CP de Literatura Engleza - Gabriela Colipca PDF

Universitatea Dunrea de Jos
din Galai
Facultatea de Litere
Specializarea:
Limba i literatura romn Limba i literatura englez
Curs practic de
limb i literatur englez
Conf. dr. Gabriela Iuliana Colipc
Anul II, Semestrul II
D.I.D.F.R.
2012
UDJG
Faculty of Letters
Narrative and stylistic

patterns in the
eighteenth-century novel
(Practical Course in English Literature
for 2nd year students)
Course tutor:
Associate Professor Gabriela Iuliana Colipc, PhD
Galai
2012
Table of Contents
TABLE OF CONTENTS
1. Representational Patterns in Fictional Discourse
1.1. Literature and Reality
1.2. Realism: A Literary Trend and/or a Mode of Discourse
1.3. Practical Applications (1)
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7
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2. Introduction to Narratology
2.1. Grard Genettes Theory of Narrative Discourse
2.1.1. Tense: Order. Duration. Frequency
2.1.2. Mood: Distance. Narrative Perspective
2.1.3. Voice: Time of the Narrating. Narrative Levels. Person
2.2. Wayne Booth and The Rhetoric of Fiction
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3. Style in Fiction
3.1. Speech and Character
3.1.1. Realism in Conversation
3.1.2. Dialect and Idiolect
3.2. Narrative and Stylistic Structures
3.2.1. Fictional Sequencing
3.2.2. Descriptive Focus
3.2.3. Fictional and Discoursal Points of View
3.2.4. Irony. Tone. Distance
3.2.5. Narrators and Discourse Situations
3.3. The Rhetoric of the Text
3.3.1. Coordination and Subordination
3.3.2. Addresser-based Rhetoric. Writing Imitating Speech
3.3.3. Iconicity: The Imitation Principle
3.3.4. Cohesion
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4. Representations of Reality in the Eighteenth-century English

Novel. Practical Applications (4)
4.1. Daniel Defoe, The Fortunes and Misfortunes of the Famous Moll
Flanders
4.2. Jonathan Swift, Gullivers Travels
4.3. Henry Fielding, The History of the Adventures of Joseph
Andrews and of His Friend Mr. Abraham Adams
4.4. Henry Fielding, The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling
4.5. Tobias George Smollett, The Adventures of Roderick Random
4.6. Tobias George Smollett, Ferdinand Count Fathom
4.7. Tobias George Smollett, The Expedition of Humphry Clinker
4.8. Samuel Richardson, Clarissa: or, The History of a Young Lady
4.9. Laurence Sterne, The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy,
Gentleman
4.10. Laurence Sterne, A Sentimental Journey through France and
Italy by Mr. Yorick
Bibliography
Narrative and Stylistic Patterns in the Eighteenth-century Novel
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Section 1. Representational Patterns in Fictional Discourse
SECTION 1. Representational Patterns in Fictional

Discourse
1.1. Literature and Reality
The relation between fiction and reality or rather the illusion of reality
has played a central role in understanding and defining literature
throughout its entire history. That is why, this relation usually referred to as
mimesis has been openly acknowledged as a key issue. Yet paradoxically,
theorists and writers cannot seem to agree upon a unanimously accepted
perception of it. Different literary trends and schools of literary criticism have
given it varied and contradictory interpretations. To trace them all back
throughout the history of literature and of literary criticism, respectively, is not,
however, the main goal of this practical course. Consequently, the further
discussion will be limited to the presentation of the key issues related to
mimesis that enhance our understanding of the mechanisms of
representation in fiction.
The origins of this concern with the relation between literature and
reality can be traced back to Plato and Aristotle. The former is, actually, the
first to have introduced the concept of mimesis or, in his terms, imitation/
copy of reality. In fact, he distinguished between direct imitation of
speech or dialogue and indirect imitation of reality or summarizing
narration. Their combination was not, according to Plato, always to be
benefited from, as the resulting copies of reality, mere substitutes for the
things themselves may, unfortunately, be false or illusory substitutes that
stir up antisocial emotions (violence or weakness) and they may represent
bad persons and actions, encouraging imitation of evil. (Mitchell, 1995: 1415)
It was then the task of the latter to rehabilitate the concept and to
reveal it in a different light by relating it not to the dichotomic pair true/ false,
but with truth and possibility/likeness. Thus, as contemporary interpretations
of the Aristotelian text have clearly pointed out, mimesis does not appear as
a mere, perfect imitation/copy of reality but as a representational model of
it. (See Bal, 1982: 172- 174)
As Geoffrey Leech also emphasises, readers should keep in mind not
to compare two incomparable things: language and extra-linguistic realities
(1992: 152). The understanding of a piece of writing fictional or non-fictional
can only be explained in terms of our existing model(s) of reality. To put
it otherwise, our making sense of a piece of writing, in general, is influenced,
on the one hand, by the structure of fact, explanation, supposition,
which draws on our already existing knowledge and, on the other hand,
by the plausibility of the report, i.e. the possibility of making plausible
connections between one act and another. (Leech, 1992: 154) In the end,
the written text can offer but a representational model which may turn out
to be more or less faithful to the represented reality.
Model of reality
Model of reality
Writer
encodes
Message
Message
Semantic level
Semantic level
Syntactic level
Syntactic level
Graphological level
Reader
decodes
Graphological level
Text
The diagram of the communication process (in written language) indicating

the possible levels for the study of style (where stylistic variation might occur)
(Leech, 1992: 126)
As Leech repeatedly emphasises, communication () always has to
do with some general universe of reference or model of reality which we
as human beings carry insides our heads, and which consists of all the things
we know, believe, judge or understand to be the case in the world in which
we live. How we have acquired this model of reality need not concern us, nor
need the complexities of its structure. It will be sufficient to regard it as the
starting point and finishing point of communication in an informational sense.
That is, when we inform someone by means of language, we retrieve a
message from our model of reality and, by means of encoding and decoding
of language, transfer it to the addressee, who then fits it into his own model
of reality. () The same thing happens in fictional discourse, except that it is
a postulated or imagined model of reality in short, a fiction that is
transferred to the addressee. (1992: 125)
Inevitably, throughout the history of literature, the various perspectives
on the rules governing the representations of reality in fiction have caused
writers and theorists to distinguish between types of fiction. The oldest
three types seem to be the mimetic, the paramimetic and the antimimetic
types which have co-existed at all levels in the history of literature.
Mimetic literature is based on the idea that the literary work is highly
dependent upon the outer reality to be represented as faithfully as
possible.
Paramimetic literature: The external reality is ignored, even
surpassed by the work that creates its own referent; otherwise, the
fictional universe is created as an allegorical or metaphorical model
of some empirical relationships.
Antimimetic literature puts forth a definite break with the empirical
reality which is replaced by language as the substance to be
moulded by the literary work, thus creating a new, different model
of reality. (Zgorzelski, 1984: 302-306)
1.2. Realism: A Literary Trend and/or a Mode of Discourse

At this point, an important remark should be made: certain
cautiousness is needed in the use of the term Realism since it is crammed
with definitions and connotations. (Stewart, 1969: 3)
In the narrow sense, Realism is strictly applied to the artistic
movement spreading throughout Europe especially during the latter half of
the nineteenth century. Unlike the Romantics, the Realists placed emphasis
on telling the truth about ordinary life, about heroes and heroines determined
by their social environment.
Yet, in the broader sense, as twentieth-century criticism has shown,
Realism should be perceived rather as a technique that can be referred to
not only in the case of the literary productions of the above mentioned literary
trend, but also of other historical periods, here including of the eighteenth
century. In this sense, one could identify, in the history of literature, different
types of realism but never absolute realism, because language by its very
nature is a vehicle for abstraction and differentiation. (Leech, 1992: 151) The
degree of realism of a piece of fiction is definitely influenced by the purpose
of the writer and the effect on the reader. (1992: 152)
One of the questions that a writer probably always asks himself when
embarking upon the writing process is: What kinds of detail, and how much
detail, should be added to fill out the model of reality? (1992: 155) There
are artistic criteria of relevance that the writer must consider in this respect.
1. Symbolism. There is the impulse to specify such details, in the mockreality, as can be interpreted as standing for something beyond themselves,
something universally important in the human condition. In this sense, the
message itself, in literature, becomes a code, a symbolic structure. In the
generic framework of a dramatization of general human conflicts, each
character, place, incident could be elaborated in such a way as to be
representative, to some extent, of a type or category of human
experience. (Leech, 1992: 155-56)
2. Verisimilitude. But is it important to balance the impulse towards
universality against the impulse towards individuality. The latter may also
influence the artistic choice of detail lending the text verisimilitude or the
illusion of reality, i.e., the sense of being in the presence of actual
individual things, events, people, and places. (Leech, 1992: 156)
In defining verisimilitude, however, a more refined perspective may
also be adopted, as suggested by literary theorists like Tzvetan Todorov
(1974). According to him, the verisimilitude of a piece of writing must
encompass two coordinates focusing on both content and form.
Thus, on the one hand, stress is laid on the relationship of fiction to
the contemporary reality to be represented, i.e., to the extra-linguistic
material. The ability of the literary work to raise and to try to answer ethical
questions (as related to key issues in the social and political life, gender
relations, etc.) is, in this way, assessed. For the eighteenth-century fiction
that the practical course will further propose for discussion, these ethical
questions refer to how the social order is related to the internal moral state
of its members (McKeon, 1989: 20), as the mission of the novel is to convey
a moral message in order to accomplish an educational task.

On the other hand, interest must be taken in the relationship to the
rules that govern the literary discourse itself, i.e., the acknowledged
aesthetic codes. Despite its directness and simplicity, realism, as a mode of
writing, is not a simple or artless mode; on the contrary, it involves careful
choices on the part of the writers that might enable them to create the illusion
of a true and faithful representation of reality.
Altogether, symbolism and verisimilitude need not be mutually
exclusive. The contribution of the specific detail may be both symbolic and
realistic. (Leech, 1992: 156-57)
3. Credibility. As another aspect of realism, closely related to verisimilitude,
credibility may be defined as the likelihood, hence believability, of the fiction
as a potential reality, given that we apply our expectations and influences
about the real world to fictional happenings. (Leech, 1992: 157) In other
words, a fiction tends to be credible to the extent that it overlaps with, or is a
plausible extension of, our real model of reality.
4. Consistency. There are, of course, exceptions from the rule, such as SF
works or novels based on fantastic realism like Jonathan Swifts Gullivers
Travels. They rather strike the readers by the consistency of the detail which
implicitly affects its credibility as well: an unfamiliar reality which obeys its
own set of laws is more credible than one which does not. (Leech, 1992:
158)
The combination of verisimilitude and credibility is a main feature of
the basically realistic kind of fiction, which thus establishes a contract of
good faith with the reader, a convention of authenticity. But there are also
cases when verisimilitude and credibility work in opposite directions (e.g.
Swifts Gullivers Travels). Then, the fabulous takes place against the
background of the believable, and this coexistence of commonsense and
verisimilitude suggests the satirical interpretation of the novel. (Leech, 1992:
158-159)
All in all, whatever its artistic function, specification of detail is a matter
of degree and it is not restricted to material facts, but could extend to nonmaterial things such as feelings, thoughts and motifs as well.

Consider the following excerpts and discuss them in terms of the type of
literature they are representative for. Add to your comments remarks
regarding the type/ function of detail in the framework of a certain type of
realism that they illustrate:
a) In search of a place proper for this, I found a little plain on the side of a
rising hill, whose front towards this little plain was steep as a house-side, so
that nothing could come down upon me from the top. On the one side of the
rock there was a hollow place, worn a little way in, like the entrance or door
of a cave but there was not really any cave or way into the rock at all.
On the flat of the green, just before this hollow place, I resolved to
pitch my tent. This plain was not above a hundred yards broad, and about
twice as long, and lay like a green before my door; and, at the end of it,
descended irregularly every way down into the low ground by the seaside. It
8

was on the N.N.W. side of the hill; so that it was sheltered from the heat
every day, till it came to a W. and by S. sun, or thereabouts, which, in those
countries, is near the setting.
Before I set up my tent I drew a half-circle before the hollow place,
which took in about ten yards in its semi-diameter from the rock, and twenty
yards in its diameter from its beginning and ending.
In this half-circle I pitched two rows of strong stakes, driving them into
the ground till they stood very firm like piles, the biggest end being out of the
ground above five feet and a half, and sharpened on the top. The two rows
did not stand above six inches from one another.
(Daniel Defoe, Robinson Crusoe, 1994: 62)
b) The last of these voyages not proving very fortunate, I grew weary of the
sea, and intended to stay at home with my wife and family. I removed from
the Old Jewry to Fetter Lane, and from thence to Wapping, hoping to get
business among the sailors; but it would not turn to account. After three
years expectation that things would mend, I accepted an advantageous offer
from Captain William Prichard, master of the Antelope, who was making a
voyage to the South Sea. We set sail from Bristol, May 4, 1699, and our
voyage was at first very prosperous.
() we were driven by a violent storm to the north-west of Van
Diemens Land. By an observation, we found ourselves in the latitude of 30
degrees 2 minutes south. Twelve of our crew were dead by immoderate
labour and ill food; the rest were in a very weak condition. On the 5th of
November, which was the beginning of summer in those parts, the weather
being very hazy, the seamen spied a rock within half a cables length of the
ship; but the wind was so strong, that we were driven directly upon it, and
immediately split. []
The Country round appeared like a continued Garden, and the
inclosed Fields, which were generally Forty Foot square, resembled so many
Beds of Flowers. These Fields were intermingled with Woods of half a Stang,
and the tallest Trees, as I could judge, appeared to be seven Foot high. I
viewed the Town on my left Hand, which looked like the painted Scene of a
City in a Theatre. [...] The Emperor was already descended from the Tower,
and advancing on Horse-back towards me, which had like to have cost him
dear; for the Beast, though very well trained, yet wholly unused to such a
Sight, which appeared as if a Mountain moved before him, he reared up on
his hinder Feet: But that Prince, who is an excellent Horse-man, kept his
Seat, till his Attendants ran in, and held the Bridle, while his Majesty had time
to dismount. When he alighted, he surveyed me round with great Admiration,
but kept without the length of my Chain. He ordered his Cooks and Butlers,
who were already prepared, to give me Victuals and Drink, which they
pushed forward in a sort of Vehicles upon Wheels till I could reach them. I
took these Vehicles, and soon emptied them all; twenty of them were filled
with Meat, and ten with Liquor; each of the former afforded me two or three
good Mouthfuls, and I emptied the Liquor of ten Vessels, which was
contained in earthen Vials, into one Vehicle, drinking it off at a Draught; and
so I did with the rest.
(Jonathan Swift, Gullivers Travels, 1998: 6, 15, 16)
d) Now to any one else I will undertake to prove, that all the oaths and
imprecations which we have been puffing off upon the world for these two
9

hundred and fifty years last past as originals except St. Paul's thumb
God's flesh and God's fish, which were oaths monarchical, and, considering
who made them, not much amiss; and as kings oaths, 'tis not much matter
whether they were fish or flesh; - else I say, there is not an oath, or at least a
curse amongst them, which has not been copied over and over again out of
Ernulphus a thousand times: but, like all other copies, how infinitely short of
the force and spirit of the original! it is thought to be no bad oath and by
itself passes very well 'G-d damn you.' Set it beside Ernulphus's 'God
almighty the Father damn you God the Son damn you God the Holy
Ghost damn you' you see 'tis nothing. There is an orientality in his, we
cannot rise up to: besides, he is more copious in his invention possess'd
more of the excellencies of a swearer had such a thorough knowledge of
the human frame, its membranes, nerves, ligaments, knittings of the joints,
and articulations, - that when Ernulphus cursed no part escaped him. 'Tis
true there is something of a hardness in his manner and, as in Michael
Angelo, a want of grace but then there is such a greatness of gusto!
(Laurence Sterne, Tristram Shandy, 1997: 149)
10
Section 2. Introduction to Narratology
SECTION 2. Introduction to Narratology

2.1. Grard Genettes Theory of Narrative Discourse
A literary theorist associated with the structuralist movement, Grard
Genette proposes a narratological approach that distinguishes between:
Story (French. Histoire) for the signified or narrative content;
Narrative (French. Rcit) for the signifier/ statement/ discourse/
narrative text itself;
Narrating (French. Narration) for the producing narrative action and,
by extension, the whole of the real or fictional situation in which that
action takes place.
Consequently, according to him, the analysis of narrative discourse
presupposes the study of the relationships between:
- narrative and story;
- narrative and narrating;
- story and narrating (to the extent to which this relationship is
inscribed in the narrative discourse).
Considering the fact that all narrative is, above all, a linguistic
production undertaking to tell of one or several events, Genette ranges the
constituents of narrative discourse under three categories, namely:
Tense temporal relations between narrative and story;
Mood modalities (forms and degrees) of narrative representation;
Voice (not person, which might mistakably lead to an association with
the traditional opposition between the first-person and third-person
narratives, that Genette does not agree with) the way in which the
narrating itself (i.e., the narrative situation or its instance and its two
protagonists, the narrator and the audience, real or implied) is
implicated in the narrative.
Tense and Mood operate on the level of connection between Story and
Narrative; Voice designates the relations between both Narrating and
Narrative, on the one hand, and Narrating and Story, on the other. Thus
described, the narrative levels and the categories that should be taken into
account for their analysis could be graphically represented as follows:
STORY
NARRATING
NARRATIVE
VOICE
TENSE AND MOOD
11
2.1.1. Tense: Order. Duration. Frequency

