is entirely well-formed).
(37) *WHO's escaped?
If (36) and (37) are to be all [+focus], they must have an accent
on the Predicate, in addition to one on the Argument. AP domain formation would
thus appear to be ruled out in cases where the A is either a quantifier or an
interrogative pronoun. These Arguments require a focus domain to themselves.
Observe how this rule accounts for the fact that (38) en (39) translate into
Dutch the way they do:
(38) I've seen JOHN → Ik heb JAN gezien
(39) I've seen NO one → Ik heb niemand
geZIEN
That is, in (38) seen John is one focus domain, but seen
no one is (39) are two.
Fuchs (1980), who discusses the accentuation of
subject + predicate sentences in German, observes that if a nucleus on the
predicate is to be possible, the subject must be ‘lexically
filled’, i.e. must not be a pronoun. This may well be the correct
generalisation, for it would seem that not only quantifiers (indefinite
pronouns) and interrogative pronouns are excluded, but also personal pronouns.
This may be clear from a comparison of the two replies to A's question in (40).
Speaker B is here assumed to be A's sister, and Your sister and I
refer to the speaker herself:
(40)
A: Why don't we go to Val d'Isere for our holiday?
B: Your SISter had an accident there (You insensitive thing!)
B: * I had an accident there (nucleus on I)
Of course, in either case, the subject could be treated as
[-focus], as the referent is clearly present in the background in her role as
speaker:… ACCident there. The point is rather that it is possible
to only accent Your sister, ut not - unless an emotional style is
presupposed which need not be assumed in | | | | the former example - to
only accent I. With Fuchs, I will therefore assume that the A must be
lexically filled. Note that this formulation includes headless A's like
three in Three died.
| |
5.1 Topicalisation
It has often been claimed that subject accentuation in subject +
predicate sentences should be accounted for in terms of predictability:
‘The point is [ … ] that given the subject and given the
situation, the predicate follows as a foregone conclusion’ is the
formulation in
Quirk et al. (1972: 941, Note b). It is for this
reason that many of the examples above have semantically rather
‘weighty’ predicates, like die and have an accident.
It should also be observed that the semantic content of the subject and the
predicate may be reversible. This fact in itself makes it difficult to maintain
that the position of the nucleus is not -at least partly - structurally
determined. In (41) the notion ‘tear’ is apparently equally
predictable from ‘trousers’ as ‘trousers’ is from
‘tear’ in (42). Then why are the nuclei where they are?
(41) Your TROUSers are torn
(42) There's a TEAR in your trousers
Nevertheless, postulating a rule for the assignment of sentence
accents, even when the input is defined in terms of focus distributions over
semantic constituents rather than in terms of syntactic structure, is a
hazardous undertaking in the light of the lessons Bolinger gave, notably in
Bolinger (1972). For example, it could be argued that
in spite of the ‘given’ status of Doris in (43), it is given
an unmistakable accent, or that despite the fact that in B's reply in (44) a
[+focus] Argument and a [+focus] Predicate are adjacent, the predicate is
nevertheless assigned the nucleus.
(43)
A: What about DORis? Couldn't SHE do anything about it?
B: vDoris had LEFT! (That's the whole point!)
(44)
A: But why didn't you simply drive OFF?
B: My vtyres had been SLASHED! (How could I?)
Sentence accents, it could be argued, are placed on words that the
speaker considers sufficiently important for them to have accents: Doris
is too important to be left unaccented, and the fact that B's tyres were so
brutally slashed in- | | | | duces him to accent the Predicate expressing that
act. There is, however, a more insightful explanation. Note, first, that the
syntactic rule of topicalisation cannot be applied without first assigning an
accent to the element to be topicalised:
(45) vHim I HATE
Preposing him requires accenting him. There is, in
other words, an intonational topicalisation rule that must apply before
syntactic topicalision can apply. The reverse, however, is not true:
(46) I hate vHIM
Also, intonational topicalisation can apply to constituents that
syntactic topicalisation cannot apply to, or better, applies to vacuously,
because the constituent concerned already is in sentence-initial position. It
is suggested that this is what has taken place in (43) and (44): the Arguments
Doris and My tyres have been intonationally topicalised. The rule
could be formulated as follows:
(47)

That is, it applies to constituents irrespective of their focus
marking, and has two effects: the constituent is marked [+focus] and forms a
focus domain by itself. The superiority of this formulation is evident when we
consider the non-topicalised versions of (43) and (44):
(48) Doris had LEFT!
(49) My TYRES had been slashed!
where had left and all of (49) are [+focus]. Observe that
as in the case of (32), the nucleus on the Predicate in (44) is parasytic: in
either case, the focus boundary between the Predicate and the Argument prevent
the formation of an AP focus domain.
| | | | | |
6.0 Interpretative effects of saar
Before an attempt is made to refine the statement made in (33) in
terms of general semantic constraints on its application and in terms of more
precise definitions of the constituents it refers to, some discussion will be
devoted to the semantic effects that may result from the assignment of full
focus to subject + predicate sentences (nucleus on subject) as compared to the
assignment of [+focus] to the predicate only (nucleus on predicate). The fact
that the discussion is restricted to examples in the literature dealing with
sentences that consist of a single Argument (the subject) and a Predicate,
should not be taken to imply that the rule is not applicable in cases where the
Argument has an object-function, as is illustrated by
(50) They're detaining SUSpects again
The irrelevance of linear position here is aptly demonstrated by
translating the sentence into a language in which the same rule is operative,
but in which the lexical verb is positioned after the object, such as
Dutch.
(51) Ze zijn weer verDACHten aan het vasthouden
Schmerling (1976: 84) and
Oakeshott-Taylor (1981) use German to make the same
point. In fact, from this point onward, this expository method will be used
here as well, the assumption being that SAAR is a rule of Dutch as much as it
is a rule of English (cf also (38) en (39)).
1. The first pair of sentences is provided by
Kraak (1970), who discusses the position of the
nucleus in terms of topic and comment. He observes that
(52) Your EYES are red (= Your eyes are red)
(53) Your eyes are BLUE (= Your eyes are blue)
differ in that redness of the first pair of eyes would be taken to
be of a temporary kind, but the blueness of the other pair of permanent type.
Because he considers both sentences to be entirely ‘comment’ (i.e.
[+focus]), Kraak has to resort to the semantic feature [inherent property] of
the colour to account for the difference in nuclear position. Of course, in
(53) Your eyes is [-focus], and it is that because it is part of the
Background | | | | for people to have, inherently, blue eyes. (Of course, in
addition to a number of other colours, like brown, grey, green, etc.) If we
want to put a full [+focus] interpretation on this sentence, we would have to
resort to a world where this is not the case:
(54)
Adam (upon first seeing Eve): Your EYES are blue!
Eve: PARdon?
Adam: Your EYES! They're BLUE! I LOVE blue!
2. A second example is the interesting minimal pair provided by
Oakeshott-Taylor (1981):
(55)
A: Can't we eat yet?
B: No, mother's still COOKing (= mother's still
cooking)
(56)
A: Can't we eat yet?
