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 Journal of Pragmatics 129 (2018) 13e33

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Journal of Pragmatics
journal homepage: www.elsevier.com/locate/pragma

Perspectival expressives
Leopold Hess*
Radboud University Nijmegen, The Netherlands

a r t i c l e i n f o a b s t r a c t

Article history: Expressives, i.e. words such as “damn” or “bastard” are perspective-dependent: their con-
Received 21 October 2016 tent is always evaluated from a certain perspective. Because expressive content projects
Received in revised form 21 February 2018 out of all environments, this perspective is normally the speaker's. Perspective-dependence
Accepted 23 February 2018
of expressives can be investigated by focusing on exceptions to this rule. Potts (2005)
presents an influential theory of expressive content as a kind of conventional implicature.
It is a definitional feature of expressive content on this account that it is always speaker-
Keywords:
oriented. This claim has quickly come under criticism, and a variety of counter-examples
Commitment
Conversational scorekeeping
have been offered (cf. Amaral et al. (2007), Lasersohn (2007), Potts (2007), among
Expressive content others). Harris and Potts (2009) consider examples of non-speaker-oriented expressives
Expressive commitments given in the literature, as well as experimental data, and argue for an explanation based on
Expressives a mechanism of pragmatic perspective shift (as opposed to an approach based on semantic
Perspective binding, as in, e.g., Schlenker (2007), Sauerland (2007)). The objective of this paper is to
Perspective shifts develop a theoretical understanding of such a mechanism. The approach suggested is
based on a model of discourse pragmatics which focuses on commitment attribution as an
element of hearers' interpretation (based on Morency et al. (2008) and Lewis (1979)). At-
issue commitments are distinguished from commitments de lingua (cf. Harris (2014,
2016)). It is a characteristic property of expressives as a lexical class that they are prag-
matically “opaque” and always raise the issue of de lingua commitment. The orientation of
expressive content cannot be strictly predicted, and thus a fully formal treatment is
implausible, but the theory offered here accounts for all factors that influence non-
speaker-oriented readings, as well as for the very strong bias towards speaker-oriented
ones. A limited, testable prediction of the account is presented.
© 2018 Elsevier B.V. All rights reserved.

1. Introduction

The topic of this paper is the pragmatics of expressives,1 i.e. highly charged (often taboo) words, such as the boldfaced
expressions in the examples below.

* Erasmusgebouw 16.11, Erasumsplein 1, 6526 HT Nijmegen, The Netherlands.

E-mail address: leopoldhess@gmail.com.
1
It is not easy to define the class of expressives clearly. My discussion, following the example of Potts (2005), will focus on the prototypical examples of
negatively charged, vulgar epithets, such as “bastard” or “asshole”, and expressive adjectives, such as “damn” or “fucking” - and only when they are used
attributively (“that bastard Kaplan”); as Potts already observes, the same words used predicatively (“He is a bastard”) behave differently and convey at-issue
content (this difference is certainly worth further consideration, but I will ignore it here). Other groups of words can be considered non-prototypical
examples of the category of expressives: positively charged modifiers (“awesome”), ethnic slurs (“kike”), expressives used as intensifiers (“damn good”)
etc. The observations and arguments made here, as well as in most of the existing literature on expressives, will apply to those groups to a greater or lesser
extent, corresponding to the extent to which they share the relevant properties of prototypical examples. For instance, non-speaker oriented readings of
ethnic slurs are much more difficult to obtain, and this seems somehow related to the fact that slurs are not purely expressive, but have a descriptive
component as well (they have a specific group as their extension), cf. Hay (2013).

https://doi.org/10.1016/j.pragma.2018.02.007
0378-2166/© 2018 Elsevier B.V. All rights reserved.
14 L. Hess / Journal of Pragmatics 129 (2018) 13e33

(1) We bought a new electric clothes dryer […] Nowhere did it say that the damn thing didn't come with an electric plug!
(2) If that bastard Kaplan got promoted, then the Regents acted foolishly.

The most salient characteristic of expressives, and one which has attracted a lot of attention from linguists and seman-
ticists in recent years (at least since Kaplan (1999)) is that they do not seem to contribute to the main, at-issue content of an
utterance, but rather to express the speaker's attitude towards an object or situation. I will have little to say about this
property, or about the semantics of expressives as such, although I will suggest a novel way of understanding the exceptional
nature of expressives. The issue that I will discuss here is a property of expressives which is called their “perspective-
dependence”: expressive content represents or manifests the attitude or emotion of the speaker, rather than some imper-
sonal or fully objective fact. Moreover, in some circumstances expressives may be used to represent the perspective of
someone else than the actual speaker, as in example (3) (which I will discuss at length later):

(3) My father screamed that he would never allow me to marry that bastard Webster.

It is in particular this latter point that makes it worthwhile to inquire into the mechanism of their perspective-
dependence. Thus, in this paper I will focus predominantly on the so-called non-speaker oriented uses - or readings (as
the interpretation side will be most prominent here) - of expressives. An analysis of them will serve to develop a model of
expressive perspective-dependence which accounts for properly speaker-oriented readings as well. This theoretical account
represents a thoroughly pragmatic way of thinking about perspective in language, in contrast to strictly semantic approaches
typically proposed for other kinds of perspective-dependent items, such as predicates of personal taste etc.
The structure of my argument is as follows. From a semantic point of view, to repeat, the most salient property of ex-
pressives is that they introduce content independent of the main content of the utterance. Potts (2005) presents an influential
theory which accounts for this property by treating expressive content as a kind of conventional implicature. It is a defini-
tional feature of expressive content on this account that it is always speaker-oriented. This claim has quickly come under
criticism, and a variety of counter-examples have been offered (cf. Amaral et al. (2007), Lasersohn (2007), Potts (2007), among
others).2 Harris and Potts (2009) consider examples of non-speaker-oriented expressives given in the literature, as well as
experimental data, and argue for an explanation based on a mechanism of pragmatic perspective shift (as opposed to an
approach based on semantic binding, as in, e.g., Schlenker (2007), Sauerland (2007)). Taking their analysis as my starting
point, I will propose a theoretical understanding of such a pragmatic perspectival mechanism.3
I begin (in Section 2) with an overview of the variety of situations in which non-speaker-oriented (henceforth NS) readings
of expressives are possible; in Section 3 I distinguish them from purported cases of (modal or temporal) displacement, which I
argue are not genuine. This leads to the conclusion that expressive content is attributed to the most salient perspectival agent
in the context. After a brief discussion of Potts' and Schlenker's indexical analyses (in Section 4), I propose to reject the
assumption that there is a default, semantically motivated, speaker-oriented reading, which can be overridden by pragmatic
factors. Instead, I submit that expressives are inherently underspecified for their orientation (following a suggestion made
already in Harris and Potts (2009)). Rather than look for conditions under which a different context variable can be fed into
semantic composition, I propose to look at the process of interpretation, construed as commitment attribution. In Section 5, I
enumerate the factors that may influence the perspectival salience of a non-speaker agent4 (these include such diverse as-
pects as techniques and textual strategies like free indirect discourse or sarcasm, quotation, discourse coherence and in-
ferences based on world-knowledge). It turns out that NS readings of expressives are available in a variety of contexts. There
is, however, a strong bias towards speaker-orientation and I put forward a hypothesis regarding the source of this bias
(following Lasersohn (2007)), grounded in what I will call the “pragmatic opacity” of expressives (their unavoidable mark-
edness which always makes the manner of speaking - the choice of vocabulary - a prominent aspect of an utterance).
To account theoretically for these observations, I propose, in Section 7, a model of discourse which keeps track, besides the
set of propositions that form the common ground, of the individual commitments of discourse participants (cf. Farkas and
Bruce (2010)). Following Morency et al. (2008), I understand commitment attribution as an essential element of hearer's
interpretation of what speakers are communicating. In this sense, commitment can be attributed to other agents besides the
speaker, e.g. to the original speaker in an indirect report. The proposal of Morency et al., (2008) can be combined with the
“scorekeeping” account of Lewis (1979) to yield an abstract model of hearers' interpretation in discourse. In Section 8, I extend
this model further, by introducing “commitments de lingua” (based on Harris (2014, 2016)), which are attributed by in-
terpreters as commitments to the appropriateness or applicability of a certain expression.

2
The literature on (non-)speaker-orientation of appositives and other kinds of non-at-issue content is richer than this, and dates well before Potts (cf. the
bibliography in Harris and Potts (2009)). My focus, however, is exclusively on expressives.
3
Harris and Potts offer little in terms of a theoretical description of this mechanism, as their article is focused on experimental material. Nevertheless, the
notion of a pragmatic perspective shift has been picked up by other authors, e.g. AnderBois (2014), who employs it to explain away the exceptional behavior
of reportative evidentials in some languages. Without a better idea of what a pragmatic perspective shift is, however, it is impossible to say whether
expressives and reportative evidentials are indeed similar in any relevant respects.
4
Throughout this paper by “non-speaker agent” I understand an agent who is not the actual speaker - very often it will be a reported speaker.
 L. Hess / Journal of Pragmatics 129 (2018) 13e33 15

I argue that this model of discourse pragmatics can account for all the factors that influence NS readings of expressives, as
well as for the strong speaker bias. Moreover, taking all these strands together - the conditions of the perspective-dependence
of expressives, their opacity, and the scorekeeping discourse model with commitment de lingua attribution - will contribute
to a novel understanding of what sets expressives apart as a lexical class and how they convey their content. (In short, I claim
that a characteristic of expressives is that they cannot fail to raise the issue of commitment to their appropriateness.)
However, the orientation of expressives remains a high level pragmatic phenomenon, and as such it cannot be predicted or
subjected to a fully formal or compositional treatment. In Section 10 I conclude and briefly discuss the relation of my account
with previous proposals.

2. Examples

Potts (2007) lists the following properties of expressives:

a. Independence
b. Nondisplaceability
c. Perspective dependence
d. Descriptive ineffability
e. Immediacy
f. Repeatability

The only properties that will be relevant to the following discussion are a., b., and c. “Independence” describes the fact that
expressives contribute a dimension of meaning which is independent of the main content of the utterance in which they appear
(as mentioned at the very beginning of this paper). They serve only as a kind of comment on or supplement to the main at-issue
content and can be removed (or replaced with neutral, unmarked counterparts) without any change to truth conditions.5
“Nondisplaceability” means that expressives always predicate something of the context of the actual utterance e there-
fore, their content cannot be displaced even in contexts such as speech and attitude reports, modal or conditionalized
statements, reports of past events etc.
“Perspective dependence” describes the fact that expressive content is always evaluated from a concrete perspective. In
general, the perspective is the speaker's, but under some conditions it can be someone else's6 (this last point is the main topic
of this paper).
Examples (1) and (2), repeated here, illustrate the properties of independence and nondisplaceability:

(1) We bought a new electric clothes dryer […] Nowhere did it say that the damn thing didn't come with an electric plug!
(2) If that bastard Kaplan got promoted, then the Regents acted foolishly.

In both cases the content of the expressive makes no contribution to the at-issue content of the sentence. What is
conveyed is clearly a negative attitude or emotional state of the speaker, but this is only a comment, in a way, on what the
main content of the utterance is. On the other hand, embedding of the expressive in a report and under negation in (1) or in an
antecedent of a conditional in (2) makes no difference to what it communicates. Expressive content is not conditionalized,
negated or evaluated with respect to the context of the original speech act, but should be interpreted with respect to the
actual speech situation.
However, there is a certain tension between the two properties of Nondisplaceability and Perspective dependence. On the
one hand, expressive content cannot be displaced in any of the standard ways (e.g. in reports or conditionals); on the other, it is
evaluated from a perspective which in some cases may not be the speaker's (as we will see in the following examples) - which
seems to imply some kind of displacement. Two points should be noted here. First, this is a false appearance, as the possibility of
expressive content being dependent on a non-speaker perspective does not constitute an exception to its nondisplaceability: it
is still true, as I will argue in Section 3, that expressive content cannot be shifted by modal or temporal operators, or by
embedding in a report. Second, perspective dependence of expressive content is a pragmatic phenomenon that is largely in-
dependent from the kinds of semantic transformations that are excluded by the property of nondisplaceability. Therefore,
expressive content can indeed be “shifted” in (broadly construed) reportative contexts, but this is a phenomenon of a different
level than semantic embedding in a speech or attitude report (this distinction will be made much clearer in later sections).
As has been mentioned, the perspective from which expressive content is evaluated can be someone else's than the
speaker's “under some conditions”. Identifying such conditions is not a straightforward task, however. A variety of examples
of non-speaker-oriented expressives have been suggested in the literature. In what follows I list some of the most charac-
teristic ones and give a tentative description of the conditions which contribute to a non-speaker perspective in each case.

5
It is worth noting that being not-at-issue and having non-truth-conditional content are two distinct properties, even if this distinction is obscured in
Potts' original treatment of expressives. Gutzmann (2015) offers a refinement of Potts' theory in which the two are disentangled. I will be interested only in
the non-at-issueness of expressives, and not in the precise nature of their content.
6
Note that Potts's (2005) original theory did not account for this possibility, as mentioned in the Introduction.
16 L. Hess / Journal of Pragmatics 129 (2018) 13e33

(4) [Context: We know that Bob loves to do yard work and is very proud of his lawn, but also that he has a son Monty who
hates to do yard chores. So Bob could say:]
Well, in fact Monty said to me this very morning that he hates to mow the friggin lawn.
(Amaral et al., 2007)

In this example a NS reading of the expressive ‘friggin’ is at least possible, if not preferable: the context makes it clear that
the speaker has nothing against mowing the lawn, and therefore it is likely that in using the expressive he is not voicing his
own attitude but reflecting Monty's. (A speaker-oriented reading is not excluded, however: the attitude expressed by ‘friggin’
need not have yard work as its object - Bob could be venting his anger at Monty's laziness; see Section 3).

(3) My father screamed that he would never allow me to marry that bastard Webster.
(Amaral et al., 2007)

This example, repeated from the Introduction, is similar to (4) in that an expressive appears within a speech report, but a
NS reading is more visibly preferable here. It is unlikely that the speaker, who apparently intends to marry Webster, would call
him a bastard. (Note also that an interpretation in which the expressive does not manifest an attitude towards Webster, but
anger or frustration with the situation as a whole, does not seem available.)

(5) I was struck by the willingness of almost everybody in the room - the senators as eagerly as the witnesseseto exchange
their civil liberties for an illusory state of perfect security. They seemed to think that democracy was just a fancy word
for corporate capitalism and that the society would be a lot better off if it stopped its futile and unremunerative
dithering about constitutional rights. Why humor people, especially poor people, by listening to their idiotic theories of
social justice?
Lewis Lapham, Harper's Magazine, July 1995; (Harris and Potts, 2009)
(6) While shopping at one of my local Apple stores the other day, I overheard an earnest conversation about safeguarding
Mac computers against things like viruses and trojans. The customer and companion were new to Mac life and were
convinced that they should be very worried about viruses. The Apple salesperson on the floor repeatedly assured them
that they would not need extra antivirus protection for their Mac. The customer then argued that Symantec makes an
antivirus program for Macs, therefore, it must truly be a credible threat, otherwise there would be no such products.
Some antivirus products are even sold in Apple stores. I've heard similar arguments before: if companies like Symantec
or McAfee make antivirus applications for the Mac, then Macs must truly be vulnerable somehow, somewhere. Steve
Jobs and the rest of the Apple cronies must be lying.
www.digitaltrends.com/features/antivirus-programs-for-mac-snake-oil-or-public-service/7; (Harris and Potts, 2009)

Examples (5) and (6) are similar in that the sentences in which expressives occur can plausibly be interpreted as instances
of free indirect discourse: a narrative technique which reports the content of a protagonist speech or thought without explicit
embedding. (FID interpretation is based on clues such as the question form in (5) or the epistemic modal and the introductory
“I've heard similar arguments before” in (6)8). Moreover, both examples are from journalistic texts, and their readers may
expect that such language as “idiotic” or “cronies” will not be used by the author in his own voice. The main topic of both
passages, however, are in fact the attitudes and utterances of other people than the author (senators in (5) and Apple cus-
tomers in (6)), which also facilitates a NS reading of the expressive. In addition, in both examples the author adopts a clearly
ironic tone.