Genette proposes to study the relations between the temporal
dimension of the narrative and the time of the story according to three
essential determinations:
A. connections between the temporal order of succession of the events
in the story and the pseudo-temporal order of their arrangement in the
narrative;
B. connections of speed between the variable duration of these events
or story sections and the pseudo-duration (in fact, length of the text) of
their telling in the narrative;
C. connections of frequency, that is () relations between the repetitive
capacities of the story and those of the narrative. (1980: 35)
A. Order
To describe the various types of discordance between the two
orderings of story and narrative that might be conceived as deviations from a
so-called, rather hypothetical, zero degree that would be a condition of
perfect temporal correspondence between narrative and story (1980: 36),
the French theorist proposes the term of anachrony and distinguishes
between the following:
prolepsis = any narrative manoeuvre that consists of narrating or
evoking in advance an event that will take place later (1980: 40);
analepsis = any evocation after the fact of an event that took place
earlier than the point in the story where we are at any given moment
(1980: 40).
He maintains that, by establishing a so-called first narrative, i.e., the
temporal level of narrative with respect to which the anachrony is defined
(1980: 48), it is possible to distinguish between:
external analepsis (this analepsis whose extent remains external to
the extent of the first narrative) (1980: 49);
internal analepsis
mixed analepsis (whose reach goes back to a point earlier and
whose extent arrives at a point later than the beginning of the first
narrative) (1980: 49).
Yet, the categorisation of analepses should not be limited to this distinction,
but should be developed so as to clearly indicate the differences between two
types of internal analepses. On the one hand, there are those called
heterodiegetic, that is analepses dealing with a story line (and thus with a
diegetic content) different from the content (or contents) of the first narrative
(1980: 50). They classically deal either with a character recently introduced
whose past the narrator wants to shed more light on or with a character that
has been out of sight for some time and whose past the readers must catch up
with. On the other hand, there are also internal homodiegetic analepses that
deal with the same line of action as the first narrative and for which the risk of
interference is apparently unavoidable (1980: 50-1).
Like analepses, prolepses can be categorized, considering the same
criteria, as internal and external, homodiegetic and heterodiegetic.
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B. Duration
By speed we mean the relationship between a temporal dimension
and a spatial dimension (): the speed of a narrative will be defined by
the relationship between a duration (that of the story, measured in
seconds, minutes, hours, days, months and years) and a length (that of
the text, measured in lines and in pages). (1980: 87-8)
For a more explicit description of the variations in tempo/narrative speed,
Genette stresses the importance of four basic forms of narrative movements:
descriptive pause (NT = n, ST = 0, thus NT > ST, i.e. NT is infinitely
greater than ST);
scene, most often in dialogue, which () realizes conventionally the
equality of time between narrative and story (NT = ST) (1980: 94);
summary, a form with a variable tempo (whereas the tempo of the
other three is fixed, at least in principle) which with great flexibility of
pace covers the entire range included between scene and ellipsis)
(NT < ST) (1980: 94);
ellipsis (NT = 0, ST = n, thus NT < ST , i.e. NT is infinitely less than
ST) (See Genette, 1980: 95).
C. Frequency
Narrative frequency can be defined as the relations of frequency (or,
more simply, of repetition) between the narrative and the diegesis (1980:
113). In this respect, distinction should be made between:
Singulative narrative or, otherwise, narrating once what happened
once. (e.g. Yesterday I went to bed early.): the singularness of the
narrated statement corresponds to the singularness of the narrated
event (1980: 114).
Repeating narrative or narrating n times what happened once (e.g.
Yesterday I went to bed early, yesterday I went to bed early, yesterday
I went to bed early, etc.) Although apparently rather hypothetical and
irrelevant to literature, this kind of repetition has been successfully
exploited at different stages in the evolution of the novel, here
including the eighteenth-century epistolary novel, or novels in which
stress is laid on the repetition doubled by stylistic or viewpoint
variations or that display repeating anachronies such as notices in
advance and recalls. (1980: 115)
Iterative narrative or narrating one time (or rather at one time) what
happened n times: a single narrative utterance takes upon itself
several occurrences together of the same event (in other words, once
again, several events considered only in terms of their analogy)
(1980: 116). This type of narrative can be easily identified because of
its association with grammatical markers of frequency.
2.1.2. Mood: Distance. Narrative Perspective
Another category moulded upon a grammatical model is that of the
narrative mood, which, like its grammatical counterpart, has its own degrees:
The narrative can furnish the reader with more or fewer details, and in
a more or less direct way, and can thus seem () to keep at a greater
or lesser distance from what it tells. The narrative can also choose to
regulate the information it delivers, not with a sort of even screening,
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but according to the capacities of knowledge of one or another
participant in the story (a character or group of characters), with the
narrative adopting or seeming to adopt what we ordinarily call the
participants vision or point of view; the narrative seems in that case
() to take on, with regard to the story, one or another perspective.
(1980: 162)
As it can be seen, Genettes analysis of modalities of regulation of narrative
information will be focused upon the two categories of distance and
perspective.
Before presenting his own views on the issue of distance, Genette
summarizes the history of the concept whose origins date back to the Greek
Antiquity, to Platos The Republic and his theory of the contrasting narrative
modes of mimesis and diegesis. Then, he briefly lists further changes in
theory and terminology such as: Aristotle, with his slightly different theory on
the contrast of mimesis and diegesis, who ranges the pure narrative and the
direct representation as varieties of mimesis; the late nineteenth-century and
early twentieth-century novel theory of Henry James and his followers
expressing the contrast in the new terms of showing and telling; and Wayne
Booths criticism of the neo-Aristotelian interpretation of mimesis. In this
larger context of the centuries-long debate on the dichotomic distance-based
pair of mimesis and diegesis, Genette puts forward his own terms: narrative
of events and narrative of words.
The former, i.e., the narrative of events, is defined as a narrative
transcription of the (supposed) non-verbal into the verbal whose illusion of
mimesis depends, like every illusion, on the highly variable relationship
between the sender and the receiver (1980: 165), that, in its turn, is
influenced to a great extent by the evolution of aesthetic principles and the
position that individuals, groups, and periods take in the debate on the
possibilities of representing reality.
Going back to Platos comments with respect to mimesis and diegesis,
Genette identifies as strictly textual mimetic factors the quantity of narrative
information (a more developed or more detailed narrative) and the absence
(or minimal presence) of the informer in other words, of the narrator (1980:
166). Therefore, what is referred to as showing can be only a way of
telling which means either saying about it as much as one can, ensuring the
dominance of the scene (as in Jamess detailed narrative), or saying this
much as little as possible, as in the cases that display a kind of (pseudo-)
Flaubertian transparency of the narrator. (1980: 166) To make this contrast
between mimesis and diegesis easier to understand, a mathematical-like
formula is suggested:
Information + informer = C
which implies that the quantity of information and the presence of the
informer are in inverse ratio (1980: 166). Hence,
MIMESIS = A MAXIMUM OF INFORMATION AND A MINIMUM OF THE
INFORMER
DIEGESIS = A MAXIMUM OF THE INFORMER AND A MINIMUM OF
INFORMATION.
As for the narrative of words, the French critic includes under this label
different states of the characters speech (either uttered or inner) which,
according to their relation with the narrative distance, can be classified as
follows:
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1. Narratized or narrated speech, obviously the most distant and,
generally, the most reduced. Genette identifies as a peculiar species
of narratized discourse the narrative of an inner debate, or, as he puts
it, the analysis or the narrative of thoughts or narratized inner
speech. E.g. uttered speech: I informed my mother of my decision to
marry Albertine.; inner speech: I decided to marry Albertine. (1980:
171)
2. Transposed speech, in indirect style: Although a little more
mimetic than narrated speech, [] this form never gives the reader
any guarantee or above all any feeling of literal fidelity to the
words really uttered: the narrators presence is still too perceptible in
the very syntax of the sentence for the speech to impose itself with
the documentary autonomy of a quotation. (1980: 171) E.g. uttered
speech: I told my mother that I absolutely had to marry Albertine.;
inner speech: I thought that I absolutely had to marry Albertine.
Words are not simply reported in subordinate clauses, but
condensed, integrated into the narrators own speech.
3. Reported speech, the most mimetic form (that Plato rejected) in
which the narrator pretends literally to give the floor to his character.
E.g. I said to my mother/ I thought: It is absolutely necessary to
marry Albertine.
The second mode of regulating information that Genette terms as
narrative perspective arises from the choice of a certain, more or less
restrictive, point of view and has been, as Genette rightfully remarks, one of
the concepts most frequently studied by narrative technique theoretists since
the end of the nineteenth century. Genette, however, chooses to challenge
most of the theories on this subject on the ground of their promoting a
regrettable confusion between the two different questions which he
proposes to answer separately in the discussion of the categories of mood
and voice. These questions are: (1) Who is the character whose point of view
orients the narrative perspective? (2) Who is the narrator? (1980: 186)
Trying to avoid the too specifically visual connotations of such terms
as vision, field or point of view, inspired by Brooks and Warrens expression
focus of narration, Genette introduces his own term, i.e. focalization and
re-discusses the classification of narratives according to the perspective they
are representative for as follows:
Nonfocalized narrative or narrative with zero focalization. This type of
focalisation was questioned and eventually rejected in later theories of
the narrative discourse.
Narrative with internal focalization:
o Fixed (e.g. The Ambassadors, where everything passes
through Strether, or What Maisie Knew, where we almost
never leave the point of view of the little girl);
o Variable (e.g. Madame Bovary, where the focal character is
first Charles, then Emma, then again Charles);
o Multiple (e.g. epistolary novels).
Narrative with external focalization (e.g. Hemingways novellas The
Killers or Hills Like White Elephants; Walter Scott, Jules Verne,
Alexandre Dumas, Balzac, etc.)
15

E.g.: He [James Bond] saw a man in his fifties, still young-looking
(internal focalization)
I saw a man in his fifties, still young-looking

E.g.: The tinkling of ice cubes against the glass seemed to awaken in Bond
a sudden inspiration
external focalization, given the narrators marked ignorance with

respect to the heros real thoughts. (1980: 193-4)
2.1.3. Voice: Time of the Narrating. Narrative Levels. Person
The last major category that Genette discusses is that of voice, the
analysis of which should not be limited, as the theorist shows, to the person
who carries out or submits to the action, but also the person (the same one
or another) who reports it, and, if need be, all those people who participate,
even though passively, in this narrating activity. (1980: 213) However, along
the years, narratologists have been facing the difficulty of approaching the
generating instance of narrative discourse, that Genette calls narrating.
On the one hand, () critics restrict questions of narrative enunciating to
questions of point of view; on the other hand, they identify the narrating
instance with the instance of writing, the narrator with the author, and
the recipient of the narrative with the reader of the work (1980: 213)
Or the role of the narrator is fictitious. Consequently, Genette intends to
consider more thoroughly the narrating instance that can anyway vary in the
course of a single narrative work, according to the traces it has left in the
narrative discourse it is assumed to have produced. A tight web of
connections among the narrating act, its protagonists, its spatio-temporal
determinations, its relationship to the other narrating situations involved in the
same narrative, etc. is thus examined in an attempt at characterising such
categories subordinated to voice as time of the narrating, narrative level
and person. (1980: 215)
According to Genette, a story can be told without specifying the place
where it happens or whether that place is more or less distant from the place
where it is told, but it would be impossible not to locate it in time with respect
to the narrating act by using different grammatical tenses. Thus, he
concludes that the temporal determinations of the narrating instance are
manifestly more important than its spatial determinations. (1980: 215) The
chief temporal determination of the narrating instance is its position
relative to the story. According to this criterion, four types of narrative can
be distinguished:
subsequent the classical position of the past tense narrative, by far the
most frequent. The use of past tense is enough to make the narrative
subsequent, although without indicating the temporal interval separating
the moment of the narrating from that of the story. As a rule, in the thirdperson narrative, the interval is indeterminate, yet, there are also cases of
convergence or relative contemporaneity of story time and narrating time
marked by the use of the present tense, either at the beginning (e.g. Tom
Jones) or at the end (e.g. Madame Bovary). Genette considers such cases
worth mentioning as they reveal a temporal isotopy between the story and
its narrator, an isotopy which until then was hidden (1980: 221). As for the
16

first-person narratives, this isotopy is evident from the very beginning and
the final convergence is the rule. (e.g. Robinson Crusoe)
prior predictive narrative, generally in the future tense, but not
prohibited from being conjugated in the present, which has been less
used than the other type of narrating, even in the novels of anticipation.
(1980: 219-20)
simultaneous narrative in the present contemporaneous with the
action, which, in principle, should eliminate any sort of interference or
temporal game. However, the blending of the instances can function in
two opposite directions, according to whether the emphasis is put on the
story or on the narrative discourse. In the first case, the present-tense
narrative of the behaviourist type and strictly of the moment (see
Hemingway or the French New Novel) may seem like objective, but in the
second case, when emphasis is laid on the narrating itself (see the
narratives with interior monologues), the simultaneousness operates in
favour of the discourse and the action is reduced, even abolished. All in
all, as Genette seems to suggests, the use of the present tense is not the
guarantee of the equilibrium of instances. (1980: 218-9)
interpolated between the moments of the action. It is the most complex
type as it involves narrating with several instances and the very close
entanglement of the story and the narrating. One of the best cases in
point is the epistolary novel with several correspondents in which the
letter is at the same time a medium of the narrative and an element of the
plot. Furthermore, the extreme closeness of story to narrating produces
[] a very subtle effect of friction [] between the slight temporal
displacement of the narrative of events (Here is what happened to me
today) and the complete simultaneousness in the report of thoughts and
feelings (Here is what I think about it this evening). (1980: 217-8)
Next, Genette proceeds to defining the differences in level between
narrating instances in the following terms: any event a narrative recounts
is at a diegetic level immediately higher than the level at which the
narrating act producing this narrative is placed. (1980: 228) The first
level is the extradiegetic level, followed by the diegetic/ intradiegetic level,
whereas the second degree narrative belongs to the metadiegetic level.
The first-degree narrator

The characters of the first-degree
narrative
+
The narrator of the second-degree
narrative
The characters
of the seconddegree narrative
+
The narrator of the third-degree
narrative etc.
METADIEGETIC
INTRADIEGETIC
EXTRADIEGETIC
17

Genette clearly emphasises the fact that the extradiegetic should not be
taken for real historical existence, just as the diegetic or the metadiegetic
should not be confounded with fiction.
Plenty of novels in the history of the genre display transitions from one
level to another. Genette calls such transitions metalepses, achieved by the
narrating and consisting precisely of introducing into one situation, by means
of a discourse, the knowledge of another situation. (1980: 234) Sternes
Tristram Shandy is among the most famous cases in point with its intrusions
of the extradiegetic narrator/ narratee into the diegetic universe (or the other
way round).1 The effect thus achieved is either comical (see Sterne) or
fantastic.
When finally discussing the category of person, Genette first justifies
his use of the first-person and third-person labels in between inverted
commas. This is his way of showing that he considers such labels
inadequate because they stress variation in the element of the narrative
situation that is in fact invariant [] the presence (explicit or implicit) of the
person of the narrator. (1980: 243-4) The presence of the narrator is
invariantly in the first person. Genette explains that the presence of firstperson verbs in a narrative text can refer to two different situations that the
narrative analysis must distinguish (although grammar renders them
identical): the narrators designation of himself as such (I) and the identity of
person between the narrator and one of the characters in the story. The term
first-person narrative refers only to the second situation, but the narrator
can interfere as such, in the first person, virtually in any narrative. The
question that really raises then is whether or not the narrator can use the
first person to designate one of his characters (1980: 244). In answering this
question, Genette distinguishes between two types of narrative:
with the narrator absent from the story (s)he tells
heterodiegetic;
with the narrator present as a character in the story (s)he tells
homodiegetic.
Of course, there is a certain dissymmetry between the two types since
absence is absolute, but presence has degrees. Therefore, Genette actually
differentiates two varieties within the homodiegetic type:
the narrator is the hero of his narrative (autodiegetic).
the narrator plays only a secondary role, which turns out to be
a role of observer and witness.
Taking then the narrators position on the narrative levels and its relationship
with the story as main criteria of classification, Genette devises a four-term
typology:
In his analysis in narratological terms of Sternes Tristram Shandy, Jeremy J. Williams questions the
correctness of Genettes statement that Sterne pushed the thing so far as to entreat the intervention of
the reader, whom he beseeched to close the door or help Mr. Shandy get back to his bed. (1980:
234). According to Williams, such a statement is based on a mistake of identification: Tristram the
narrator is not entreating the real reader, but the narratee. This slip on Genettes part, as Williams
puts it, might be explained by a certain tendency in thinking about narrative: that authors give higher
or more privileged commentary, whereas the level can logically be no more literal or less fictitious than
any other level. (1998: 38) It is a problem that comes from describing the real public as extradiegetic:
While there is a certain sense in which the narrator is external (superordinate) to the story he tells, as
the actual reader is not part of it either, this grossly elides the signal differences between real people
and fictive characters. That narrator is only defined in the economy of the figuration of the narrative,
whereas people () are not. (1998:39)
18
extradiegetic heterodiegetic: a narrator in the first degree tells a

story (s)he is absent from. (e.g. Homer);
extradiegetic homodiegetic: a narrator in the first degree tells
his/her own story. (e.g. Gil Blas);
intradiegetic heterodiegetic: a narrator in the second degree tells
a story (s)he is absent from. (e.g. Scheherazade);
intradiegetic homodiegetic: a narrator in the second degree tells
his/her own story. (e.g. Ulysses).
Presence/Absence in the
story
Narrative Level
First-degree narrative
Second-degree narrative
Absent from the story
Present in the story
extradiegetic
heterodiegetic
intradiegetic
heterodiegetic
extradiegetic
homodiegetic
intradiegetic
homodiegetic
2.2. Wayne Booth and the Rhetoric of Fiction