B: No, MOTHer's still cooking (= mother's still
cooking)
The different interpretations that these sentences will be given
are, as Oakeshott-Taylor observes, that in (55) the referent of mother
will be assumed to be the agentive subject of the transitive verb cook,
while that in (56) would be taken as the passive subject of the intransitive
verb cook, i.e. would be assumed to be the intended victim of
cannibalism. The analyst's temptation is, again, to try and incorporate this
semantic effect in a linguistic theory of accent assignment, either by giving
different prosodic statuses to transitive and intransitive verbs, or by
hypothesising that passive and agentive subjects must be treated differently.
The correct answer, I would suggest, is that the sentences have different
focus-distributions (as indicated) and that the hearer's interpretative
strategies are triggered accordingly; in (56) he knows, by SAAR, that
mother is [-focus], i.e. part of the Background, in which the referent
has presumably just finished cooking, but would certainly not be in a
cooking-pot. The predicate can suitably be interpreted as ‘is still
preparing the meal’. In (56), however, the hearer knows that
mother must be [+focus], and is forced to construct a Background in
which mother cannot be taken for granted as the subject of still
cooking. He can only do so by assuming that she is one of a set of objects
that could still be cooking, and therefore, if the hearer considers it less
likely that the readiness of the meal is contingent upon the completion of the
simultaneous cooking activities by a number of people than upon the
simul- | | | | taneous readiness of a number of ingredients, he will assume
that mother is an ingredient. The different interpretations are
therefore an effect of our knowledge of the world. Indeed, in the household of
Van Gogh's potato-eaters, we would not only expect (55), but also (58), because
in either case there are no other referents in the Background that could be
related to the predicates concerned.
(57) (A: Can't we eat yet?) B: No, mother's still COOKing
(58) (A: Can't we eat yet?) B: No, the potatoes are still
COOKing
3. A third set of examples can be found in
Allerton &
Cruttenden (1979), who take
Schmerling to task for formulating her Principle II
(here SAAR), because for every one of Schmerling's examples of subject
intransitive verb sentences that has the nucleus on the subject, they can think
of one that has the nucleus on the verb:
(59)
‘(29) JOHN died
(29X) John proTESted
(32) …My COUsin's coming
(32X) …My cousin's CELebrating
(33) Hey …your COAT's on fire
(33X) Hey …your coat's been PRESSED
(34) Watch out - there's a CAR coming
(34X) Watch out - there's a car SKIDding
(35) Waiter - there's a FLY in my soup
(35X) Waiter - there's a fly in the vicinity of that gentleman's
crepe suZETTE
(36) …the RENT's due
(36X) …the rent's exCESsive
(etc)’
(Allerton & Cruttenden 1979)
They observe that all of Schmerling's examples concern verbs that
fall semantically in one of three categories: (1) ‘empty’ verbs
(e.g. The SUN's shining; (2) verbs of (dis)appearance (e.g. The DOG's
escaped); (3) verbs denoting a misfortune (e.g. The CAR broke down).
Schmerling should perhaps be taken to task for some of the things she said in
her the- | | | | sis, but certainly not for the formulation of her Principle
II. What Allerton & Cruttenden have done is to identify the sort of verb
that is likely to figure in sentences that are entirely [+focus]. And indeed,
an analysis of the news bulletin along these lines will probably give just
these results. The semantic material contained in their examples here given as
(59) can all very easily be interpreted as [+focus], because they are so
clearly not part of the Background, and can therefore be seen as the added
Variable. The readings in the X-examples would seem to depend on the
(subconscious) creation of Backgrounds in which the referents of the subjects
were already present, and would therefore be excluded from the focus in the
sentences concerned. It is not difficult to think of contexts in which the
alternative readings are forced, however: A: Why didn't the plan go through
THIS time? B: JOHN protested; A: What are you going to BRIStol
for? B: My COUSin's celebrating; A: JEEVES, consider yourself
SACKED: nothing has been SEEN to. B: Your COAT's been pressed, etc.
The ‘error’ here comes from ‘concentrating on the
commonplace’ (Bolinger 1972).
Allerton &
Cruttenden have fallen into the trap of taking the
most likely Background for each of these sentences and assuming that the
subsequent reading, which is of course ‘normal’ in the light of our
knowledge of the world, is also ‘normal’ in a linguistic sense.
By our discussion of these examples we intended to stress the
importance of distinguishing between the semantic contribution of the speaker's
linguistic choices from the paradigms available to him and the pragmatic
implications that these choices may have in any given situation. It would seem
difficult to give a generalisation of the circumstances in which speakers will
choose one focus distribution in preference to another, however. Perhaps the
best generalisation is that the subject in subject+predicate sentences is
included in the focus if, given the discourse and the situation, the hearer is
not expected to be able to rely in any way on the predicate in identifying the
referent of that subject. The hearer's (assumed) ability to identify the
referent is of course closely related to the degree of ‘newness’ of
that referent. Yet, it does not appear to be possible to give a perfect
predictive formula for the speaker's focus distribution which is based on
degrees of ‘newness’.
Prince (1979) proposes a categorisation of the degrees
of ‘newness’ attached to NP's occurring in discourse. These
categories are:
| 1. New | a. Brand-new | a
newly created entity (A Mrs Delaney) |
| | | |
| | b. Brand-new, anchored | a
newly created entity, linked to some other entity already in the
‘discourse model’ (our ‘Background’) (A neighbour of
mine) |
| | c. Unused | an entity
known to the hearer, but not yet placed in the ‘discourse model’
(Mrs Delaney) |
| 2. Given | a.
Inferable | entity inferable from entities already in the
‘discourse model’ (The neighbour (in the context of
adjoining premises)) |
| | b.
Evoked | entity present in the ‘discourse model’
either by virtue of any of the above (The poor soul (referring to Mrs
Delaney)) or by virtue of being situationally present (me) |
When we run these degrees of ‘newness’ through a
predicate-frame that has a reasonable degree of newsvalue (NP has killed
-self), the likelihood of inclusion in the focus would appear to be
definable only for the extremes of the scale. Around the centre, focus marking
does not seem very predictable from the degree of ‘newness’.
| Brand-new: | You know what? A Mrs
Delaney's just killed herself. | very
likely |
| Brand-new, anchored: | You know what? A
neighbour of mine's just killed herself. | very
likely |
| Unused: | You know what? Mrs Delaney's
just killed herself. | very
likely |
| Inferable: | I know what the ruckus next
door was all about. The neighbour's just killed herself. | very
likely |
| Evoked: | You know Mrs Delaney, my
neighbour? The poor soul's just killed herself. | impossible |
As stressed by
Halliday (1967b: 211), what would be considered
[+focus] in any situation is ‘in the last resort what the speaker chooses
to present as new, and predictions from the discourse have only a high
probability of being fulfilled’. Ultimately, we cannot base
generalisations about focus-choice on the degree of ‘newness’ of
the material in question, since such generalisations must somehow include the
speaker's intentions with regard to the interpretative strategies he knows will
be employed by his hearer. Thus, in the example illustrating the category
‘Inferable’, the choice (again) would not so much seem to depend on
how | | | | inferable ‘neighbour’ is from ‘next
door’, as on whether the speaker wishes to create the impression that Mrs
Delaney is the only neighbour, or perhaps the only neighbour worth thinking of
(exclusion from focus), or is one of a set of neighbours who might possibly
have killed themselves (inclusion in focus).
| |
7.0 Some refinements
In this section, some refinements to SAAR are introduced. They are
of three kinds. First, some discussion is devoted to certain correspondences
between the semantic constituents and particular syntactic constituents that
seem worth noting. Second, it is demonstrated that focus domain formation can
be culturally - more generally, pragmatically - determined. Third, a general
semantic constraint is put on the AP (PA) domain formation part of SAAR.
| |
7.1 Some semantic-syntactic correspondences
A, P and C are semantic constituents. Because of their stable
one-to-one relationships with syntactic constituents, A and C can be fairly
easily identified. A's are subjects and objects, and C's are all adverbials
except (1) those that are part of the P (see below), and (2) those that are
typically treated as [-focus], such as still, again, generally, if you
like. (For a specification of the latter group, see e.g.