(7) A CPJ report on Venezuela tells us how problems have ‘escalated’ in Venezuela under Chavez, i.e. the physical attacks
against journalists under previous presidents have ‘escalated’ to Chavez calling the opposition, which includes the
media, names. This is very, very serious, but I don't think another coup attempt is called for until Chavez resorts to
dramatic irony or sarcasm. But if that vicious bastard uses litotes, then there's no other rational choice than an im-
mediate invasion.
stommel.tamu.edu/~baum/ethel/20020811ethel-archive.html#801502819; (Potts, 2007)

This example is similar to (5) and (6) in that it also comes from a (quasi-) journalistic text (a blog post) and deals in the first
place with what someone said or wrote (the authors of the CPJ report) e even more so, as the author brings attention

7
Accessed on October 6, 2016.
8
The epistemic modal is a clue for an FID-interpretation insofar as it reflects the epistemic state of the “protagonist”, the customer in this instance, rather
than that of the narrator. See Eckardt (2015) for a comprehensive account of the factors influencing the interpretation of free indirect discourse. In non-
literary texts clues of this kind may not be as strong indicators of FID, but in both these examples the very content of target sentences supports such an
interpretation: clearly, they do not express the opinions of the respective authors themselves.
9
This web address was unavailable at time of writing.
 L. Hess / Journal of Pragmatics 129 (2018) 13e33 17

specifically to how they said it. Instead of the use of free indirect discourse or other narrative techniques, what facilitates a NS
reading of the expressive in this case is the heavy use of sarcasm.
Note that while in (4) both speaker- and non-speaker-oriented readings of the expressive seemed possible, in (3)e(7) a NS
reading seems strictly preferable. The last two examples are closer to (4) in this respect.

(8) My classmate Sheila said that her history professor gave her a really low grade. The jerk always favors long papers.
(9) My roommate Glen said that his uncle tells the absolute lamest jokes. The stooge can never get through a single one of
them without giggling.

These are two chosen items (which I find the most characteristic) from an experiment reported in Harris and Potts
(2009). The respondents were presented with a passage like one of these (other items shared the same structure) and
asked whose opinion they thought it was that the professor is a jerk, or that Glen's uncle is a stooge etc. They had three
options to choose from: the speaker's opinion, the subject's (Sheila's, roommate's etc.) or both. Harris and Potts disregarded
“Both” answers as they were too difficult to interpret, but even so the results of this experiment showed that NS readings are
systematically available, with percentages of “Subject” answers in the low two digits for most items and up to almost 40% in
(9) (there were a few with 0% as well, however e the experimental data itself suggests no answer as to why some items
scored higher than others). Moreover, all items came in pairs e one element of the pair just like the two examples above,
while the other one different only in the “polarity”, so to say, of the description in the first sentence (e.g. Sheila received a
high grade, or Glen's uncle tells the funniest jokes). If the situation described was a positive one for the subject e so there
was no reason for them to be irritated or upset e respondents never chose subject-oriented interpretations over speaker-
oriented ones. This suggests that NS readings of expressives are available only if they somehow “match” the situation. We
have already seen the flipside of this in (3), where the use of the expressive “bastard” seemed at odds with the speaker's
plausibly assumed positive attitude towards Webster, thereby making a NS reading much more plausible (if not strictly
forcing it).
The list of examples included here is meant to illustrate the relevant kinds of situations in which expressives can have a NS
reading. The first thing to observe is that NS readings are possible both within attitude or speech reports (in (4) and (3), and
perhaps (5) and (6)10), and outside of them (in (7)e(9)). However, in each of the instances discussed here, the context is in
some sense “reportative”, i.e. it has to do with what someone other than the speaker said (or thought). Not only is a speech
event mentioned in the immediate context of the clause containing an expressive, but it is the main theme of the particular
piece of discourse. Moreover, in many of the examples attention is drawn not only to what was said, but how it was said (note
e.g. the use of “screamed” in (3), the irony (5) and (6) or the mocking tone of (7)). (It does not mean, however, that NS uses of
expressives always purport to repeat actual words used by the other agent - I will come back to this point in Section 4, when
arguing against a quotational analysis.)
I will discuss what factors contribute to NS readings in more detail in Section 5. Two general points worth noting already
are that those factors are clearly located above the sentence level (having to do primarily with the rhetorical nature of the
discourse); and that choosing between speaker- and non-speaker-oriented readings is an inferential process based on a
variety of clues and cues.

3. Apparent displacement

In all the examples discussed in Section 2, an expressive may be interpreted as expressing an attitude or emotion of
another salient agent rather than the actual speaker. Some other examples may be found in the literature which purport to
show that expressive content can in general, even if rarely, be evaluated with respect to a non-actual, e.g. hypothetical,
context (involving the same speaker, but a different time or world). Consider the following conditionals:

(10) I consider John a saint. But if he ever screws me over, I'll crush the bastard like a bug!
(Lasersohn, 2007)
(11) [After trying several computers, which fail.] Ok, if this one works, I'll give it my first born child. But if it fails, I'm gonna
smash the damn thing on the ground.
(Anand, 2007)

It has been argued, by Lasersohn and Anand among others, that in examples like these, the expressives do not convey
actual attitudes of the speaker, but rather express how the speaker would feel if the hypothetical situation were to come true.
If this is indeed the case, examples like (10) and (11) constitute a challenge to the Nondisplaceability of expressives, and
cannot be captured merely by Perspective dependence (the conditionalization of expressive content that purportedly takes
place here has nothing to do with another salient agent).

10
On the assumption that sentences in free indirect discourse are attitude reports, which is not uncontroversial.
18 L. Hess / Journal of Pragmatics 129 (2018) 13e33

There is another, more plausible, way of interpreting such examples, however. The speaker of (10)11 may in fact be convinced
that John is a saint, but this need not mean that her attitude, manifested in the use of the expressive, is merely hypothetical - that
she only imagines being angry at John in the conditional scenario. One can very well be actually angry at an imagined situation -
we should not confuse psychology with semantics. The very thought that John could someday betray her may be the cause of the
agent's attitude, which is expressed through the use of “bastard”. Similarly, in (11), the speaker's attitude seems to be generic in a
sense: she is actually, not merely hypothetically, upset because computers fail and she imagines the new one might too.
This point may be obscured if we attach too much weight to the fact that in Potts's semantics of expressive adjectives (“damn
thing”) and epithets (“bastard”) their content is taken to reflect an attitude towards the object of which they are predicated or to
which they refer. This is, however, only a simplification (of which Potts is himself aware). Take the following example:

(12) I lost my damn keys again!

The speaker of (12) is not, of course, angry at the keys as such. This is a consequence of the Independence of expressive
content: because it belongs to a separate dimension of meaning, it may be interpreted as a comment on the whole situation
described in an utterance.12 But Independence is conceptually connected with Nondisplaceability: if expressive content is
independent of the main truth-conditional, descriptive content of an utterance, the attitude expressed may be independent of
whether the situation described (e.g. the computer failing) is taken to be actual, hypothetical or past. The two kinds of content
- expressive and descriptive - belong to distinct dimensions and do not interact directly.
Besides hypothetical contexts, Anand (2007) discusses also two examples which are supposed to show that expressive
content can be temporally displaced.

(13) Churchill thought Gandhi was the most degenerate wog in all of India.
(14) My wife often reminds me that I even once screamed at my daughter that I would never allow her to marry that
bastard Webster. But time has taught me how wrong I was, and I'm incredibly happy to claim that bastard, who I know
now is far from a bastard, as my son-in-law today.

Neither of these is easy to interpret, however. In the case of (13) it seems that both readings are available: on a speaker-
oriented reading, the expressive reflects the actual speaker's present attitude towards Gandhi or, more likely, towards Indians
in general; on a NS reading - which in fact seems less salient, if at all available13 - it is only Churchill's attitude. In the latter
case, the attitude may indeed be interpreted as past, as something that Churchill used to feel and expressed with the use of
“wog”. But the apparent temporal displacement of expressive content on this reading is secondary to its attribution to a non-
speaker agent. Expressive content, as had been said earlier, supplements or “comments” on at-issue content: in this case, on a
NS reading, the at-issue content in question is the content of Churchill's thought about Gandhi. With respect to this thought,
expressive content is not temporally displaced. We should interpret it as if it was Churchill thinking (to himself or better yet
out loud): “Gandhi is the most degenerate wog in all of India” - expressing both an at-issue thought, and an accompanying
(actual and present) attitude - and this whole event is located in the past. Such an explanation, if even necessary, is perfectly
compatible with my pragmatic view of NS readings and does not involve any semantic displacement.
Example (14) does not show temporal displacement either, although it is even more difficult to interpret unambiguously.
First of all, we should note that the word “bastard” appears three times in this discourse, and the three occurrences differ in
their syntactic and semantic properties (the first one being a modifier of “Webster”, the second one used referentially, and the
third one, predicatively). This variation seems to have an important rhetorical effect in qualifying the attitude that the speaker
intends to communicate. The latter two occurrences, in the second sentence, clearly do not express the speaker's negative
attitude towards Webster, whether a past or a present one. It seems that the general content of the discourse and its rather
jovial tone (note that the whole utterance seems felicitous only if we imagine it spoken with a particular intonational contour
on the occurrences of “bastard”, suggesting a joking or distancing intention14) contributes to a “neutralization” of sorts of the
expressives, which may naturally extend also to the first occurrence of “bastard”.15 (That such neutralization is possible is in
itself an interesting observation, but one that has no relevance to the issue of Nondisplaceability.) Alternatively, the first

11
NB, not all speakers accept this example as felicitous (based on personal conversations).
12
This kind of independence may be more difficult to see with epithets rather than expressive adjectives: the use of, say, “bastard” seems much more
directly associated with a negative attitude towards a particular person. Note, however, that “bastard” is also typically insulting to the person so called - and
the insult is clearly not “displaced” in (10).
13
Hay (2013) claims that unlike other pejoratives, such as “bastard”, racist (or homophobic, etc.) slurs can never have an exclusively non-speaker oriented
reading.
14
Or, on the other hand, we can just as well imagine it spoken with the kind of intonation that would make clear that all occurrences of “bastard” are to be
treated seriously and as expressive of the speaker's actual attitude. We would then imagine him not to be happy with having Webster as his son-in-law at
all, and the whole speech as rather grimly sarcastic. In any case, the availability of such imagined scenarios and the different readings we could obtain in
them show that Perspective dependence of expressives is a phenomenon that has little to do with simple syntactic or semantic operations.
15
That is nothing unusual: “bastard”, as almost any other epithet, can be and often is used jokingly or endearingly, as in close friends addressing one
another with “You old bastard”. This fact indicates, again, that what psychological state is really expressed by an utterance of an expressive cannot be
directly read off from its linguistic properties.
 L. Hess / Journal of Pragmatics 129 (2018) 13e33 19

occurrence of “bastard”, embedded in a past-tense report, can be explained in the same way as the use of “wog” in (13): what
the speaker screamed once was “I will never allow you to marry that bastard Webster” and this speech event as a whole is
located in the past.
Therefore, even if Anand is right that the speaker of (14) successfully avoids expressing a present negative attitude towards
Webster with his uses of “bastard” while also communicating that he did hold such an attitude in the past, this is achieved by
much more complex means than just temporal displacement. This is shown also by the fact that if we took just the first
sentence of this discourse in isolation, the most salient reading would still be one in which the speaker expresses his present
and actual negative attitude towards Webster.
I conclude from this brief discussion (and the lack of better counter-examples in the quite rich literature on expressives)
that Nondisplaceability of expressive content holds as claimed by Potts. Non-speaker orientation of expressives in some
contexts should therefore be construed as a phenomenon of a different kind.

4. Alternative analyses: indexicality and quotation

Perspective dependence of expressive content naturally invites an indexical analysis, and several authors follow this path.
Potts (2007), for instance, introduces a judge parameter for expressives, modeled on Lasersohn's treatment of predicates of
personal taste.
Furthermore, the existence of “shifting indexicals” in some languages suggests that we might have to do with a similar
phenomenon in the case of expressives. Accordingly, Schlenker (2007) suggests an analysis of shifts in the orientation of
expressives based on his “monstrous” theory of shifting indexicals (Schlenker, 2003).
Standard indexicals are evaluated with respect to the context of the actual utterance, but shiftable indexicals can be
evaluated with respect to a different context e typically, it is the context of a reported speech act. In Schlenker's formalism,
context variables are explicitly represented in the object language and indexicals may take them as arguments. Expressives
(those among them that may have NS readings) are like shiftable indexicals in that they may take as argument a context
variable different than the actual context c*. It may be, again, the context of the reported speech act, but - crucially - it is
possible, according to Schlenker, that “under ill-understood conditions, a context variable other than c* may be left free in the
Logical Form”, assuming that “the discourse situation provides it with a salient variable”.
Schlenker admits that his proposal is incomplete insofar as the conditions under which a different context variable can be
used are “ill-understood”. Thus, his semantic account cannot predict or explain NS readings of expressives outside of attitude
and speech reports. What is even more problematic, however, is that readings of expressives within reports are equally
unpredictable. They may be oriented at the subject of the report rather than the speaker, but only in some cases; typically,
they retain their speaker-orientation. An indexical analysis does not offer any explanation in this respect, either.
Potts' analysis, while formally different than Schlenker's, develops the same general idea: a judge parameter in the context
accounts for the orientation of expressive content; by default the judge is the speaker, but in some circumstances the
parameter can be set to another salient agent. Nothing in the compositional semantic setup, however, helps to predict or
explain when and why the parameter can shift.
Indexical analyses of expressive orientation of this sort are not only explanatorily idle. While I will not pursue this
argument here, it is worth noting they may also be descriptively inadequate. For the distribution of non-speaker oriented
expressives is very different from that of either shiftable indexicals or predicates of taste and other perspective-sensitive
items. In languages which have shiftable indexicals, they are typically subject to clear regularities, and a given indexical
may shift obligatorily, optionally or not at all depending on e.g. the type of verb under which it is embedded.16 The same is not
true of expressives, of course, which usually do not shift at all (hence the very issue of NS readings), and when they do, they do
not seem to obey any such regularities. The same goes for perspective-sensitive items such as predicates of taste, which also
shift their orientation according to definite patterns, not shared by expressives. The orientation of a predicate of taste, but not
of an expressive, in a report is typically set to the reported speaker/thinker.

(15) a. Jim said that he ate some tasty Brussels sprouts again.
b. Jim said that he ate some damn Brussels sprouts again.

