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Information Structure And Agreement Victoria Camachotaboada
Information Structure and Agreement
Volume 197
Information Structure and Agreement
Edited by Victoria Camacho-Taboada, Ángel L. Jiménez-Fernández,
Javier Martín-González and Mariano Reyes-Tejedor
General Editors
Werner Abraham
University of Vienna /
Rijksuniversiteit Groningen
Elly van Gelderen
Arizona State University
Linguistik Aktuell/Linguistics Today (LA) provides a platform for original monograph
studies into synchronic and diachronic linguistics. Studies in LA confront empirical
and theoretical problems as these are currently discussed in syntax, semantics,
morphology, phonology, and systematic pragmatics with the aim to establish robust
empirical generalizations within a universalistic perspective.
For an overview of all books published in this series, please see
http://benjamins.com/catalog/la
Linguistik Aktuell/Linguistics Today (LA)
Advisory Editorial Board
Josef Bayer
University of Konstanz
Cedric Boeckx
ICREA/UB
Guglielmo Cinque
University of Venice
Liliane Haegeman
University of Ghent
Hubert Haider
University of Salzburg
Terje Lohndal
Norwegian University of Science
and Technology
Christer Platzack
University of Lund
Ian Roberts
Cambridge University
Lisa deMena Travis
McGill University
Sten Vikner
University of Aarhus
C. Jan-Wouter Zwart
University of Groningen
Information Structure
and Agreement
Edited by
Victoria Camacho-Taboada
Ángel L. Jiménez-Fernández
Javier Martín-González
Mariano Reyes-Tejedor
John Benjamins Publishing Company
Amsterdam/Philadelphia
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Information structure and agreement / Edited by Victoria Camacho-Taboada, Ángel L.
Jiménez-Fernández, Javier Martín-González, Mariano Reyes-Tejedor.
p. cm. (Linguistik Aktuell/Linguistics Today, issn 0166-0829 ; v. 197)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
1. Grammar, Comparative and general--Syntax. 2. Grammar, Comparative and
general--Topic and comment. 3. Contrastive linguistics. 4. Focus (Linguistics)
I. Camacho Taboada, María Victoria, editor of compilation. II. Jiménez-
Fernández, Ángel, editor of compilation. III. Martín-González, Javier, editor of
compilation. IV. Reyes-Tejedor, Mariano, editor of compilation.
P291.I34   2012
415--dc23 2012037032
isbn 978 90 272 5580 8 (Hb ; alk. paper)
isbn 978 90 272 7302 4 (Eb)
© 2013 – John Benjamins B.V.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, by print, photoprint, microfilm, or any
other means, without written permission from the publisher.
John Benjamins Publishing Co. · P.O. Box 36224 · 1020 me Amsterdam · The Netherlands
John Benjamins North America · P.O. Box 27519 · Philadelphia pa 19118-0519 · usa
8
TM
The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of
the American National Standard for Information Sciences – Permanence
of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ansi z39.48-1984.
Table of contents
Information structure, agreement and CP 1
Victoria Camacho-Taboada, Ángel L. Jiménez-Fernández,
Javier Martín-González  Mariano Reyes-Tejedor
The complementiser system in spoken English: Evidence from broadcast media 11
Andrew Radford
‘Phasing’ contrast at the interfaces: A feature-compositional approach to Topics 55
Mara Frascarelli  Francesca Ramaglia
The alternation between improper indirect questions and DPs containing
a restrictive relative 83
Gabriela Matos  Ana Maria Brito
Referentiality in Spanish CPs 117
Carlos de Cuba  Jonathan E. MacDonald
Binding at the syntax-information structure interface 141
Karen Lahousse
Deriving “wh-in-situ” through movement in Brazilian Portuguese 175
Mary Aizawa Kato
On ‘focus movement’ in Italian 193
Valentina Bianchi
Clause-typing by [2] – the loss of the 2nd person pronoun du ‘you’
in Dutch, Frisian and Limburgian dialects 217
Gertjan Postma
Degree phrase raising in relative clauses 255
Adam Szczegielniak
Low, high and higher applicatives: Evidence from Pazar Laz 275
Balkız Öztürk
On richness of tense and verb movement in Brazilian Portuguese 297
Sonia Cyrino
 Information Structure and Agreement
Vocalic adjustments under positional markedness in Catalan and other
Romance languages 319
Jesús Jiménez  Maria-Rosa Lloret
On sloppy readings, ellipsis and pronouns: Missing arguments in Catalan Sign
Language (LSC) and other argument-drop languages 337
Josep Quer  Joana Rosselló
Index  371
Information structure, agreement and CP
Victoria Camacho-Taboada, Ángel L. Jiménez-Fernández,
Javier Martín-González  Mariano Reyes-Tejedor
Information structure (IS) deals with how information is presented in discourse.