Firbas 1980).
The specification of the P is more problematic. The first thing to
notice is that adverbials with predicate status function as Predicates (cf
There's a FLY in my soup). Such adverbial predicates may be premodified,
as in There's DIRT on Uncle Jack's trousers, where neither Uncle
Jack nor trousers need be [-focus] (unlike Uncle Jack in
The TROUSers of Uncle Jack are dirty or trousers in Uncle
JACK's trousers are dirty). The same goes for expressions like have a
holiday, have an accident, come a cropper, or even have one's head
chopped off, as in Bolinger's (1978) example What happened today? -
Marie AntoiNETTE just had her head chopped off. It should be noted that
in many such cases, there are single-verb paraphrases (to vacation, to fall,
(be) guillotine (d)) or single-word equivalents in other languages (Du
verongelukken ‘have an accident’). | | | | The syntactic
composition of predicates can be of a less expected sort, though, as the
following three cases illustrate.
1. Adverbs of proper functioning. This is a class of
adverbs that is incorporated with the verb into a single Predicate. As it
happens, the verb receives the accent, a fact which should of course be
accounted for by rules which specify the position of the accent within
Predicates, and within Arguments, for that matter. The adverbs concerned are
called adverbs of ‘proper functioning’, because they denote the
degree to which the action or state expressed by the verb is properly the case.
These adverbs come after the verb in English, but - in embedded sentences and
in all sentences with complex verb phrases - before the verb in Dutch, so that
in this case it is English that demonstrates the difference between this type
of adverb and other adverbs more consistently. Compare (60) and (61):
(60)
A: What are you using my PEN for?
B: Because it WRITES well (Adverb of ‘proper
functioning’) Omdat hij goed SCHRIJFT because it well writes
(61)
| A: | (ditto) | | |
| B: | Because
it | wri*tes/ | bea*utifully |
| | Omdat
hij | mo*oi/ | schrij*ft |
Similarly, to SIT well (with inanimate subject, like
chair), to HEAR properly, to SEE poorly, to CUT right. Observe
that these Predicates readily fuse with Arguments into single focus domains, as
in:
(62) This KNIFE doesn't cut right
Adverbs of proper functioning should be distinguished from
evaluative adverbs, which are treated like ordinary Conditions. A physician
might say that patient so-and-so sle*eps we*ll,
while a toy mender might say of a doll that it now sle*eps right
again. If we choose to wish a guest good night by using the words I hope
you'll sleep well, we will probably not treat well as an adverb of
proper functioning: the guest might think that the house was haunted or that he
was supposed to have a guilty conscience. In the morning things are different.
Did you SLEEP well? can be a perfectly straightforward, polite question.
Indeed, an evaluative well would now be slightly odd, as it suggests a
degree of personal interest that may be too high for comfort. Adverbs of proper
functioning would | | | | appear to constitute a semantic paradigm ranging
from not to its opposite, and the fact that not, too, is
unaccented may not be unrelated.
2. Adjectival object complements. Adjectival objects
complements, like open in (63) also call for special comment.
(63) He left the DOOR open
Here, an adjectival object complement is placed after an Argument
(door), and does not get assigned an accent. It is suggested that this
is because it is part of the Predicate. Within the Predicate, however, it is
the object complement rather than the verb that is accented, as in (64), where
the door is [-focus]:
(64)
A: (slams door)
B: I wish you'd left the door OPEN
Ik wou dat je de deur had OPen gelaten
I wish that you the door had open left
Stuctures like to paint GREEN, to make HAPpy (cf It'll
make your FATHer happy), to scrape BARE (Hey! The front DOOR's been
scraped bare!) etc., are therefore prosodically on a par with phrasal verbs
like to bring IN (cf to bring the PRAM in), to leave
beHIND.
12
3. Destination adjuncts. Special provision must also be
made for destination adjuncts. Observe, first, that a combination of a verb of
motion and a destination adjunct forms a single focus domain: in (65) the
[+focus] status of cycled to town can be signalled by the single accent
on town. In (66), by contrast, the duration adjunct for hours
does not so fuse with the verb, and both consituents require a focus domain to
themselves (PC → [P*] [C*]): Interestingly,
there is a concomitant syntactic difference in Dutch. The perfective auxiliary
is zijn (‘be’) if the adverbial denotes destination, but
hebben (‘have’) if it does not (e.g.
Lodewyckx 1944: 63).
(65)
He has cycled to TOWN
Hij is naar de STAD gefietst
he has to the town cycled
(66)
He has cycled for HOURS
Hij heeft uren geFIETST
he has hours cycled | | | |
It does not, however, appear to be the case that constituents like
cycle to town readily function as Predicates that can fuse with
Arguments into single focus domains. Thus,
(67) The KING has fled to Spain!
may not seem an acceptable ‘news sentence’, unless it
is the case that Spain is the only eligible country for kings, or this
particular king, to flee to, and to Spain is [-focus]. The solution here
would appear to be that this C, like A's, merges with Predicates into a single
focus domain, and that once such merging has taken place we cannot then regard
the result as a P that can merge with yet another constituent. That is, if we
symbolise a merging C as Cm, then APCm is treated like APA, i.e.
[A*] [PC*m]. In the next section some other cases of Cm
will be discussed.
| |
7.2 Cultural considerations
Bolinger (1972) observes that (68) (one of many
similar examples he gives) demonstrates that speakers - in this case the
speaker is assumed to be the Boston strangler on the prowl - will put the
nucleus on whichever word needs high-lighting, and that such preferences simply
cannot be accounted for in a grammar. While it is agreed that the determination
of the choice between (68) and (69) is beyond the power of linguistic theories
in a strict sense, the nature of the options must nevertheless be defined in
terms of linguistic concepts available in some such theory.
(68) Where can I find a girl to STRANGle?
(69) Where can I find a GIRL to strangle?