In (15a) “tasty” is naturally interpreted as expressing Jim's tastes, while “damn” in (15b) expresses the speaker's attitude
(whatever reasons she may have to be upset about Jim eating Brussels sprouts).17 Other readings, a speaker-oriented in (15a)
and a non-speaker oriented in (15b) are perhaps not impossible, but in a null context much less salient. In any case, the
difference between the behavior of a predicate of taste and an expressive is clear.18

16
Cf. Anand and Nevins (2004).
17
Note also that (in)definiteness makes a difference in the orientation of predicates of taste (contrast (15a) with “Jim said that he ate the tasty Brussels
sprouts again”), but not in the case of expressives.
18
Cf. Bylinina et al. (2014) who develop a very broad account of perspective-sensitivity, under which they include such categories as predicates of taste,
epistemic modals, evidentials, locative and socio-cultural expressions, and others. Their theory is generally Schlenkerian (i.e. monstrous), but, importantly,
expressives are not included in it.
20 L. Hess / Journal of Pragmatics 129 (2018) 13e33

An indexical account of “shifting expressives” seems inadequate. Before I move on to offer my own alternative, it is worth
mentioning one more possible analysis, which is much closer in spirit to what I will offer. Anand (2007) suggests that non-
speaker oriented expressives can be treated as cases of covert quotation.19 This would account straightforwardly for the fact
that shifts of expressive content to non-speaker agents are possible (while other kinds of shift or displacement are not) in
contexts when not only what was said by someone else is salient, but also how it was said, in particular, the precise words
used.
In speech, it seems indeed plausible to expect that a non-speaker oriented expressive will often occur with an intonational
contour characteristic of sub-clausal quotation - this is how we can imagine Bob speaking when reading example (4) (and
likewise in (3)). In writing, however, in the absence of actual quotation marks, we would have to assume (as Anand admits)
that quotation is signaled in some other way, for a quotational analysis to even get off the ground. This is already problematic.
Embedding under a speech report may of course facilitate interpretation of some expression as a quotation, but as we have
seen embedding is neither necessary nor sufficient for NS readings of expressives (and in any case not everything, by far, that
is embedded in a speech report is quoted, of course). When both intonational cues and overt punctuation are absent, and
without other devices such as reportative interjections “in these very words” or “and I quote”, one would be hard pressed to
identify any specific signals of quotation. In effect, Anand is forced to claim discourse coherence as one such possible signal.
While discourse coherence certainly plays an important role in NS readings of expressives (more on this in Section 5), saying
that covert quotation should be assumed whenever an expressive does not seem to express the speaker's attitude seems
plainly circular and does not explain anything20. Of which Anand is well aware himself, writing: “Admittedly, this leaves us
trading one mystery for another, since it is hard to comprehend the territory of partial quotation without reliable overt
effects.”
Perhaps some improvements are possible here, given that the field of applications of quotation theory has seen rapid
developments in recent years. But can covert quotation, even granting that it may be reasonably assumed whenever needed,
actually explain the kinds of examples of non-speaker oriented expressives that we have seen in Section 2? As mentioned
already, it would be plausible enough to treat “friggin” in (4) and “bastard” in 3, where the expressives appear in a speech
report, as quoted. In (5) and (6) expressives occur in sentences that are preferably interpreted as free indirect discourse. Free
indirect discourse, in turn, has been construed as a kind of quotation.21 Example (5) is slightly more problematic insofar as
given the context it seems improbable that anyone in the meeting described by Lewis Lapham, whether one of the senators or
a witness, actually uttered the words “Why humor people, especially poor people, by listening to their idiotic theories of social
justice?”, or any words sufficiently similar to treat this sentence as a genuine quote. It is true that speakers and writers
sometimes use quotation (with the proper intonational contour or actual quotation marks) in a sarcastic or mocking way,
without any presumption of faithfulness - often indirectly describing an attitude of another agent in this way, rather than
repeating their words (in some varieties of English this use of quotation has been conventionalized in the so-called quotative
“like”). An explanation such as this, however, undermines the very purpose of a quotational analysis, which was supposed to
account for uses of expressives which seem to express the attitude of another agent in virtue of the fact that they repeat their
actual words (in fact the only positive argument that Anand gives for a quotational analysis is based on an assumption of
reportative faithfulness of NS oriented expressives). And now it turns out that we would need to resort to another mechanism
- let's call it ”ironic attribution” - to explain how quotation can do the job we assigned to it. It seems more sensible to drop the
technical device of (covert quotation) and focus on the mechanisms of attribution as such (which I will indeed do in the later
sections of this paper).
The difficulties of the quotational analysis are only more pronounced with respect to examples (7)e(9), which are repeated
below.

(7) A CPJ report on Venezuela tells us how problems have ‘escalated’ in Venezuela under Chavez, i.e. the physical attacks
against journalists under previous presidents have ‘escalated’ to Chavez calling the opposition, which includes the
media, names. This is very, very serious, but I don't think another coup attempt is called for until Chavez resorts to
dramatic irony or sarcasm. But if that vicious bastard uses litotes, then there's no other rational choice than an im-
mediate invasion.
(8) My classmate Sheila said that her history professor gave her a really low grade. The jerk always favors long papers.
(9) My roommate Glen said that his uncle tells the absolute lamest jokes. The stooge can never get through a single one of
them without giggling.

In (8) and (9), from Harris and Potts' experiment, one could appeal only to discourse coherence as an indication that the
expressives are covertly quoted - the items were presented to participants in writing (no special intonation), the expressives

19
It should be noted that this is just a brief suggestion on Anand's part; nothing like a comprehensive quotational analysis of non-speaker oriented
expressives has been offered by anyone.
20
On a more general note, it should be observed that when confronted with apparent incoherence in a discourse, an interpreter typically has a variety of
ways of repairing it. Why one of them - in this case a quotational reading - should be preferred to any other possibilities (e.g. reevaluating previous as-
sumptions about the speaker's attitudes) would in itself require explanation.
21
See Maier (2015). This is not uncontroversial; for a criticism of a quotational analysis of free indirect discourse, see Eckardt (2015).
 L. Hess / Journal of Pragmatics 129 (2018) 13e33 21

are not embedded in a report, and the sentences containing them are not plausibly interpreted as free indirect discourse (as
they are not in the past tense). Indeed, as has been mentioned, in corresponding items where context suggested that the
subject had no reason to hold a negative attitude (Sheila got a good grade, Glen loved his uncle's jokes), where, that is, a NS
reading of the expressive would make the discourse incoherent, such readings were unavailable. This is not enough, however,
to argue that in the items cited here, where such readings were possible, their availability can be accounted for by a
requirement of discourse coherence inducing an interpretation with covert quotation. There is nothing incoherent in the
discourse on a speaker oriented reading (and the participants gave more “Speaker” than “Subject” answers in all items,
including (9).
Finally, there is (7), perhaps the most interesting among the examples discussed here. It is also the most problematic for a
quotational analysis. If the phrase “that vicious bastard” (or just the expressive “bastard”) was overtly enclosed in quotation
marks, it would change the interpretation of the discourse, as it would now seem to imply that those words were actually
used by the authors of the report on Venezuela - not only is this implausible, but it would defeat the very purpose of the
sarcastic remark. It would be even worse if the whole sentence containing this phrase was put in quotation marks. The word
“bastard” clearly is intended to reflect the CPJ authors' attitude towards president Chavez, but there is no pretense here that
this is what they actually said (even in a mockingly exaggerated way as in (5)).
The merit of a quotational analysis suggested by Anand is that it draws attention to the fact that non-speaker oriented uses
of expressives are in a sense mimetic: they reflect another agent's attitude through a pretense of echoing their words. But
assuming that this mimetic effect is achieved through “invisible” quotation marks is descriptively inadequate and explana-
torily futile.
Based on an analysis of examples such as those discussed in Section 2, and in light of the insufficiency of a semantic,
indexical approach - and we can now add a quotational approach as well - Harris and Potts (2009) propose a mechanism of
pragmatic perspective shift to account for the variations in orientation of expressive content. They go even further in sug-
gesting that expressives may be treated as essentially underspecified for their orientation (in this case, one cannot properly
speak of “shift”, as there is no parameter to be shifted, but I will continue using this term in a loose manner). I will follow this
suggestion. Accordingly, I will not have any more to say about the semantics of expressive contents or about how the shifts of
orientation can be incorporated in a compositional formalism. Instead, I will describe a high-level pragmatic mechanism of
interpretation of expressives.

5. Factors

What I propose, then, is the following: expressive content is attributed, on pragmatic grounds, to the most salient
perspectival agent22 in the given context e most often it is the speaker, but in examples like the ones discussed above it may
be someone else. The strong bias towards speaker-oriented reading is perfectly natural (as the speaker is most typically the
most salient perspectival agent), but it is not entirely trivial and its significance will be discussed in Section 6. The notion of a
“perspectival agent” is intentionally vague (so is the notion of salience that applies here) - as the examples in Section 2 show
the relevant agent (besides the actual speaker) may be any person, whether actual or generic (as in (6)), or even a group of
people (as in 7), mentioned in the discourse, whose attitudes, emotions or opinions are relevant to its topic. More specifically,
what makes an agent a salient candidate for the attribution of expressive content is that the way in which those attitudes,
emotions and opinions are expressed is relevant to the discourse.
I will now briefly discuss the factors that can influence a non-speaker agent's salience in discourse. The remarks here will
repeat to some extent the comments made already in Section 2, but putting them together will help to prepare the ground for
the arguments of the following sections.

In free indirect discourse (examples (5) and (6)) the most salient perspectival agent is the subject (protagonist),23 not the
speaker (narrator) (a fortiori, in direct quotation, the most salient agent is the original speaker, not the reporter). It is one of
the strongest and most systematic factors influencing the interpretation of expressives (Eckardt (2015) claims that
protagonist-oriented reading of expressives are obligatory in FID). However, its predictive power is largely diminished by
the fact that whether a given stretch of discourse is to be interpreted as FID is not in itself a clear-cut question - a matter of
“cues and clues” rather than definite conditions (and a NS reading of an expressive can on its own contribute to inter-
preting a given sentence as FID).

The non-speaker agent must be mentioned in the immediate context and the “polarity” of their attitude must match the
content of the expressive, e.g. negative expressive content can be attributed to an agent who has reasons to be angry about
some situation. This is a strong negative factor: if the context suggests that the potentially salient agent holds an attitude
contrary to the “polarity” of the expressive, a NS reading is blocked (as mentioned with respect to Harris and Potts'

22
A ‘perspectival agent’ is simply a participant of or an individual mentioned in the discourse, whose attitudes are somehow relevant. This is a similar
notion to such linguistic concepts as origo, source or anchor, but is intended as a very thin one - it need not have any specific syntactic or semantic
representation.
23
This is not necessarily true in standard indirect discourse, where the content of the original utterance is “filtered” through the perspective of the actual
speaker.
22 L. Hess / Journal of Pragmatics 129 (2018) 13e33

experimental items (8) and (9)). On the other hand, a NS reading is facilitated if the content of the expressive does not
match what is known about the speaker's own attitude, as in (4) - and especially (3), where the assumption that the
speaker does not hold a negative attitude towards the man she wants to marry seems sufficient to account for a NS reading.

Outside of free indirect discourse, a concrete reference to a speech event (whether actual, pretended or generic) or an
explicit mention of an agent's attitudes seems to be necessary to obtain a NS reading (it is present in all the examples in
Section 2). That is, the concrete speech or attitude of the non-speaker agent must be somehow a part of the topic of a given
stretch of discourse. An unambiguous claim to such effect cannot of course be made, as it is not possible to exclude the
existence of examples in which a NS reading is available even without such mention, but in any case it is certainly a strong
factor.

Textual conventions and rhetorical techniques are also a factor. Sarcasm and irony serve to distance a speaker from both
the form and content of her words, thereby increasing the plausibility of a NS reading of any strongly marked vocabulary
(as is most evident in (7), but also in (5) and (6)). In examples such as (5) a NS reading (and a free indirect discourse reading
more generally) can be facilitated by the fact that readers of the magazine would not expect an author to use such ex-
pressions as “idiotic” to refer to the public's opinions.

NS readings may be facilitated if the speaker draws attention to the manner of speaking of the other agent (“My father
screamed …” in (3), their choice of vocabulary (ridiculing the use of “escalated” in (7)), or some characteristic feature or
pattern of their speech (“I've heard similar arguments” in (6)). This is not necessary, however (cf. (4, 8)).

Speaking more generally, discourse coherence as well as inferences based on the preceding discourse, knowledge about
the speaker's and the agent's attitudes, and world-knowledge are important to the interpretation of expressive content. A
NS reading is available only if the context provides sufficient clues which make a non-speaker agent's attitudes thematic in
the discourse, and is blocked if it would undermine its coherence. (this is most clearly seen in Harris and Potts' experi-
mental results)24

On the other hand, embedding in a speech or attitude report does not seem to be a strong factor in itself.25 A report, of
course, makes the speech or attitude of another agent a salient topic of discourse, and facilitates a NS reading in this way; it
may also draw the attention to the specific words that have been used. Nevertheless, it is clearly insufficient, as expressives
in reports are normally interpreted as speaker-oriented even so (as in (1)). Moreover, reportative faithfulness is not, pace
Anand, necessary for NS readings (cf. (5), (7), and the discussion in Section 4).

The most important conclusion from this discussion is that the interpretation of expressives, when a NS reading is
available, is an inferential process e the hearer or reader must take into account a variety of contextual clues and otherwise
known facts to obtain the proper reading. The theoretical framework developed in the later parts of this paper will account for
this aspect.

6. Opacity

Most, if not all, expressives share a distinctive feature which may, for lack of a better term, be called “pragmatic opacity”.
When used, they call attention to the concrete way in which the speaker expresses herself - above and beyond the content of
the utterance itself. That is, they are opaque in the sense that in their case the expression used is at least as prominent and
salient for interpretation as the content conveyed by it.
This feature is related to the fact that expressives typically convey only supplemental content, and the descriptive, at-issue
content of the utterances in which they appear could equally well be expressed if the marked vocabulary was omitted or
replaced with neutral counterparts. However, this is not yet distinctive of expressives - other kinds of expressions conveying
non-at-issue, supplemental and “disposable” content can be considered (e.g. modal particles, appositives).
What is distinctive of expressives is that they are in a sense “risky”, as they are very often words and phrases which in
certain contexts may be socially inappropriate or cause offense.26 Whether or not this is an essential feature of expressives as
such is difficult to say without a comprehensive survey. (In particular, this feature may be less pronounced in the case of
positive expressives, such as “awesome” or “brilliant”. Still, however, when used in their expressive function, such words are
very colloquial and may be inappropriate in some social situations.) But it seems at least to be true of a substantial part of
expressive vocabulary, and certainly of the most typical examples discussed in the literature.
On the other hand, it should be noted that the use of expressives can typically be challenged only meta-linguistically, and
not directly. Consider the following examples:

(16) A: I'm not going to mow the friggin lawn.

a. B: #The lawn is not friggin. / #You don't hate mowing the lawn.

24
What the experiments also show, however, is that the clues do not have to be particularly abundant to obtain NS readings.
25
Although one may speculate that it should have some influence on NS readings. Harris and Potts (2009) report an experiment which shows that
embedding under reports facilitates NS readings of appositives, which also show a strong bias for speaker orientation. Whether this finding can be
extrapolated to the case of expressives cannot be said, however, and Harris and Potts did not test for it.
26
I am following here a suggestion of Lasersohn (2007).
 L. Hess / Journal of Pragmatics 129 (2018) 13e33 23

b. B: Watch your language, son!/That's not a word we use.

(17) I'm not a “chink”, I'm Chinese.

As shown by the infelicitous answers in (16a), it is neither possible to deny directly that an expressive adjective can be
applied to a given object, or even to challenge the attitude it expresses. A meta-linguistic, indirect challenge, which targets the
manner of expression rather than the content expressed is more natural. In (17), the use of scare-quotes or a similar device (or
appropriate intonation in speech) seems necessary to distinguish between the truth-conditional part of the content of “chink”
(¼Chinese) which is taken to be true and the expressive part which is rejected.
Note also that the actual content of expressives is often in a sense indeterminate, as they do not contribute much more
than an outer manifestation of an emotional state (and therefore expressives are often juxtaposed with gestures, facial ex-
pressions etc.). Potts (2007) lists “Ineffability” as one of the properties of expressives - speakers are usually unable to explicate
their precise content,27 but “indeterminacy” in the sense I mean here is something slightly different: the content of an
expressive is typically just something like a ‘thumbs up’ or more often ‘thumbs down’, and if there are differences between
such words as, say, “jerk” and “asshole”, or “damn” and “fucking”, they are at most differences of intensity. What specific
attitude or emotion the speaker is manifesting in his use of any of those words is not encoded in their content (in the way in
which it is encoded in descriptive words denoting attitudes and emotions such as “angry”, “annoyed”, or “upset”).
For typical instances of expressives (such as the ones occurring in the examples discussed throughout this paper), those
three properties go together: social “riskiness”, indeterminacy of content, and only meta-linguistic challengeability.28 While
each of them may perhaps be shared by other kinds of expressions, together they seem to set expressives apart from the rest
of the vocabulary. What does the combination of those properties tell us about the pragmatics of expressives? One way to
think about it is to construe a speaker using an expressive as taking license to use a piece of strongly marked vocabulary and
thereby depart from a standard of “linguistic decorum”. This departure by itself signals that the speaker has, or takes herself to
have, some reason for it, e.g. she is in a heightened emotional state (upset or angry, or in the rarer case of positive expressives,
excited) or that the object, person or situation targeted by the expressive is despicable or outrageous. However, this “signal”,
as I say, is neither a statement of fact (and so cannot be directly debated or challenged) nor a description of a psychological
state (hence the indeterminacy).
The license-taking picture of expressives connects the above-mentioned properties of expressives to what I called their
pragmatic opacity. Using an expressive is, typically, a breach of linguistic decorum (riskiness - and thus it specifically draws
attention to the way the speaker speaks (opacity); the expressive does not convey descriptive content that could be directly
challenged, and so its meaning is not determinate or easily articulated or paraphrased (indeterminacy), but rather manifests,
or signals, the speaker's attitude or emotions through their choice of vocabulary. Its use can therefore only be challenged
meta-linguistically, by, as it were, revoking or questioning the “license” that the speaker grants herself to resort to such strong
language, but not directly negated (non-challengeability). This way of thinking about the pragmatics of expressives also ac-
counts for the Independence property, as discussed at the beginning of Section 2: the use of expressives is not a matter of
what is said, but rather of how it is said; expressive content can only be “supplemental” because it belongs to a different
dimension of what is communicated.
This account of the pragmatics of expressives is admittedly very abstract (it will take on more substance when I apply, after
Harris (2014, 2016), the notion of commitments de lingua in Section 8), but it provides background for a more concrete point
that I wish to make at this moment: the opacity of expressives, understood along these lines, accounts for the strong
pragmatic bias towards speaker-orientation. Even when the speaker is not taken to be fully committed to the descriptive
content of some part of her utterance (because it is negated, conditionalized, reported after someone else, or temporally
displaced etc.), she is naturally responsible for the way she expresses it e for the choice of words, simply speaking. And given
that expressives are so strongly charged, this responsibility is especially prominent and difficult to displace. That this is the
reason why expressive content cannot be “plugged”, and tends to escape all embeddings and displacements, is suggested by
Lasersohn (2007): “Because expressives are so emotionally charged, and because their use can carry a significant social risk, I
suspect that speakers are especially cautious about using them in embedded contexts where there is a chance of their content
“leaking” e except, of course, if the speaker does agree with the content of the expressive and is willing to make this
agreement public.” An advantage of the understanding of expressive use offered by the license-taking picture is that the
“leaking” mechanism described by Lasersohn is not a marginal or secondary feature, but one of the central properties of
expressives as a class of vocabulary, connected to their other important characteristics such as Independence and
Immediacy.29
On the other hand, the pragmatic opacity of expressives may also explain the availability of non-speaker oriented readings
under such conditions as listed in Section 5: precisely because they bring attention to the manner of expression, rather than