­
Traditionally, two articulatory levels have been distinguished (Rizzi 1997; Zubizarreta
1998): (1) Topic + Comment; (2) Presupposition + Focus. In the canonical structure
of the sentence the topic usually coincides with the subject, whereas the focus very
frequently falls upon the verb phrase or one of its elements. However, the canoni-
cal word order may change in the syntactic component when discourse functions are
played out by constituents other than the unmarked elements. Discourse processes
which involve a rearrangement of word order are topic/focus fronting, clitic left dis-
location or scrambling. Reordering of sentence constituents in these processes are
motivated by a special need to highlight an element whose unmarked position is not
informationally prominent.
From the beginning of Generative Grammar, information structure has played
an important role in the study of language. Chomsky (1971) assumes the ­
distinction
focus/presupposition. Emonds (1969) holds that topicalization and focalization
are transformations. This proposal has been inherited (in some form or another)
by the different reformulations which have arisen in the history of Generative
­
Grammar. Natural languages vary as to the device that they use to convey a spe-
cific discourse interpretation. Thus, some languages employ phonological strategies
more frequently than others, whereas other languages prefer to use syntactic and
morphological resources (Kiss 1995; Miyagawa 2010). Several accounts have tried
to locate the ­
connection between syntax and discourse/pragmatics: at the syntax-
phonology ­
interface (Zubizarreta 1998, 2010; Fanselow  Lenertová 2011), at the
syntax-­
pragmatics interface (López 2009) or directly in the syntax (the cartographic
approach, Rizzi 1997 et seq.). In this way, the Complementiser Phrase (CP) domain
is crucially involved in the manifestation of Information Structure in natural lan-
guages. Following Chomsky’s (2008) idea that Universal Grammar sets no specific
link between syntax and Information Structure, current theory submits that syntax
has no access to it and that movement to the left periphery is motivated by an edge
feature in the CP system (Fanselow  Lenertová 2011).
As for Agreement, Information Structure has also been a crucial notion through-
out the history of Linguistics and has played a significant role in the different versions
 Victoria Camacho-Taboada et al.
of Generative Grammar. Traditionally, agreement has not only been used to signal
­
morphological and syntactic relations, but also to motivate syntactic operations.
­
Proposals like ­
Pollock (1989), Kayne (1989), Ritter (1991) and Shlonsky (1994)
brought about the postulation of various agreement projections in verbal, nominal
and clausal domains. Agreement was applied to other phenomena like Case relations
and it was crucial in accounting for both overt and covert movement triggered by
­
feature checking in Spec-head configurations (Sportiche 1995, among many ­
others).
In ­
current Minimalist terms, the notion of agreement has its distinct operation
“Agree” whereby a probe receives a morphological value from an available goal (e.g.
Chomsky 2000). As with Information Structure, the CP domain is also fully involved
in Agreement relations.
The present volume consists of thirteen contributions on these topics. Some
­
chapters focus on the syntax of information structure in relation with the position
occupied by different constituents in the CP domain and prominence phenomena at
word level. Other chapters deal with the notion of agreement and its role in the ­
syntax
of specific constructions such as applicatives, correlatives, types of CPs, and others.
The results are based on the study of several languages including English, German,
Dutch, ­
Frisian, ­
Limburgian, European and Brazilian Portuguese, Galician, ­
Spanish,
­
Catalan, Italian, French, Polish, Pazar Laz, Japanese, Spanish Sign Language, Catalan
Sign Language and American Sign Language.
There are an important number of chapters in this book which focus on Infor-
mation Structure. Within a cartographic framework and dealing with information
­
structure and the structure of CP is Andrew Radford’s The complementiser system in
­
spoken English: Evidence from broadcast media. The author explores the syntax of dis-
located topics, fronted topics, focus preposing and modal adverbs in relation to the
different positions that complementisers can occupy in English. Using data from live
unscripted British radio and TV broadcasts, Radford makes a distinction between
complementiser-first (C1) and complementiser-second (C2) in spoken English. He
analyses the occurrence of that in subordinate declaratives, wh-interrogatives, rela-
tives, correlatives, adverbial clauses, etc., and also in root clauses (wh-exclamatives,
modal adverbial clauses, and clauses introduced by an adjunct, dislocated topic, or
focalised constituent).