For example, it is in the framework presented here not meaningful
to say that a speaker may put the nucleus either on girl or on
strangle, depending on which concept is uppermost in his mind. Instead,
the option must be said to be between merging a girl and to
strangle into a single focus domain (nucleus on girl), or to keep
them in separate focus domains (nucleus on strangle). Of course, within
certain limits, speakers are free to break their information up over separate
information carrying units, if they feel that this contributes to the success
of their communication. If the speaker of (68) is the Boston strangler, it must
have been spoken fairly early on in his deplorable career. The | | | | speaker of (69), however, no longer saw the need to encode the Argument
and the Predicate as two different information units, presumably because he had
combined them sufficiently frequently in this particular relationship in life -
which fact he took his hearer to be aware of. Observe that this analysis makes
explicit that there is another sentence that has the nucleus on strangle
that is phonetically different from (68): a sentence having only to
strangle in focus (‘I know where I can find girls to SHOOT,
but…’): the nucleus locations are the same, but the sentences
differ with respect to the pre-nuclear accent on girl.
We must, in other words, recognise that domain formation can be
culturally (pragmatically) determined. The merging of Predicates and
Conditions, in particular, would appear to be sensitive to considerations of
cultural normalcy. Consider (70) and (71), and compare them with their Dutch
translations:
(70)
(A: Is your husband in? B:) He's gone fishing with his SON
Hij is met zijn zoontje VISSen
(71)
(A: Is your husband in? B:) He's out playing with his SON
Hij is met zijn ZOONtje aan 't spelen
As will be clear, gone fishing and with his son
quite naturally constitute separate focus domains, but, equally naturally,
be out playing and with his son are merged. (A nucleus location
on spelen in the Dutch sentence in (71) would be odd, and might imply
that the husband was behaving childishly.)
13 Here, we should also
mention the combinations live/work in X, which are normally merged foci,
although generally only destination adjuncts merge like this. Compare (72) and
(73):
(72)
A: How did you come to speak such excellent German?
B: I lived in AUStria for a while
Ik heb een tijdje in OOStenrijk gewoond
I have a while in Austria lived
(73)
A: (ditto)
B: I taught in AUStria for a while
Ik heb een tijdje in Oostenrijk LESgegeven
Clearly, although there are strong syntactic correlates, focus is
essentially a semantic concept.
| | | | | |
7.3 Eventive and non-eventive sentences
In his discussion of information focus,
Halliday (1970:38) at one point refers to the man in
the London underground who uttered (74) for what was intended as (75), and
‘was worried because he had no dog’:
(74) DOGS must be carried
(75) Dogs must be CARRied
Halliday observes that the speaker of (74) ‘treated
dogs as ‘new’’, the implication being that in (75)
Dogs is ‘given’. While the semantic difference between the
members of this minimal pair is interestingly clear-cut, it is difficult to
accept Halliday's analysis. It is, to begin with, not clear how Dogs can
be ‘given’, i.e. [-focus]: it is not the case that there are
necessarily dogs in the context, nor, indeed, could the transport corporation
which first introduced the rule, have used (74) to proclaim it. Secondly, (75)
is a member of another minimal pair: one between it and a lexically identical
sentence in which dogs is unaccented (low-pitched). Perhaps pair
(76)-(77) provides a better illustration here:
(76)
(77)
Note that (77) can be used to try and convince someone who has
just acquired a new gun that it would be unwise to try it out in a busy street.
People here refers to entities clearly available in the background (a
busy street), and can be [-focus]. But (77) cannot be used if the intended
meaning is: ‘Should there be people, they will be shot’, which
would require (76). Clearly, (75) and (77) are sentences in which both the
Argument and the Predicate have an accent. It is suggested, that is, that they
are both entirely [+focus] (as are (74) and (76)), and that the domain
formation part of SAAR has failed to apply. The constraint that must be put on
the application of the rule is that the proposition expressed in the sentence
should directly refer to an event. Observe that the A's in (75) and (77)
do not necessarily exist: they have a conditional status, as the
paraphrase of (76) above suggests (‘If there is an A of this sort,
the…’). Eventive sentences, by contrast, express propositions that
say that something was (is, will be, might have been, was not, etc) an event,
without the conditional hedging present in (75) and (76). | | | |
‘Eventive’ is thus a semantic feature that marks
entire sentences. Interestingly - and reassuringly - it is not only
intonational aspects of surface forms that are sensitive to it.
14 In Dutch, there is a rule of er (‘there’)
-inversion that applies to indefinite subjects of intransitive verbs (e.g.
Paardekooper 1963: 34). However, er-inversion
is blocked, if the sentence is non-eventive. The only interpretation of the
Dutch sentence in (79) is the one given; the translation of the more expected
(78) cannot have er-inversion.
(78)
| Thie*ves | will
be | pro*secuted |
| Die*ven | zullen
worden | vervo*lgd |
(79)
THIEVES will be prosecuted (Come and see it: tickets
¢25!)
Er zullen DIEVen worden vervolgd
The distinction between ‘conditional’ and
‘non-conditional’ Arguments need not be confined to subjects,
incidentally. Compare (80), a non-eventive regulation, with (81), a possible
caption under a picture showing squatters being evicted from their squat:
(80) The Sheriff's Officer turns squatters OUT
(81) The Sheriff's Officer turns SQUATters out
The examples given so far might suggest that the different nucleus
locations should be given an alternative explanation: all non-eventive
sentences appear to have ‘generic’ Arguments, and vice versa. There
are two reasons why the feature [eventive] cannot be replaced with the existing
feature [generic]. One is simply that both ‘eventive’ and
‘non-eventive’ sentences can have generic as well as non-generic
Arguments. First, observe that there is no reason why the non-generic Lord
Coolan cannot be given the same ‘conditional’ interpretation as
the generic thieves of (78): (‘Should Lord Coolan enter these
premises…’):
(82)
| Lord
Coo*lan | will be | pro*secuted |
Conversely, a scientist who was lucky enough to have had the last
dodo under his care, could, upon the demise of that dodo, have announced this
event by using either (83) or (84), where (84) is an eventive sentence with a
generic Argument.
(83) The DOdo is dead
(84) The DOdo is extinct | | | |
It is suggested that the undoubted correlation between non-generic
Arguments and eventive sentences has a pragmatic explanation: the occasions on
which we can report on events affecting whole classes of entities are few and
far between.
The second reason why an appeal to genericity does not work is
that sentences with conditional Arguments constitute only one type of
non-eventive sentence. There is another type, which, because it is
non-eventive, similarly fails to tolerate AP domain formation: the class of
‘definitional’ sentences. (The former type could be referred to as
‘contingency sentences’.) Compare (85) and (86):
(85) Milk is ANimal
(86) The MILK's in the sun
(85) defines an entity in the Background, Sentence (86), by
contrast, can be used to actually update the Background in a historical sense:
‘Please look upon the fact that the milk is in the sun as an eventive
(historical) development of our Background’, the implication presumably
being ‘Please do something about it’. Again, both sentences are
entirely [+focus] (‘news sentences’, if this term is preferred);
only, (86) is marked [+eventive] and (85) is not.
This, surely, is the real explanation for the fact that a sentence
like My sister-in-law is a Swede is odd with just an accent on the
subject, and not, as
Schmerling (1976: 95) and
Fuchs (1980) claim, that predicates with indefinite
nouns denoting permanent properties should be treated differently from other
predicates. It is simply that such nouns typically figure in definitional
sentences. Significantly, eventive readings of such sentences can, at a pinch,
be forced. By the side of (87) we can imagine the eventive (88), without having
to resort to a context in which spy can be [-focus]:
(87) Mata-Hari was a SPY
(88) (Have you heard?) The First SECretary is a spy!