27
Although, as noted by Geurts (2007) this does not seem to be an exclusive property of expressives, and the content of “the” or “green” is equally difficult
to articulate. It is, however, determinate, unlike the content of “damn” or “bastard”.
28
That expressives can be challenged only meta-linguistically need not be considered to be a primitive or simple property. Indeed, it seems that many
different factors contribute to it (including their syntactic characteristics, their non-at-issueness, and the general difficulty of challenging someone's
emotions). Nonetheless, it is a characteristic and robust property.
29
Potts (2007) defines Immediacy as follows: “Like performatives, expressives achieve their intended act simply by being uttered; they do not offer
content so much as inflict it.” In other words, unlike descriptive or assertoric content, expressive content is not negotiable.
24 L. Hess / Journal of Pragmatics 129 (2018) 13e33

just the content expressed, in suitable circumstances they may be interpreted as reflecting a manner that is not the speaker's.
That is, a NS oriented expressive may indicate (rather than directly express) an attitude of an agent other than the speaker by
suggesting that they have or would have manifested that attitude through the use of strongly marked vocabulary. The re-
sponsibility for the “risky” piece of vocabulary is not taken by the speaker, then, but attributed to the other agent.
Before I move on, it is worth emphasizing that my understanding of “riskiness” and its relation to what I call opacity is
importantly different from one suggested by Harris and Potts (2009) (with regard to appositives; this thought is applied to ex-
pressives as well by Harris (2012)).30 They mention riskiness in the context of strategies that speakers may employ to signal an
intended non-speaker-oriented reading of an expression. The risk appears where there is a strong bias towards a speaker-oriented
default interpretation. One way to override the bias may be to use a marked construction. (In the case of speech reports, for instance,
the use of claim instead of say may signal the reporting speaker's unwillingness to take responsibility for the content of the report,
etc.) Riskiness in this context is a matter of strategies that may or may not be successful - the audience may fail to recognize the
speaker's intentions. It results from the strength of the speaker default. On my account, however, it is in a way the opposite - the
riskiness of expressives is the cause of speaker default. But the risk I refer to does not concern the possibility of being misunder-
stood. It is a matter of the social cost of using taboo expressions, not of the uncertainty of specific communicative strategies.
Riskiness in this sense is an extra-linguistic, or perhaps a meta-linguistic matter; and it is attached to every use of expressives,
whether the speaker is expressing their own attitudes or not. This difference is part of the reason why I do not focus on markedness
(as one of the tools speakers may use to communicate their intentions), but on opacity, which is an aspect of the expressions in
question that speakers and hearers need to deal with in one way or another. Putting things simply, because expressives are risky (in
my sense) and pragmatically opaque, a speaker who uses them while intending a non-speaker-oriented interpretation must rely on
marked and risky (in Harris and Potts' sense) strategies, (which involve exploiting the factors discussed in Section 5).
In the following sections I will show how a conception of commitment attribution in discourse can capture shifts of ex-
pressives construed in this way (where those shifts will be understood specifically as attributions of non-at-issue, non-
propositional commitments de lingua).

7. Commitment attribution in discourse

The account of interpretation of expressives, with respect to their speaker or non-speaker orientation, which I propose
here is based on the concept of commitment attribution. In this section I will explain this concept in general, and in particular
in relation to interpretation of reports and different dimensions of meaning. I will also argue that the interpretation of some
discourses may involve attributing commitments to non-speaker agents, even outside of overt reports. In the next section I
will show how this model of commitment attribution can account for NS readings of expressives.
Various authors, including Farkas and Bruce (2010), AnderBois et al. (2015), Malamud and Stephenson (2015), and for a
variety of purposes, propose models of discourse which keep track of individual commitments of speakers separately from
the common ground (e.g. as proposals which need to be accepted by the interlocutor in order to enter the CG). Commitment
in this sense is an abstract element of a discourse model - a proposition indexed to a speaker, perhaps - which can be an object
of various kinds of operations, and interact with the elements of CG in complex ways.
I will not be interested here in the conceptions of common ground or common ground updates, and so I will not discuss
these theories in detail. The one aspect that is important in the present context, is that on these accounts, interpreting a
speaker's utterance is (partly) a matter of tracking what the speaker commits herself to in making it. This aspect is even more
pronounced in a different approach to understanding discourse proposed by Morency et al. (2008). Morency, Oswald and de
Saussure (henceforth MOS) develop a “cognitive pragmatics” of interpretation, which focuses on commitment attribution as an
essential element of the hearer's uptake of speaker's utterances.31
One can think of “commitment”, in the sense which interests me here, as an element of a Lewisian conversational
scoreboard (Lewis, 1979).32 Participants of a conversation keep and update “score” on (besides common presuppositions,
salience of potential referents, standards of precision etc.) what each of them has committed to. Commitment attribution, in
other words, is a way of keeping track of participants' conversational moves. Paradigmatically, in interpreting a speaker's
assertion that p, a hearer updates the score by attributing to the speaker a commitment to p. This will then have an effect on
what further conversational moves are permitted (e.g. the speaker cannot felicitously deny that p in his next utterance).33

30
Lasersohn seems to talk about riskiness in both senses, without distinguishing between them.
31
Unlike the authors mentioned earlier, who understand “commitment” as an abstract category describing a speaker's making a proposal to update the
common ground, MOS are interested in the cognitive process of interpretation on the hearer's part, which they understand in relevance-theoretic terms.
The most important insights of their analysis in respect to my present purposes, however, are independent of that theoretical background. In any case, it
should be emphasized that nothing I say here has a bearing on actual cognitive processing of utterances or on mental representations of the recipients. I
follow Lewis (see below) in abstracting away from the question whether there are specific mental representations or processes that correspond to the
formal elements of a conversational score and the rules of its update.
32
Harris (2012) also refers to the Lewisian scorekeeping framework in developing a psycho-linguistic model of processing of perspective shifts. The
central role in his model, however, is played by ‘agent profiles’, which is a robust concept, involving much more than just keeping score on agents'
commitments. The latter is all that is required for my purposes.
33
Such understanding of commitment-attribution as scorekeeping lies at the heart of a philosophical account of linguistic practice in Brandom (1994), but
there is neither space nor need here to engage with Brandom's very complex theory.
 L. Hess / Journal of Pragmatics 129 (2018) 13e33 25

MOS are particularly interested in the way in which commitments are attributed in the interpretation of speech reports.
(Their main focus is on the interpretation of explicit and implicit aspects of meaning, but that is not a relevant question for my
purposes here.) The most interesting point about the account developed by MOS, in the present context, is that it provides for
the possibility of attributing commitments to non-speaker agents, in particular to authors of reported speech acts.34 Consider
the following examples:

(18) a. Laszlo said that he would come.

b. ?? In my opinion, Laszlo said that he would come.
(Morency et al., 2008)

In (18b) the expression “in my opinion” targets the speaker's commitment (e.g. weakening it). If what is at issue in the
conversation (the “question under discussion”) is what exactly Laszlo said, this is a perfectly felicitous utterance. However,
there are natural contexts in which it would be infelicitous: when what is at issue is whether Laszlo will come or not (e.g. in
answer to a question “Is Laszlo coming?”, where (18a) is a natural response). MOS propose to understand this as a situation in
which hearer's interpretation of (18a) or (18b) is focused on attributing a commitment to Laszlo, rather than to the speaker
(the speaker after all does not commit herself to anything on the topic of whether Laszlo will come or not).
In scorekeeping terms, we can say that the hearer keeps a score not only on the speaker, but also on other salient agents.
This may also have an effect on what further conversational moves are available. Consider another example (this one does not
come from Morency et al. (2008), but perhaps better illustrates their point):

(19) A: Frank said there's a game tomorrow.

a. B: That's not true. He didn't say that.
b. B: You're wrong. He didn't say that.
c. B: That's not true. There's no game.
d. B: # You're wrong. There's no game.

The answers in (19a) and (19b) challenge the speaker's commitment to the effect that Frank said so and so, but the answers
in (19c) and (19d) challenge Frank's commitment to the effect that there is a game tomorrow.35 This is shown by the contrast
between the second item in each pair (19b and 19d): the answer “You're wrong” may only target the speaker's commitment
(“That's not true” targets the content rather than the commitment, so it is more flexible in this way), and it is infelicitous in
(19d) because it is another commitment that is the object of the challenge e Frank's.36
The consequence of the account offered by MOS which is most useful to my present purposes is the possibility of
attributing commitments to non-speaker agents even outside of explicit reports, provided a suitable context. This is one way
in which (20) can be interpreted:

(20) A: What did Laszlo say?

B: He's coming.

To whom is the commitment to the effect that Laszlo is coming attributed? Let us apply the tests from (18b) and (19d):

(21) a. ?? B: In my opinion, he's coming.

b. ?? C: You're wrong. He's not coming.

Both these utterances are problematic, and require a special interpretation to be felicitous, indicating that the commitment
attributed in interpretation of B's answer in 20 is Laszlo's. (21a) is not a natural answer to the question “What did Laszlo say?”,
unless the speaker intends to convey that what Laszlo said was unclear or ambiguous. In that case, an interpreter cannot
attribute any commitment to the reported speaker, and must rely on the reporter's conjecture. By contrast, the simple answer
in (20) may be interpreted by attributing to Laszlo a commitment to the effect that he is coming. (21b), taken as a continuation
of the mini-dialog in (20), is also strange, and it seems to imply, again, that what exactly Laszlo said is unclear or controversial
- in this way it shows indirectly that the simple answer “He's coming” in (20) can be interpreted by attributing a commitment
to Laszlo; (21b) challenges the propriety of this attribution.37
The next example shows that non-speaker commitment attribution can be facilitated in a more robust context which gives
clearer clues as to the speaker's own commitment. The second sentence is preferably interpreted by attributing the

34
Faller (2016) proposes a similar notion of non-speaker commitment in her analysis of “reportative exceptionality”.
35
Note that the demonstrative in “That's not true” can refer to either proposition: that Frank said so and so, or that there is a game.
36
It can also be seen from (19) that a complete interpretation of a report like this one involves attributing (distinct) commitments to both agents: the
reporter and the reported.
37
(21b) is not as bad as (17d) is. This is possibly due to the fact that in an unembedded report the actual speaker seems to be at least partly committed to
what is reported. Attribution of a commitment to the actual speaker, however, is defeasible, as (19d) shows.
26 L. Hess / Journal of Pragmatics 129 (2018) 13e33

commitment to its content to Frank. If the speaker was committed to it, the continuation in the third sentence could not be
felicitous.

(22) I wasn't there, but Frank said the party was pretty wild last night. Jerry kept buying rounds for everybody, and Karen
danced on the bar in her underwear. I don't really believe that last bit, though.

Another important lesson that I wish to draw from the discussion by MOS is that commitment attribution can relate to
different aspects or dimensions of meaning. MOS are interested in the way in which implicatures contained in the original
utterance can be explicitated (or not) in the report, but for my purposes the more important point is that this account allows
for attribution of commitment to at-issue content and commitment to expressive content to be separated.38 The most typical
example of this is when a reported at-issue commitment is attributed to the original speaker, but the expressive commitment
is attributed to the speaker (even though it pertains to an object or situation introduced within the report) - this is the case of
standard, speaker-oriented readings of expressives, as in (23):

(23) A: What did your daughter say?

B: She said she's going to marry that bastard Webster!

Interpreting B's report requires attributing the commitment to the proposition that his daughter is going to marry Webster to the
girl, but the expressive commitment, i.e. the negative attitude, to B (along, of course, with the descriptive commitment to the effect
that his daughter said so and so). It is the daughter who says she is going to marry Webster, but her father who calls him a bastard.
A non-speaker oriented reading, on the other hand, involves an interpretation that assigns both expressive and at-issue
commitment to another agent (as in (4), repeated here).

(4) Well, in fact Monty said to me this very morning that he hates to mow the friggin lawn.

Finally, it seems also possible that the at-issue commitment can be attributed to the speaker, but the expressive
commitment to someone else e this may be what happens in a NS reading in (7), but it is more clear in (24), a modified
version of (4).

(24) Bob: Well, it seems Monty hates to mow the “friggin” lawn.

In (24) the speaker Bob is committed to the statement that (it seems that) Monty hates to mow the lawn, but not to
whatever is expressed by the use of “friggin”. The intended interpretation attributes the expressive commitment to Monty.
Scare-quotes (or in speech, a corresponding intonational contour) can be used to signal this sort of separation of at-issue and
expressive commitment - in fact, it seems that one of the main functions of scare quotes is to separate a part of content, or an
aspect of utterance, to which the speaker commits from a part to which he does not. (This is not, of course, limited to
expressive commitment or expressive content, as not only expressives can be scare-quoted, but pertains more generally to
what I will call commitments de lingua. I will come back to this point.)
In the next section I will further explore the independence of attribution of expressive and at-issue commitments within
this model of discourse interpretation as scorekeeping. Concluding the discussion so far, it should be emphasized (as MOS also
do) that attribution of commitments to non-speaker agents is a high-level pragmatic effect of interpretation of utterances,
which involves inferences based on a variety of factors, including the syntax of reports, the use of scare-quoting or free in-
direct discourse, questions under discussion, discourse coherence etc. (which, of course, is in line with what has been said
earlier about inferring the orientation of expressive content, i.e. attribution of expressive commitment).

8. Commitments de lingua

Harris (2014) discusses a notion of speaker's commitment to appropriateness of expressions with respect to so-called
transparent free relatives (TFR). In the following paragraphs I will briefly summarize Harris' analysis of TFRs, and
thereafter I will show how this way of conceptualizing speaker and non-speaker commitments can be applied to the case
of expressives. For this purpose I will also borrow the term “commitment de lingua” from Harris' more recent paper

38
That expressives give rise to commitments which are separate from at issue commitments is a consequence of the semantics of expressive content
proposed by Potts (2005), and more generally follows from the property of Independence. I do not discuss semantics of expressives in any way here, but the
existence of expressive commitment should be uncontroversial. I will have more to say about its nature in the next section.
 L. Hess / Journal of Pragmatics 129 (2018) 13e33 27

(Harris, 2016).39 Attribution of commitments de lingua connects the scorekeeping model of discourse described in Section
7 and the “license-taking picture” of the use of expressives proposed in Section 6.
Here are some examples of TFRs from Harris (2014):

(25) Speaking Wednesday with conservative radio host Rush Limbaugh, Ted Cruz said that by promoting what he called
“amnesty” for immigrants in the U.S. illegally, Senate Democrats are indeed hoping to get a lot more Democratic
voters e but not among immigrants who did things the right way, like his father.
NPR: 20 May, 2013
(26) But Cummings was not so happy about a media buildup to the hearing with what he called unfounded accusations
aimed at smearing public officials.
NPR: May 09, 2013
(27) John gave Mary what he calls a beergarita.