Radford makes the observation that in authentic English the complementiser
that can occur in different positions relative to other constituents which sit in the CP
area. Interestingly, that can even be repeated (recomplementation). Adopting a carto-
graphic approach to the CP region (Rizzi 1997; Haegeman 2010), the author claims
that the complementiser that is a maximally underspecified complementiser which
simply marks finiteness and so serves to introduce a subordinate finite clause. There-
fore, this conjunction can, in principle, lexicalise any head on the periphery of a finite
clause (whether Sub, Force, Top, Foc, or Fin).
Information structure, agreement and CP 
Andrew Radford claims that C1 structures are different from C2 structures in
many respects. Indeed, C1 is never found in root clauses in English. ­
Following
­
Casanto and Sag (2008), the author assumes that complementisers are used for
­
processing ­
purposes in the sentence and concludes that C2 structures are only used
when there is a ­
comparatively ‘long’ constituent preceding the complementiser.
Frascarelli  Ramaglia’s paper, ‘Phasing’ contrast at the interfaces: A feature-
compositional approach to topics, establishes a parallelism between CP phases and
DP phases in relation with phonological marking. For the authors IS is crucially
­
connected with prosody. They make a clear connection between the traditional
­
partition of utterances in terms of topic and focus (based on the notion of givenness)
and the corresponding split in sentences and nominals.
The paper shows that phonological prominence is not by nature related to
the notions of givenness or newness; on the contrary, in their analysis what is not
expected in the Topic portion (new information) is prosodically marked in this
domain, whereas what is not expected in the Comment (given information) is also
phonologically marked. Following Krifka (2007), the authors identify two clear parts
in the Comment, namely focus and background. The information conveyed by the
background will be phonologically marked. This accounts for the occurrence of unfo-
cused material in the Comment, for “second occurrence Focus” and for answers to
multiple wh-questions.
As for the Topic portion, Frascarelli  Ramaglia assume that the given part in
the Topic section is phonologically unmarked. However, given the typology of ­
topics
in terms of Aboutness-Topics, Contrastive-Topics and Given-Topics (Frascarelli 
­
Hinterhölzl 2007), and based on Information Structure-related features such as
­
contrast and given, the authors propose that some focussed material can be identified
within the topic section and will thus be phonologically marked.
Perhaps the most appealing point in their proposal is the syntactic implemen-
tation that the authors make with respect to Information Structure. Provided that
phonological markedness is determined by the relative position of unexpected infor-
mation within a phase, it is clearly shown that the informationally relevant constituents
are prosodically marked in the head or edge of CP and DP phases. This implies that
Chomsky’s Phase Impenetrability Principle has an impact on Information ­
Structure
and Phonology.
Gabriela Matos and Ana Brito’s contribution, THe alternation between improper indi-
rect questions and DPs containing a restrictive relative, examinesthepropertiesofimproper
indirect interrogative constructions and determines DPs containing a restructure relative
the semantic type of predicates involved in them in Spanish and European Portuguese.
­
IS-related grammatical features are taken to influence the syntax of the constructions
under discussion. The authors also offer an explanation as to why these wh-clauses alter-
nate with relative clauses. Following Keenan and Hull (1973) and Moreno Cabrera (2002),
 Victoria Camacho-Taboada et al.
they propose that improper interrogatives and relatives are instances of how the same
phenomenon can be conveyed by different syntactic strategies across languages: embed-
ded interrogative sentences (i.e. Finnish), relative clauses (i.e. some Melanesian and
­
Austronesian languages) or both of them (i.e. English and Spanish).
According to Matos and Brito, this parametric variation would be lexically
restricted. The predicates of both structures are assertive cognitive definite ­
predicates
(Hinzer  Sheenan to appear) that can select a D-linked wh-CP/ForceP (in a
­
cartographic ­
perspective) or a relativized DP headed by a definite D, respectively.
Both complement types are full phases which show a high referential level and display
similar features: 〈wh/operator〉 and 〈specific〉. Still, they are not semantically equiva-
lent since the identification of the involved entity in improper indirect interrogatives,
though assumed as known by the speaker, is not discovered, while in headed relative
clauses it is revealed by its antecedent.