(89) Beverley is a MAN
(90) (Have you heard about the dope tests?) Pavla CherKOVa is a
man!
It would appear that if there is a semantic condition that must be
put on the well-formedness of AP/PA domain formation, it is that the sentence
should be eventive, and not that the predicate should not be a noun, or, for
that matter, that it should express one of the three meanings identified by
Allerton &
Cruttenden (1979) (although with two of them -
misfortune and (dis)appearance - | | | | they were probably groping for the
more general characterisation). Moreover, the feature [eventive] has been shown
to be relevant outside the context of nucleus placement for the Dutch rule of
er-inversion.
| |
8.0 Mode
The application of SAAR presupposes that there is at least one
major [+focus] semantic constituent in the sentence (A, P or C): the rule does
not, as it stands, provide for sentences in which less than those constituents
is in focus, such as sentences in which only the polarity is [+focus]. Before
we can discuss the position of the nucleus in sentences with polarity
focus, however, a distinction must be introduced which is of direct
relevance to the issue of nucleus location. Consider the following
examples:
(91) The house ISn't on fire
(92)
(Stop squirting WATer all over the house. I TOLD you)
The house isn't ON fire
It is important to note that both in (91) and in (92) the semantic
material that is treated as [-focus] is the house is on fire, and the
semantic material treated as [+focus] is the negative polarity. In both
sentences the speaker intends to ‘refer to’ the house be on
fire (which the addressee apparently takes to be the case) as Background,
i.e. [-focus], and add to it (equally emphatically, as far as we can tell) the
Variable that this material is not in fact part of the Background. The
semantic difference between them is that in (91) the speaker tries to prevent
the addressee from adding an incorrect Variable to the Background, while in
(92) the speaker is concerned to ‘debug’ his addressee's
Background. Taking their lead from
Watters (1979),
Dik et al (1980) use the term
‘counterassertive’ and ‘counterpresuppositional’ in a
discussion of focus types for sentences like (91) and (92) respectively. The
‘counterassertive’ sentence (or the V-rejection, to use our
own earlier term,
Gussenhoven 1981) would appear to be formally distinct
from the corresponding non-counterassertive sentence in quite a number of
languages. Thus, Dutch maintains the distinction between polarity-focus
sentences with and without V-rejection, by placing the nucleus in the former
type on wel (affirmative particle) or niet (‘not’),
but on the main verb in | | | | the latter: taking the house be
on fire to be [-focus], the counterassertive sentence is (93), and the
corresponding non-counterassertive one is (94):
(93)
Het huis staat WEL in brand
The house stands affirmative particle in fire
(94) Het huis STAAT in brand
The corresponding negatives are, respectively:
(95) Het huis staat NIET in brand (= (91))
(96) Het huis STAAT niet in brand (= (92))
The situation in English is more complex than in Dutch and,
moreover, would seem to allow for more than one nucleus location for certain
focus/mode markings, but this should not be allowed to confuse the issue: the
point is that the distinction is relevant to the problem of nucleus location.
It should also be noted that there may be other than intonational means
available in other languages to mark counterassertion, as indeed there are
other means to mark focus distribution per se. Neither is the formal
distinction necessarily restricted to sentences with polarity focus. Efik
exemplifies both points rather nicely. In this language (the data are T.L.
Cook's and are reported in
De Jong (1980)), V-rejection sentences are distinct
from other sentences, irrespective of focus distribution, through reduplication
of the verb stem. Thus, both (97) and (98) have Etim in focus and have
[-focus] for the rest of the sentence, and both therefore translate as ETIM
built that house. However, (97) is a rejection of the hearer's statement
that someone else built that house, while (98) could be the answer to the
question Who built that house?. (The focus on Etim itself is
marked by the combination of the verbal prefix kɔ and high
tone for the verb bɔb.)
(97)
é-tìm
ɔ-kɔ-bɔ-bɔb ú-fɔk
ó-kò
Etim past+prefix+V-rejection+build house that
(98)
é-tìm ɔ-kɔ-bɔb
ú-fɔk ó-kò
Etim past+prefix+build house that
In order to emphasize the fact that counterassertion may occur
independently of both focus distribution and the choice from the intonational
lexicon (section 3), we will introduce the variable mode, which has two
values, [+counterassertive] and [-counterassertive]. Below, mode is only
specified when its value is | | | | [+counterassertive]; when nothing is
specified the unmarked value is always assumed. It is suggested that
counterassertion is the only relevant factor involved in discussions about
‘contrastive stress’ in English as well as in Dutch, and that all
other claims about ‘contrastive stress’ can be reduced to instances
of narrow focus (mode [-counterassertive]) or to the application of
intonational topicalisation. (For a discussion of the vacuity of the
traditional notion of contrastive stress, see
Bolinger (1961), and for an attempt at constraining
the notion,
Taglicht (1982)).
Outside the class of polarity-focus sentences, mode is relevant in
English and Dutch in so far as the focus domain in [+counterassertive]
sentences is in some cases split up and confined to separate elements, if these
are felt to be individually different from the elements they are substituted
for. Compare (99) with (100):
(99)
A: What's that about MARy you said?
B: Oh, JOHN's fallen in love with her ([-counterass])
(100)
A: INteresting. So Bill's gone off MARy, has he?
B: NO. I said John's/ fallen in LOVE with her
([+counterass])
Possibly, too, mode can be invoked to account for the oddity of
the focus distribution in affirmative answers to yes/no questions. Observe,
first, that answers to WH-questions have the focus on the requested bit of
information, which is what one would expect (e.g.
Dik 1980: 213):
(101)
A: Who was born in Paris in 194SIX?
B: JOHN (was born in Paris in 1946)
Analogously, one would expect answers to yes/no questions to have
polarity focus. This is true for short-form replies (Yes it IS, No it
ISn't) and for negative answers (Was he the GARDener? No, he WASn't the
gardener). But the more neutral focus distribution in lexically fully
specified versions of affirmative answers have the same focus
distribution as the question:
(102)
A: Is he the GARDener?
B: YES, he's the GARDener | | | |
Odder still, a focus boundary tends to be inserted between
Arguments and Predicates. In (103), the focus includes the volcanoes are
dormant, and the nucleus therefore goes to the Argument in the question. In
the answer, a focus boundary is inserted between the volcanoes and
are dormant, and the nucleus therefore goes to dormant, leaving
volcanoes with a prenuclear accent, which situation would seem to
parallel that of (100).
(103)
A: Are the volCANoes dormant?
B: Yes, the volcanoes/ are DORmant
Are we pushing the analysis too far if we say that the full focus
in B's answer is [+counterassertive]? What this would mean is that the
questioner, in asking the question, presents the focused material in it as a
tentative addition to the Background, to be corrected by the hearer as
appropriate. If the answer is yes, the hearer behaves as if he is to
correct an empty slot, the absence of a proposition as it were, and marks his
sentence with full focus and switches to mode [+counterassertive]. If
the answer is no, he behaves as if the proposition in the question had
in fact been added to the Background, and replies with a polarity-focus
sentence, again, of course, with mode [+counterassertive], as is illustrated in
(104).