Regarding other possible approaches to the narrator as a narrative
instance, special reference should be made to Wayne Booths, as developed
in his ground-breaking study The Rhetoric of Fiction (1961, 1983). (Wayne
Booth is an American literary critic affiliated to the Chicago School of Literary
Criticism.)
On the one hand, an innovative point of Booths theory is his definition
of the self-conscious narrator. This kind of narrator shatters any illusion
that (s)he is telling something that has actually happened by revealing to the
reader that the narration is a work of fictional art, or by flaunting the
discrepancies between its patent fictionality and the reality it seems to
represent.
On the other hand, next to Genettes contribution to the development
of narratology, Wayne Booths should be paid due respect for having clarified
the distinctions between different instances involved in the communication
process in literature. (Genette himself acknowledges this merit of Booths
theory). Thus, Booth explained that the writer has the goal of informing the
reader about a particular fictional world, but he also needs to achieve a
rapport with his readers, an identity of viewpoint whereby the contents of
fiction will be interpreted and evaluated in an appropriate way. Yet, this is
where several difficulties seem to arise: there is one addresser, but a large
number of addressees whom the writer has never met and who will receive
the written message in a context that the writer knows or assumes little
about. One result of the relative uncertainty of the situational context of the
literary message is the degree of redundancy. The novelist tends to say the
same thing in a number of different ways and on different levels of structure.
Both events and different ways of constructing the narrative movement
combine together to embody different themes.
Although the real-life author of the novel is in the dark about his
reader from many points of view, he can, of course, assume that he shares
with his readers a common fond of knowledge and experience. This
background knowledge can include not just common inferences, but also
19

knowledge of certain well-known historical events and literary works, and
even quotations from the latter.
A writer will allude to things which is reasonable to expect the
educated readers of his day to know, but which a later reader will have to
make himself positively aware of. For example, to understand Fieldings
Shamela, the modern reader will have to read Richardsons Pamela first to
be able to fully appreciate the satire.
Because the author can assume knowledge which any particular
reader might not necessarily have, we have to conclude that the addressee
in literary communication is not the reader but what Wayne Booth called the
mock reader, i.e. the implied reader, a hypothetical personage who shares
with the author not just background knowledge, but also a set of
presuppositions, sympathies and standards of what is pleasant and
unpleasant, good and bad, right and wrong, etc. For a reader to suspend his
disbelief and become the appropriate reader, he has not just to make himself
aware of certain facts, but also make all kinds of allowances, linguistic,
social, moral, for the reader whom the author is addressing.
Booth also noticed that just as there is an implied reader between
the reader and the work, so there is what he called an implied author
between the author and the text. Otherwise, we would have to ascribe
automatically the views expressed through a work to the author himself.
Authors may very often believe the views which they are putting forward but
there is no necessary reason why they should, and in the normal situation,
where we do not know the authors views from some external source, it is not
reasonable to make the transference from the work to the man. We usually
do not know the opinion of the real author, except by inference from what he
writes. (Booth in Leech, 1992: 259-261)
Finally, to round off the brief presentation of Booths theory, internal
communication on the level of the narrative text itself should be discussed as
linking a certain type of narrator to the fictional representation of the reader
in the form of the narratee. Booth introduced the dichotomy reliable/
unreliable narrator in which the latter stands for one whose perception,
interpretation and evaluation of the matters (s)he narrates do not coincide
with the opinions and norms implied by the author, which the author expects
the alert reader to share.

Analyse the fragments below using Genettes and Booths interpretation
models, making comments (where possible) on: a) the temporal relations
between narrative and story (order, duration, frequency); b) the modalities of
narrative representation (distance, narrative perspective); c) the way in which
the narrative reflects the narrating process (time of the narrating, narrative
levels, narrator type); d) the instances involved in the process of literary
communication.
a) I had been now thirteen days on shore, and had been eleven times on
board the ship, in which time I had brought away all that one pair of hands
could well be supposed capable to bring; though I believe verily, had the
calm weather held, I should have brought away the whole ship, piece by
piece. But preparing the twelfth time to go on board, I found the wind began
to rise: however, at low water I went on board, and though I thought I had
20

rummaged the cabin so effectually that nothing more could be found, yet I
discovered a locker with drawers in it, in one of which I found two or three
razors, and one pair of large scissors, with some ten or a dozen of good
knives and forks: in another I found about thirty-six pounds value in money some European coin, some Brazil, some pieces of eight, some gold, and
some silver.
I smiled to myself at the sight of this money: "O drug!" said I, aloud,
"what art thou good for? Thou art not worth to me - no, not the taking off the
ground; one of those knives is worth all this heap; I have no manner of use
for thee - e'en remain where thou art, and go to the bottom as a creature
whose life is not worth saying." However, upon second thoughts I took it
away; and wrapping all this in a piece of canvas, I began to think of making
another raft; but while I was preparing this, I found the sky overcast, and the
wind began to rise, and in a quarter of an hour it blew a fresh gale from the
shore. It presently occurred to me that it was in vain to pretend to make a raft
with the wind offshore; and that it was my business to be gone before the tide
of flood began, otherwise I might not be able to reach the shore at all.
Accordingly, I let myself down into the water, and swam across the channel,
which lay between the ship and the sands, and even that with difficulty
enough, partly with the weight of the things I had about me, and partly the
roughness of the water; for the wind rose very hastily, and before it was quite
high water it blew a storm.
(Daniel Defoe, Robinson Crusoe, 1994: 60-1)
b) I found presently, that whether I was a whore or a wife, I was to pass for a
whore here, so I let that go. I told her it was true, as she said, but that,
however, if I must tell her my case, I must tell it her as it was; so I related it to
her as short as I could, and I concluded it to her thus. 'I trouble you with all
this, madam,' said I, 'not that, as you said before, it is much to the purpose in
your affair, but this is to the purpose, namely, that I am not in any pain about
being seen, or being public or concealed, for 'tis perfectly indifferent to me;
but my difficulty is, that I have no acquaintance in this part of the nation.'
'I understand you, madam' says she; 'you have no security to bring to
prevent the parish impertinences usual in such cases, and perhaps,' says
she, 'do not know very well how to dispose of the child when it comes.' 'The
last,' says I, 'is not so much my concern as the first.' 'Well, madam,'
answered the midwife, 'dare you put yourself into my hands? I live in such a
place; though I do not inquire after you, you may inquire after me. My name
is B----; I live in such a street'--naming the street--' at the sign of the Cradle.
My profession is a midwife, and I have many ladies that come to my house to
lie in. I have given security to the parish in general terms to secure them from
any charge from whatsoever shall come into the world under my roof. I have
but one question to ask in the whole affair, madam,' says she, 'and if that be
answered you shall be entirely easy for all the rest.'
I presently understood what she meant, and told her, 'Madam, I
believe I understand you. I thank God, though I want friends in this part of the
world, I do not want money, so far as may be necessary, though I do not
abound in that neither': this I added because I would not make her expect
great things. 'Well, madam,' says she, 'that is the thing indeed, without which
nothing can be done in these cases; and yet,' says she, 'you shall see that I
will not impose upon you, or offer anything that is unkind to you, and if you
21

desire it, you shall know everything beforehand, that you may suit yourself to
the occasion, and be neither costly or sparing as you see fit.'
(Daniel Defoe, Moll Flanders, 1994: 178-9)
c) Are all the great Folks wicked then? says Fanny. To be sure there are
some Exceptions, answered Joseph. Some Gentlemen of our Cloth report
charitable Actions done by their Lords and Masters, and I have heard 'Squire
Pope, the great Poet, at my Lady's Table, tell Stories of a Man that lived at a
Place called Ross, and another at the Bath, one AlAl I forget his Name,
but it is in the Book of Verses. This Gentleman hath built up a stately House
too, which the Squire likes very well; but his Charity is seen farther than his
House, tho' it stands on a Hill, ay, and brings him more Honour. It was his
Charity that put him upon the Book, where the Squire says he puts all those
who deserve it; and to be sure, as he lives among all the great People, if there
were any such, he would know them. This was all of Mr. Joseph Andrews's
Speech which I could get him to recollect, which I have delivered as near as
was possible in his own Words, with a very small Embellishment. But I believe
the Reader hath not been a little surprised at the long Silence of Parson
Adams, especially as so many Occasions offer'd themselves to exert his
Curiosity and Observation. The truth is, he was fast asleep, and had so been
from the beginning of the preceding Narrative: and indeed if the Reader
considers that two Nights had past since he had closed his Eyes, he will not
wonder at his Repose, tho' even Henley himself, or as great an Orator (if any
such be) had been in his Rostrum or Tub before him.
(Henry Fielding, Joseph Andrews, 1973: 182)
d) The lady, whose resolution had given way to terror the moment she had
quitted Manfred, continued her flight to the bottom of the principal staircase.
There she stopped, not knowing whither to direct her steps, nor how to
escape from the impetuosity of the Prince. The gates of the castle, she knew,
were locked, and guards placed in the court. Should she, as her heart
prompted her, go and prepare Hippolita for the cruel destiny that awaited her,
she did not doubt but Manfred would seek her there, and that his violence
would incite him to double the injury he meditated, without leaving room for
them to avoid the impetuosity of his passions. Delay might give him time to
reflect on the horrid measures he had conceived, or produce some
circumstance in her favour, if she could--for that night, at least--avoid his
odious purpose. Yet where conceal herself? How avoid the pursuit he would
infallibly make throughout the castle?
As these thoughts passed rapidly through her mind, she recollected a
subterraneous passage which led from the vaults of the castle to the church
of St. Nicholas. Could she reach the altar before she was overtaken, she
knew even Manfred's violence would not dare to profane the sacredness of
the place; and she determined, if no other means of deliverance offered, to
shut herself up for ever among the holy virgins whose convent was
contiguous to the cathedral. In this resolution, she seized a lamp that burned
at the foot of the staircase, and hurried towards the secret passage.
The lower part of the castle was hollowed into several intricate
cloisters; and it was not easy for one under so much anxiety to find the door
that opened into the cavern. An awful silence reigned throughout those
subterraneous regions, except now and then some blasts of wind that shook
the doors she had passed, and which, grating on the rusty hinges, were re22

echoed through that long labyrinth of darkness. Every murmur struck her with
new terror; yet more she dreaded to hear the wrathful voice of Manfred
urging his domestics to pursue her.
(Horace Walpole, The Castle of Otranto, 2001: 26)
e) --How could you, Madam, be so inattentive in reading the last chapter? I
told you in it, That my mother was not a papist.--Papist! You told me no such
thing, Sir.--Madam, I beg leave to repeat it over again, that I told you as plain,
at least, as words, by direct inference, could tell you such a thing.--Then, Sir,
I must have miss'd a page.--No, Madam, you have not miss'd a word.--Then I
was asleep, Sir.--My pride, Madam, cannot allow you that refuge.--Then, I
declare, I know nothing at all about the matter.-- That, Madam, is the very
fault I lay to your charge; and as a punishment for it, I do insist upon it, that
you immediately turn back, that is as soon as you get to the next full stop,
and read the whole chapter over again. I have imposed this penance upon
the lady, neither out of wantonness nor cruelty; but from the best of motives;
and therefore shall make her no apology for it when she returns back:--'Tis to
rebuke a vicious taste, which has crept into thousands besides herself,--of
reading straight forwards, more in quest of the adventures, than of the deep
erudition and knowledge which a book of this cast, if read over as it should
be, would infallibly impart with them--The mind should be accustomed to
make wise reflections, and draw curious conclusions as it goes along; the
habitude of which made Pliny the younger affirm, 'That he never read a book
so bad, but he drew some profit from it.' The stories of Greece and Rome,
run over without this turn and application,--do less service, I affirm it, than the
history of Parismus and Parismenus, or of the Seven Champions of England,
read with it.
--But here comes my fair lady. Have you read over again the chapter,
Madam, as I desired you?--You have: And did you not observe the passage,
upon the second reading, which admits the inference?--Not a word like it!
Then, Madam, be pleased to ponder well the last line but one of the chapter,
where I take upon me to say, 'It was necessary I should be born before I was
christen'd.' Had my mother, Madam, been a Papist, that consequence did
not follow. (The Romish Rituals direct the baptizing of the child, in cases of
danger, before it is born;--but upon this proviso, That some part or other of
the child's body be seen by the baptizer:--But the Doctors of the Sorbonne,
by a deliberation held amongst them, April 10, 1733,--have enlarged the
powers of the midwives, by determining, That though no part of the child's
body should appear,--that baptism shall, nevertheless, be administered to it
by injection,--par le moyen d'une petite canulle,--Anglice a squirt.--'Tis very
strange that St. Thomas Aquinas, who had so good a mechanical head, both
for tying and untying the knots of school-divinity,--should, after so much pains
bestowed upon this,- -give up the point at last, as a second La chose
impossible,--'Infantes in maternis uteris existentes (quoth St. Thomas!)
baptizari possunt nullo modo.'--O Thomas! Thomas! If the reader has the
curiosity to see the question upon baptism by injection, as presented to the
Doctors of the Sorbonne, with their consultation thereupon, it is as follows.)
It is a terrible misfortune for this same book of mine, but more so to the
Republick of letters;--so that my own is quite swallowed up in the
consideration of it,--that this self-same vile pruriency for fresh adventures in
all things, has got so strongly into our habit and humour,-- and so wholly
intent are we upon satisfying the impatience of our concupiscence that way,-23

that nothing but the gross and more carnal parts of a composition will go
down:--The subtle hints and sly communications of science fly off, like spirits
upwards,--the heavy moral escapes downwards; and both the one and the
other are as much lost to the world, as if they were still left in the bottom of
the ink-horn.
I wish the male-reader has not pass'd by many a one, as quaint and
curious as this one, in which the female-reader has been detected. I wish it
may have its effects;--and that all good people, both male and female, from
example, may be taught to think as well as read.
(Laurence Sterne, Tristram Shandy, 1997: 48)
24
Section 3. Style in Fiction
SECTION 3. Style in Fiction

3.1. Speech and Character
As Geoffrey Leech points out, the details of [a characters]
appearance, behaviour and personal qualities may be specified to a greater
and lesser extent; they may be relatively realistic (in the sense of being
credible and consistent) or not; they may be relatively universal in their
characteristics (representative of character types) or may be relatively
individuated. We must also recognize the importance of inference in the
determination of character: in novels, as in real life, a persons motives and
character are inferred from outside behaviour: from actions, from demeanor,
and also from speech. (1992: 171)
Therefore, fictional speech (here including the special case of
imaginary speech that many realistic novelists resort to in order to convey
the hidden purport of a persons behaviour) is a revealing indicator of
character. It may aspire to a special kind of realism, a special kind of
authenticity, in representing the kind of language which a reader may
recognize, by observation, as being characteristic of a particular situation.
3.1.1. Realism in Conversation
In Geoffrey Leechs terms, realism in conversation is the standard by
which we judge a writers ability to render in writing the characteristics of
spoken conversational language.
Of course, as stated in a previous section, there cannot be absolute
realism of reported speech in the fictional text. There will always be instances
where certain distance is taken from the raw realities of spoken language.
For instance, real-life conversation may be often display features
which interrupt the fluency of speech that Leech calls features of normal
non-fluency, i.e.:
- hesitation pauses/ voice fillers: e.g. er/ erm;
- false starts: the needless repetition of a word or the reformulation of
what has been said, resulting in an ungrammatical sequence of words;
- syntactic anomalies: e.g. Weve got youve got to take
Though not entirely ungrammatical, they are unacceptable in written
composition. (1992: 161)
- tag questions/ constructions: e.g. you know, / , isnt it?;
- initiating signals: e.g. Well, / Oh, . Just like the tag questions,
they act, to some extent, as pause fillers. (1992: 162)
Furthermore, on the syntactic level, real-life conversation tends
towards coordination rather than subordination of clauses, for coordination
simplifies the planning of sentence structure.
On the semantic level, there is a tendency to use clich expressions
which require no linguistic inventiveness.
Nevertheless, authors of literary fiction do not aim at completely
realistic representation of the features of ordinary conversation and might
choose to depart, to different extents, from the realistic representation of
25

speech. (1992: 163) Generally speaking, features of normal non-fluency,
which appear as an impediment rather than a contribution to communicative
discourse, are omitted. As they are always overlooked by participants in reallife conversations, the omission does not impair the realistic discourse. Yet,
there are cases in which writers choose to preserve them (i.e. such
interactional signals) precisely to endow them with additional communicative
values in the sense that they may indicate something of the speakers
character or state of mind. (1992: 164-165)
3.1.2. Dialect and Idiolect
Dialects may be defined as varieties of language which are
linguistically marked off from other varieties and which correspond to
geographical, class or other divisions of society.
The idiolect is the linguistic thumbprint of a particular person. In
other words, it encompasses the features of speech that mark her/ him off as
an individual from those around her/him. (Leech, 1992: 167)
Both dialect and idiolect are most noticeable on the graphological
level.
Once again, there is no question of absolute realism. This point
becomes clearer when considering the phenomenon of eye-dialect, where
the impression of rendering non-standard spelling is pure illusion. Its use is
usually attached to lower-class characters. In fact, such cases as wos used
instead of was; an/n instead of and, etc., occur naturally in English
speech without any respect to dialect. (e.g.: catsn dogs) But if we meet
such a non-standard spelling in fiction, it is the non-standardness that strikes
us, not the supposed phonological reality behind it. Many realists were
scrupulous observers of local dialects, hence the use of dialect markers to
create the living flavour and to achieve the goal of authenticity. Yet, when
exaggeratedly used, they may result in unintelligibility. (Leech, 1992: 169)
In terms of function, the following associations can be made:
DIALECT
SYMBOLISM
(the general characteristics
(the tendency to universalize,
of a group of people)
to typify)
IDIOLECT
(the individualizing features of language)
VERISIMILITUDE
(the tendency to evoke reality
by particularizing)
Special mention must also be made of the distancing and stigmatizing

effect of using non-standard forms of standard language, including deviant
spellings. The character deviates from the norm of the authors standard
language using non-standard speech, which makes her/him an object of
comedy and satire. (Leech, 1992: 170)
3.2. Narrative and Stylistic Structures