The (non-)availability of an extra CP layer plays a central role in de Cuba and
MacDonald’s paper, Referentiality in Spanish CPs. Bringing together evidence from
wh-movement and referentiality, and using data mostly from Spanish embedded
clauses, they hold that factive verbs take structurally less complex complements,
namely plain CPs, because of their referential nature. On the other hand, non-factives
take non-referential cPs, which embed a referential CP. They base their proposal on the
syntactic asymmetries observed in extraction phenomena between these two kinds of
complements, under the assumption that more structure allows for the possibility of
accommodating extracted elements. In order to explain the wh-island effects shown
by non-referential-que embedded constructions, the authors elaborate on Suñer’s
(1991, 1993) distinction between indirect-questions and semi-questions by proposing
that the presence of a question operator in non-referential cPs is responsible for the
intervention effects. They also offer a characterisation of referentiality whereby only
referential complements are part of the common conversational ground. Finally, they
claim that a non-referential que may be the spellout of a distinct speech act operator in
cP, which is associated with an initial attempt at introducing a proposition or question
into the common ground.
Another look at Information Structure is provided by Karen Lahousse’s paper
­
Binding at the syntax-information structure interface. Binding Theory has stood
through the history of Generative Grammar as one of the most controversial
­
components of grammar (Cecchetto 2000; Higginbotham 1980  Reinhart 1983).
Karen Lahousse shows that binding connectivity effects are heavily influenced by the
information ­
structure status of the constituents. She argues that Heycock and Kroch’s
(2002) ­
analysis on the basis of focus-reconstruction at LF does not account for all the
empirical evidence in cleft sentences and reverse clefting. Lahousse claims that bind-
ing effects cannot be accounted for only on the basis of focus reconstruction into the
ground. As counter-evidence to Heycock and Kroch’s analysis of binding connectivity,
Information structure, agreement and CP 
in terms of focus reconstruction, the author uses cases with coreferential or bound
interpretation where the binder is in the ground and the bindee in the focus.
The solution that Lahousse proposes is based on Rizzi’s (1997) cartographic
approach to information structure. Although she concentrates on clefting, her
analysis is also extended to other construction types. Assuming the file card analy-
sis of information structure, Lahousse divides sentences into two parts, focus and
ground. Moreover, she holds that there is an overt Topic in the left periphery which
binds the relevant element in some position internal to the clause. This topic can
also be covert (in the sense of Zribi-Hertz 2003). In this case, it is coreferential with
some other element in the clause, but it is the covert topic (not the explicit coref-
erent constituent) that counts for any binding relation to be established in the IP.
Hence, regardless of the explicit syntactic position occupied by the binder and the
bindee, what matters is that the bindee is c-commanded by a suitable topic in the
left periphery.
Also dealing with wh-clauses, Mary Kato’s paper, Deriving wh-in-situ through
movement in Brazilian Portuguese, proposes that wh-in-situ structures in Brazilian
Portuguese (BP) are derived by movement (contra Huang’s wh-parameter). BP is an
optional wh-in-situ language, meaning that wh-phrases can be fronted or remain in-
situ. Moreover, both question types have the peculiarity of having a falling intonation
that contrast with yes/no questions and echo questions, which show a rising one.
After Cheng and Rooryck’s (2000) analysis of French, Kato proposes that the rising
intonation is given by the interrogative silent operator Q and that only those ­structures
with a rising intonation are true interrogative ones. Thus, in her cartography-based
approach, while ordinary wh-questions are fake in-situ cases where the wh-phrase
moves to a sentence internal Focus Phrase (Belletti 1998), fronted wh-questions are
reduced cleft questions where the wh-phrase is moved to the low VP periphery and
the copula is optionally deleted at PF. She concludes that her proposal avoids the
­
undesirable problem of optionality.
Information structure is also the topic of Valentina Bianchi’s On focus movement
in Italian. In her system, IS is the link between the syntactic and semantic components
of language. In this paper Bianchi identifies two syntactic slots targeted by Contrastive
Focus in Italian, a high focus position and a low focus position. This might be taken to
imply optional movement. However, the different focus positions correspond to dif-
ferent semantic interpretations. Whereas high focus is corrective, low focus is merely
contrastive.