The boldfaced phrases in these examples are - to use the very same construction - what Harris calls transparent free
relatives. They consist of a pivot or nucleus (e.g. “a beergarita” in (27)) enveloped in a free relative, with an underspecified or
non-sortal use of “what”. TFRs are interesting from a syntactic and semantic point of view, but Harris focuses on their
pragmatics. The primary uses of TFRs are to introduce a potentially unfamiliar term (as in (27)), to provide an expert or
authoritative source for an assessment or term (as in the first sentence of this paragraph), or to attribute an attitude or
assessment to a particular agent. This last use, best seen in (26), and Harris' discussion of it, are the most interesting in the
present setting.
In a context such as (26), the TFR raises an important issue of interpretation: put in intuitive terms, it raises the question
who supports the use of the term in the nucleus. In this example, the most likely interpretation is that the speaker distances
him- or herself from the use of a marked expression “unfounded accusations”, and attributes it only to Cummings. In general,
TFRs may be used to qualify speaker's commitment to the use of a certain expression, signaling acknowledgement that a
phrase or piece of terminology is novel, debatable or carries with it associations or attitudes that the speaker is not ready to
take full responsibility for. In the latter case, those attitudes or associations may be attributed to another agent.
The category of commitment de lingua (from Harris (2014)), i.e. commitment to the appropriateness or adequateness of a
particular expression, captures this aspect of interpretation of TFRs. Commitments de lingua may be thought of as an element
of a set of background commitments facilitating or even enabling successful communication. These background commit-
ments are basic presumptions of a language game, e.g. that participants speak a mutually understandable language and agree
to follow conversational rules (relative to the goals of the exchange), that expressions have conventional interpretations - and
that, once uttered, a speaker commits herself to the appropriateness of the expressions used. Because these presumptions are
so basic, commitment to them rarely becomes an issue. Sometimes, however, speakers use expressions which they do not
want to commit themselves to (“amnesty” or “unfounded accusations”), or they feel the need to mark their novelty or un-
familiarity (“beergarita”) - constructions such as TFRs can then help to manage the attribution of commitments.
TFRs as such are not directly relevant to the topic of this paper, but commitments de lingua are.40 First, let us note that TFRs
are not the only construction that can be used to raise - and/or help to resolve - the issue of commitment to the applicability of
a certain expression. Other constructions and phrases can be used in a similar way, such as “so-called x”, “as Y calls it”, “in Z's
words”. In particular, this seems to be one of the main functions of scare quotes (as mentioned in Section 7) - in scare-quoting
an expression a speaker (or rather writer) signals she does not undertake, or at least not fully, a de lingua commitment to it.
As I will understand it, commitment de lingua is a very general category (a speaker is by default committed to the appro-
priateness of all expressions she uses), which only rarely becomes salient in the interpretation of speakers' utterances. Most
linguistic communication occurs without raising the issue of attribution of commitment de lingua - and with respect to most
words and phrases it does not arise, unless it is in a very special context. Normally, a speaker's commitment to the use of a certain
expression is a non-issue: a sentence like “Laszlo said he's coming” does not, in normal circumstances, raise any questions as to
who and why is responsible for the particular choice of words. The sentence “The man you called ‘Laszlo’ said he's coming”,
however, would raise the question of whether the speaker is willing to commit to ‘Laszlo’ being the name of the person in
question, and why not. Commitment de lingua is a very broad category also insofar as why the applicability of a certain expression
becomes salient in a given context may depend on a variety of reasons: it may be a novel term or one used in a technical or special
sense, it may be a piece of jargon, slang or idiolect, or it may have strong evaluative or emotional connotations.
Against the background of these remarks on commitments de lingua, I propose that what has been provisionally called
“expressive commitment” in the previous section is a special case of commitment de lingua. In particular, expressives are
special in that they always give rise to the issue of commitment de lingua. This is another way of articulating the idea of
“pragmatic opacity” of expressives (see Section 6): because expressives are so strongly charged and “risky”, the question of

39
Harris (2016) is an unpublished conference presentation, but its abstract is available online. It further elaborates the analysis of TFRs. I only refer to it to
borrow the term “commitment de lingua”, which I find particularly convenient, and which does not appear in Harris's earlier work. The incorporation of
commitments de lingua in the scorekeeping model and their application to perspective shifts of expressives are entirely my own interpretation and
adaptation. Any shortcomings that the reader may find here are therefore my sole responsibility.
40
At this point I go beyond the material and discussions present in Harris (2014, 2016).
28 L. Hess / Journal of Pragmatics 129 (2018) 13e33

the appropriateness of their use is always salient. Most expressions in a language are “transparent” in this sense -
commitment to their use remains a mostly trivial, background assumption of a language game. It is not the case with ex-
pressives, as I have argued: they draw attention to the very mode of a speaker's expression; it is an essential feature of their
use. In this way, they signal that the speaker has a reason to depart from a standard of linguistic decorum, and therefore can be
interpreted as expressing a negative attitude, a heightened emotional state etc.
It should be underlined here that the notions of pragmatic opacity and of commitment de lingua, while closely connected,
belong to different levels of analysis. Fundamentally, opacity is a property of expressions, while commitments are properties
of speakers. Pragmatic opacity, by definition, raises the issue of a de lingua commitment, as it concerns expressions that are
marked or in some way stand out, focusing the recipients attention on how and not only what is said. This issue can be
resolved by attributing the relevant commitment to the speaker - or to someone else. In the process of attribution, a hearer
will typically try to infer the reason for the use of an opaque expression (a quotation, an introduction of a novel term etc.) On
the other hand, speakers can employ a variety of devices to make any expression opaque, depending on contextual needs, like
the constructions and phrases mentioned above. But some expressions may be unavoidably opaque independently of a
speaker's communicative strategy. This, I have argued, is the case of expressives - it results from their social riskiness, their
taboo status and their high emotional load.
Expressives are pragmatically opaque and therefore they always raise the issue of commitment de lingua. Nevertheless, it
remains a general background assumption of most acts of communication that the speaker is by default fully responsible for
the choice of vocabulary. And so, the issue of commitment de lingua with respect to expressives is by default resolved by
attributing this commitment to the speaker, and interpreting the speaker as expressing an attitude or emotion which would
provide a reason for such a “risky” commitment.
However, as argued in Section 3 Through 6 and illustrated by the examples discussed in Section 2, the default interpre-
tation need not always be the only or the most adequate one, and readings of expressives which attribute the commitment de
lingua to a non-speaker agent are possible - provided that the speech or attitude of the other agent are salient enough in the
context. In such a case, the presumption that the speaker is responsible for all the expressions she uses is lifted because the
expressive (de lingua) commitments of another agent are more prominent.
Note that it is also possible to explicitly “manage” the orientation of expressives with the use of such devices as TFRs or
scare quotes. The following variations of (5) are naturally interpreted by attributing the de lingua commitment to “idiotic” to
the senators (and the attribution is more explicit than in the original example41):

(28) a. Why should the senators listen to what they called people's idiotic theories of social justice?
b. Why should the senators listen to people's “idiotic” theories of social justice?

If speaker and non-speaker oriented readings of expressives are construed in terms of attribution of commitments de
lingua, they can be easily incorporated in the score-keeping model of discourse described in the previous section: in this
abstract model, hearers/interpreters keep track not only of speakers' at-issue commitments, and at-issue commitments of
third parties, but also of commitments de lingua. With regard to “standard”, unmarked expressions, these commitments are
trivial: keeping track of the fact that a speaker used the words “There is a cat on the mat” (in an assertion) adds nothing,
except for special contexts, to registering that she said that there was a cat on the mat. In the case of expressives, however,
attributing the commitment de lingua is an important part of interpretation, because of expressives' opacity. And in special
cases, this commitment de lingua may be attributed to a non-speaker agent.
Why should participants of a language game keep track of expressive commitments in particular, if commitments de lingua
concerning unmarked, “ordinary” expressions are trivial and transparent and need not be elements of a conversational
scoreboard? In virtue of the basic “kinematics”, as Lewis calls it, of linguistic scorekeeping. What should be an element of the
score is that which is new and has impact on what further moves in the game are available - in other words, that which is not a
shared and obviously presumed background of communication. At-issue commitments associated with assertions are a
paradigmatic example - the very point of making an assertion is to introduce new information, which constrains what further
moves in the exchange are available. Another example are standards of precision: if Tom is taller than Jerry, and Jerry has been
already described as “tall” in a conversation, its participants need to register that this sets a standard of precision for “tall”
such that it is no longer possible to deny that Tom is tall, too.42
There is, however, no need - not in typical circumstances anyway - to register the fact that a speaker has used the word
“cat” to refer to a cat. It is already a background presumption of an ordinary exchange in English that this expression is so used
- the very fact that it has been used just now does not constrain further moves in any new way (although the at-issue content
which it served to express may and normally does have such an effect). The issue of commitment de lingua is not raised by

41
However, both these variations seem to strongly imply that the word “idiotic” was actually used by the senators. The actual example does not have this
implication, attributing the expressive commitment but not the expressive use: FID appears as a very subtle rhetorical technique here, perhaps due to its
association with fictional, or fictionalized, discourse.
42
Other phenomena could be construed in this way. Consider modal subordination, as in “A wolf might walk in. It would eat you first.” The first assertion
introduces a new, modalized, context; the second refers to an object that only exists there. To keep up with interpretation, a hearer must keep track of a
special “score”’ for that context.
 L. Hess / Journal of Pragmatics 129 (2018) 13e33 29

expressions like that. It may, by contrast, be raised by expressions which are novel or used in an atypical way (such as
“beergarita” in Harris' example) - if nothing else, they introduce a new way of referring to some objects (or expressing some
content), which therefore can be registered on the conversational scoreboard. In the case of expressives, as I have argued, the
issue of commitment de lingua is always (or typically) raised - it is an important property of expressives as such - because their
applicability is never presumed in the common ground. It cannot be a background assumption that Kaplan can be referred to
with “bastard” (cf. (2)) or my keys with “damn keys” (12) in the way which it is a background assumption that a cat can be
referred to with “cat”. The use of an expressive constitutes therefore a new move in the language game, which should be
registered.
In virtue of this, the scorekeeping/commitment attribution model captures the perspective-dependence of expressives.
The applicability or appropriateness of unmarked expressions is not in any way, in normal circumstances, a matter of
perspective (it is not a matter of perspective that the word “cat” is used the way it is), because it is a shared background
presumption of a language game. Expressive commitments are not shared in the same way, not by default at least - the use of
an expressive constitutes new information which is registered on the discursive scoreboard. This element of the score does
not, of course, pertain only to the fact that such and such a word has been used - but it registers the speaker's commitment to
its appropriateness. It registers, therefore, a perspective that a speaker takes on a given object or situation - a perspective
which is constituted by a negative attitude, an emotional state etc. - because it is this perspective that may, for the speaker,
justify the use of an expressive. And if, to repeat, the expressive commitment is in a suitable context attributed to another
agent than the speaker, it registers the other agent's perspective.43
It is important to note at this point that what is attributed to a non-speaker perspectival agent is a commitment to the
appropriateness of an expression, and not necessarily the actual use of that expression. The difference is slight and in most
instances negligible, but the language of commitment makes it possible to account for examples like (5) and (7), where the
expressives are not plausibly interpreted as actually uttered by the reported speakers. What the author of (5), for instance,
implies is something along the following lines: the attitude towards “the people's theories of social justice” which the
senators manifestly held is the kind of attitude (of, say, disdain and hostility - as opposed to justified disagreement) that
would be a reason for calling something “idiotic” (for undertaking that expressive commitment). It is the commitment, and
not an utterance of specific words, that is attributed.44
Let me illustrate the conceptual mechanism described in the last paragraphs with a simple constructed example. Consider
the following two fragments of a conversation.

(29) A: I just talked to John this morning. He said that that bastard Kaplan got promoted. If it's true, then I can't believe the
Regents' foolishness.
B: Oh, come on, what do you have against Kaplan?
(30) A: John has been really upset about how things are going in the department lately. He went on a whole rant this
morning about how none of the Regents' decisions made sense. The budget cuts are too hasty, the new hires don't work
out, that bastard Kaplan got promoted, and so on. He just wouldn't shut up.
B: Oh, wow, did he actually call Kaplan a bastard? I didn't know he disliked him so much.

In both (29) and (30) speaker A utters the expressive-containing clause “that bastard Kaplan got promoted”. This linguistic
form conveys two commitments: an at-issue, assertoric commitment to the proposition that Kaplan got promoted, and a non-
at-issue, expressive commitment de lingua to the appropriateness of the expression “bastard”. Both commitments need to be
properly attributed by the hearer for the discourse to make sense. In both versions of the conversation, the assertoric
commitment is attributed to a non-speaker agent, John. Even though only in (29) the clause in question is syntactically
embedded in a report, in (30) it is also clear enough that A's third sentence describes the contents of John's “rant”. The actual
speaker does not have to be (fully) committed to this content, as is made clear by the hypothetical third sentence in (29).
(There is also no need to assume that in (30), A shares John's evaluations of budget cuts and hiring policy).
Things are more complex with the commitment de lingua. (29) represents the standard situation: even though the
expressive occurs embedded in a speech report, it is the actual speaker and not John that remains the most salient
perspectival agent here (it is A's reactions and attitudes that are topical in the conversation). Attribution of expressive
commitment is thus resolved as per default, giving a speaker-oriented reading. Moreover, because A is assumed to be
speaking seriously and honestly, the use of the expressive (the fact that A takes license to use such a “risky” expression) is an
unambiguous indication of a negative attitude towards Kaplan. All this is confirmed by the felicity of B's response in (29): B
naturally understands that it is A, and not John, who deems it appropriate to call Kaplan a bastard and interprets it as an
expression of A's negative attitude towards him.
In (30) the expressive “bastard” occurs in a clause that is not only superficially identical to the one in (29), but also conveys
the same non-speaker assertoric commitment. And yet, it's interpretation is different. The broader context in A's utterance in

43
That is, the non-speaker perspectival agent's commitments become part of the scoreboard, because as any other element of the score they may be
relevant to the ways in which the conversation may further develop (cf. (29) and (30) below).
44
Observe that if we were to follow Anand's suggestion and develop a quotational analysis of NS readings of expressives, we would have to make this
distinction between attributing utterances and attributing commitments anyway to explain mock-quotations, as discussed at the end of Section 4.
30 L. Hess / Journal of Pragmatics 129 (2018) 13e33

(30) makes John, and not A, the most salient perspectival agent: it is John's opinions of and emotional reactions to how things
are going in the department, and most importantly his “rant” - the way he himself expressed those opinions and emotions -
that is the main topic of this conversation. Therefore, when the issue of commitment de lingua is raised by A's utterance of
“bastard”, the automatic default interpretation which would attribute this commitment to the actual speaker can be over-
ridden, leading to a non-speaker oriented reading. In effect, as witnessed by the felicity of B's surprised response in (30) the
commitment to the appropriateness of “bastard”, and an attitude that could ground it, are attributed to John.
Comparison of both versions of the conversation also provides an answer to the question, why scorekeepers should keep
track of non-speaker agents' commitments de lingua. Insofar as attribution of expressive commitment registers another
agent's perspective, i.e. their attitude or emotion, it may have an impact on the state of the language game and its further
developments - if, that is, the context is such that the attitudes, emotions or ways of expression of another agent are salient or
topical in the discourse (and I have argued that they are in all instances of NS readings). In particular, it may be important to
register the fact that it is not the speaker who is committed to the appropriateness of an expressive - it is in general important
for successful communication not to misinterpret a speaker's attitudes. This very point is manifest in B's responses in (29) and
(30) - if they were switched, each would become strange and infelicitous, as one of them concerns the expressive
commitment and attitude of the speaker A, and the other the commitment and attitude of John. It is important, then, to keep
track of expressive commitments across agents in the conversational scoreboard.
Nevertheless, expressive commitment, while it is an element of the conversational score, is not at-issue commitment, and
therefore it cannot be displaced through standard embedding (as shown again by (29)). Using a charged expression to talk
about a merely hypothetical, reported or temporally distant situation or object does not by itself make the use of this
expression as such less salient or non-committal.
To sum up, the theoretical framework I propose here to account for the perspective-dependence of expressives consists of
the following elements:

Participants of a language game (parties of a conversation or interpreters of a discourse) keep track of speakers' com-
mitments in a Lewisian scorekeeping framework.