There is an analogical relation between language and the fictional
world. According to G. Leech, this analogy must be studied in order to
understand a piece of fiction as a particular realization of more abstract
26

patterns or narrative structures. Subtly developed by the French
structuralists (Roland Barthes, Tzvetan Todorov, Andr Greimas, etc.), it has
engendered a grammar of narrative that has subsequently enabled
theorists to pursue the analogy between choices of rendering made at the
fictional level and stylistic choices at the linguistic level. (1992: 173)
Just as there are three functions of stylistic choice the
interpersonal, textual and ideational , there are also three corresponding
functions in the rendering of fictions: point of view, sequencing and
descriptive focus.
3.2.1. Fictional Sequencing
Generally speaking, the dominant consideration in determining the
choice of sequencing is plain objective chronology.
However, other principles, such as psychological immediacy, may take
precedence over chronology. In this case, reference is made to
psychological sequencing, i.e., the order in which a character comes to
learn about the components of the fiction. (Leech, 1992: 177)
Finally, in order to answer the question related to the appropriate order
in which the reader should learn the elements of the fiction, Geoffrey Leech
also brings into discussion what he calls presentational sequencing, which
can overlap the others, but may as well be independent. According to Leech,
the best order of presentation is to go from elements which presuppose the
least prior knowledge to those which presuppose the most. When this order is
abandoned, the author has some good reasons for doing so.
The author is free to deviate from the linearity of the model, holding
back information which is necessary for understanding an earlier piece of the
narrative until later. This heightens the element of mystery or suspense which
is an important ingredient in storytelling. By this game of things known and
things guessed, anticipated, or inferred, the story progresses and holds its
interest for the reader.
A point of interest in this respect is the beginning of the fictional text
which, according to the basic principle, should be the point of least
presupposition. (E.g. in fairy tales) In modern fiction, nevertheless,
beginnings in media res (in the middle of things) are rather favoured;
certain things are taken for granted, though the reader can only work them
out for himself by reading on. (1992: 179)
As for the end of a novel, according to the natural principle of
information presentation, it should be the point at which fiction reaches
completion, in the sense that nothing of importance remains provisional: all
questions are answered, all presuppositions are satisfied, all mysteries are
solved. But, again, the writer may frustrate conventional expectations by
leaving things unresolved at the conclusion (open-ended fiction). (Leech,
1992: 180)
3.2.2. Descriptive Focus
It may be defined as encompassing the ideational choices of meaning
through which reality is portrayed. Description can concentrate on one
aspect and ignore another.
Two types of contrasts could be particularly referred to:
- physical / abstract description;
27

- subjective/ objective description.
Physical description covers things which have space/time extension and
physical properties (size, shape, colour, movement, speed, etc.) Abstract
description focuses more on mental and social properties, states and events.
The type of description implicitly influences the choices in terms of lexical
categories (nouns, adjectives, verbs, adverbs).
In some areas, the physical and the abstract are virtually inextricable.
E.g.: The verb to ask involves both a mental event and the physical act of
utterance. So, the difference between the physical and the abstract in
practice is not an absolute distinction, but a matter of degree and emphasis.
Similarly, there is a common ground between subjective and objective
description. Large objects may appear small from a distance or we may
subjectively be aware of things which have no objective existence at all.
All in all, the effects of the descriptive focus may largely vary in
literature ranging from estrangement or empathic response from the reader
to objectivity or vividness (of subjective realism). (Leech, 1992: 180-185)
3.2.3. Fictional and Discoursal Points of View
Corresponding to the interpersonal function of style, there is the
slanting of the fictional world towards reality as apprehended by a particular
participant/ set of participants in the fiction. Geoffrey Leech refers to this
aspect of fiction as the fictional point of view defined as the telling of the
story through the words or thoughts of a particular person/reflector. It is
therefore limited to what that character-reflector could reasonably be
expected to know or infer. (1992: 174-175)
It is true that the demarcation of the fictional point of view becomes
particularly difficult to determine where the narrative refers to psychological
events and states: perceptions, volitions, emotions, thoughts, judgments, etc.
But, as Leech points out, it is natural and almost automatic human activity to
infer such mental phenomena from outward behaviour. This leads to the
limitation of omniscience to the inside view. There is also the possibility of
creating the opposite effect: the author limits his narrative to an external view
of a character, achieving an effect of estrangement by denying himself
knowledge of what is inside the characters mind. (1992: 175-176)
The fictional point of view must be clearly distinguished from what
Leech calls the discoursal point of view associated with the narrator/the
implied author. The discoursal point of view may be defined as the
relationship expressed through discourse structure between the implied
author, or some other addresser, and the fiction. That indicates from the
beginning the possibility of discussing, under the umbrella of this concept,
such critical terms as irony, tone and distance which imply attitude and
judgment.
The (implied) author may make his attitude towards characters and
events clear by direct address, but, on the other hand, his point of view may
also be given bias within the narration itself by the use of language which,
either in its sense or its connotations, expresses some elements of value
pertaining to one or more of the following three scales/spheres of value:
- a sphere of moral disposition;
- a purely social scale of accepted behaviour, of standing in
the community;
- a sphere of emotive attitudes.
28

Thus he may direct the readers value responses to the characters and
events in the novel. The readers value picture of a character or even of the
whole fiction may be built up into a composition of associated and contrasted
kinds of value judgments. (Leech, 1992: 273-274)
The value picture of a novel is multi-faceted, a matter not only of coexisting spheres of value, but of co-existing levels of discourse as well
(character, narrator, implied author, real author). Sometimes the value
pictures corresponding to these levels may coincide (e.g. in Dickenss David
Copperfield). There are, however, cases in which the standards of judgment
on one level contrast with those on another level. The best case in point is
that of narratives displaying what Wayne Booth calls unreliable narrators. In
such cases of value contrast, there is what Booth identifies as a secret
communion between (implied) author and (implied) reader. This conspiracy
is founded on shared standards of evaluation and on the manner in which
these are controlled and developed through the novel. This is actually one
feature which distinguishes fiction from other kinds of discourse. (Leech,
1992: 276-277)
3.2.4. Irony. Tone. Distance
Based on the secret communion between author and reader, as W.
Booth put it, irony implies a double significance which arises from the
contrast in values associated with two different points of view. (Leech, 1992:
278) It is a wide-ranging phenomenon which can be manifested in a single
sentence or may extend over a whole novel.
The most usual kind of irony is the contrast between the point of view
stated/ implied in some part of the fiction, and the assumed point of view of
the (implied) author, and hence of the (implied) reader. On a small scale, it
may be located in details of the lexical and syntactic structures.
In a broad sense, the authorial tone is given by the stance or
attitude taken by an (implied) author towards his readers and towards (parts
of) his message. (Leech, 1992: 280) The stylistic markers of authorial tone
may vary from irony (in its multiple manifestations) and evaluative terms and
inferences to complex rhetorical patterns of direct and/or indirect address to
the (implied) reader.
Authorial tone goes together with varying degrees of distance which
must be distinguished between: the authorial address to the reader may be
relatively distant, formal, public, or else relatively intimate, colloquial,
private. Furthermore, distance may also be given by the variable relation
between the (implied) author and the subject matter, which is a function of
the difference between the knowledge, sympathy and values of the implied
author and those of the characters and society which he portrays. The
(implied) author may artfully delay and disguise the judgment of character,
taking the role of a guide/mentor/stage-manager, controlling the readers
response. (Leech, 1992: 280-283)
3.2.5. Narrators and Discourse Situations
In an attempt at representing the relations between different discourse
levels, Geoffrey Leech proposes the following diagram:
29
Fig. 8.5. Leech, 1992: 269

In analysing discourse situations that involve I-narrators (as Geoffrey
Leech puts it, 1992: 262), special attention must be paid to the fact that the
narrator may well be talking to someone distinct from the reader. For
example, in the epistolary novel, there are a number of I-narrators and
confidants, none of whom can be assumed to be the (implied) author or the
(implied) reader. The impression that the narrator, having no interlocutor,
talks to us directly leads to collapsing on the addressees side. The choice of
a first-person/homodiegetic narrator where the I is also a primary character
in the story produces a personal relationship with the reader which inevitably
tends to bias the reader in favour of the narrator-character. It is very possible
by the use of this device to convert the reader to views (s)he would not
normally hold for the duration of the story (hence the need to postulate an
implied reader). (Leech, 1992: 262-266)
As for heterodiegetic narratives, the presence at the textual level of
the third-person pronouns traditionally indicates that the novelist employs an
impersonal style of narration, since her/his narrator avoids making reference
to himself.
One of the advantages of this narrative technique is that the absence
of an I invites the reader to assume that there is no explicit you. The
narration is therefore presented to the reader directly, without an
intermediary. The lack of an I also invites the reader to collapse the
addresser side of the novels discourse structure, so that implied author and
narrator become merged. The narrator stands in the place of the implied
author and takes on his absolute knowledge (omniscience).
The (implied) author may make her/his presence felt in the text,
ostensibly guiding the reader towards particular judgments on characters and
events through rhetorical questions, shifts in verb tense from past to generic,
timeless present or in grammatical person from the third to the first person.
In a consistently constructed third-person narrative, the (implied) author
appears to disappear. It actually does not because there is inevitably an
addresser to produce the message and that addresser is the author.
Because messages are, by their nature, communicated by an addresser, the
novelist can never really let the novel tell itself. But he can make it appear to
30

do so by the selection of the linguistic features that go with one mode of
address rather than another. (Leech, 1992: 266-269)
The conversations which the characters have with one another and
which the narrator reports are embedded within the talk between the narrator
and his interlocutor.
The use of the third-person/heterodiegetic narration generally
separates the level of character discourse from that of narrator discourse. But
the choice of a first-person/homodiegetic narration allows a further kind of
merger of roles, i.e., a merger of the characters and narrators levels of
discourse. In this latter case, the conflation of the levels of discourse
becomes instrumental in conveying the confusion and immediacy of the
situation narrated.
The levels of discourse, particularly where the author withholds the
signals of transition from one level to another, can be a rich source of
ambiguity and complexity of interpretation. (Leech, 1992: 269-272)
3.3. The Rhetoric of the Text

3.3.1. Coordination and Subordination
The contrast between simplicity and complexity lies in the difference
between experiencing events one by one, in the case of coordination, and
experiencing them as an articulate complex whole, in the case of
subordination. Coordination gives clauses (and other units) equal syntactic
status, while subordination places one clause/unit in a dependent status, as
part of a main clause. The effect of subordination as a form of syntactic
salience is then that it demotes the phenomenon it describes into a
subservient circumstance which cannot be understood except in terms of its
part in the main clause. A subordinate is less salient in the sense of
expressing information which is at least partially known or presupposed in
advance. (Leech, 1992: 221)
In short, the general principle of subordination (always subject to
exceptions) may be described, in Geoffrey Leechs terms, as follows: If A is
subordinate to B, then A is the circumstantial background against which B is
highlighted. (1992: 221)
Discussing in more details the way in which subordination may be
used to achieve different effects at the level of the fictional text, Geoffrey
Leech distinguishes between three types of subordinate/dependent
constituents illustrated in the examples below:
e.g.: Sophia sailed into the room [with her eyes ablaze.]
Left in the final position, this dependent constituent functions

as a trailing constituent.
e.g.: [With her eyes ablaze,] Sophia sailed into the room.
Moved in initial position, it becomes an anticipatory constituent.

e.g.: Sophia, [with her eyes ablaze], sailed into the room.
In medial position, it is described as a parenthetical dependent

constituent. (Leech, 1992: 225-226)
31

Depending on the type of constituents that play the main part in the sentence
structure, further distinction is made between the following types of structures:
The periodic sentence structure. In a strict sense, it may be defined
as one which saves its main clause to the end. More loosely defined, it
stands for any sentence in which anticipatory constituents i.e.,
subordinate or dependent constituents which are non-final (i.e.,
anticipatory and/or parenthetical) play a major part.
Unlike trailing constituents which do not involve suspense and
can be interpreted as we go along, anticipatory constituents whether
clauses or phrases function as elements of suspense into syntax.
They must be held in memory until the major constituent of which they
are a part has been interpreted. The effect of suspense depends on
the size of the anticipatory elements.
The function of the periodic sentence structures is to lend
dramatic quality to the text. They combine the principle of climax2 with
the principle of subordination and so progress from a build-up of
tension to a final climactic point of resolution. They have the quality of
concentrating significance at one point in the sentence; enlightenment
comes retrospectively, at the end, where all the elements of meaning
fit synoptically into a whole. They give to both writer and reader a
sense of escaping from the tyranny of succession, since all
meanings are held in mind simultaneously not sequentially. (Leech,
1992: 226-228)
The loose sentence structure. Unlike the periodic sentence structure
that contravenes what G. Leech calls the memory principle (a
presumed principle of sentence construction that requires reducing the
burden on the readers immediate syntactic memory), the loose
sentence structure, based on trailing constituents, complies to it. It
is more natural, making things easy for the addressee by reducing
the amount of syntactic information that has to be stored in decoding.
Non-initial constituents of a coordinate structure may also be
included among trailing constituents. (Leech, 1992: 228-230)
To summarize:
ANTICIPATORY CONSTITUENTS
(ART)
Types:
1. initial dependent constituents
2. parenthetical constituents
Functions:
- to create suspense;
- to lend the discourse dramatic
quality;
- to give rhetorical weight to the
discourse.
TRAILING CONSTITUENTS
(NATURE)
Types:
1. final dependent constituents
2. non-initial coordinate constituents
Functions:
- to create the effect of simplicity,
directness, easiness, relaxation,
informality, as they lack anticipatory
tension;
- to give complexity to the expression,
without, however, causing difficulties
in comprehension;
- to ensure the linear progress of the
text.
In a sequence of interrelated tone units, the final position tends to be the major focus of information.
The principle of climax Last is the most important. See Leech, 1992: 222-225.
32

3.3.2. Addresser-based Rhetoric. Writing Imitating Speech
Writers may wish to cultivate the impression of spontaneity and vigour
which is associated with spoken language (for example, in fictional dialogue
and stream-ofconsciousness narratives) as an ingredient of the authorial
tone of voice. That may be accounted for by the tendency of spoken
language to be extremely loose in structure. The last is the most important
principle clashes then with a tendency for the speaker to mention what is
most important first (the focal point of the message placed in the beginning
by means of syntactic inversions, dislocations characteristic of ordinary
speech). In some of these cases, the syntactic structure of the text seems to
favour the use of parentheses, especially parenthetical constructions which
are syntactically dislocated from their context. A parenthetical constituent
runs counter to the memory principle: the addressee has to keep in store the
rest of the sentence while the parenthesis is being elaborated. But from a
speakers point of view, a parenthesis is in part a recuperatory mechanism, a
way of digressing from the main structure of the sentence in order to include
something which, with more forethought, could have been integrated into the
syntax of the sentence. (Leech, 1992: 231-232)
3.3.3. Iconicity: The Imitation Principle
Literature follows a principle of imitation, in other words literary
expression tends to have not only a presentational function (directed
towards the readers role as a decoder), but also a representational
function (miming the meaning that it expresses).
The signals or textual forms of an iconic code imitate the meanings
that they represent.
In modern linguistics, language is perceived as essentially non-iconic
(except perhaps the onomatopoeic words). Yet, according to Leech, iconicity
is inherent in language. Thus, the syntactic relations between the words
characteristically imitate relations between the objects and the events which
those words signify. Iconicity embraces not only onomatopoeia and sound
symbolism, but also the miming or enactment of meaning through patterns of
rhythm and syntax.
Two important instances of this syntactic iconicity should be, first of all,
distinguished: chronological sequencing since textual time imitates real
time, i.e. if A comes before B in the model of reality, then A comes before B
in the text and juxtaposition.
Regarding the mimetic force of sequencing, reference must be made
to the presentational sequencing, which is not iconic, as opposed to the
chronological and psychological sequencing as iconic. Chronological
sequencing is iconic in the sense it imitates the purported sequence of
events in the fictional world. Psychological sequencing is iconic in the sense
that the syntactic order appears to represent the order in which things
spontaneously arise in the consciousness of the author. From a generalised
perspective, it covers the imitation of a fictional narrators or reflectors
thought processes as found pre-eminently in the stream-of-consciousness
prose. A subjective, sensory reality is projected through the distortion of the
linguistic medium (the ordering of impressions + the syntax).
Juxtaposition may be iconic in the sense that words which are close in
the text may evoke an impression of closeness or connectedness in fiction
33

not only closeness in time, but psychological or locative relatedness. (Leech,
1992: 233-242)
But, of, course, the possibilities of form enacting meaning could be
virtually unlimited as unlimited as an authors imagination power over the
expressiveness of language, and as the readers capacity to see the
connections. Iconicity rules then, like metaphor, on the intuitive recognition of
similarities between one field of reference (the form of language) and
another.
One of the best cases in point is Laurence Sternes Tristram Shandy.
Sternes novel is iconic on two levels: in the narrow scope of the sentence,
the syntax dramatizes its own meaning, which is that digression is both an
end in itself and also a means to the end of advancing the fiction; and on a
large scale, the syntax is an icon of the authors modus operandi in the whole
work. (1992: 243)
3.3.4. Cohesion
The cohesion and coherence of the narrative discourse may be
achieved by means of various devices which fall into two categories:
Cross-reference = the various means which language uses to
indicate that the same thing is being referred to or mentioned in
different parts of the text.
1. Definite reference: a) personal pronouns (he, she, it, they, etc.); b)
the definite article (the); c) deictics (this, that, these, those, etc.); d)
implied (same, different, other, else, such, etc.);
2. Substitution: pro-forms (one, ones, do, so) which substitute for other
linguistic expressions.
3. Ellipsis: omission or deletion of elements whose meaning is
understood because it is recoverable from the context.
4. Formal repetition: repeated use of an expression which has already
occurred in the context. Sometimes, it is favoured by the principle of
expressive repetition giving emphasis or emotive heightening to the
repeated meaning.
5. Elegant variation: use of an alternative expression (not a pronoun or
a substitute) as a replacement for an expression in the context.
(Leech, 1992: 244)
The abundance of cross-reference means indicates that style is
immensely repetitive.
Linkage = the use of overt connectors: coordinating conjunctions (e.g.
and, or, but, both ... and..., neither ... nor..., etc.), subordinating
conjunctions (so that, because, while, etc.), linking adverbials (for, so,
yet, however, therefore, meanwhile, for example, etc.).
Cohesion is an important part of what makes a text, but not
always an important aspect of literary style.
The most conspicuous feature of linkage is the tendency to rely
on inferred linkage, i.e., on the absence of connectors or simple
juxtaposition, rather than on overt signals.
Semantically, linkage may be placed on the following scale of
cohesiveness:
- the most cohesive signals are the connectives (e.g.
therefore) as they indicate a fairly explicit relation between the
two clauses.
34