The author provides strong evidence for this distinction at the semantic and syn-
tactic level. For instance, the high focus construction is inappropriate as an answer to
a yes-no question. All the distinguishing properties follow from the fact that semanti-
cally high focus involves a corrective conversational move, i.e. it implies an update
of the common background (in the sense of Krifka 2007). In order for correction
 Victoria Camacho-Taboada et al.
to be felicitous, there must be an “antecedent proposition” such that the corrective
claim is incompatible with it (or part of it) in the context of interpretation (vanLeusen
2004). On the other hand, low focus does not obey the same kind of rules. This type
of focus involves just a contrast, not correction. Put bluntly, Bianchi shows that high
and low foci are not semantically equivalent. Syntactically, the two types of focus are
sheltered in different projections. High focus is hosted at a peripheral position which
depends on the root-like assertive flavour of the sentence, whereas low focus is not
attained by remnant IP movement, as other studies propose. It is rather identified with
a ­
syntactically low focus position.
The connection between the left periphery and Agreement is explicitly addressed
in Gertjan Postma’s paper, Clause-typing by [2] – the loss of the 2nd person pronoun du
‘you’ in Dutch, Frisian and Limburgian dialects. Postma argues for two influential pro-
posals on the structure of the left-periphery in strict V2-languages, more specifically
Den Besten’s (1977/1982) unified CP theory and Zwart’s (1993) IP/CP theory. What is
important for Postma is that these two theories of V2 are not competing, but describe
two language types with distinct observational properties. Postma coins it the “Two
V2 hypothesis” (abbreviated 2V2). While Zwart’s theory describes language variants
with positional spell-out in verbs (in most Western and Southern Dutch dialects),
Den Besten describes most adequately language variants with unified V2 spellout
and with position dependent spell-out in subject pronouns (Frisian, Limburgian,
German). According to Postma, initial evidence for the V2 bifurcation is already pres-
ent in Zwart in the observation that double paradigms come in two flavours, which
he calls type 1 (split V2, most western and southern Dutch dialects) and type 2 (joint
V2, eventually contrasting with Vfinal, e.g. Bavarian). Two further observations are
discussed. The first observation is that double paradigms are never observed with
3rd person pronouns. Secondly, dialects with double paradigms, nevertheless, show
­
position dependent spellout in 3rd person pronouns.
Postma argues that Dutch 3rd person clauses should be analysed according to Den
Besten. This can be generalized: the distinction between both structures only shows up
with subjects with the 2nd person feature, such as 2sg, 2pl. By testing the 2V2-hypoth-
esis, he exploits intriguing consequences upon a transition from one type to the other.
Predictions are made regarding the appearance and disappearance of specific pronoun
and verbal spellout variants. This is tested quantitatively in the dialectological data on
the loss of the 2nd person pronoun in various dialects of Dutch. It turns out that there
is a significant correlation between double paradigms in V2 and the loss of [du] as a
second person singular pronoun. He argues that Zwart’s ­
structures only show up if
the subject-verb agreement involves Postal’s feature [2], i.e. 2sg, 2pl, 1pl. He attributes
the blocking of the finite verb moving to C to a hypothetical [2]-trace effect, similar
to the that-trace effect with wh-. Postma explains these facts in a Minimalist fashion
by assuming that feature [2] has quantificational properties that force it to enter into
Information structure, agreement and CP 
an AGREE relation with [2] in C, which represents the hearer. [2] functions as a kind
of clause typing, similar to wh-. This proposal gives the author reasons to believe that
linguistic utterances, at least those involving [2], are modifying the hearer.
CPs are approached from a different angle in Adam Szczegielniak’s Degree phrase
raising in relative clauses. In this case, its relevance as delimiting the landing site of
phrasal movement is central to the author´s proposal. More specifically, the possi-
bility of overt raising targeting a position outside of CP is used to account for the
difference in scope readings between modal degree of amount relative clauses and
comparative clauses. A raising operation for relative clauses has already been defended
by Grosu and Landman (1998). However, Szczegielniak offers a novel proposal that
makes the right predictions; namely, that DegP in modal degree of amount relatives
raises overtly out of CP to a position modifying the external NP. THis process makes
the derivation of such relatives take place via head matching -and not through noun
raising- and correctly accounting for the observed scope readings. The same deriva-
tion is offered for AP degree relatives in Spanish (Gutiérrez-Rexach 1999), only that
Deg in this case takes the AP as its complement, which means that AP is pied-piped
as part of DegP. Finally, the proposed analysis of modal degree of amount relatives is
extended to ´there´ relatives, which is said to account for the similarities with respect
to the complementiser restrictions in both types of relatives.