Commitments can also be attributed to non-speaker agents.

At-issue commitments can be attributed separately from commitments de lingua, which are commitments to the
appropriateness of a certain expression.

While commitments pertaining to the use of unmarked expressions are trivial and rarely salient, expressives always raise
the issue of commitment de lingua due to their pragmatic opacity (which in turn is a function of several factors, including
their “riskiness” and non-challengeability). A salient commitment de lingua introduces a particular perspective: the
emotions or attitudes of an agent.

Commitment de lingua associated with the use of an expressive is by default attributed to the actual speaker - it cannot be
displaced because the speaker is normally responsible for all expressions used.

Non-speaker readings of expressives consist in attributions of commitments de lingua to another agent, which is possible if
the context makes the speech or attitude of another agent sufficiently salient - to which a variety of factors may contribute.

Non-speaker readings of expressives are possible in broadly reportative contexts, which does not necessarily require the
expressive to be actually embedded in an overt report (or to be a quotation).

9. A tentative prediction

The predictive power of my theoretical account of perspective shifts with expressives is limited. However, this is fully to be
expected, for the factors that can influence an interpretation of an expressive and lead to a speaker- or non-speaker-oriented
reading are too diverse, elusive, and belong to too many different levels to be fully captured in a predictive theory. All of the
nuance and complexity of language and communication is involved. Nevertheless, some aspects of this issue are amenable to
empirical testing. Harris and Potts (2009) have shown experimentally that an expressive signaling an emotion which appears
to match what a reader can already know or guess about the attitudes of a non-speaker subject of a piece of discourse is more
likely to evoke a reading oriented at that subject. This is in line with what I am claiming about expressives, opacity and de lingua
commitments. The use of an expressive raises the issue of de lingua commitment; by default the commitment is attributed to
the actual speaker, but there may be stronger reasons to attribute it to someone else, who is a more salient perspectival agent. A
brief story about, for instance, someone being upset with their professor - combined with a lack of any indication that the
speaker is also negatively disposed towards the professor - may provide such reasons. However, considering the close
connection between use of expressives and expression of attitudes and emotions, this is a rather trivial effect.
Accordingly, I want to suggest a different test that could corroborate or falsify my account. It is based on contrasts between
de dicto and de re readings of definite descriptions in speech reports. As an example, consider the following scenario:

(31) Thomas has gotten a cat, who is unusually large, with an oddly shaped head and long brownish hair. And so, Thomas believes
that his new pet is a dog. He complains:
T: The dog doesn't bark.
 L. Hess / Journal of Pragmatics 129 (2018) 13e33 31

If someone were to report Thomas' complaints, they could do it in one of the two following ways:

(32) a. Thomas keeps complaining that the cat doesn't bark.

b. Thomas keeps complaining that the dog doesn't bark.

For a hearer who is aware of the situation (the real nature of Thomas' pet and his confusion) and of the speaker's awareness of
it, the definite descriptions in the two reports elicit different readings (although both are easily available). In (32a) the description
has to be read de re: it is in the speaker's and hearer's belief (and, we assume, in actual reality) that Thomas' pet is a cat, but not in
Thomas' own belief. In (32b), by contrast, the only reading available is de dicto: the hearer knows that Thomas' pet is not a dog,
and that the speaker does not imply that; the description is clearly to be understood as one actually used by the confused Thomas.
The distinction between de re and de dicto readings of speech reports can naturally be construed in terms of attribution of
de lingua commitments.45 The appropriateness of a definite description as a means of referring to a given object may be an
object of a salient commitment de lingua - as it is in our example. Thomas is committed to “dog” being an appropriate term for
his pet; everyone else is committed to “cat” being the proper word. Accordingly, to make sense of the two reports in (32), a
hearer must accurately attribute the de lingua commitments. In the de re case (32a), the commitment to the appropriateness
of “the cat” can be safely attributed to the speaker; in the de dicto case (32b), it should be attributed to a non-speaker agent:
Thomas.46
Let us now add an expressive into the mix. If perspective shifting of expressives is adequately characterized by the
mechanism of de lingua commitment attribution, we should expect the orientation of an expressive nested in a definite
description to follow the ‘orientation’ of the definite description as such, as the expressive is a part of the object of the relevant
commitment. With this in mind, consider the following variants of the two reports:

(33) a. Thomas keeps complaining that the damn cat doesn't bark.
b. Thomas keeps complaining that the damn dog doesn't bark.

The prediction of my account of perspectival expressives is this: while in the de re case (33a) the expressive “damn” has as
its most salient (or only) reading the default speaker-oriented one, in the de dicto case (33b) a non-speaker-oriented reading is
preferable. That is, in (33a) the expressive is naturally interpreted as conveying the speaker's atttiude, possibly expressing
their frustration with Thomas. In (33b), by contrast, the expressive is interpreted as something that Thomas said, and
therefore as expressing his attitude, e.g. his frustration with the non-barking pet.
That such a contrast exists in (33) and that such readings are available and preferable for the two reports respectively,
seems intuitively obvious to this author. However, this intuition cannot be taken as universal. In fact, the scenario I present
here is based on a similar example (in German) by Sauerland (2007), who uses it to make the opposite point, claiming that the
de dicto variants with an expressive in the description are unacceptable, because the expressive forces a de re reading, which
clashes with what is assumed about reality in the scenario.47 Thus, the intuitions concerning this kind of situation are
ambiguous. But the issue is clear and testable. Without developing an actual experimental design here, I propose that it could
be investigated in a study similar to the one concerning expressives performed by Harris and Potts (2009) (see Section 2).
Participants could be presented with a scenario like the Thomas story, together with one of the two ways of reporting his
complaint, and asked whose attitude the expressive conveys. The prediction of my account is that de dicto variants like (33b)
would elicit a significantly higher proportion of Subject-oriented responses. (Additionally, the perceived felicity of the de dicto
reports should also be tested, to accommodate the possibility that more speakers share Sauerland's intuitions.) If a result like
this was shown - as I expect it would - it would corroborate my account of perspectivality of expressive in terms of
commitment attribution. If it was not, it would cast serious doubt on my theory.

10. Conclusion

At the beginning of my discussion I mentioned three distinctive properties of expressives, which I borrowed from Potts
(2007) and which defined the object and scope of my discussion: Independence, Nondisplaceability and most importantly
Perspective-dependence. Let me briefly sum up how the framework developed in the last section helps us understand each of
them.

45
This is not meant as an explanation of any of the linguistic or philosophical issues concerning the de re/de dicto opposition, but merely a description. See,
however, Brandom (1994) who develops a comprehensive account of de re/de dicto in speech and attitude reports based on “substitutional commitments”,
which are a more robust version of de lingua commitments.
46
Further variations are possible here, if we don't assume that the speaker knows the actual species of Thomas' pet. The hearer must then decide between
two readings, attributing the relevant commitment to different agents.
47
This is supposed to be predicted by a syntactic account of the “unpluggability” (i.e. projective tendency) of expressives. Note however that Sauerland
does not claim that this is an adequate account, as it cannot accommodate shiftability (his examples for this are of the same types as ones discussed earlier
in this article).
32 L. Hess / Journal of Pragmatics 129 (2018) 13e33

Independence follows straightforwardly from the distinction between at-issue assertoric commitment and commitment
de lingua: these are different dimensions of content communicated in an utterance (and therefore the conversational
scoreboard keeps track of them separately). Expressives express what they do in virtue not simply of what is said, but how.

Once the independence of at-issue and expressive dimensions is recognized, Nondisplaceability is a natural consequence:
the use of a marked expression has the same significance whether it appears within the scope of a negation or an attitude
report, in a conditional or a question etc. Commitments de lingua are operative on a different level than semantic
composition.

Perspective-dependence was, of course, at the center of my discussion throughout this paper, but it bears repeating what
the gist of the account offered is. There are two distinct but tightly connected aspects to the perspectivity of expressives.
On the one hand, expressives convey emotions and attitudes, which are of course elements of a subjective perspective of
an agent. On the other hand, because they are risky and opaque, in the sense I discussed, the appropriateness of an
expressive is never common ground in discourse, but something that is the responsibility, as it were, of a particular agent.
An account in terms of commitments de lingua shows how these two aspects are connected: the subjective perspective
conveyed by expressives is the perspective of the agent responsible for their use, and the reason for it. (And sometimes, it
may not be the actual speaker's.)

What I have proposed in this paper is a thoroughly pragmatic account of non-speaker readings and, more broadly,
perspectival nature of expressives. As such it is an alternative to the semantic accounts proposed by Potts (2007), Schlenker
(2007) or Anand (2007), which I discussed in Section 4. Its claim to superiority is based both on empirical adequacy and
conceptual soundness.48 With regard to the former, I have clearly distinguished instances of genuine non-speaker readings of
expressives from merely apparent cases of displacement (see Section 3), given examples of NS readings that cannot be
covered by a quotational analysis, because they do not presuppose reportative faithfulness, and indicated differences in
distribution of “shifts” between expressives and other kinds of perspective-sensitive items (Section 4). With regard to the
latter, I have given theoretical justification for all these differences and distinctions, provided a coherent way of conceptu-
alizing the perspectival moment of both speaker and non-speaker oriented readings of expressives as well as their import in a
broader discursive context. Finally, I have articulated an empirically testable prediction resulting from my account and
suggested an experiment which could serve to corroborate or falsify it. In short, the account I propose sheds crucial light on
the “ill-understood conditions”, “some circumstances” and “mysteries” of previous proposals.
In doing so, it also connects more directly the perspectival aspect of expressive content with other properties of ex-
pressives, especially Independence and what I have dubbed pragmatic opacity. The latter is an important feature of ex-
pressives that has not, as far as I know, been explicitly conceptualized before. While this was not at the center of my discussion
here, the concept of opacity can provide a better understanding of what sets expressives apart from the rest of the lexicon and
of the manner in which they communicate their content. For it emerges as the crucial characteristic of expressives within the
scorekeeping model of discourse: they always raise the issue of commitment de lingua. (Therefore it should perhaps be
emphasized that by calling my account “pragmatic” I do not say that it concerns only contextual or conversational aspects of
the use of expressives, or anything along these lines - quite the contrary, what is most important here are their lexical,
conventional properties.)
Admittedly, the predictive force of my account is limited. But this, I claim, is as it should be, for the phenomena under
discussion here do not admit of the kind of exact and predictively potent treatment that formal semantic theories offer (as I
have argued in Section 4: even if they were descriptively adequate, Potts' or Schlenker's formal representations of NS readings
would do nothing to explain them or the conditions under which they are possible). This much has already been argued by
Harris and Potts (2009), but my contribution goes beyond that in offering a way of conceptualizing the pragmatic mechanisms
involved in perspectivality of expressives.
Harris and Potts conclude their article, writing: “The bias [leading to default speaker-oriented readings] looks significant
enough that we should seek a theoretical understanding of it, perhaps by looking away from categorical generalizations and
towards those that are based in speaker and hearer expectations and the relative pragmatic stability that they create”.49 My
account answers to this postulate by offering precisely this sort of theoretical understanding - explaining both the bias for
speaker-oriented readings and the possibility of non-speaker-oriented ones in terms of hearer expectations, and the relative
pragmatic instability resulting from speakers' use of opaque, risky expressions.
The value of this account may extend beyond the relatively narrow issue of perspective-dependence of expressives insofar
as other phenomena can be fruitfully considered in terms of the mechanisms of attribution of commitments de lingua. I have
mentioned two such topics in the course of my argument: scare-quoting and the so-called quotative “like”. Another possible
application is the case of slurs (pejoratives targeting members of social groups defined by their race, ethnicity, religion, sexual
orientation etc.): their derogatory meaning can be construed as a function of the speaker's de lingua commitment to using the
slur instead of a neutral and respectful alternative expression (see Hess (in prep.) for a detailed account along these lines).

48
Although a substantial comparison is impossible, because none of those accounts goes beyond very brief suggestions. This is, unfortunately, true
especially of Anand's proposal, which is closest in spirit, as it seems, to my analysis, but offers no details.
49
In this quote, Harris and Potts refer more specifically to appositives, although they seem to assume throughout the article that appositives and ex-
pressives can be treated jointly. I make no claims about appositives.
 L. Hess / Journal of Pragmatics 129 (2018) 13e33 33

More generally speaking, the model presented here offers a way of thinking about perspective in language and perspective-
sensitive expressions that is not concerned only with manipulation of indices and contextual parameters, but rather with
who, how, and why uses those expressions.

Acknowledgements

Research for this article was supported by the EU under FP7, ERC Starting Grant 338421-PERSPECTIVE (PI Corien Bary). I am
thankful to Corien Bary, Rob van der Sandt, Bart Geurts, the audience of Semantics and Pragmatics at Manchester 2015, and
the Journal of Pragmatics Editor and anonymous referees for useful comments on earlier drafts of this paper.