-
the general purpose link is the conjunction and. It is the

vaguest of connectives, it merely says that two ideas have a
positive connection and leaves the reader to work out what it is.
The end-point is represented by inferred linkage/
juxtaposition especially preferred in the stream-ofconsciousness prose. (Leech, 1992: 250)

1. Discuss the excerpt below in terms of realism in fictional conversation.
Underline the function in character-drawing of the real-life conversation
features preserved by Kingsley Amis in the text:
Im terribly sorry if Ive made a mistake, but I was under the impression that
Miss Loosmore here had something to do with
He turned to Margaret for aid, but before she could speak Welch, of all
people, had come in loudly with: Poor old Dixon, ma-ha-ha, must have been
confusing this this young lady with Sonia Loosmore, a friend of Bertrands
who let us all down rather badly some time ago. I think Bertrand must have
thought you were twitting him or something, Dixon, ba-ha-ha.
Well, if hed taken the trouble to be introduced, this wouldnt have
happened, Bertrand said, still flushed. Instead of which, he
Dont worry about it, Mr. Dixon, the girl cut in. It was only a silly little
misunderstanding. I can quite see how it happened. My names Christine
Callaghan. Altogether different, you see.
Well, Im thanks very much for taking it like that. Im very sorry
about it, really I am.
(Kingsley Amis, Lucky Jim in Leech, 1992: 165-166)
2. Comment on the excerpt below making specific reference to the use of
dialect and/or idiolect as means of indirect characterization:
He examined the fracture and the wound, and concluding from a livid colour
extending itself upon the limb, that a mortification would ensue, resolved to
amputate the leg immediately. This was a dreadful sentence to the patient,
who recruiting himself with a quid of tobacco, pronounced with a woeful
countenance, "What! is there no remedy, doctor? must I be dock'd? can't you
splice it?" "Assuredly, doctor Mackshane (said the first mate) with
submission, and deference, and veneration to your superior abilities, and
opportunities, and stations (look you) I do apprehend, and conjecture, and
aver, that there is no occasion nor necessity to smite off this poor man's leg."
"God almighty bless you, dear Welchman! (cried Rattlin) may you have fair
wind and weather wheresoever you're bound, and come to an anchor in the
road of heaven at last." Mackshane, very much incensed at his mate's
differing in opinion from him so openly, answered, that he was not bound to
give an account of his practice to him; and in a peremptory tone, ordered him
to apply the tourniquet. At the sight of which, Jack starting up, cried, "Avast,
avast! dn my heart, if you clap your nippers on me, till I know wherefore!
Mr. Random, won't you lend a hand towards saving of my precious limb?
Odd's heart, if lieutenant Bowling was here, he would not suffer Jack Rattlin's
leg to be chopped off like a piece of old junk." This pathetic address to me,
35

joined to my inclination to serve my honest friend, and the reasons I had to
believe there was no danger in delaying the amputation, induced me to
declare myself of the first mate's opinion, and affirm that the preternatural
colour of the skin, was owing to an inflammation occasioned by a contusion,
and common in all such cases, without any indication of an approaching
gangrene.
(Tobias George Smollett, Roderick Random, sine anno: 167-167)
3. Consider the excerpt below and discuss the extent to which the use of
imaginary speech functions as a revealing indicator of character:
The baronets disposition seemed to be cast in the true English mould. He
was sour, silent and contemptuous; his very looks indicated a consciousness
of superior wealth, and he never opened his mouth, except to make some
dry, sarcastic, national reflection In a word, though his tongue was silent
on the subject, his whole demeanour was continually saying, You are all a
pack of poor, lousy rascals, who have a design upon my purse: tis true, I
could buy your whole generation; but, I wont be bubbled, dye see; I am
aware of your flattery, and upon my guard against all your knavish pranks;
and I come into your company for my own amusement only.
(Tobias Smollett, Ferdinand Count Fathom, 1990: 140)
4. Discuss the excerpt below in terms of the type of point of view that it is
illustrative for. Approach the text from both the traditional (see Leech) and the
Genettian perspective.
Edwin went to the doorway of the drawing-room and stood there. Clara, in
her Sunday bonnet, was seated at the ancient piano; it had always been she
who had played the accompaniments. Maggie, nursing one of the babies, sat
on another chair, and leaned towards the page in order to make out the
words. She had half-forgotten the words, and Clara was no longer at ease in
the piano part, and their voices were shaky and unruly, and the piano itself
was exceedingly bad. A very indifferent performance of indifferent music! And
yet it touched Edwin. He could not deny that by its beauty and by the
sentiment of old times it touched him. He moved a little forward in the
doorway. Clara glanced at him, and winked. Now he could see his father.
Darius was standing at some distance behind his daughters and his
grandchild, and staring at them. And the tears rained down from his red eyes,
and then his emotion overcame him and he blubbered, just as the duet
finished.
(Arnold Bennett, Clayhanger in Leech, 1992: 175-176)
5. Comment on the excerpt below pointing out the way in which the
descriptive focus functions and the effect that is achieved:
Their heads and breasts were covered with a thick hair, some frizzled, and
others lank; they had beards like goats, and a long ridge of hair down their
backs and the fore-parts of their legs and feet; But the rest of their bodies
were bare, so that I might see their skins, which were of a brown buff colour.
They had no tails, and were accustomed to sit as well as to lie down, and
often stood on their hind feet The females were not so large as the males;
they had long lank hair on their heads, but none on their faces, nor anything
36

more than a sort of down on the rest of their bodies. The hair of both sexes
was of several colours, brown, red, black, and yellow.
(Jonathan Swift, Gullivers Travels, 1998: 215)
6. Consider the excerpt below and comment on the effect of Richardsons
choice of a first-person/homodiegetic narrator. Identify the different levels of
the narrative discourse and discuss the relations between them.
If this ever-active, ever-mischievous monkey of a man, this Lovelace,
contrived as you suspect But here comes my mother again. Ay, stay a
little longer, my mamma, if you please. I can but be suspected! I can but be
chidden for making you wait; and chidden I am sure to be, whether I do or
not, in the way you, my good mamma, are Antonyd into.
Bless me! how impatient she is! how she thunders at the door!
This moment, madam. How came I to double-lock myself in! What have I
done with the key? Deuce take the key! Dear Madam! You flutter one so!
(Samuel Richardson, Clarissa, 2004: 404)
7. Read the excerpt below and analyse the consequences of the use of a
third-person/heterodiegetic narrator in terms of:
- the relation between the different levels of the narrative discourse;
- the possibility of identifying in the text what Leech calls the discoursal
point of view related to different value spheres, but also encompassing irony,
a certain kind of tone and distance.
He was not an ill-disposed young man, unless to be rather cold hearted, and
rather selfish, is to be ill-disposed: but he was, in general, well respected; he
conducted himself with propriety in the discharge of his ordinary duties. Had
he married a more amiable woman, he might have been made still more
respectable than he was: - he might even have been made amiable himself;
for he was very young when he married, and very fond of his wife. But Mr.
Dashwood was a strong caricature of himself; more narrow-minded and
selfish.
(Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility, 2005: 5)
8. Compare the narrative technique in the two following excerpts considering
the differences in types of narration as well as in the discoursal point of view
components (value picture, irony, tone, distance):
a) Now in order to clear up the mist which hangs upon these three pages, I
must endeavour to be as clear as possible myself.
Rub your hands thrice across your foreheads blow your noses
cleanse your emunctories sneeze, my good people! God bless you
Now give me all the help you can. []
We live in a world beset on all sides with mysteries and riddlesand
so 'tis no matterelse it seems strange, that Nature, who makes every thing
so well to answer its destination, and seldom or never errs, unless for
pastime, in giving such forms and aptitudes to whatever passes through her
hands, that whether she designs for the plough, the caravan, the cartor
whatever other creature she models, be it but an asse's foal, you are sure to
have the thing you wanted; and yet at the same time should so eternally
bungle it as she does, in making so simple a thing as a married man.
37

Whether it is in the choice of the clayor that it is frequently spoiled in
the baking; by an excess of which a husband may turn out too crusty (you
know) on one handor not enough so, through defect of heat, on the other
or whether this great Artificer is not so attentive to the little Platonic
exigences of that part of the species, for whose use she is fabricating this
or that her Ladyship sometimes scarce knows what sort of a husband will
doI know not: we will discourse about it after supper.
It is enough, that neither the observation itself, or the reasoning upon
it, are at all to the purposebut rather against it; since with regard to my
uncle Toby's fitness for the marriage state, nothing was ever better: she had
formed him of the best and kindliest clayhad temper'd it with her own milk,
and breathed into it the sweetest spiritshe had made him all gentle,
generous, and humaneshe had filled his heart with trust and confidence,
and disposed every passage which led to it, for the communication of the
tenderest officesshe had moreover considered the other causes for which
matrimony was ordained
(Laurence Sterne, Tristram Shandy, 1994: 524; 525)
b) No sooner had Joseph grasped this Cudgel in his Hands, than Lightning
darted from his Eyes; and the heroick Youth, swift of Foot, ran with the utmost
speed to his Friend's assistance. He overtook him just as Rockwood [the dog]
had laid hold of the Skirt of his Cassock, which being torn hung to the ground.
Reader, we would make a Simile on this Occasion, but for two Reasons: The
first is, it would interrupt the Description, which should be rapid in this Part; but
that doth not weigh much, many Precedents occurring for such an Interruption:
The second, and much the greater Reason is, that we could find no Simile
adequate to our Purpose: For indeed, what Instance could we bring to set
before our Reader's Eyes at once the Idea of Friendship, Courage, Youth,
Beauty, Strength, and Swiftness; all which blazed in the Person of Joseph
Andrews. Let those therefore that describe Lions and Tigers, and Heroes
fiercer than both, raise their Poems or Plays with the Simile of Joseph
Andrews, who is himself above the reach of any Simile.
(Henry Fielding, Joseph Andrews, 1973:186)
9. Re-consider the excerpts above and make comments on their rhetorical
peculiarities (syntax, iconicity, cohesion).
38
Section 4. Representations of Reality in the Eighteenth-century Novel
SECTION 4. Representations of Reality in the

Eighteenth-century English Novel. Practical
Applications
Having been provided in the previous three sections of this practical
course with the theoretical framework necessary for the analysis in
narratological and stylistic terms of the narrative discourse, in this final
section, the students are required to apply the acquired knowledge to several
excerpts extracted from some of the most representative novels of the
eighteenth century:
4.1. Daniel Defoe, The Fortunes and Misfortunes of the

Famous Moll Flanders
Wandering thus about, I knew not whither, I passed by an
apothecary's shop in Leadenhall Street, when I saw lie on a stool just before
the counter a little bundle wrapped in a white cloth; beyond it stood a maidservant with her back to it, looking towards the top of the shop, where the
apothecary's apprentice, as I suppose, was standing upon the counter, with
his back also to the door, and a candle in his hand, looking and reaching up
to the upper shelf for something he wanted, so that both were engaged
mighty earnestly, and nobody else in the shop.
This was the bait; and the devil, who I said laid the snare, as readily
prompted me as if he had spoke, for I remember, and shall never forget it,
'twas like a voice spoken to me over my shoulder, 'Take the bundle; be quick;
do it this moment.' It was no sooner said but I stepped into the shop, and
with my back to the wench, as if I had stood up for a cart that was going by, I
put my hand behind me and took the bundle, and went off with it, the maid or
the fellow not perceiving me, or any one else.
It is impossible to express the horror of my soul al the while I did it.
When I went away I had no heart to run, or scarce to mend my pace. I
crossed the street indeed, and went down the first turning I came to, and I
think it was a street that went through into Fenchurch Street. From thence I
crossed and turned through so many ways an turnings, that I could never tell
which way it was, not where I went; for I felt not the ground I stepped on, and
the farther I was out of danger, the faster I went, till, tired and out of breath, I
was forced to sit down on a little bench at a door, and then I began to
recover, and found I was got into Thames Street, near Billingsgate. I rested
me a little and went on; my blood was all in a fire; my heart beat as if I was in
a sudden fright. In short, I was under such a surprise that I still knew not
wither I was going, or what to do.
After I had tired myself thus with walking a long way about, and so
eagerly, I began to consider and make home to my lodging, where I came
about nine o'clock at night.
When the bundle was made up for, or on what occasion laid where I
found it, I knew not, but when I came to open it I found there was a suit of
childbed-linen in it, very good and almost new, the lace very fine; there was a
silver porringer of a pint, a small silver mug and six spoons, with some other
39

linen, a good smock, and three silk handkerchiefs, and in the mug, wrapped
up in a paper, 18s. 6d. in money. (1994: 209-211)
4.2. Jonathan Swift, Gullivers Travels

This Academy is not an entire single Building, but a Continuation of
several Houses on both Sides of a Street; which growing waste, was
purchased and applyed to that Use.
I was received very kindly by the Warden, and went for many Days to
the Academy. Every Room hath in it one or more Projectors; and I believe I
could not be in fewer than five Hundred Rooms.
The first Man I saw was of a meager Aspect, with sooty Hands and
Face, his Hair and Beard long, ragged and singed in several Places. His
Cloathes, Shirt, and Skin were all of the same Colour. He had been Eight
Years upon a Project for extracting Sun-Beams out of Cucumbers, which
were to be put into Vials hermetically sealed, and let out to warm the Air in
raw inclement Summers. He told me he did not doubt in Eight Years more he
should be able to supply the Governors Gardens with Sun-shine at a
reasonable Rate; but he complained that his stock was low, and intreated me
to give him something as an Encouragement to Ingenuity, especially since
this had been a very dear Season for Cucumbers. I made him a small
Present, for my Lord had furnished me with Money on Purpose, because he
knew their Practice of begging from all who go to see them.
I went into another Chamber, but was ready to hasten back, being
almost overcome with a horrible Stink. My Conductor pressed me forward,
conjuring me in a Whisper to give no Offence, which would be highly
resented; and therefore I durst not so much as stop my Nose. The Projector
of this Cell was the most ancient Student of the Academy. His Face and
Beard were of a pale Yellow; his Hands and Clothes daubed over with Filth.
When I was presented to him, he gave me a close Embrace (a Compliment I
could well have excused.) His Employment from his first coming into the
Academy, was an Operation to reduce human Excrement to its original Food,
by separating the several Parts, removing the Tincture which it receives from
the Gall, making the Odour exhale, and scumming off the Saliva. He had a
weekly Allowance from the Society, of a Vessel filled with human Ordure
about the Bigness of a Bristol Barrel.
I saw another at work to calcine Ice into Gunpowder; who likewise
shewed me a Treatise he had written concerning the Malleability of Fire,
which he intended to publish.
There was a most ingenious Architect who had contrived a new
Method for building Houses, by beginning at the Roof, and working
downwards to the Foundation; which he justified to me by the like Practice of
those two prudent Insects, the Bee and the Spider.
There was a Man born blind, who had several Apprentices in his own
Condition: Their Employment was to mix Colours for Painters, which their
Master taught them to distinguish by feeling and smelling. It was indeed my
Misfortune to find them at that Time not very perfect in their Lessons; and the
Professor himself happened to be generally mistaken: This Artist is much
encouraged and esteemed by the whole Fraternity.
In another Apartment I was highly pleased with a Projector, who had
found a Device of plowing the Ground with Hogs, to save the Charges of
Plows, Cattle, and Labour. The Method in this: In an Acre of Ground you bury
40

at six Inches Distance, and eight deep, a Quantity of Acorns, Dates,
Chestnuts, and other Maste or Vegetables whereof these Animals are
fondest; then you drive six Hundred or more of them into the Field, where in a
few Days they will root up the whole Ground in search of their Food, and
make it fit for sowing, at the same time manuring it with their Dung. It is true,
upon Experiment they found the Charge and Trouble very great, and they
had little or no Crop. However, it is not doubted that this Invention may be
capable of great Improvement.
I went into another Room, where the Walls and Ceiling were all hung
round with Cobwebs, except a narrow passage for the Artist to go in and out.
At my Entrance he called aloud to me not to disturb his Webs. He lamented
the fatal Mistake the World had been so long in of using Silk-Worms, while
we had such plenty of domestick Insects, who infinitely excelled the Former,
because they understood how to weave as well as spin. And he proposed
farther, that by employing Spiders, the Charge of dying Silks should be
wholly saved; whereof I was fully convinced when he shewed me a vast
Number of Flies most beautifully coloured, wherewith he fed his Spiders;
assuring us, that the Webs would take a Tincture from them; and as he had
them of all Hues, he hoped to fit every Body's Fancy, as soon as he could
find proper Food for the Flies, of certain Gums, Oyls, and other glutinous
Matter to give a Strength and Consistence to the Threads.
There was an Astronomer who had undertaken to place a Sun-Dial
upon the great Weather-Cock on the Town-House, by adjusting the annual
and diurnal Motions of the Earth and Sun, so as to answer and coincide with
all accidental Turnings of the Wind.
I was complaining of a small fit of the Cholick; upon which my
Conductor led me into a Room, where a great Physician resided, who was
famous for curing that Disease by contrary Operations from the same
Instrument. He had a large Pair of Bellows with a long slender Muzzle of
Ivory. This he conveyed eight Inches up the Anus, and drawing in the Wind,
he affirmed he could make the Guts as lank as a dried Bladder. But when the
Disease was more stubborn and violent, he let in the Muzzle while the
Bellows were full of Wind, which he discharged into the Body of the Patient,
then withdrew the Instrument to replenish it, clapping his Thumb strongly
against the Orifice of the Fundament; and this being repeated three or four
Times, the adventitious Wind would rush out, bringing the noxious along with
it (like Water put into a Pump), and the Patient recover. I saw him try both
Experiments upon a Dog, but could not discern any Effect from the former.
After the latter, the Animal was ready to burst, and made so violent a
Discharge, as was very offensive to me and my Companions. The Dog died
on the Spot, and we left the Doctor endeavouring to recover him by the same
Operation.
I visited many other Apartments, but shall not trouble my Reader with
all the Curiosities I observed, being studious of Brevity. (1998: 171-175)
4.3. Henry Fielding, The History of the Adventures of Joseph