(104)
A: Is the HOUSE on fire?
B: No, the house ISn't on fire
*No, the house isn't ON fire
If mode is indeed the feature involved here, then the term
‘counterassertion’ would clearly be too restrictive in meaning, and
the more neutral ‘V-rejection’ should be preferred. Whether or not
this analysis is correct, the relevance of mode to nucleus location in
polarity-focus sentences has been clearly demonstrated.
In sections 5, 7 and 8, the following concepts have been added to
the model:
| Focus domain: | structure which can be
marked [+focus] by means of a single operation of
SAAR; |
| Eventive: | feature specifying whether a
sentence is presented as a historical development or
otherwise; |
| Mode: | variable specifying whether
the sentence is counterassertive or otherwise. |
| | | | | |
9.0 Minimal focus and the polarity focus rule (PFR)
By minimal focus we mean any focus distribution that has less than
the elements specified in the structural description of SAAR in its focus. An
important sub-class of minimal focus is polarity focus, discussed above.
However, minimal focus may also arise when part of an argument or
predicate is [+focus]. It is minimal-focus sentences in general that make it
clear that Bolinger's ‘highlighting’ hypothesis is untenable. In
such sentences, there is often so little in the way of words that is marked
[+focus], that the resultant nucleus locations are scattered all over the
place: the nucleus is desperately looking for semantically empty little words
it can go to, and - not surprisingly - it is here that even closely related
languages like Dutch and English part company. The examples (105) - (111) below
are provided with Dutch translations for comparison: the focus distribution is
either marked by underscoring or given separately.
(105)
A: J.R., I'm SOber. I don't DRINK. I wonna go HOME
B: The only reason you're so CALM is that you don't get
anything TO drink
is dat je niks te drinken KRIJGT
is that you nothing to drink get
(106)
Now if we want to find a solution TO this problem
Maar als we een OPlossing voor dit probleem willen vinden
but if we a solution to this problem want-to find
(107)
A(soccer fan): I want you to sprinkle my ashes all over the
PITCH
B: Well, you know spectators aren't really allowed ONto the
pitch
Je weet dat toeschouwers eigenlijk niet op het veld worden
TOEgelaten
You know that spectators really not on the pitch are allowed
(108)
And a careful watch is being kept on the river TWEED in case
it bursts ITS banks
voor het geval dat DIE buiten zijn oevers treedt
in case that that-one outside its banks bursts
(109)
They used either the y or the THORN. But here they started using
the tH, instead of either y OR thorn (focus on coordination)
in plaats van ofwel de y-GREQUE, ofwel de THORN
in place of either the y or the thorn
(110)
She never GREETS you, and she doesn't look very HAPpy when
she DOES say hello | | | |
ALS ze je een keer gedag zegt
when she you of-a-time hello says
(111)
A: What OTHer artistes have been in your car?
B: Patty Grey was never IN my car (polarity focus)
PG IS nooit in mijn auto geweest
PG has never in my car been
What this set of examples should make clear is that it is
necessary to take the notion of the location of the nucleus as the realisation
of focus distribution seriously. Clearly, the placements are rule-governed:
there could be no explanation for the fact that they are on different elements
in Dutch if they were not. It is stressed that if in the Dutch translations the
nucleus is placed on the word corresponding to the word that has the nucleus in
English, the result is frequently a well-formed sentence, but always one with a
different specification for focus and/or mode. Thus, if the Dutch version of
(107) is pronounced with the nucleus on op, a sentence results that
actually has op in focus. As such, it could figure in a text in which
the speaker's next utterance might be When hovering OVer it, they must keep
well clear of grass blade TOPS. The English sentence is simply ambiguous
between these two focus readings. Similarly, Patty Grey is nooit IN mijn
auto geweest is well-formed only if the speaker intends to imply that she
HAS been underneath it, or on top of it: his starting point is
explicitly ‘PG had some spatial relationship to my car”
(nooit is focus governing), and his added Variable is ‘But it was
not an inside-relationship’. If the English speaker of (111), by
contrast, were later te be confronted with forensic reports about PG's
fingerprints on the roof of his car, he cannot then say that ‘I never
said she might not have been on top of it’ without deliberate duplicity.
The English sentence is, again, ambiguous, this time between a reading with
polarity focus and a reading with focus for in. The formulation of the
extension to SAAR (this time for English and Dutch separately) will have to
distinguish between cases in which nucleus placement seems variable, as it does
when in a longer Predicate at least a verb is under focus (e.g. (105), (107)),
or in a longer Argument at least a noun (e.g. (106)), and cases in which such
placement is obligatory, as it often is when polarity is under focus, or some
grammatical binding element, as in (109), (110), and (111). Ideally, the
extension would specify the factors that favour the location of the nucleus on
element x rather than y in the case of variable nucleus placement. The
formulation of this extension is felt to be outside the scope of this article,
however, and we will here confine ourselves to a statement of nucleus
placements in polarity focus sentences. Table 1 attempts to capture the facts
for both English and Dutch. | | | |
Table 1. Nucleus locations in English and Dutch polarity-focus
(PF) sentences
| Mode | PF | English | Dutch |
| -ca | + | Nucleus
goes to the last verb phrase element but one, or to the rightmost preposition
or to-particle, if present | Nucleus goes to the operator in
non-embedded sentences, but to the COMP-node in embedded
sentences |
| -ca | - | as above, but the second
disjunct is optional | Nucleus goes to the operator in non-embedded
sentences, but to the COMP-node in embedded
sentences |
| +ca | + | Nucleus goes to operator
(un-less not doesn't contract, and it gets the nucleus) | Nucleus
goes to wel (affirmative
particle) |
| +ca | - | Nucleus goes to operator
(un-less not doesn't contract, and it gets the nucleus) | Nucleus
goes to niet |
The nucleus locations in (105) to (110) will here be left
unaccounted for, as these would not seem to require essential additions to the
model, and are therefore better treated in a more explicitly comparative
framework.
It will be clear that the words that are singled out to carry the
nucleus in non-counterassertive sentences in English are conspicuous for their
semantic emptiness. I will label them ‘nucleus carriers’ or NCs.
Still confining our attention to English non-counterassertive sentences, NCs
are (i) the penultimate verb-phrase element (modal auxiliary, grammatical
auxiliary, lexical item), unless there is only one item, in which case that is
the NC; (ii) prepositions; and (iii) the verbal to-particle. Note that
when there is only a lexical item in the verb phrase, there is a strong
pressure to insert do as an NC (‘emphatic do’).
Negative non-counterassertive sentences show a clear preference for the
rightmost NC, while in positive non-counterassertive sentences there appears to
be a choice between a verbal NC and a later one, if there is one. In
counterassertive sentences the nucleus always goes to the operator, unless
not remains uncontracted and the nucleus goes to not. We could
formulate these facts as follows:
(112)
English:
| PFR | |
| | |
| a.