Balkiz Öztürk’s Low, high and higher applicatives: Evidence from Pazar Laz offers
two important contributions. First, we have the always invaluable work on an endan-
gered language, Pazar Laz, a Caucasian language spoken in Turkey. Then, we have
the proposal of a new applicative with its own agreement requirements. Aside from
low and high applicatives, claimed to be the only two types found cross-linguistically
(Pylkkänen 2001), Öztürk argues that Pazar Laz instantiates a third kind, which she
calls “higher applicative” since it selects a vP as a complement. Higher applicatives are
present in experiential constructions as well as in constructions denoting ability and
involuntary actions. From a morphosyntactic viewpoint, a higher applicative head on
the verbal complex selects an agentive vP only. The applied argument introduced by
this applicative head is coindexed with an implicit agent introduced by the v head. All
this results in dative marking for the ergative agent and object agreement on the verb,
as well as in the Theme agreeing with the higher T, while at the same time ­
maintaining
both the agentive and the experiencer readings -and thus setting itself apart from
cases of inversion of syntactic roles (as in Harris 1981, 1982). Furthermore, higher
­
applicatives also have a distinct semantic nature in that they relate a DP to a state
instead of an event.
Sonia Cyrino, in her paper On richness of tense and verb movement in Brazilian
Portuguese, presents a counterexample to Biberauer and Roberts’ (2010) proposal that
relates richness of verbal tense paradigms to verb movement. They propose a language
typologywhereonlylanguageswithrichtensemarkingshowV-to-T­movementdespite
 Victoria Camacho-Taboada et al.
the richness of agreement marking. Yet Cyrino observes that Brazilian ­
Portuguese
does not fit in this classification since this language has kept some morphological
markings in past tenses while at the same time has retained the loss of verb movement.
She ­
concludes that morphology may not always indicate verb position.
Cyrino follows Giorgi and Pianesi’s (1997) theory on temporal syntactic structure
where two different functional categories are projected as T1 and T2. Thus, based on
empirical evidence such as vP ellipsis, modality readings of the imperfect and adverb
position, the author proposes a third possibility; namely, as in the case of Brazilian
Portuguese, there would be some languages with rich tense morphology where the
verb does not move to T (T1) but to a lower one (T2).
Using Optimality Theory (OT) as framework, Jesús Jiménez and Maria-Rosa
Lloret’s chapter, Vocalic adjustments under positional markedness, is concerned with
vocalic changes involving opening in word-initial position in Romance languages.
Unlike the traditionally well-studied phenomena of feature preservation in word-
initial position, which is interpreted as an effect of Positional Faithfulness (Beckman
1998), the preference for more open vowels in that position is not explained in classical
studies. Jiménez and Lloret propose that this vowel-initial opening can be accounted
for on the basis of Positional Markedness, or the attraction of prominent elements to
strong positions (Prince  Smolensky 1993).
In the final chapter, On sloppy readings, ellipsis and pronouns: Missing arguments
in Catalan Sign Language (LSC) and other argument-drop languages, Josep Quer and
Joanna Rosselló discuss hybrid and uniform approaches on null arguments based on
East Asian Languages and American Sign Language. The hybrid approach, proposed
by Huang (1984), considers missing arguments as null pronouns, pros or empty topics;
the uniform approach analyses all of them as elliptical arguments, except for null
subjects in Mandarin Chinese, that are considered pro elements. Quer and Rosselló
argue that neither approach can explain the disparities found in East Asian and sign
languages. These authors also disagree with Lillo-Martin (1991), who follows Huang’s
proposal in that null objects of sign language plain verbs are variables. For Quer and
Rosselló, embedded clauses are always islands in ASL and thus, embedded object
­
variables cannot exist in the language.
Moreover, according to the authors, the syntactic behaviour of Catalan Sign Lan-
guage (LSC) and other argument-drop languages such as Catalan and Spanish prove
both approaches to be inaccurate. They show that the sloppy reading criterion is not a
valid one to differentiate between ellipsis and empty pronouns since languages such as
LSC, Catalan, and Spanish allow sloppy reading with pro-objects. The authors actually
conclude that a new theory of null arguments that takes into account crosslinguistic
data is still lacking.