Andrews and of His Friend Mr. Abraham Adams
Mr. Joseph Andrews was now in the one and twentieth Year of his Age.
He was of the highest Degree of middle Stature. His Limbs were put together
with great Elegance and no less Strength. His Legs and Thighs were formed in
41

the exactest Proportion. His Shoulders were broad and brawny, but yet his
Arms hung so easily, that he had all the Symptoms of Strength without the
least clumsiness. His Hair was of a nut-brown Colour, and was displayed in
wanton Ringlets down his Back. His Forehead was high, his Eyes dark, and as
full of Sweetness as of Fire. His Nose a little inclined to the Roman. His Teeth
white and even. His Lips full red, and soft. His Beard was only rough on his
Chin and upper Lip; but his Cheeks, in which his Blood glowed, were
overspread with a thick Down. His Countenance had a Tenderness joined with
a Sensibility inexpressible. Add to this the most perfect Neatness in his Dress,
and an Air, which to those who have not seen many Noblemen, would give an
Idea of Nobility.
Such was the Person who now appeared before the Lady. She viewed
him some time in Silence, and twice or thrice before she spake, changed her
Mind as to the manner in which she should begin. At length, she said to him,
"Joseph, I am sorry to hear such Complaints against you; I am told you behave
so rudely to the Maids, that they cannot do their Business in quiet; I mean
those who are not wicked enough to hearken to your Solicitations. As to
others, they may not, perhaps call you rude: for there are wicked Sluts who
make one ashamed of one's own Sex; and are as ready to admit any
nauseous Familiarity as Fellows to offer it; nay, there are such in my Family:
but they shall not stay in it; that impudent Trollop, who is with Child by you, is
discharged by this time."
As a Person who is struck through the Heart with a Thunderbolt, looks
extremely surprised, nay, and perhaps, is so too. Thus the poor Joseph
received the false Accusation of his Mistress; he blushed and looked
confounded, which she misinterpreted to be Symptoms of his Guilt, and thus
went on.
"Come hither, Joseph: another Mistress might discard you for these
Offences; But I have a Compassion for your Youth, if I could be certain you
would be no more guilty. And consider, Child, (laying her Hand carelessly
upon his) you are a handsome young Fellow, and might do better; you might
make your Fortune." "Madam," said Joseph, "I do assure your Ladyship, I
don't know whether any Maid in the House is Man or Woman". "Oh fie!
Joseph," answer'd the Lady, "don't commit another Crime in denying the Truth.
I could pardon the first; but I hate a Lyar." "Madam," cries Joseph, "I hope your
Ladyship will not be offended at my asserting my Innocence: and by all that is
Sacred, I have never offered more than Kissing." "Kissing!" said the Lady, "do
you call that no Crime? Kissing, Joseph, is but a Prologue to a Play. Can I
believe a young Fellow of your Age and Complexion will be content with
Kissing? No, Joseph, there is no Woman who grants that but will grant more,
and I am deceived greatly in you, if you would not put her closely to it. What
would you think, Joseph, if I admitted you to kiss me?" Joseph reply'd, "He
would sooner die than have any such Thought." "And yet, Joseph," returned
she, "Ladies have admitted their Footmen to such Familiarities; and Footmen, I
confess to you, much less deserving them; Fellows without half your Charms:
for such might almost excuse the Crime. Tell me, therefore, Joseph, if I should
admit you to such Freedom, what would you think of me?tell me freely."
"Madam," said Joseph, "I should think your Ladyship condescended a great
deal below yourself." "Pugh!" said she, "that I am to answer to myself: but
would not you insist on more? Would you be contented with a Kiss? Would not
your Inclinations be all on fire rather by such a Favour?" "Madam," said
Joseph, "if they were, I hope I should be able to control them, without suffering
42

them to get the better of my Virtue." You have heard, Reader, Poets talk of
the Statue of Surprize; you have heard likewise, or else you have heard very
little, how Surprize made one of the Sons of Crsus speak tho' he was dumb.
You have seen the Faces, in the Eighteen-penny Gallery, when through the
Trap-Door, to soft or no Musick, Mr. Bridgewater, Mr. William Mills, or some
other of ghostly Appearance, hath ascended with a Face all pale with Powder,
and a Shirt all bloody with Ribbons; but from none of these, nor from Phidias,
or Praxiteles, if they should return to Lifeno, not from the inimitable Pencil of
my Friend Hogarth, could you receive such an Idea of Surprize, as would have
entered in at your Eyes, had they beheld the Lady Booby, when those last
Words issued out from the Lips of Joseph. "Your Virtue! (said the Lady
recovering after a Silence of two Minutes) I shall never survive it. Your Virtue!
Intolerable Confidence! Have you the Assurance to pretend, that when a Lady
demeans herself to throw aside the Rules of Decency, in order to honour you
with the highest Favour in her Power, your Virtue should resist her Inclination?
That when she had conquer'd her own Virtue, she should find an Obstruction
in yours?" "Madam," said Joseph "I can't see why her having no Virtue should
be a Reason against my having any. Or why, because I am a Man, or because
I am poor, my Virtue must be subservient to her Pleasures." "I am out of
patience," cries the Lady: "Did ever Mortal hear of a Man's Virtue! Did ever the
greatest, or the gravest Men pretend to any of this Kind! Will Magistrates who
punish Lewdness, or Parsons, who preach against it, make any scruple of
committing it? And can a Boy, a Stripling, have the Confidence to talk of his
Virtue?" "Madam," says Joseph, "that Boy is the Brother of Pamela, and would
be ashamed, that the Chastity of his Family, which is preserved in her, should
be stained in him. If there are such Men as your Ladyship mentions, I am sorry
for it, and I wish they had an Opportunity of reading over those Letters, which
my Father hath sent me of my Sister Pamela's, nor do I doubt but such an
Example would amend them." You impudent Villain, cries the Lady in a Rage,
"Do you insult me with the Follies of my Relation, who hath exposed himself all
over the Country upon your Sister's account? a little Vixen, whom I have
always wondered my late Lady John Booby ever kept in her House. Sirrah! get
out of my sight, and prepare to set out this Night, for I will order you your
Wages immediately, and you shall be stripped and turned away." "Madam,"
says Joseph, "I am sorry I have offended your Ladyship, I am sure I never
intended it." "Yes, Sirrah," cries she, "you have had the Vanity to misconstrue
the little innocent Freedom I took in order to try, whether what I had heard was
true. O' my Conscience, you have had the Assurance to imagine, I was fond of
you myself." Joseph was going to speak, when she refused to hear him, and
ordered him instantly to leave the Room.
He was no sooner gone, than she burst forth into the following
Exclamation: "Whither doth this violent Passion hurry us? What Meannesses
do we submit to from its Impulse? Wisely we resist its first and least
Approaches; for it is then only we can assure ourselves the Victory. No
Woman could ever safely say, so far only will I go. Have I not exposed myself
to the Refusal of my Footman? I cannot bear the Reflection." Upon which she
applied herself to the Bell, and rung it with infinite more Violence than was
necessary; the faithful Slipslop attending near at hand: To say the truth, she
had conceived a Suspicion at her last Interview with her Mistress; and had
waited ever since in the Antichamber, having carefully applied her Ears to the
Key-Hole during the whole time, that the preceeding Conversation passed
between Joseph and the Lady. (1973: 18-21)
43
4.4. Henry Fielding, The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling

Mr. Western had an estate in this parish; and as his house stood at
little greater distance from this church than from his own, he very often came
to Divine Service here; and both he and the charming Sophia happened to be
present at this time.
Sophia was much pleased with the beauty of the girl, whom she pitied
for her simplicity in having dressed herself in that manner, as she saw the
envy which it had occasioned among her equals. She no sooner came home
than she sent for the gamekeeper, and ordered him to bring his daughter to
her; saying she would provide for her in the family, and might possibly place
the girl about her own person, when her own maid, who was now going
away, had left her.
Poor Seagrim was thunderstruck at this; for he was no stranger to the
fault in the shape of his daughter. He answered, in a stammering voice, "That
he was afraid Molly would be too awkward to wait on her ladyship, as she
had never been at service." "No matter for that," says Sophia; "she will soon
improve. I am pleased with the girl, and am resolved to try her."
Black George now repaired to his wife, on whose prudent counsel he
depended to extricate him out of this dilemma; but when he came thither he
found his house in some confusion. So great envy had this sack occasioned,
that when Mr. Allworthy and the other gentry were gone from church, the
rage, which had hitherto been confined, burst into an uproar; and, having
vented itself at first in opprobrious words, laughs, hisses, and gestures,
betook itself at last to certain missile weapons; which, though from their
plastic nature they threatened neither the loss of life or of limb, were however
sufficiently dreadful to a well-dressed lady. Molly had too much spirit to bear
this treatment tamely. Having therefore- but hold, as we are diffident of our
own abilities, let us here invite a superior power to our assistance.
Ye Muses, then, whoever ye are, who love to sing battles, and
principally thou who whilom didst recount the slaughter in those fields where
Hudibras and Trulla fought, if thou wert not starved with thy friend Butler,
assist me on this great occasion. All things are not in the power of all.
As a vast herd of cows in a rich farmer's yard, if, while they are milked,
they hear their calves at a distance, lamenting the robbery which is then
committing, roar and bellow; so roared forth the Somersetshire mob an
hallaloo, made up of almost as many squalls, screams, and other different
sounds as there were persons, or indeed passions among them: some were
inspired by rage, others alarmed by fear, and others had nothing in their
heads but the love of fun; but chiefly Envy, the sister of Satan, and his
constant companion, rushed among the crowd, and blew up the fury of the
women; who no sooner came up to Molly than they pelted her with dirt and
rubbish.
Molly, having endeavoured in vain to make a handsome retreat, faced
about; and laying hold of ragged Bess, who advanced in the front of the
enemy, she at one blow felled her to the ground. The whole army of the
enemy (though near a hundred in number), seeing the fate of their general,
gave back many paces, and retired behind a new-dug grave; for the
churchyard was the field of battle, where there was to be a funeral that very
evening. Molly pursued her victory, and catching up a skull which lay on the
side of the grave, discharged it with such fury, that having hit a taylor on the
44

head, the two skulls sent equally forth a hollow sound at their meeting, and
the taylor took presently measure of his length on the ground, where the
skulls lay side by side, and it was doubtful which was the more valuable of
the two. Molly then taking a thigh-bone in her hand, fell in among the flying
ranks, and dealing her blows with great liberality on either side, overthrew the
carcass of many a mighty heroe and heroine.
Recount, O Muse, the names of those who fell on this fatal day. First,
Jemmy Tweedle felt on his hinder head the direful bone. Him the pleasant
banks of sweetly-winding Stour had nourished, where he first learnt the vocal
art, with which, wandering up and down at wakes and fairs, he cheered the
rural nymphs and swains, when upon the green they interweaved the
sprightly dance; while he himself stood fiddling and jumping to his own music.
How little now avails his fiddle! He thumps the verdant floor with his carcass.
Next, old Echepole, the sowgelder, received a blow in his forehead from our
Amazonian heroine, and immediately fell to the ground. He was a swinging
fat fellow, and fell with almost as much noise as a house. His tobacco-box
dropped at the same time from his pocket, which Molly took up as lawful
spoils. Then Kate of the Mill tumbled unfortunately over a tombstone, which
catching hold of her ungartered stocking inverted the order of nature, and
gave her heels the superiority to her head. Betty Pippin, with young Roger
her lover, fell both to the ground; where, oh perverse fate! she salutes the
earth, and he the sky. Tom Freckle, the smith's son, was the next victim to
her rage. He was an ingenious workman, and made excellent pattens; nay,
the very patten with which he was knocked down was his own workmanship.
Had he been at that time singing psalms in the church, he would have
avoided a broken head. Miss Crow, the daughter of a farmer; John Giddish,
himself a farmer; Nan Slouch, Esther Codling, Will Spray, Tom Bennet; the
three Misses Potter, whose father keeps the sign of the Red Lion; Betty
Chambermaid, Jack Ostler, and many others of inferior note, lay rolling
among the graves. (1985: 140-142)
4.5. Tobias George Smollett, The Adventures of Roderick

Random
While I and my fellow-prisoner comforted each other in our tribulation,
the admiral discovered four sail of ships to leeward, and made signal for our
ship and four more to chase: hereupon, every thing was cleared for an
engagement, and Mackshane foreseeing he would have occasion for more
assistants than one, obtained Morgan's liberty; while I was left in this
deplorable posture to the chance of battle. It was almost dark when we came
up with the sternmost chase, which we hailed, and enquired who they were:
they gave us to understand they were French men of war, upon which captain
Oakhum commanded them to send their boat on board of him; but they
refused, telling him, if he had any business with them, to come on board of
their ship: he then threatened to pour in a broad-side upon them, which they
promised to return. Both sides were as good as their word, and the
engagement began with great fury. The reader may guess how I passed my
time, lying in this helpless situation, amidst the terrors of a sea-fight; expecting
every moment to be cut asunder or dashed in pieces by the enemy's shot! I
endeavoured to compose myself as much as possible, by reflecting that I was
not a whit more exposed than those who were stationed about me; but when I
45

beheld them employed without intermission, in annoying the foe, and
encouraged by the society and behaviour of one another, I could easily
perceive a wide difference between their condition and mine: however, I
concealed my agitation as well as I could, till the head of the officer of Marines,
who stood near me, being shot off, bounced from the deck athwart my face,
leaving me well-night blinded with brains. I could contain myself no longer, but
began to bellow with all the strength of my lungs: when a drummer coming
towards me, asked if I was wounded? and before I could answer, received a
great shot in his belly which tore out his entrails, and he fell flat on my breast.
This accident entirely bereft me of all discretion: I redoubled my cries, which
were drowned in the noise of the battle; and finding myself disregarded, lost all
patience and became frantic: I vented my rage in oaths and execrations, till my
spirits being quite exhausted, I remained quiet and insensible of the load that
oppressed me. The engagement lasted till broad day, when captain Oakhum,
finding he was like to gain neither honour nor advantage by the affair,
pretended to be undeceived by seeing their colours; and hailing the ship with
whom he had fought all night, protested he believed them Spaniards, and the
guns being silenced on each side, ordered the barge to be hoisted out, and
went on board of the French commodore. Our loss amounted to ten killed and
eighteen wounded, most part of whom afterwards died. My fellow-mates had
no sooner dispatched their business in the cockpit, than full of friendly concern,
they came to visit me. Morgan ascending first, and seeing my face almost
covered with brains and blood, concluded I was no longer a man for this world;
and calling to Thomson with great emotion, bid him come up and take his last
farewell of his comrade and countryman, who was posting to a better place,
where there were no Mackshanes nor Oakhums to asperse and torment him.
"No, said he, taking me by the hand, you are going to a country where there
is more respect shown to unfortunate shentlemen, and where you will have the
satisfaction of peholding your adversaries tossing upon pillows of purning
primstone." Thomson alarmed at this apostrophe, made haste to the place
where I lay, and sitting down by me, with tears in his eyes, enquired into the
nature of my calamity. By this time I had recollected myself so far as to be able
to converse rationally with my friends, whom, to their great satisfaction, I
immediately undeceived with regard to their apprehension of my being mortally
wounded. After I had got myself disengaged from the carnage in which I
wallowed, and partaken of a refreshment which my friends brought along with
them, we entered into discourse upon the hardships we sustained, and spoke
very freely of the authors of our misery: but our discourse being overheard by
the sentinel who guarded me, he was no sooner relieved, than he reported to
the captain every syllable of our conversation, according to the orders he had
received. The effect of this information soon appeared in the arrival of the
master at arms, who replaced Morgan in his former station; and gave the
second mate a caution to keep a strict guard over his tongue, if he did not
choose to accompany us in our confinement. (169-171)
4.6. Tobias George Smollett, The Adventures of Ferdinand