N*C(X) | [-counterassertive] |
| | |
| b.
oper*ator | [+counterassertive] |
Condition: if S is negative, X does not contain an NC | | | |
In Dutch, the situation is marginally simpler: in
non-counterassertive sentences the nucleus goes to the operator, unless the
sentence is embedded, in which case it goes to the Chomskyan COMP-node, if
appropriately filled: conjunctions, relative pronouns, comparative
clause-introducers and the non-finite clause introducer om (te) all
qualify. In counterassertive sentences it goes to the polarity morphemes
wel and niet. Thus, we may say:
(113)
Dutch:
| PFR | |
| | |
| a.
CO*MP, if
S̄ | |
| | |
| oper*ator | [-counterassertive] |
| | |
| b.
polarity* morpheme | [+counterassertive] |
where S̄ stands for ‘embedded sentence’.
The following examples illustrate the above rules (cf also (7),
(91) to (96), (110) and (111)). First, [-counterassertive] sentences:
(114)
A: Why didn't you take the GARbage out?
B: I TOOK the garbage out
Ik HEB de vuilnis buiten gezet
I have the garbage outside put
(115)
A: I wish you LOVED me
B: But I DO love you
Maar ik HOU van je
But I love you
(116)
A: Now that everything has been CLEANED, we can start putting
things aWAY
B: ExCUSE me, not everything has BEEN cleaned
ParDON, niet alles IS schoongemaakt
not everything has-been cleaned
(117)
A: SIMple! We'll transplant a new KIDney!
B: In THIS hospital, no organs will BE transplanted!
ZULlen geen organen worden getransplanteerd
will no organs be transplanted
(118)
A: I wish we were in FRANCE
B: We ARE in France/ We're IN France! | | | |
We ZIJN in Frankrijk
We are in France
(119)
A: Why haven't you started READing yet?
B: There are no books TO read
Er ZIJN geen boeken om te lezen
There are no books (for) to read
(120)
A: Why aren't you looking at your PICtures?
B: I have no pictures to look AT
Ik HEB geen plaatjes om naar te kijken
I have no pictures for to(prep.) to(particle) listen
The following examples illustrate polarity focus in
(non-counterassertive) embedded clauses, which in Dutch require the nucleus on
the COMP-node:
(121)
We can't bend backwards any further than we HAVE done
We kunnen u niet verder tegemoet komen DAN we dat al hebben
gedaan
than we that already have done
(122)
I didn't know we were IN Quebec
Ik wist niet DAT we in Quebec waren
I knew not that we in Quebec were
(123)
I know most of the people that I DID see
Ik ken de meeste mensen DIE ik heb gezien
I know the most people who I have seen
(124)
Our task is to SOLVE these problems and if you've got the means TO
solve them…
en als je de middelen hebt OM ze op te lossen
and if you the means have for them (prefix) to solve
(Note how in (124) the nuclei are on equivalent words, but that
this similarity is superficial: Dutch om is a COMP-filler, English
to is an NC.) Nucleus locations in polarity-focus sentences that are
counterassertive are considerably less complex. One example will suffice:
(125)
A: DARling, we could never have MADE it!
B: Oh, but we COULD have!
Ach, we hadden het WEL kunnen halen
Oh, we had it affirmative particle can make | | | |
Ambiguities, so it would seem on some reflection, are the rule
rather than the exception. Two cases are perhaps worth singling out. In Dutch,
a nucleus on a finite verb form may signal focus for the verb (by SAAR) or
non-counterassertive polarity focus (by PFR). In English, a nucleus on an
operator may signal either non-counterassertive or counterassertive polarity
focus (both by PFR). In (126) - (128) these ambiguities are compared across the
two languages. Note that Dutch niet rewrites as geen if the
sentence contains an indefinite object.
(126)
A: Have you seen Brideshead ReVISited?
B: I don't WATCH television
Ik KIJK geen televisie (‘not’ focus on verb)
(127)
A: Monk RUFus, it says in this report that you watch
TElevision
B: But I DON'T watch television, father (*WATCH)
Maar ik KIJK geen televisie (*GEEN) (polarity, [-counterass])
(128)
A: Monk RUFus, you watch TElevision!
B: NO, I DON'T watch television!
NEE, ik kijk GEEN televisie! (polarity, [+counterass])
A final remark on the role of not in focus assignment is
made here. Observe that not only occurs in the Variable in negative
polarity-focus sentences (and may have the nucleus only when the mode is
[+counterassertive] and does not contract). Elsewhere, not is
focus-governing, like even, also etc, but it may also occur in
the [-focus] material (cf
Jackendoff 1972). The three possibilities are
illustrated in (129), (130) and (131) below:
(129) (The SHED may be on fire, but) the vHOUSE isn't
on fire

(130) (A: The HOUSE is on fire B: NO,) the house \ISn't
on fire

| | | |
(131) (A: LUCKily, the HOUSE wasn't on fire. B: More reassuring
STILL,) the house \ISn't on fire (Put that BLOW torch out!)

The obvious advantage of taking not as focus-governing is
that there is no semantic reason for postulating a feature ‘scope’
for not, the scope of not being identical with the focus of the
sentence. It may perhaps be noted that not is sometimes invoked to
account for differences of interpretation that it really cannot be held
responsible for. An example is the difference between epistemic and deontic
interpretations of English modal auxiliaries. As
Lyons (1981: 133) says, He may not come can
mean either ‘It is possible that he will not come’ or ‘He is
not permitted to come’, with not associating differentially with
the (paraphrase of) the modal. In our interpretation of not, both
sentences have the same representation, however:
(132)

Note that although logically the status of not may seem
different in the two interpretations, there is no reason for postulating
different linguistic structures for them, any more than for the difference
between the two interpretations of he may come, except of course in so
far as there are two auxiliaries may, one indicating permission and the
other indicating possibility. There is, in other words, a crucial distinction
between, on the one hand, differences of the type exemplified by ALL the men
didn't go (either all [+focus] and not [-focus]: ‘None
of the men went’; or all [+focus] and not focus-governing:
‘Not all the men went’), or by John didn't kill his brother
(for instance, either John [+focus] or brother [+focus], and
not focus-governing in either case), and on the other hand, the
difference between the two interpretations of he may not come: in the
former case we are dealing with paradigmatic choices available in the
linguistic system affecting the status of not, in the latter case we are
not.