To conclude this introduction, the editors would like to thank all contributors and
participants in the 21st Colloquium on Generative Grammar, which was jointly held
Information structure, agreement and CP 
by the University of Seville and Pablo de Olavide University. We are also grateful to
the anonymous reviewers who have kindly evaluated the papers in this volume. This
publication has been sponsored by Ministerio de Ciencia e Innovación of the Spanish
Government (FFI2010-11158-E).
References
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Semantics: An Interdisciplinary Reader in Philosophy, Linguistics, and Psychology,
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Chomsky, Noam. 2000. Minimalist inquiries. In Step by Step: Essays on Minimalism in Honor
of Howard Lasnik, Roger Martin, David Michaels  Juan Uriagereka (eds), 89–155.
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Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press.
Chomsky, Noam. 2008. On phases. In Foundational Issues in Linguistic Theory, Robert Freidin,
Carlos Otero  Maria Luisa Zubizarreta (eds), 133–166. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press.
Emonds, Joseph. 1969. Root and structure–preserving transformations. Ph.D. dissertation, MIT.
Fanselow, Gisbert  Lenertová, Denisa. 2011. Left peripheral focus: Mismatches between syntax
and information structure. Natural Language and Linguistic Theory 29: 169–209.
Kayne, Richard. 1989. Facets of Romance past participle agreement. In Dialect Variation and the
Theory of Grammar, Paola Benincà (ed.), 85–103. Dordrecht: Foris.
Kiss, Katalin É. 1995. Introduction. In Discourse Configurational Languages, Katalin É. Kiss
(ed.), 3–27. Oxford: OUP.
López, Luis. 2009. A Derivational Syntax for Information Structure. Oxford: OUP.
Miyagawa, Shigeru. 2010. Why Agree? Why Move? Unifying Agreement–based and Discourse
Configurational Languages [LI Monograph 54]. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press.
Pollock, Jean-Yves. 1989. Verb movement, universal grammar and the structure of IP. Linguistic
Inquiry 20: 365–424.
Ritter, Elizabeth. 1991. Two functional categories in noun phrases: Evidence from Modern
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(ed.), 37–62. New York, NY: Academic Press.
Rizzi, Luigi. 1997. The fine structure of the left periphery. In Elements of Grammar. Handbook in
Generative Syntax, Liliane Haegeman (ed.), 281–337. Dordrecht: Kluwer.
Shlonsky, Ur. 1994. Agreement in Comp. The Linguistic Review 11: 351–375.
Sportiche, Dominique. 1995. Sketch of a reductionist approach to syntactic variation and
­dependencies. In Evolution and Revolution in Linguistic Theory: Essays in Honor of
­Carlos Otero, Héctor Campos  Paula Kempchinsky (eds), 365–398. Washington, DC:
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Georgetown University Press.
Zubizarreta, Maria Luisa. 1998. Word Order, Prosody and Focus. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press.
Zubizarreta, Maria Luisa. 2010. The syntax and prosody of focus: The Bantu-Italian connection.
IBERIA 1: 131–168.
Information Structure And Agreement Victoria Camachotaboada
The complementiser system in spoken English
Evidence from broadcast media*
Andrew Radford
University of Essex
This paper looks at the use of complementisers (especially indicative that) in
the contemporary spoken English of live unscripted radio and TV broadcasts.
Descriptive grammars of English generally claim that indicative that is restricted
to occurring in C1/Complementiser-First structures where the complementiser
is the first word in a declarative subordinate clause. However, I report a wide
range of other structures containing indicative that occurring in spoken English
(including interrogative C1 structures), together with a wide range of C2/
Complementiser-Second structures. I note that C2 (but not C1) structures occur
in root clauses and conclude that (for speakers who produce such structures),
that can lexicalise any head on the periphery of a finite clause which is licensed
by a superordinate constituent. I briefly explore possible psycholinguistic and
sociolinguistic factors which may have shaped complementiser use.