Count Fathom
Fathom, whose own principles taught him to be suspicious, and ever
upon his guard against the treachery of his fellow-creatures, could have
dispensed with this instance of her care, in confining her guest to her
46

chamber, and began to be seized with strange fancies, when he observed
that there was no bolt on the inside of the door, by which he might secure
himself from intrusion. In consequence of these suggestions, he proposed to
take an accurate survey of every object in the apartment, and, in the course
of his inquiry, had the mortification to find the dead body of a man, still warm,
who had been lately stabbed, and concealed beneath several bundles of
straw.
Such a discovery could not fail to fill the breast of our hero with
unspeakable horror; for he concluded that he himself would undergo the
same fate before morning, without the interposition of a miracle in his favour.
In the first transports of his dread, he ran to the window, with a view to
escape by that outlet, and found his flight effectually obstructed by divers
strong bars of iron. Then his heart began to palpitate, his hair to bristle up,
and his knees to totter; his thoughts teemed with presages of death and
destruction; his conscience rose up in judgment against him, and he
underwent a severe paroxysm of dismay and distraction. His spirits were
agitated into a state of fermentation that produced a species of resolution
akin to that which is inspired by brandy or other strong liquors, and, by an
impulse that seemed supernatural, he was immediately hurried into
measures for his own preservation.
What upon a less interesting occasion his imagination durst not
propose, he now executed without scruple or remorse. He undressed the
corpse that lay bleeding among the straw, and, conveying it to the bed in his
arms, deposited it in the attitude of a person who sleeps at his ease; then he
extinguished the light, took possession of the place from whence the body
had been removed, and, holding a pistol ready cocked in each hand, waited
for the sequel with that determined purpose which is often the immediate
production of despair. About midnight he heard the sound of feet ascending
the ladder; the door was softly opened; he saw the shadow of two men
stalking towards the bed, a dark lanthorn being unshrouded, directed their
aim to the supposed sleeper, and he that held it thrust a poniard to his heart;
the force of the blow made a compression on the chest, and a sort of groan
issued from the windpipe of the defunct; the stroke was repeated, without
producing a repetition of the note, so that the assassins concluded the work
was effectually done, and retired for the present with a design to return and
rifle the deceased at their leisure.
Never had our hero spent a moment in such agony as he felt during this
operation; the whole surface of his body was covered with a cold sweat, and
his nerves were relaxed with an universal palsy. In short, he remained in a
trance that, in all probability, contributed to his safety; for, had he retained the
use of his senses, he might have been discovered by the transports of his fear.
The first use he made of his retrieved recollection, was to perceive that the
assassins had left the door open in their retreat; and he would have instantly
availed himself of this their neglect, by sallying out upon them, at the hazard of
his life, had he not been restrained by a conversation he overheard in the room
below, importing, that the ruffians were going to set out upon another
expedition, in hopes of finding more prey. They accordingly departed, after
having laid strong injunctions upon the old woman to keep the door fast locked
during their absence; and Ferdinand took his resolution without farther delay.
So soon as, by his conjecture, the robbers were at a sufficient distance from
the house, he rose from his lurking-place, moved softly towards the bed, and,
rummaging the pockets of the deceased, found a purse well stored with
47

ducats, of which, together with a silver watch and a diamond ring, he
immediately possessed himself without scruple; then, descending with great
care and circumspection into the lower apartment, stood before the old
beldame, before she had the least intimation of his approach.
Accustomed as she was to the trade of blood, the hoary hag did not
behold this apparition without giving signs of infinite terror and astonishment,
believing it was no other than the spirit of her second guest, who had been
murdered; she fell upon her knees and began to recommend herself to the
protection of the saints, crossing herself with as much devotion as if she had
been entitled to the particular care and attention of Heaven. Nor did her
anxiety abate, when she was undeceived in this her supposition, and
understood it was no phantom, but the real substance of the stranger, who,
without staying to upbraid her with the enormity of her crimes, commanded
her, on pain of immediate death, to produce his horse, to which being
conducted, he set her upon the saddle without delay, and, mounting behind,
invested her with the management of the reins, swearing, in a most
peremptory tone, that the only chance she had for her life, was in directing
him safely to the next town; and that, so soon as she should give him the
least cause to doubt her fidelity in the performance of that task, he would on
the instant act the part of her executioner.
This declaration had its effect upon the withered Hecate, who, with
many supplications for mercy and forgiveness, promised to guide him in safety
to a certain village at the distance of two leagues, where he might lodge in
security, and be provided with a fresh horse, or other convenience, for
pursuing his intended route. On these conditions he told her she might
deserve his clemency; and they accordingly took their departure together, she
being placed astride upon the saddle, holding the bridle in one hand and a
switch in the other; and our adventurer sitting on the crupper, superintending
her conduct, and keeping the muzzle of a pistol close at her ear. In this
equipage they travelled across part of the same wood in which his guide had
forsaken him; and it is not to be supposed that he passed his time in the most
agreeable reverie, while he found himself involved in the labyrinth of those
shades, which he considered as the haunts of robbery and assassination.
Common fear was a comfortable sensation to what he felt in this
excursion. The first steps he had taken for his preservation were the effects
of mere instinct, while his faculties were extinguished or suppressed by
despair; but now, as his reflection began to recur, he was haunted by the
most intolerable apprehensions. Every whisper of the wind through the
thickets was swelled into the hoarse menaces of murder, the shaking of the
boughs was construed into the brandishing of poniards, and every shadow of
a tree became the apparition of a ruffian eager for blood. In short, at each of
these occurrences he felt what was infinitely more tormenting than the stab of
a real dagger; and at every fresh fillip of his fear, he acted as a
remembrancer to his conductress, in a new volley of imprecations, importing,
that her life was absolutely connected with his opinion of his own safety.
Human nature could not longer subsist under such complicated terror.
At last he found himself clear of the forest, and was blessed with the distant
view of an inhabited place. He then began to exercise his thoughts upon a new
subject. He debated with himself, whether he should make a parade of his
intrepidity and public spirit, by disclosing his achievement, and surrendering
his guide to the penalty of the law; or leave the old hag and her accomplices to
the remorse of their own consciences, and proceed quietly on his journey to
48

Paris in undisturbed possession of the prize he had already obtained. This last
step he determined to take, upon recollecting, that, in the course of his
information, the story of the murdered stranger would infallibly attract the
attention of justice, and, in that case, the effects he had borrowed from the
defunct must be refunded for the benefit of those who had a right to the
succession. This was an argument which our adventurer could not resist; he
foresaw that he should be stripped of his acquisition, which he looked upon as
the fair fruits of his valour and sagacity; and, moreover, be detained as an
evidence against the robbers, to the manifest detriment of his affairs. Perhaps
too he had motives of conscience, that dissuaded him from bearing witness
against a set of people whose principles did not much differ from his own.
(1990-133-136)
4.7. Tobias George Smollett, The Expedition of Humphry

Clinker
To Dr LEWIS.
DOCTOR,
The pills are good for nothing I might as well swallow snowballs to
cool my reins I have told you over and over how hard I am to move; and at
this time of day, I ought to know something of my own constitution. Why will
you be so positive? Prithee send me another prescription I am as lame and
as much tortured in all my limbs as if I was broke upon the wheel: indeed, I am
equally distressed in mind and body As if I had not plagues enough of my
own, those children of my sister are left me for a perpetual source of vexation
what business have people to get children to plague their neighbours? A
ridiculous incident that happened yesterday to my niece Liddy, has disordered
me in such a manner, that I expect to be laid up with another fit of the gout
perhaps, I may explain myself in my next. I shall set out tomorrow morning for
the Hot Well at Bristol, where I am afraid I shall stay longer than I could wish.
On the receipt of this send Williams thither with my saddle-horse and the demi
pique. Tell Barns to thresh out the two old ricks, and send the corn to market,
and sell it off to the poor at a shilling a bushel under market price. I have
received a sniveling letter from Griffin, offering to make a public submission
and pay costs. I want none of his submissions, neither will I pocket any of his
money. The fellow is a bad neighbour, and I desire, to have nothing to do with
him: but as he is purse-proud, he shall pay for his insolence: let him give five
pounds to the poor of the parish, and I will withdraw my action; and in the
mean time you may tell Prig to stop proceedings. Let Morgan's widow have
the Alderney cow, and forty shillings to clothe her children: but don't say a
syllable of the matter to any living soul I'll make her pay when she is able. I
desire you will lock up all my drawers, and keep the keys till meeting; and be
sure you take the iron chest with my papers into your own custody Forgive
all, this trouble from,
Dear Lewis,
Your affectionate
M. BRAMBLE
GLOUCESTER, April 2.
To Mrs GWYLLIM, house-keeper at Brambleton-hall.
MRS GWILLIM,
49

When this cums to hand, be sure to pack up in the trunk male that stands
in my closet; to be sent me in the Bristol waggon without loss of time, the
following articles, viz. my rose collard neglejay with green robins, my yellow
damask, and my black velvets with the short hoop; my bloo quilted petticot, my
green mantel, my laced apron, my French commode, Macklin head and lappets
and the litel box with my jowls. Williams may bring over my bum-daffee, and the
viol with the easings of Dr Hill's dockwater and Chowder's lacksitif. The poor
creature has been terribly stuprated ever since we left huom. Pray take
particular care of the house while the family is absent. Let there be a fire
constantly kept in my brother's chamber and mine. The maids, having nothing to
do, may be sat a spinning. I desire you'll clap a pad-luck on the wind-seller, and
let none of the men have excess to the strong bear don't forget to have the
gate shit every evening be dark The gardnir and the hind may lie below in the
landry, to partake the house, with the blunderbuss and the great dog; and hope
you'll have a watchful eye over the maids. I know that hussy Mary Jones, loves
to be rumping with the men. Let me know Alderney's calf be sould yet, and what
he fought if the ould goose be sitting; and if the cobler has cut Dicky, and how
pore anemil bore the operation. No more at present, but rests,
Yours,
TABITHA BRAMBLE
GLOSTAR, April 2.
TO Mrs MARY JONES, at Brambleton-hall.
DEAR MOLLY,
Heaving this importunity, I send, my love to you and Saul, being in good
health, and hoping to hear the same from you; and that you and Saul will take
my poor kitten to bed with you this cold weather. We have been all in, a sad
taking here at Glostar Miss Liddy had like to have run away with a playerman, and young master and he would adone themselves a mischief; but the,
squire applied to the mare, and they were, bound over. Mistress bid me not
speak a word of the matter to any Christian soul no more I shall; for, we
servints should see all and say nothing But what was worse than all this,
Chowder has, had the, misfortune to be worried by a butcher's dog, and came
home in a terrible pickle Mistress was taken with the asterisks, but they
soon went off. The doctor was sent for to Chowder, and he subscribed a
repository which did him great service thank God he's now in a fair way to
do well pray take care of my box and the pillyber and put them under your
own bed; for, I do suppose madam, Gwyllim will be a prying into my secrets,
now my back is turned. John Thomas is in good health, but sulky. The squire
gave away an ould coat to a poor man; and John says as, how 'tis robbing him
of his perquisites. I told him, by his agreement he was to receive no vails;
but he says as how there's a difference betwixt vails and perquisites; and so
there is for sartain. We are all going to the Hot Well, where I shall drink your
health in a glass of water, being,
Dear Molly,
Your humble servant to command,
W. JENKINS
GLOSTAR, April 2nd.
To Sir WATKIN PHILLIPS, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon.
DEAR PHILLIPS,
50

As I have nothing more at heart than to convince you I am incapable of
forgetting, or neglecting the friendship I made at college, now begin that
correspondence by letters, which you and I agreed, at parting, to cultivate. I
begin it sooner than I intended, that you may have it in your power to refute
any idle reports which may be circulated to my prejudice at Oxford, touching a
foolish quarrel, in which I have been involved on account of my sister, who had
been some time settled here in a boarding-school. When I came hither with my
uncle and aunt (who are our guardians) to fetch her away, I found her a fine
tall girl, of seventeen, with an agreeable person; but remarkably simple, and
quite ignorant of the world. This disposition, and want of experience, had
exposed her to the addresses of a person I know not what to call him, who
had seen her at a play; and, with a confidence and dexterity peculiar to
himself, found means to be recommended to her acquaintance. It was by the
greatest accident I intercepted one of his letters; as it was my duty to stifle this
correspondence in its birth, I made it my business to find him out, and tell him
very freely my sentiments of the matter. The spark did not like the stile I used,
and behaved with abundance of mettle. Though his rank in life (which, by the
bye, I am ashamed to declare) did not entitle him to much deference; yet as
his behaviour was remarkably spirited, I admitted him to the privilege of a
gentleman, and something might have happened, had not we been prevented.
In short, the business took air, I know not how, and made abundance of
noise recourse was had to justice I was obliged to give my word and
honour, &c. and to-morrow morning we set out for Bristol Wells, where I expect
to hear from you by the return of the post. I have got into a family of
originals, whom I may one day attempt to describe for your amusement. My
aunt, Mrs Tabitha Bramble, is a maiden of forty-five, exceedingly starched,
vain, and ridiculous. My uncle is an odd kind of humorist, always on the fret,
and so unpleasant in his manner, that rather than be obliged to keep him
company, I'd resign all claim to the inheritance of his estate. Indeed his being
tortured by the gout may have soured his temper, and, perhaps, I may like him
better on further acquaintance; certain it is, all his servants and neighbours in
the country are fond of him, even to a degree of enthusiasm, the reason of
which I cannot as yet comprehend. Remember me to Griffy Price, Gwyn,
Mansel, Basset, and all the rest of my old Cambrian companions. Salute
the bedmaker in my name give my service to the cook, and pray take care
of poor Ponto, for the sake of his old master, who is, and ever will be,
Dear Phillips,
Your affectionate friend,
and humble servant,
JER. MELFORD
GLOUCESTER, April 2. (1995: 1-4)
4.8. Samuel Richardson, Clarissa: or, the History of a Young

Lady
Miss Clarissa Harlowe to Miss Howe
February 25.
I have had the expected conference with my aunt.
I have been obliged to hear the man's [Mr. Solmess] proposals from
her; and all their motives for espousing him as they do. I am even loth to
mention, how equally unjust it is for him to make such offers, or for those I
51

am bound to reverence to accept of them. I hate him more than before. One
great estate is already obtained at the expense of the relations to it, tho'
distant relations; my brother's, I mean, by his godmother: And this has given
the hope, however chimerical that hope, of procuring others; and that my
own, at least, may revert to the family: And yet, in my opinion, the world is but
one great family: originally it was so: What then is this narrow selfishness that
reigns in us, but relationship remembered against relationship forgot?
But here, upon my absolute refusal of him upon any terms, have I had
a signification made me, that wounds me to the heart. How can I tell it you?
Yet I must. It is, my dear, that I must not, for a month to come, or till license
obtained, correspond with any -body out of the house.
My brother, upon my aunt's report (made, however, as I am informed,
in the gentlest manner, and even giving remote hopes, which she had no
commission from me to give), brought me, in authoritative terms, the
prohibition.
Not to Miss Howe? said I.
No, not to Miss Howe, Madam, tauntingly: For have you not
acknowledged, that Lovelace is a favourite there?
See, my dear Miss Howe!
And do you think, brother, this is the way?
Do you look to that: But your letters will be stopped, I can tell you. And
away he flung.
My sister came to me soon after. Sister Clary, you are going on in a
fine way, I understand. But as there are people who are supposed to harden
you against your duty, I am to tell you, that it will be taken well, if you avoid
visits or visitings for a week or two, till further order.
Can this be from those who have authority
Ask them; ask them, child, with a twirl of her finger. I have delivered
my message. Your papa will be obeyed. He is willing to hope you to be all
obedience; and would prevent all incitements to refractoriness.
I know my duty, said I, and hope I shall not find impossible conditions
annexed to it.
A pert young creature, vain and conceited, she called me. I was the
only judge, in my own wise-opinion, of what was right and fit. She, for her
part, had long seen through my specious ways: And now I should show
everybody what I was at bottom.
Dear Bella, said I! hands and eyes lifted up, why all this? Dear, dear
Bella, why
None of your dear, dear Bella's to me. I tell you, I see thro' your
witchcrafts. That was her strange word: And away she flung; adding, as she
went, And so will everybody else very quickly, I dare say.
Bless me, said I to myself, what a sister have I! How have I deserved this?
Then I again regretted my grandfather's too distinguishing goodness to me.
Feb. 25. In the evening.
What my brother and sister have said against me, I cannot tell; but I
am in heavy disgrace with my papa.
I was sent for down to tea. I went with a very cheerful aspect; but had
occasion soon to change it.
Such a solemnity in every-body's countenance! My mamma's eyes
were fixed upon the tea-cups; and when she looked up, it was heavily, as if
her eyelids had weights upon them; and then not to me. My papa sat half52

aside in his elbow-chair, that his head might be turned from me; his hands
folded, and waving, as it were, up and down; his fingers, poor dear
gentleman! in motion, as if angry to the very ends of them. My sister sat
swelling. My brother looked at me with scorn, having measured me, as I may
say, with his eyes, as I entered, from head to foot. My aunt was there, and
looked upon me, as if with kindness restrained, bending coldly to my
compliment to her, as she sat; and then cast an eye first on my brother, then
on my sister, as if to give the reason (so I am willing to construe it) of her
unusual stiffness. Bless me, my dear! that they should choose to intimidate
rather than invite a mind, till now, not thought either unpersuadable or
ungenerous!
I took my seat. Shall I make tea, Madam, to my mamma? I always
used, you know, my dear, to make tea.
No! a very short sentence, in one very short word was the expressive
answer: And she was pleased to take the canister in her own hand.
My sister's Betty attending, my brother bid her go; he would fill the
water.
My heart was up at my mouth. I did not know what to do with myself.
What is to follow? thought I
Just after the second dish, out stepped my mamma. A word with
you, sister Hervey! taking her in her hand. Presently my sister dropped away.
Then my brother. So I was left alone with my papa.
He looked so very sternly, that my heart failed me, as twice or thrice I
would have addressed myself to him: Nothing but solemn silence on all
hands having passed before.
At last, I asked, If it were his pleasure, that I should pour him out
another dish?
He answered me with the same angry monosyllable which I had
received from my mamma before; and then arose, and walked about the
room. I arose too, with intent to throw myself at his feet; but was too much
over-awed by his sternness, even to make such an expression of my duty to
him, as my heart overflowed with.
At last, as he supported himself, because of his gout, on the back of a
chair, I took a little more courage; and approaching him, besought him to
acquaint me, in what I had offended him?
He turned from me, and, in a strong voice, Clarissa Harlowe, said he,
know, that I will be obeyed.
God forbid, Sir, that you should not! I have never yet opposed your
will
Nor I your whimsies, Clarissa Harlowe, interrupted he. Don't let me run
the fate of all who show indulgence to your sex; to be the more contradicted
for mine to you.
My papa, you know, my dear, has not (any more than my brother) a
kind opinion of our sex; altho' there is not a more condescending wife in the
world than my mamma.
I was going to make protestations of duty. No protestations, girl! No
words. I will not be prated to! I will be obeyed! I have no child. I will have no
child, but an obedient one.
Sir, you never had reason, I hope
Tell me not what I never had, but what I have, and what I shall have.
Good Sir, be pleased to hear me. My brother and my sister, I fear
53