15
| | | | | |
10.0 Summary
| 1. |
| On the level of the sentence, the nucleus, more generally accent,
is seen as the major realisation of the universal concepts of focus and mode in
languages like Dutch and English. |
| |
| 2. |
| While it is possible to define the concept of ‘normal
stress’ in terms of the model, the concept has no role to play in the
mechanics of accent assignment. |
| |
| 3. |
| Focus is not co-extensive with the tone group: while the material
in a single focus domain need not be contiguous (provided no alien [+focus]
constituents are interposed), there may be more than one [+focus] focus domain
in the same tone group, in which case the Sentence Accent Assignment Rule
applies to each one of them. |
| |
| 4. |
| For an Argument and a Predicate to be able to form a single focus
domain, the Argument must be lexically filled and the sentence must be
eventive. |
| |
| 5. |
| Mode is relevant to accent assignment independently of focus
distribution. A concept of ‘contrastive stress’ has no role to play
in the model. |
| |
| 6. |
| The Polarity Focus Rule demonstrates that two closely related
languages may differ in the way they realise focus and mode. |
| | | |
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|
1An earlier version of sections 1 to 4 was
presented at the Tenth PILEI Symposium (Cornell University, 1 August 1981) and
the Edinburgh Linguistics Circle (4 November 1981), while the distinction
between mode and focus (then called ‘range’) was the subject of a
paper presented at the Second Conference on the Teaching of Spoken English
(Leeds University, 7 August 1979). I should like to thank
Ton Broeders,
Gill Brown,
Jim Hurford,
Bob Ladd,
Toni Rietveld,
Felix Vieregge and an anonymous reviewer for
Journal of Linguistics for their comments on earlier drafts. To Bob Ladd
I am more generally indebted for encouraging me to pursue the approach taken
here.
2The term ‘sentence’ is used in
its ordinary sense of ‘well-formed surface structure’ (or fragment
of it), which of course includes the sentence accent(s). The term
‘ambiguity’ then naturally refers to the existence of more than one
possible specification for the features to which the presence of sentence
accents is sensitive, like [focus].
3The same point is made by
Ladd (1980: 98) when he says that the operation of a
deaccenting rule he postulates ‘should not be confused with the reasons
for which the speaker chooses to operate the rule in the first
place’.
4I am freely paraphrasing an example which
was brought to my attention by
Ton Broeders. It occurred in the British television
serial Dad's Army, when a member of the Home Guard, who for some
undisclosed military reason had been ordered to speak French, justified his
obvious non-compliance with the order by saying But we're not IN
France.
5Please belongs to a group of
expressions that can be appended to sentences without attracting the nucleus.
Among them are vocatives (Crystal 1975: 25,
Bing 1979: 25) and general time indicators like
for a while, tomorrow (Brown 1977: 89). Bing calls
them ‘Class O expressions’.
6For ‘manipulation’ some such
term as ‘intonational speech act’ might seem appropriate. The term
is unfortunate, as it would suggest a similarity to ‘speech acts’
(Searle 1969), which essentially refer to speakers’
intentions (or hearers' conclusions), whereas ‘manipulations’
constitute a linguistic paradigm, like tense or mood.
7For expository reasons, I exclude from
consideration non-interpretative readings, referred to by
Brazil,
Coulthard &
Johns (1980) as ‘reading what it says’.
People in fact frequently read out isolated sentences almost on a word-by-word
basis, without constructing any Background at all.
8The focus governer should be distinguished
from the viewpoint adjunct (Quirk et al 1972: 429) meaning
‘as far as NP is concerned’. It is syntactically distinct from the
focus governer in that it can only be used to refer to subjects. Thus, I
wouldn't like to go there mySELF is ambiguous between mySELF meaning
‘personally’ (as in London is a fine place, but …)
and mySELF meaning ‘no one other than me’ (as in Not only
wouldn't my wife like to go there, but …). Secondly, it may need
pointing out that the focuser should be kept distinct from the reflexive
pronoun, which has the same phonemic make-up and is part of the predicate,
occurring in e.g. John KICKED himself. An interesting structure results
when we produce a [+focus] reflexive and insert the focus governer, in which
case the reflexive is deleted in English, as in John kicked himSELF (=
John kicked himself himSELF). Note that this sentence is ambiguous in three
ways: the focus governer may have John in focus ( Was it Bill who John
kicked? No …), it may have the reflexive in focus ( Was it Bill
who kicked John? No …), or it may have John in focus without
there being a reflexive pronoun ( Did Bill kick? No …). For the
distinction between the reflexive and the focus governer, see
van der Leek (1980).
9Clark & Clark (1977) cite
evidence that passive sentences with the nucleus on the by-agent are
less likely to be given full focus interpretations than active sentences with
the nucleus on the object.
10Note that [ AP] and [ AP]
give the same surface form. Aghem, a Grassfields Bantu language, distinguishes
these structures by placing the argument in final position if the predicate is
[+focus]. By contrast, this language makes no formal distinction between
[ AP] and [A P] in the case of subject + intransitive verb
sentences (Watters 1979: 145).
11As far as the assignment of sentence
accents is concerned, there is thus no reason to postulate any form of metrical
structure as proposed by
Liberman &
Prince (1977), a linguistic device enlisted by
Ladd (1980: 87, 1981a) to account for the nucleus
location in B's reply in A: Has John read Slaughterhouse Five? B: John
doesn't READ books. Ladd assumes that here the focus is
‘broad’, and that there is a deaccenting rule that switches the
‘strong’ and ‘weak’ round associated with books
and read respectively. Quite apart from the fact that the postulation of
full focus plus a deaccenting rule plus a metrical tree amounts
to an unnecessary burdening of the mechanics of accent assignment, and the fact
that such a description relies on the idea that there is some form of
‘normal’ accentuation (‘broad focus’), the ploy doesn't
work: as Ladd himself points out (personal communication), there would be no
accounting for a sentence like He TOOK the garbage out, unless the
garbage out is taken to be a constituent by the side of took. I have
included his example as (114). It is pointed out that the Slaughter-house
example corresponds to (126).
12It is, however, the semantics rather than
syntactic structure that provides the stronger link. For one thing, unlike
adverbs of ‘proper functioning’, an object complement can, for
whatever reasons, be assigned to a separate focus domain, as in (1) They
left the first team/ GASPing! For another, if the object
complement denotes a degree of ‘proper functioning’, it may behave
just like the adverb: (2) If it doesn't do what you WANT it to do, you've
probably spelt the comMAND word wrong
but with a [-focus]
Argument: (3) BeLIEVE me. If you get a result bigger than ONE or smaller
than MINus one, you've DONE it wrong!
13I owe the example to
Ton Broeders. It is interesting to note that the
original of (71) was Hij is met zijn zoontje fietsen (‘He's gone
cycling with his son’). As cycling with one's son is a fairly everyday
activity for a father to go in for in the Netherlands, the Dutch sentence
naturally has a single focus domain. The English translation, however, provoked
some protest from native speakers, who seemed to require an accent on
cycling, in the same way as they would put one on fishing. By the
same token, (70) may be more illustrative of the point at issue if
fishing is replaced with hunting. These cultural differences
would seem to support the the analysis offered.
14I thank
Pieter Nieuwint for drawing my attention to this
fact.
15A syntactic correlate between
focus-governing not and not as part of the [-focus] material can
be observed when we add a focus-governing adjunct like also. Note that
He didn't kill John is ambiguous between:
and
In (1), the fact that ‘he’ killed
someone is part of the Background, and the variable is that this is not true
for John. In (2), the fact that ‘he’ didn't kill someone is part of
the Background, and the variable is that this is true for John. When we add a
focus-governing additive adjunct, we get not…too in (1), but
not…either in (2): he didn't kill John/ TOO! versus
he didn't kill John / EITHer!. Cf. also Ladd's ‘inside
NEG’ and ‘outside NEG’ (1981b).
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