References

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Leopold Hess, PhD e holds MA degrees in Philosophy from Jagiellonian University, Krako w, and in Classics from Warsaw University. He has been awarded a
DAAD Scholarship at Humboldt-University Berlin and a Fulbright Scholarship at University of Pittsburgh, and has published several articles in philosophy of
 w. Currently holds a
language, metaphysics and classical philology. In 2016, he defended his doctoral thesis in Philosophy at Jagiellonian University, Krako
research position at Radboud University Nijmegen.
Another random document with
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everything that is sweet. If they had been courting in a close
thegither on a Friday night, they couldna hae said mair to ane
anither, or gaen greater lengths. I thought sic shame to be an ee-
witness to sic ongoings, that I was obliged at last to haud up my hat
afore my face, and look down; though, for a’ that, the young lad, to be
sic a blackguard as his conduct showed, was weel enough faured, and
had a gude coat to his back, wi’ double-gilt buttons, and fashionable
lapells, to say little of a very weel-made pair of buckskins, a little the
waur o’ the wear to be sure, but which, if they had been weel cleaned,
would hae lookit amaist as gude as new. How they had come we
never could learn, as we neither saw chaise nor gig; but, from his
having spurs on his boots, it is mair than likely they had lightit at the
back-door of the barn frae a horse, she riding on a pad behint him,
maybe with her hand round his waist.
The faither lookit to be a rich auld bool, baith from his manner of
speaking and the rewards he seemed to offer for the apprehension of
his daughter; but, to be sure, when so many of us were present, that
had an equal right to the spulzie, it wadna be a great deal a thousand
pounds when divided, still it was worth the looking after; so we just
bidit a wee.
Things were brought to a bearing, howsomever, sooner than either
themsels, I daursay, or anybody else present, seemed to hae the least
glimpse of; for, just in the middle of their fine goings-on, the sound
of a coming fit was heard, and the lassie taking guilt to her, cried out,
“Hide me, hide me, for the sake of gudeness, for yonder comes my
auld faither!”
Nae sooner said than done. In he stappit her into a closet; and
after shutting the door on her, he sat down upon a chair, pretending
to be asleep in a moment. The auld faither came bouncing in, and
seeing the fellow as sound as a tap, he ran forrit and gaed him sic a
shake, as if he wad hae shooken him a’ sundry, which sune made him
open his een as fast as he had steekit them.
After blackguarding the chield at no allowance, cursing him up hill
and down dale, and ca’ing him every name but a gentleman, he held
his staff ower his crown, and gripping him by the cuff o’ the neck,
askit him what he had made o’ his daughter. Never since I was born
did I ever see sic brazen-faced impudence. The rascal had the brass
to say at ance, that he hadna seen word or wittens of his daughter for
a month, though mair than a hundred folks sitting in his company
had seen him dauting her with his arm round her jimpy waist not
five minutes before. As a man, as a father, as an elder of our kirk, my
corruption was raised,—for I aye hated leeing, as a puir cowardly sin,
and an inbreak on the ten commandments; and I found my neebour,
Mr Glen, fidgeting on the seat as well as me, so I thocht that whaever
spoke first wad hae the best right to be entitled to the reward;
whereupon, just as he was in the act of rising up, I took the word out
of his mouth, saying, “Dinna believe him, auld gentleman—dinna
believe him, friend; he’s telling a parcel of lees. Never saw her for a
month! It’s no worth arguing, or ca’ing witnesses; just open that
press door, and ye’ll see whether I’m speaking truth or no.”
The auld man stared, and lookit dumfoundered; and the young
man, instead of rinnin’ forrit wi’ his doubled nieves to strike me—the
only thing I was feared for—began a lauching, as if I had dune him a
gude turn. But never since I had a being, did ever I witness sic an
uproar and noise as immediately took place. The hale house was sae
glad that the scoundrel had been exposed, that they set up siccan a
roar o’ lauchter, and they thumpit away at siccan a rate at the boards
wi’ their feet, that at lang and last, wi’ pushing and fidgeting,
clapping their hands, and hadding their sides, down fell the place
they ca’ the gallery, a’ the folk in’t being hurled tapsy-turvy, head
foremost amang the sawdust on the floor below; their guffawing sune
being turned to howling, ilka ane crying louder than anither at the
tap of their voices, “Murder! Murder! haud aff me. Murder, my ribs
are in. Murder! I’m killed—I’m speechless!” and ither lamentations
to that effect; so that a rush to the door took place, in which
everything was overturned—the doorkeeper being wheeled away like
wildfire; the furms strampit to pieces; the lights knockit out; and the
twa blind fiddlers dung head foremost ower the stage, the bass fiddle
cracking like thunder at every bruise. Siccan tearing and swearing,
and tumbling and squealing, was never witnessed in the memory of
man, since the building of Babel; legs being likely to be broken, sides
staved in, een knocked out, and lives lost; there being only one door,
and that a sma’ ane; so that, when we had been carried aff our feet
that length, my wind was fairly gane, and a sick dwalm cam ower me,
lights of a’ manner of colours, red, blue, green, and orange, dancing
before me, that entirely deprived me o’ my common sense, till on
opening my een in the dark, I fand myself leaning wi’ my braid side
against the wa’ on the opposite side of the close. It was some time
before I mindit what had happened; so, dreading scaith, I fand first
the ae arm, and then the ither, to see if they were broken—syne my
head—and syne baith o’ my legs; but a’ as weel as I could discover
was skin-hale and scart-free; on perceiving which, my joy was
without bounds, having a great notion that I had been killed on the
spot. So I reached round my hand very thankfully to tak out my
pocket napkin, to gie my brow a wipe, when, lo and behold, the tail of
my Sunday’s coat was fairly aff an’ away—dockit by the hench
buttons.
Sae muckle for plays and play-actors—the first and last, I trust in
grace, that I shall ever see. But indeed I could expect nae better, after
the warning that Maister Wiggie had mair than ance gien us frae the
puppit on the subject; sae, instead of getting my grand reward for
finding the auld man’s daughter, the hale covey o’ them, nae better
than a set of swindlers, took legbail, and made that very night a
moonlight flitting, and Johnny Hammer, honest man, that had
wrought frae sunrise to sunset, for twa days, fitting up their place by
contract, instead of being well paid for his trouble, as he deserved,
got naething left him but a rackle of his own gude deals, a’ dung to
shivers.
 JANE MALCOLM:
A VILLAGE TALE.

Every town in Scotland has its “character,” in the shape of some

bedlamite, innocent, or odd fish. There is something interesting
about these out-of-the-way beings. Everything they do is a kind of
current chapter of biography among their neighbours;—what they
say is regarded as the words of an oracle—more worthy of memory
than the inquiries of the laird or the advice of the parson. They are in
a manner immortalised.
Having, in the course of different summers, taken up a short
residence in some of the smaller borough towns and villages
scattered through Scotland, I took no small delight in observing the
peculiarities of many of those objects of compassion, and in tracing
the source of that dismal malady which laid prostrate the edifice of
reason, and arrested the harmonious mechanism of an organized
mind. The task was sometimes of a melancholy nature: I found
histories—real histories—turning upon incidents the most tragical,
and only wonder they are so little known, and meet with such slender
sympathy. The crisis of a well-written romance brings out more tears
than were ever shed for the fall of man; but never have I read of
anything so pathetic as was developed in the following sketch—a
sketch which the pen of a Scott could do little to adorn. The naked
truth of the story is a series of catastrophes, a parallel to which
imagination seldom produces. It was told me by a sister of the
unfortunate female who figures so conspicuously in it.
Jane Malcolm was the daughter of a lint-mill proprietor in the
small town of K——n. Her father, being a wealthy man, held for a
long time the provostship of the place—a Scottish burgh. His family
consisted of two daughters and a son. Jane was the youngest of
these, and her father’s favourite. There was something about the girl
extremely attractive; she possessed all the advantages of personal
beauty, combined with a gentleness of disposition and quickness of
understanding, that wrought upon the affections of all she knew. At
the manse she was peculiarly beloved; the good old minister
recognised in her the image of one he had lost; the illusion
strengthened as she grew up, and Jane Malcolm was as much an
inmate there as she was in the house of her father. A few years saw
her removed to Edinburgh, to finish an education imperfectly carried
on under the superintendence of a village governess. She returned
graceful and accomplished, to be looked up to by all her former
companions. But Jane was not proud;—her early friendships she
disdained to supplant by a feeling so unworthy—so unlike herself.
Her over-bending nature, indeed, was her fault: it brought the vulgar
and undiscerning mind into too much familiarity with her own. It
became the cause of all her misery.
Among those most intimate with her was one Margaret Innes, a
young and lively girl, but far below Jane’s rank in life. The daughter
of an aged fisherman, it was not uncommon for Jane to find her
employed in offices the most menial. For all this she loved her not
the less. The affection and humble virtues of Margaret amply repaid
Jane for her condescension. Mr Malcolm himself saw no harm in this
growing friendship, marked, as it was, with such a strong disparity of
situation. But he overlooked the circumstance that Margaret Innes
had a brother, a handsome, fearless lad. A sailor by profession, it is
true he was seldom at home, but though seldom, he was often
enough for Jane to discover that his every return brought with it a
stronger impression in his favour. When very young they were play-
fellows together, and now when both were grown up, she could not
refuse a smile or a word, whenever, after a long voyage, the light-
hearted sailor returned to his native home. Sandy felt vain of her
notice, but by no means attempted more familiarity than was
consistent with his station. Without daring to love, he would have
done anything to serve Miss Malcolm, and his readiness was not
unfrequently put to the test.
Nothing Jane loved better than a short excursion upon the
neighbouring sea. The boat of the old fisherman was often in request
for this purpose, and he himself, accompanied by his daughter
Margaret, made up the party on these occasions. When Sandy was at
home, he supplied the place of his father, and his active and skilful
hand directed many a pleasant voyage—made more pleasant by a
fund of amusing anecdotes and adventures picked up in the course of
his travels. One afternoon, on the day after his return from the coast
of Norway, this little group had embarked to enjoy the delightful
freshness of the sea-breeze, after a noon of intolerable heat. Standing
up to gaze at a flock of sea-birds, collected for the purpose of
devouring the small fry of the herring which at that season visited the
coast, Jane Malcolm accidentally fell into the water. The boat
receded rapidly from the spot, its sail being filled by the wind.
Immediately, however, Sandy Innes swam towards the terrified girl.
She clung to him for support. It was no easy matter to reach the boat,
carried along as it was by the breeze, and not till Margaret had
recovered from her first alarm, was she able, by turning the helm, to
give them the required assistance. They were soon safe. This
adventure called forth the liveliest feelings of gratitude on the part of
Jane Malcolm. She regarded the youthful sailor as her preserver, and
thought no recompense too liberal for the service he had rendered.
Imprudently she revealed to his sister the secret of her growing
attachment. Margaret was too generous all at once to give her
brother the advantage offered. She reasoned with Jane on the
impropriety—the unsuitableness of such a union as was hinted at;
and, to render it impracticable for the present, she induced Sandy to
engage with a ship bound for North America. Accordingly, he again
left the country.
Miss Malcolm was not to be deterred. She upbraided Margaret for
her want of feeling; and, in short, took it so much to heart, that the
poor girl, on Sandy’s return, was, out of self-defence, obliged to
communicate to him the tidings she willingly would have hid. To be
brief, they were married without Mr Malcolm’s consent. This was a
blow the old man never got over; he died a few days after the
ceremony. His only son had just returned from England, a lieutenant
in the army; alas! it was to lay in the grave the remains of a heart-
broken father. Enraged at the cause of this melancholy blow, he
vowed revenge against the innocent intruder into his domestic peace.
The feelings of his unhappy sister he thought no sacrifice to win
retaliation; the step she had already taken showed them, in his eye,
to be blunted and incapable of injury. To have challenged one so
much his inferior never entered into his mind; he brooded over a
purpose more dark and sanguinary, though less consistent with his
honour. His design was to have the husband of his sister murdered,
and he appears to have formed it without a moment’s hesitation.
Professing regard for his new brother-in-law, he pretended to be
reconciled to the unfortunate marriage, and even divided with him
and his other sister the patrimony of the deceased. This show of
friendship had the effect of producing a seeming intimacy between
them. Many a time they went out for a few hours upon fishing
excursions, without any discovery being made by Sandy Innes of the
growing hostility harboured by young Malcolm. One evening,
however—the latter having, by various excuses, delayed their return
to shore till after sunset—as the boat was lying quietly at anchor,
about a mile from harbour, the unsuspecting sailor leant over to
recover an oar which Malcolm had purposely dropped, when he
found himself suddenly precipitated into the sea. In attempting to
regain the vessel, he was driven back, and violently struck with the
boat-hook, which his villanous brother-in-law had seized, with the
intent to put the finish to his murderous treachery. In this, however,
he was disappointed. Sandy Innes, with strong presence of mind,
caught hold of the instrument, managing, at the same time, to
overset the boat, and thus involve Malcolm in the same fate with
himself. Both had a hard struggle for life; but alas! without success.
Next morning the bodies of the two young men were discovered lying
upon the beach. They were carried into Jane’s habitation without her
knowledge—the unfortunate girl having gone out to a different part
of the shore in quest of the boat, which, she fancied, had, by the wish
of her brother, harboured all night at Inchkeith. When she returned,
the first object that met her eyes was the body of her own dear
husband—a cold corpse, with the long black hair hanging down over
his once noble brow, and the dark eyes wide open, as if fixed in death
upon her and heaven. A few days afterwards the young men were
buried, side by side,—for a fearful story was whispered of Malcolm’s
guilt: how he was seen by the crew of a boat that had landed, without
notice, upon a neighbouring rock, at the moment he attempted the
atrocious deed. Their assistance, though instantly offered, was too
late, for both had gone down ere they reached the spot.
After that sad catastrophe Jane was never herself. A fever carried
away her intellects, and left her mind in ruins. Though possessed of a
competency, it has never been used. The same weeds, though now
reduced to rags, still cover her in her long and sorrowful widowhood.
The last time I saw her, I saw a fearful picture—a beautiful female
altered to a revolting spectacle of squalidness and deformity. She was
gathering the shell-fish from among the brown layers of tangle,
beyond the farthest ebb of the tide. Now and then she broke the
shells with her teeth, muttering,—“We shall find him here—we shall
find him here;” and then she threw the shells round about her, with a
sad sigh, as if her heart were longing to break, but felt chained up in
a lone and weary prison. As I passed, I called to her—“Jane, this is a
cold day, and you seem at cold work.” “Ay! ay!” she replied, “and so
are the worms! But did ye see him? Bonny Sandy! If ye be gaun to the
town, tell Meg Innes to come; for he’s a wild laddie, and maybe she’ll
ken whaur he’s hidden himsel!” Poor creature, thought I, she will
find rest in the grave!—Edin. Lit. Jour.
 BOWED JOSEPH:
A LAST-CENTURY EDINBURGH
“CHARACTER.”

BY ROBERT CHAMBERS, LL.D.

The mobs of Edinburgh have ever been celebrated as among the

fiercest in Europe. The one which accomplished the death of
Porteous, as narrated in the tale of the Heart of Midlothian, was a
most surprising instance of popular vengeance, almost surpassing
the bounds of belief; though it must sink considerably in our
admiration, when we reflect upon the power and ferocity which at all
periods have characterised the actions of this monstrous and danger-
fraught collective. The time has been, when, in the words of the old
song, “all Edinburgh” would “rise by thousands three,” and present
such a strength to the legal authorities, that all opposition to their
capricious will would be in vain. In the younger days of many now
living, even the boys of the High School, and of Heriot’s Hospital,
could erect themselves into a formidable body, equally resistless and
indomitable. It is a fact, ludicrous enough too, that when the lads of
these different schools were engaged in any of those squabbles,
formerly so frequent and fatal, between them, they always showed a
singular degree of political sagacity when assailed by the town-guard,
in immediately joining their strengths, and combining against the
common foe, when for the most part they succeeded in driving them
from the scene of action. When such was the power of boys and
striplings in this ill-protected city, and such the disorderliness of
holiday assemblies, there is little left for wonder at the ravages
committed by a mob formed of adults, actuated by violent feelings of
jealousy, bigotry, and revenge.
 Of this uncontrollable omnipotence of the populace, the annals of
Edinburgh present many fearful records. At the various periods of
the Reformation and the Revolution, the Chapel of Roslin was
destroyed by a mob, whose purpose neither cooled nor evaporated
during a walk of eight miles. James the Sixth was besieged and
threatened in his courts, and in the midst of his Parliaments, by a
rabble of mechanics, who, but for the stout walls of the Tolbooth,
might perhaps have taken his life. The fine chapel of Holyrood-house
was pillaged of not only its furniture and other valuables, but also of
the still more sacred bones which lay within its precincts, by a mob
which rose at the Revolution, and did such deeds of violence and
rapine as fanaticism and ignorance alone could have excited. At the
unfortunate issue of the Dover expedition, at the execution of
Captain Green, at the Union, and at many other events of less
importance, the populace of Edinburgh distinguished themselves by
insurrection and acts of outrage, such as have alone found parallels,
perhaps, in the various transactions of the French Revolution. Even
so late as 1812, there happened a foray of a most appalling nature;
the sports of an occasion of rejoicing were converted into scenes of
frightful riot, unexampled as they were unlooked for. The fatal
melancholy catastrophe of this event, had, however, the good effect
of quenching the spirit of licentiousness and blackguardism in the
Edinburgh youth, and finally undermined that system of unity and
promptitude in action and in council by which its mobs had so often
triumphed in their terrible resolutions.
In this fierce democracy, there once arose a mighty leader, who
contrived, by means of great boldness, sagacity, and other personal
merits, to subject the rabble to his will, and to elect himself dictator
of all its motives and exploits. The person who thus found means to
collect all the monstrous heads of the hydra within the grand grasp of
his command was a little decrepit being, about four feet high, almost
deprived of legs, and otherwise deformed. His name was Joseph
Smith, or more commonly, “Bowed Joseph.” He lived in Leith Wynd,
and his trade as a private citizen was a buff belt maker. This singular
being—low, miserable, and contemptible as he appeared—might be
said to have had at one time the complete command of the
metropolis of Scotland. Whenever any transaction took place in the
Town Council which Joseph considered to be of very improper
tendency; whenever meal rose to whatever Joseph considered to be
an improper price; whenever anything occurred in the city which did
not accord with Joseph’s idea of right and wrong; in short, “when
they werna gude bairns,” this hero could, in the course of an hour,
collect a mob of ten thousand persons, all alike ready to execute his
commands, or to disperse at his bidding. For this purpose, he is said
to have employed a drum; and never surely had “fiery cross” of the
Highland chieftain such an effect upon the warlike devotion of his
clan, as “Bowed Joseph’s drum” had upon the tinder spirits of the
Edinburgh rabble.
The “lazy corner” was a lazy corner no longer as he marched along
—the “town rats,” as they peeped forth like old cautious snails from
their Patmos in the High Street, drew in their horns and shut their
door as he approached—the West Bow ceased to clink as he
descended. It seemed to be their enthusiasm to obey him in every
order—whether to sack a granary, break the windows of an offensive
magistrate, or to besiege the Town Council in their chamber. With all
this absolute dominion over the affections and obedience of the mob,
it is to be recorded to the honour of Bowed Joseph, that however
irregular the nature of his authority, he never in any of his actions
could be said to have transgressed the bounds of propriety. With
great natural sagacity, he possessed a clear and quick-sighted faculty
of judgment. And the real philanthropy of his disposition was not
less remarkable than his other singular qualities. He was, in short, an
advocate for “fair play,” as he called it, in everything. Fair play alone
was the object of his government, and nothing else.
The following interesting story is handed down concerning Bowed
Joseph, which proves his strong love of justice, as well as the
humanity of his heart. A poor man in the Pleasance, from certain
untoward circumstances, found it impossible to pay his rent at
Martinmas; and his hard-hearted landlord, refusing a portion of the
same with a forlorn promise of the remainder being soon paid, sold
off the whole effects of the tenant, and threw him, with a family of six
children, in the most miserable condition upon the wide world. The
unfortunate man, in a fit of despair, immediately put an end to his
existence, by which the family were only rendered still more
destitute. Bowed Joseph, however, did not long remain ignorant of
the case. As soon as the affair became generally known throughout
the city, he shouldered his drum, and after half-an-hour’s beating
through the streets, found himself followed by a mob of ten thousand
people. With this enormous army he marched to an open space of
ground, named in former times Thomson’s Park, where, mounted on
the shoulders of six of his lieutenant-generals, he harangued them in
the true “Cambyses vein,” concerning the flagrant and fatal
proceedings for the redress of which they were assembled. He
concluded by directing his men to seek the premises of the cruel
landlord; and as his house lay directly opposite the spot in the
Pleasance, there was no time lost in executing his orders. The mob
entered, and seized upon every article of furniture that could be
found, and in ten minutes the whole was packed in the park. Joseph
set fire to the pile with his own hands, though the magistrates stood
by with a guard of soldiers, and entreated him to desist. The eight-
day clock is said to have struck twelve just as it was consigned to the
flames.
When such was the strength and organisation of an Edinburgh
mob so late as the year 1780, we need scarcely be surprised at the
instance on which the tale of the Heart of Midlothian is founded,
happening, as it did, at a much earlier period, and when the people
were prompted to their terrible purpose by the sternest feelings of
personal revenge.
In the exercise of his perilous office, it does not appear that Bowed
Joseph ever drew down the vengeance of the more lawfully
constituted authorities of the land. He was, on the contrary, in some
degree countenanced by the magistrates of the city, who frequently
sent for him to the Council Chamber, in cases of emergency, to
consult him on the best means to be adopted for appeasing and
dispersing the mob.
On an occasion of this moment, he was accustomed to look very
large and consequential. With one hand carelessly applied to his side,
and the other banged resolutely down upon the table, and with as
much majesty as four feet of stature, and a beard of as many weeks
old, could assume, and with as much turbulence in his fiery little eye,
as if he was himself a mob, he would stand before them pleading the
cause of his compeers, or directing the trembling Council to the most
expeditious method of assuaging their fury. The dismissal of a mob,
on these occasions, was usually accomplished at the expense of a few
hogsheads of ale, broached on the Calton Hill, and by the subsequent
order of their decrepit general, expressed in the simple words,
“Disperse, my lads.”
Having for many years exercised an unlimited dominion over the
affections of the rabble, Bowed Joseph met his death at last in a
manner most unworthy of his character and great reputation. He fell
from the top of a Leith coach in a state of intoxication, and broke his
neck, which caused instantaneous death. He had been at the Leith
races, and was on his return to Edinburgh when the accident took
place; and his skeleton has the honour of being preserved in the
anatomical class-room of the College of Edinburgh.
An Edinburgh mob, although it may supply excellent subjects for
tales, in all its characteristic fierceness and insubordination, is now a
matter of mere antiquity. In the present day, the working classes of
Edinburgh, from whom it may be supposed the principal materials of
the mobs used to be drafted, are in the highest degree orderly, both
in private conduct, and in their public appearances in bodies. The
printing press, the schoolmaster, and that general improvement of
manners which now prevails, have entirely altered the character of
the populace, and any mischief now committed through the public
uproar is seen to arise not from the adult, but the juvenile and
neglected portion of the community.
 THE LAIRD OF WINEHOLM.