Your brother and sister shall not be spoken against, girl! They have a
just concern for the honour of my family.
And I hope, Sir,
Hope nothing. Tell me not of hopes, but of facts. I ask nothing of you
but what is in your power to comply with, and what it is your duty to comply
with.
Then, Sir, I will comply with it. But yet I hope from your goodness,
No expostulations! No buts, girl! No qualifyings! I will be obeyed, I tell
you; and cheerfully too!or you are no child of mine!
I wept.
Let me beseech you, my dear and ever honoured papa (and I dropt
down on my knees) that I may have only your's and my mamma's will, and
not my brother's, to obey. I was going on; but he was pleased to withdraw,
leaving me on the floor; saying, that he would not hear me thus by subtlety
and cunning aiming to distinguish away my duty, repeating, that he would be
obeyed.
My heart is too full; so full, that it may endanger my duty, were I to
unburden it to you on this occasion: So I will lay down my pen. But can Yet,
positively, I will lay down my pen! (2004: 63-65)
4.9. Laurence Sterne, The Life and Opinions of Tristram

Shandy, Gentleman
Volume V, Chapter VII (1997: 297-299)
--My young master in London is dead? said Obadiah.---A green sattin night-gown of my mother's, which had been twice
scoured, was the first idea which Obadiah's exclamation brought into
Susannah's head.--Well might Locke write a chapter upon the imperfections
of words.-- Then, quoth Susannah, we must all go into mourning.--But note a
second time: the word mourning, notwithstanding Susannah made use of it
herself-- failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged
either with grey or black,--all was green.--The green sattin night-gown hung
there still.
--O! 'twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried Susannah.--My
mother's whole wardrobe followed.--What a procession! her red damask,--her
orange tawny,--her white and yellow lutestrings,--her brown taffata,--her
bone- laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats.--Not a
rag was left behind.--'No,--she will never look up again,' said Susannah.
We had a fat, foolish scullion--my father, I think, kept her for her
simplicity;--she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy.--He is dead,
said Obadiah,--he is certainly dead!--So am not I, said the foolish scullion.
--Here is sad news, Trim, cried Susannah, wiping her eyes as Trim
stepp'd into the kitchen,--master Bobby is dead and buried--the funeral was
an interpolation of Susannah's--we shall have all to go into mourning, said
Susannah.
I hope not, said Trim.--You hope not! cried Susannah earnestly.The
mourning ran not in Trim's head, whatever it did in Susannah's.--I hope-- said
Trim, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true. I heard the letter
read with my own ears, answered Obadiah; and we shall have a terrible
piece of work of it in stubbing the ox-moor.--Oh! he's dead, said Susannah.-As sure, said the scullion, as I'm alive.
54

I lament for him from my heart and my soul, said Trim, fetching a sigh.- Poor creature!--poor boy!--poor gentleman!
--He was alive last Whitsontide! said the coachman.--Whitsontide!
alas! cried Trim, extending his right arm, and falling instantly into the same
attitude in which he read the sermon,--what is Whitsontide, Jonathan (for that
was the coachman's name), or Shrovetide, or any tide or time past, to this?
Are we not here now, continued the corporal (striking the end of his stick
perpendicularly upon the floor, so as to give an idea of health and stability)-and are we not--(dropping his hat upon the ground) gone! in a moment!-'Twas infinitely striking! Susannah burst into a flood of tears.--We are not
stocks and stones.--Jonathan, Obadiah, the cook-maid, all melted.--The
foolish fat scullion herself, who was scouring a fish-kettle upon her knees,
was rous'd with it.--The whole kitchen crowded about the corporal.
Now, as I perceive plainly, that the preservation of our constitution in
church and state,--and possibly the preservation of the whole worldor what
is the same thing, the distribution and balance of its property and power, may
in time to come depend greatly upon the right understanding of this stroke of
the corporal's eloquence--I do demand your attentionyour worships and
reverences, for any ten pages together, take them where you will in any other
part of the work, shall sleep for it at your ease.
I said, 'we were not stocks and stones'--'tis very well. I should have
added, nor are we angels, I wish we were,--but men clothed with bodies, and
governed by our imaginations;--and what a junketing piece of work of it there
is, betwixt these and our seven senses, especially some of them, for my own
part, I own it, I am ashamed to confess. Let it suffice to affirm, that of all the
senses, the eye (for I absolutely deny the touch, though most of your Barbati,
I know, are for it) has the quickest commerce with the soul,--gives a smarter
stroke, and leaves something more inexpressible upon the fancy, than words
can either convey--or sometimes get rid of.
--I've gone a little about--no matter, 'tis for health--let us only carry it
back in our mind to the mortality of Trim's hat--'Are we not here now,-- and
gone in a moment?'--There was nothing in the sentence--'twas one of your
self-evident truths we have the advantage of hearing every day; and if Trim
had not trusted more to his hat than his head--he made nothing at all of it.
--'Are we not here now;' continued the corporal, 'and are we not'-(dropping his hat plumb upon the ground--and pausing, before he
pronounced the word)--'gone! in a moment?' The descent of the hat was as
if a heavy lump of clay had been kneaded into the crown of it.--Nothing could
have expressed the sentiment of mortality, of which it was the type and forerunner, like it,--his hand seemed to vanish from under it,--it fell dead,-- the
corporal's eye fixed upon it, as upon a corpse,--and Susannah burst into a
flood of tears.
Now--Ten thousand, and ten thousand times ten thousand (for matter
and motion are infinite) are the ways by which a hat may be dropped upon
the ground, without any effect.--Had he flung it, or thrown it, or cast it, or
skimmed it, or squirted it, or let it slip or fall in any possible direction under
heaven,--or in the best direction that could be given to it,--had he dropped it
like a goose--like a puppy--like an ass--or in doing it, or even after he had
done, had he looked like a fool--like a ninny--like a nincompoop--it had fail'd,
and the effect upon the heart had been lost.
55

Ye who govern this mighty world and its mighty concerns with the
engines of eloquence,--who heat it, and cool it, and melt it, and mollify it,-and then harden it again to your purpose-Ye who wind and turn the passions with this great windlass, and,
having done it, lead the owners of them, whither ye think meet.
Ye, lastly, who drive--and why not, Ye also who are driven, like turkeys
to market with a stick and a red clout--meditate--meditate, I beseech you,
upon Trim's hat.
Volume V, Chapter VIII (1997: 299-300)
Stay--I have a small account to settle with the reader before Trim can go on
with his harangue.--It shall be done in two minutes.
Amongst many other book-debts, all of which I shall discharge in due
time,--I own myself a debtor to the world for two items,--a chapter upon
chamber- maids and button-holes, which, in the former part of my work, I
promised and fully intended to pay off this year: but some of your worships
and reverences telling me, that the two subjects, especially so connected
together, might endanger the morals of the world,--I pray the chapter upon
chamber-maids and button-holes may be forgiven me,--and that they will
accept of the last chapter in lieu of it; which is nothing, an't please your
reverences, but a chapter of chamber-maids, green gowns, and old hats.
Trim took his hat off the ground,--put it upon his head,--and then went
on with his oration upon death, in manner and form following.
Volume V, Chapter IX (1997: 300)
--To us, Jonathan, who know not what want or care is--who live here in
the service of two of the best of masters--(bating in my own case his majesty
King William the Third, whom I had the honour to serve both in Ireland and
Flanders)--I own it, that from Whitsontide to within three weeks of Christmas,-'tis not long--'tis like nothing;--but to those, Jonathan, who know what death
is, and what havock and destruction he can make, before a man can well
wheel about--'tis like a whole age.--O Jonathan! 'twould make a good-natured
man's heart bleed, to consider, continued the corporal (standing
perpendicularly), how low many a brave and upright fellow has been laid
since that time!--And trust me, Susy, added the corporal, turning to
Susannah, whose eyes were swimming in water,--before that time comes
round again,--many a bright eye will be dim.--Susannah placed it to the right
side of the page--she wept--but she court'sied too.--Are we not, continued
Trim, looking still at Susannah--are we not like a flower of the field--a tear of
pride stole in betwixt every two tears of humiliation--else no tongue could
have described Susannah's affliction--is not all flesh grass?--Tis clay,--'tis
dirt.--They all looked directly at the scullion,-- the scullion had just been
scouring a fish-kettle.--It was not fair.---What is the finest face that ever man looked at!--I could hear Trim
talk so for ever, cried Susannah,--what is it! (Susannah laid her hand upon
Trim's shoulder)--but corruption?--Susannah took it off.
--Now I love you for this--and 'tis this delicious mixture within you
which makes you dear creatures what you are--and he who hates you for it-all I can say of the matter is--That he has either a pumpkin for his head--or a
pippin for his heart,--and whenever he is dissected 'twill be found so.
56
4.10. Laurence Sterne, A Sentimental Journey Through

France and Italy by Mr. Yorick
The Pulse. Paris. (2001: 49-51)
Hail, ye small sweet courtesies of life, for smooth do ye make the road
of it! like grace and beauty, which beget inclinations to love at first sight: tis ye
who open this door and let the stranger in.
- Pray, Madame, said I, have the goodness to tell me which way I must
turn to go to the Opra Comique? - Most willingly, Monsieur, said she, laying
aside her work. I had given a cast with my eye into half a dozen shops, as I came along,
in search of a face not likely to be disordered by such an interruption: till at last,
this, hitting my fancy, I had walked in.
She was working a pair of ruffles, as she sat in a low chair, on the far side
of the shop, facing the door.
- Tres volontiers, most willingly, said she, laying her work down upon a
chair next her, and rising up from the low chair she was sitting in, with so
cheerful a movement, and so cheerful a look, that had I been laying out fifty
louis dors with her, I should have said - This woman is grateful.
You must turn, Monsieur, said she, going with me to the door of the
shop, and pointing the way down the street I was to take, - you must turn first
to your left hand, - mais prenez garde - there are two turns; and be so good as
to take the second - then go down a little way and youll see a church: and,
when you are past it, give yourself the trouble to turn directly to the right, and
that will lead you to the foot of the Pont Neuf, which you must cross - and there
any one will do himself the pleasure to show you. She repeated her instructions three times over to me, with the same
goodnaturd patience the third time as the first; - and if tones and manners
have a meaning, which certainly they have, unless to hearts which shut them
out, - she seemed really interested that I should not lose myself.
I will not suppose it was the womans beauty, notwithstanding she was
the handsomest grisette, I think, I ever saw, which had much to do with the
sense I had of her courtesy; only I remember, when I told her how much I was
obliged to her, that I looked very full in her eyes, - and that I repeated my
thanks as often as she had done her instructions.
I had not got ten paces from the door, before I found I had forgot every
tittle of what she had said; - so looking back, and seeing her still standing in
the door of the shop, as if to look whether I went right or not, - I returned back
to ask her, whether the first turn was to my right or left, - for that I had
absolutely forgot. - Is it possible! said she, half laughing. Tis very possible,
replied I, when a man is thinking more of a woman than of her good advice.
As this was the real truth - she took it, as every woman takes a matter
of right, with a slight curtsey.
- Attendez! said she, laying her hand upon my arm to detain me, whilst
she called a lad out of the back shop to get ready a parcel of gloves. I am just
going to send him, said she, with a packet into that quarter, and if you will have
the complaisance to step in, it will be ready in a moment, and he shall attend
you to the place. - So I walkd in with her to the far side of the shop: and taking
up the ruffle in my hand which she laid upon the chair, as if I had a mind to sit,
she sat down herself in her low chair, and I instantly sat myself down beside
her.
57

- He will be ready, Monsieur, said she, in a moment. - And in that
moment, replied I, most willingly would I say something very civil to you for all
these courtesies. Any one may do a casual act of good nature, but a
continuation of them shows it is a part of the temperature; and certainly, added
I, if it is the same blood which comes from the heart which descends to the
extremes (touching her wrist) I am sure you must have one of the best pulses
of any woman in the world. - Feel it, said she, holding out her arm. So laying
down my hat, I took hold of her fingers in one hand, and applied the two
forefingers of my other to the artery. - Would to heaven! my dear Eugenius, thou hadst passed by, and
beheld me sitting in my black coat, and in my lack-a-day-sical manner,
counting the throbs of it, one by one, with as much true devotion as if I had
been watching the critical ebb or flow of her fever. - How wouldst thou have
laughd and moralized upon my new profession! - and thou shouldst have
laughd and moralized on. - Trust me, my dear Eugenius, I should have said,
There are worse occupations in this world than feeling a womans pulse. But a grisettes! thou wouldst have said, - and in an open shop! Yorick - So much the better: for when my views are direct, Eugenius, I care not if
all the world saw me feel it.
The Husband. Paris. (2001: 51-52)
I had counted twenty pulsations, and was going on fast towards the
fortieth, when her husband, coming unexpected from a back parlour into the
shop, put me a little out of my reckoning. - Twas nobody but her husband, she
said; - so I began a fresh score. - Monsieur is so good, quoth she, as he
passd by us, as to give himself the trouble of feeling my pulse. - The husband
took off his hat, and making me a bow, said, I did him too much honour - and
having said that, he put on his hat and walkd out.
Good God! said I to myself, as he went out, - and can this man be the
husband of this woman!
Let it not torment the few who know what must have been the grounds
of this exclamation, if I explain it to those who do not.
In London a shopkeeper and a shopkeepers wife seem to be one bone
and one flesh: in the several endowments of mind and body, sometimes the
one, sometimes the other has it, so as, in general, to be upon a par, and totally
with each other as nearly as man and wife need to do.
In Paris, there are scarce two orders of beings more different: for the
legislative and executive powers of the shop not resting in the husband, he
seldom comes there: - in some dark and dismal room behind, he sits
commerce-less, in his thrum nightcap, the same rough son of Nature that
Nature left him.
The genius of a people, where nothing but the monarchy is salique,
having ceded this department, with sundry others, totally to the women, - by a
continual higgling with customers of all ranks and sizes from morning to night,
like so many rough pebbles shook long together in a bag, by amicable collisions
they have worn down their asperities and sharp angles, and not only become
round and smooth, but will receive, some of them, a polish like a brilliant: Monsieur le Mari is little better than the stone under your foot.
- Surely, - surely, man! it is not good for thee to sit alone: - thou wast
made for social intercourse and gentle greetings; and this improvement of our
natures from it I appeal to as my evidence.
58

- And how does it beat, Monsieur? said she. - With all the benignity,
said I, looking quietly in her eyes, that I expected. - She was going to say
something civil in return - but the lad came into the shop with the gloves. -
propos, said I, I want a couple of pairs myself.
59
Bibliography
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Books Cited
Novels
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Bal, Mieke (1982) Mimesis and Genre Theory in Aristotles Poetics in

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61

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Universitatea Dunrea de Jos

Anul II, Semestrul II

Narrative and stylistic

4. Representations of Reality in the Eighteenth-century English

Narrative and Stylistic Patterns in the Eighteenth-century Novel

Narrative and Stylistic Patterns in the Eighteenth-century Novel

Section 1. Representational Patterns in Fictional Discourse

SECTION 1. Representational Patterns in Fictional

Narrative and Stylistic Patterns in the Eighteenth-century Novel

Section 1. Representational Patterns in Fictional Discourse

The diagram of the communication process (in written language) indicating

Narrative and Stylistic Patterns in the Eighteenth-century Novel

Section 1. Representational Patterns in Fictional Discourse

1.2. Realism: A Literary Trend and/or a Mode of Discourse

Section 1. Representational Patterns in Fictional Discourse

1.3. Practical Applications (1)

Section 1. Representational Patterns in Fictional Discourse

Section 1. Representational Patterns in Fictional Discourse

Narrative and Stylistic Patterns in the Eighteenth-century Novel

Section 2. Introduction to Narratology

SECTION 2. Introduction to Narratology

Section 2. Introduction to Narratology

2.1.1. Tense: Order. Duration. Frequency

Narrative and Stylistic Patterns in the Eighteenth-century Novel

Section 2. Introduction to Narratology

Section 2. Introduction to Narratology

Narrative and Stylistic Patterns in the Eighteenth-century Novel

Section 2. Introduction to Narratology

Narrative and Stylistic Patterns in the Eighteenth-century Novel

Section 2. Introduction to Narratology

I saw a man in his fifties, still young-looking

external focalization, given the narrators marked ignorance with

Section 2. Introduction to Narratology

The first-degree narrator

Narrative and Stylistic Patterns in the Eighteenth-century Novel

Section 2. Introduction to Narratology

Narrative and Stylistic Patterns in the Eighteenth-century Novel

Section 2. Introduction to Narratology

extradiegetic heterodiegetic: a narrator in the first degree tells a

Absent from the story

Present in the story

2.2. Wayne Booth and the Rhetoric of Fiction

Section 2. Introduction to Narratology

2.3. Practical Applications (2)

Section 2. Introduction to Narratology

Section 2. Introduction to Narratology

Narrative and Stylistic Patterns in the Eighteenth-century Novel

Section 2. Introduction to Narratology

Section 2. Introduction to Narratology

Narrative and Stylistic Patterns in the Eighteenth-century Novel

Section 3. Style in Fiction

SECTION 3. Style in Fiction

Section 3. Style in Fiction

Special mention must also be made of the distancing and stigmatizing

3.2. Narrative and Stylistic Structures

Narrative and Stylistic Patterns in the Eighteenth-century Novel

Section 3. Style in Fiction

Section 3. Style in Fiction

Narrative and Stylistic Patterns in the Eighteenth-century Novel

Section 3. Style in Fiction

Narrative and Stylistic Patterns in the Eighteenth-century Novel

Section 3. Style in Fiction