By James Hogg, the “Ettrick Shepherd.”

“Have you heard anything of the apparition which has been seen
about Wineholm-place?” said the dominie.
“Na, I never heard o’ sic a thing, as yet,” quoth the smith; “but I
wadna wonder muckle that the news should turn out to be true.”
The dominie shook his head, and muttered, “h’m—h’m—h’m,” as if
he knew more than he was at liberty to tell.
“Weel, that beats the world,” said the smith, as he gave up blowing
the bellows, and looked over the spectacles at the dominie’s face.
The dominie shook his head again.
The smith was now in the most ticklish quandary; eager to learn
particulars, and spread the astounding news through the whole
village, and the rest of the parish to boot, but yet afraid to press the
inquiry, for fear the cautious dominie should take the alarm of being
reported as a tattler, and keep all to himself. So the smith, after
waiting till the windpipe of the great bellows ceased its rushing noise,
and he had covered the gloss neatly up with a mixture of small coals,
culm, and cinders; and then, perceiving that nothing more was
forthcoming from the dominie, he began blowing again with more
energy than before—changed his hand—put the other sooty one into
his breeches-pocket—leaned to the horn—looked in a careless
manner towards the window, or rather gazed on vacancy, and always
now and then stole a sly look at the dominie’s face. It was quite
immovable. His cheek was leaned upon his open hand, and his eyes
fixed on the glowing fire.
 It was very teasing for poor Clinkum, the smith. But what could he
do? He took out his glowing iron, and made a shower of fire sweep
through the whole smithy, whereof a good part, as intended,
sputtered upon the dominie, but he only shielded his face with his
elbow, turned his shoulder half round and held his peace. Thump—
thump! clink—clink! went the hammer for a space; and then, when
the iron was returned to the fire, “Weel, that beats the world!” quoth
the smith.
“What is this that beats the world, Mr Clinkum?” said the dominie,
with the most cool and provoking indifference.
“This story about the apparition,” quoth the smith.
“What story?” said the dominie.
Now, really this insolence was hardly to be borne, even from the
learned dominie, who, with all his cold indifference of feeling, was
sitting toasting himself at a good smithy fire. The smith felt this, for
he was a man of acute feeling, and therefore he spit upon his hand
and fell a-clinking and pelting at the stithy with both spirit and
resignation, saying within himself, “These dominie bodies just beat
the world!”
“What story?” reiterated the dominie. “For my part I related no
story, nor have ever given assent to a belief in such story that any
man has heard. Nevertheless, from the results of ratiocination,
conclusions may be formed, though not algebraically, yet corporately
by constituting a quantity, which shall be equivalent to the
difference, subtracting the less from the greater, and striking a
balance in order to get rid of any ambiguity or paradox.”
At the long adverb, nevertheless, the smith gave over blowing, and
pricked up his ears, but the definition went beyond his
comprehension.
“Ye ken that just beats the whole world for deepness,” said the
smith, and again began blowing the bellows.
“You know, Mr Clinkum,” continued the dominie, “that a
proposition is an assertion of some distinct truth, which only
becomes manifest by demonstration. A corollary is an obvious, or
easily inferred consequence of a proposition; while a hypothesis is a
supposition, or concession made, during the process of
demonstration. Now, do you take me along with you? Because, if you
do not, it is needless to proceed.”
“Yes, yes, I understand you middling weel; but I wad like better to
hear what other folks say about it than you.”
“And why so? Wherefore would you rather hear another man’s
demonstration than mine?” said the dominie, sternly.
“Because, ye ken, ye just beat the world for words,” quoth the
smith.
“Ay, ay! that is to say, words without wisdom,” said the dominie,
rising and stepping away. “Well, well, every man to his sphere, and
the smith to his bellows.”
“Ye’re quite wrang, maister,” cried the smith after him. “It isna the
want o’ wisdom in you that plagues me; it is the owerplush o’t.”
This soothed the dominie, who returned, and said mildly,—
“By-the-by, Clinkum, I want a leister of your making, for I see no
other tradesman makes them so well. A five-grained one make it; at
your own price.”
“Very weel, sir. When will you be needing it?”
“Not till the end of the close time.”
“Ay, ye may gar the three auld anes do till then.”
“What do you wish to insinuate, sir? Would you infer, because I
have three leisters, that therefore I am a breaker of the laws? That I,
who am placed here as a pattern and monitor of the young and rising
generation, should be the first to set them an example of
insubordination?”
“Ye ken, that just beats a’ in words; but we ken what we ken, for a’
that, maister.”
“You had better take a little care what you say, Mr Clinkum; just a
little care. I do not request you to take particular care, for of that
your tongue is incapable, but a very little is a correlative of
consequences. And mark you—don’t go to say that I said this or that
about a ghost, or mentioned such a ridiculous story.”
“The crabbitness o’ that body beats the world!” said the smith to
himself, as the dominie went halting homeward.
 The very next man who entered the smithy door was no other than
John Broadcast, the new laird’s hind, who had also been hind to the
late laird for many years, and who had no sooner said his errand,
than the smith addressed him thus:—
“Have you ever seen this ghost that there is such a noise about?”
“Ghost? Na, goodness be thankit! I never saw a ghost in my life,
save ance a wraith. What ghost do you mean?”
“So you never saw nor heard tell of any apparition about
Wineholm-place, lately?”
“No, I hae reason to be thankfu’ I have not.”
“Weel, that beats the world! Wow, man, but ye are sair in the dark!
Do you no think there are siccan things in nature, as folk no coming
fairly to their ends, John?”
“Goodness be wi’ us! Ye gar a’ the hairs o’ my head creep, man.
What’s that you’re saying?”
“Had ye never ony suspicions o’ that kind, John?”
“No; I canna say that I had.”
“None in the least? Weel, that beats the world!”
“O, haud your tongue—haud your tongue! We hae great reason to
be thankfu’ that we are as we are!”
“How as you are?”
“That we are nae stocks or stanes, or brute beasts, as the minister
o’ Traquair says. But I hope in God there is nae siccan a thing about
my master’s place as an unearthly visitor.”
The smith shook his head, and uttered a long hem! hem! hem! He
had felt the powerful effect of that himself, and wished to make the
same appeal to the feelings and longings after information of John
Broadcast. The bait took; for the latent spark of superstition was
kindled in the heart of honest John, and there being no wit in the
head to counteract it, the portentous hint had its full sway. John’s
eyes stelled in his head, and his visage grew long, assuming
meanwhile something of the hue of dried clay in winter.
“Hech, man! but that’s an awsome story,” exclaimed he. “Folks hae
great reason to be thankfu’ that they are as they are. It is truly an
awsome story.”
 “Ye ken, it just beats the world for that,” rejoined the smith.
“And is it really thought that this laird made away wi’ our auld
maister?” said John.
The smith shook his head again, and gave a straight wink with his
eyes.
“Weel, I hae great reason to be thankfu’ that I never heard siccan a
story as that!” said John. “Wha was it tauld you a’ about it?”
“It was nae less a man than our mathewmatical dominie,” said the
smith, “he that kens a’ things, and can prove a proposition to the
nineteenth part of a hair. But he is terrified lest the tale should
spread; and therefore ye maunna say a word about it.”
“Na, na; I hae great reason to be thankfu’ I can keep a secret as
weel as the maist part of men, and better than the maist part of
women. What did he say? Tell us a’ that he said.”
“It is not so easy to repeat what he says, for he has sae mony lang-
nebbit words. But he said, though it was only a supposition, yet it
was easily made manifest by positive demonstration.”
“Did you ever hear the like o’ that? Now, have we no reason to be
thankfu’ that we are as we are? Did he say it was by poison that he
was taken off, or that he was strangled?”
“Na; I thought he said it was by a collar, or collary, or something to
that purpose.”
“Then it wad appear there is no doubt of the horrid transaction? I
think the doctor has reason to be thankfu’ that he’s no taken up. Is
no that strange?”
“O, ye ken, it just beats the world.”
“He deserves to be torn at young horses’ tails,” said the
ploughman.
“Ay, or nippit to death with red-hot pinchers,” quoth the smith.
“Or harrowed to death, like the children of Ammon,” said the
ploughman.
“Na, I’ll tell you what should be done wi’ him—he should just be
docked, and fired like a farcied horse,” quoth the smith. “’Od help ye,
man, I could beat the world for laying on a proper punishment!”
 John Broadcast went home full of terror and dismay. He told his
wife the story in a secret—she told the dairymaid with a tenfold
degree of secrecy; and as Dr Davington, or the New Laird, as he was
called, sometimes kissed the pretty dairymaid for amusement, it gave
her a great deal of freedom with her master, so she went straight and
told him the whole story to his face. He was unusually affected at
hearing such a terrible accusation against himself, and changed
colour again and again; and as pretty Martha, the dairymaid,
supposed it was from anger, she fell to abusing the dominie without
mercy—for he was session-clerk, and had been giving her some hints
about her morality of which she did not approve. She therefore threw
the whole blame upon him, assuring her master that he was the most
spiteful and malicious man on the face of the earth; “and to show you
that, sir”, added Martha, wiping her eyes, “he has spread it through
the hale parish that you and I baith deserve to sit wi’ the sacking-
gown on us.”
This enraged the doctor still farther, and he forthwith dispatched
Martha to desire the dominie to come up to the Place to speak with
her master, as he had something to say to him. Martha went, and
delivered her message in so insulting a manner, that the dominie
suspected there was bad blood a-brewing against him; and as he had
too much self-importance to think of succumbing to any man alive,
he sent an impertinent answer to the laird’s message, bearing that if
Dr Davington had any business with him, he would be so good as
attend at his class-room when he dismissed his scholars. And then he
added, waving his hand towards the door, “Go out. There is
contamination in your presence. What hath such a vulgar fraction
ado to come into the halls of uprightness and science?”
When this message was delivered, the doctor, being almost beside
himself with rage, instantly dispatched two village constables with a
warrant to seize the dominie, and bring him before him, for the
doctor was a justice of the peace. Accordingly, the poor dominie was
seized at the head of his pupils, and dragged away, crutch and all, up
before the new laird, to answer for such an abominable slander. The
dominie denied everything anent it, as indeed he might, save having
asked the smith the simple question, “if he had heard aught of a
ghost at the Place?” But he refused to tell why he had asked that
question. He had his own reasons for it, he said, and reasons that to
him were quite sufficient; but as he was not obliged to disclose them,
neither would he.
The smith was then sent for, who declared that the dominie had
told him of the ghost being seen, and a murder committed, which he
called a rash assassination, and said it was obvious and easily
inferred that it was done by a collar.
How the dominie did storm! He even twice threatened to knock
down the smith with his crutch; not for the slander,—he cared not for
that nor the doctor a pin, but for the total subversion of his grand
illustration from geometry; and he, therefore, denominated the
smith’s head the logarithm to number one, a reproach of which I do
not understand the gist, but the appropriation of it pleased the
dominie exceedingly, made him chuckle, and put him in better
humour for a good while. It was in vain that he tried to prove that his
words applied only to the definition of a problem in geometry,—he
could not make himself understood; and the smith maintaining his
point firmly, and apparently with conscientious truth, appearances
were greatly against the dominie, and the doctor pronounced him a
malevolent and dangerous person.
“O, ye ken, he just beats the world for that,” quoth the smith.
“I a malevolent and dangerous person, sir!” said the dominie,
fiercely, and altering his crutch from one place to another of the
floor, as if he could not get a place to set it on. “Dost thou call me a
malevolent and dangerous person, sir? what, then, art thou? If thou
knowest not, I will tell thee. Add a cipher to a ninth figure, and what
does that make? Ninety you will say. Ay, but then put a cipher above
a nine, and what does that make? Ha—ha—ha—I have you there!
Your case exactly in higher geometry! For say the chord of sixty
degrees is radius, then the sine of ninety degrees is equal to the
radius, so the secant of 0 (that is nihil-nothing, as the boys call it), is
radius, and so is the co-sine of 0. The versed sine of ninety degrees is
radius (that is nine with a cipher added, you know), and the versed
sine of 180 degrees is the diameter; then, of course, the sine
increases from nought (that is, cipher or nothing) till it becomes
radius, and then it decreases till it becomes nothing. After this you
note it lies on the contrary side of the diameter, and consequently, if
positive before, is negative now; so that it must end in 0, or a cipher
above a nine at most.”