Keywords: broadcast English; cartographic analysis; complementisers; root
clause complementisers; wh-clauses
* This paper has its origins in material in Radford (2010a, 2010b, 2011), and in presenta-
tions made to the Irish Network in Formal Linguistics in Dublin in September 2011, to the
University of Sevilla in October 2011, and to the Fifth Annual Conference on Formal Lin-
guistics in the Guangdong University of Foreign Studies in December 2011. I am grateful
to the audiences there and to Paolo Acquaviva, Enam Al Wer, Merete Anderssen, Martin
Atkinson, Sjef Barbiers, Paola Benincà, Bob Borsley, Memo Cinque, Chris Collins, Stephen
Crain, Silvio Cruschina, Claudia Felser, Teresa Guasti, Liliane Haegeman,Wolfram Hintzen,
Alison Henry, Anders Holmberg, Georgios Ioannou, Ángel L. Jiménez-Fernández, Mike
Jones,Marie Labelle,Richard Larson,Adam Ledgeway,Jim McCloskey,Jamal Ouhalla,Susan
Pintzuk, Ian Roberts, Tom Roeper, Luigi Rizzi, Andrew Spencer, Julio Villa-García and two
anonymous referees for helpful observations, suggestions, references, or data. Structural
representations are simplified in various ways for expository purposes (e.g. by showing only
constituents relevant to the discussion at hand, and by showing only heads and phrases, not
intermediate projections).
 Andrew Radford
1. Introduction
Typical environments in which descriptive grammars of English claim that the
indicative complementiser that is and isn’t used in ‘standard’ varieties of English are
illustrated below:
(1) a. (*That) he can’t stand garlic
		 b. He says [that garlic, he can’t stand it]
		 c. I wonder [why (*that) he doesn’t like garlic]
		 d.	
The reason I didn’t eat the soup was [because (*that) it contains lots of
garlic]
		 e. *He says [garlic, that he can’t stand it]
		 f. Garlic is something [which (*that) I can’t stand]
The contrast between (1a) and (1b) suggests that indicative that can only be used in
a subordinate clause like that bracketed in (1b), not in a main clause like (1a). The
ungrammaticality of (1c) suggests that is restricted to occurring in declarative clauses
like that bracketed in (1b), and so cannot be used in interrogatives like that brack-
eted in (1c). The ungrammaticality of (1d) suggests that cannot be used in adverbial
clauses introduced by a subordinating conjunction like because. The ungrammati-
cality of (1e,f) suggests that is subject to a C1/Complementiser-First Constraint
requiring it to be the first (overt)1 constituent in its clause – and indeed the ungram-
maticality of (1c,d) could likewise be attributed to violation of the C1 constraint.
Thus, the overall picture painted by sentences like (1) is that (in canonical uses in
standard varieties of English), indicative that is a subordinate, declarative,2 (clause-)
initial complementiser.
However, this characterisation is based on the introspective grammaticality
judgments of linguists rather than recorded samples of spoken English. Although
there is some experimental evidence suggesting that introspective judgments of
experienced linguists can be relatively robust (Sprouse  Almeida 2011), there
1. I add the qualification overt here, since (on some analyses), the bracketed clauses in
sentences like
i. This is something [Op that I really like]
ii Where do you think [where that he has gone]
contain an (italicised) null constituent preceding the complementiser that – viz. a null relative
clause Operator in (i) and a null copy of the fronted wh-constituent where in (ii).
2. If we follow Roberts and Roussou (2002) in taking C to be interpreted as declarative by
default (viz. when a clause is not marked in some way as being interrogative/exclamative/
imperative etc.), we could alternatively take that simply to be a complementiser signalling the
beginning (i.e. serving as the first word) of a subordinate finite clause.
The complementiser system in spoken English 
is also conflicting experimental evidence (Radford, Felser  Boxell 2012) that
the judgments of educated native speakers can unwittingly be influenced by
­
prescriptive education. This raises the question of whether the constraints noted
above hold in Real English in the sense of Milroy and Milroy (1993) – i.e. in authen-
tic spoken ­
English. In an attempt to answer this question, I looked at the use of
­
complementisers in 500 hours of digital recordings of live unscripted broadcasts
from ­
popular British radio and TV programmes recorded between May 2010 and
September 2011: this yielded a corpus of around 3 million words from phone-
ins, interviews, discussion forums and sports commentaries (these being chosen
because they contain unscripted dialogue not subject to the prescriptive influence
of copy editors). This paper presents a report on (and analysis of) my main findings:
most of the non-canonical data come from indicative that (there being relatively
few examples of non-canonical uses of subjunctive that, infinitival for or interroga-
tive if/whether). I begin in §2 by ­
reporting on C1/Complementiser-First structures
found in my recordings, and then go on in §§3–9 to report a range of different C2/
Complementiser-Second structures, before reflecting on an interesting asymmetry
between C1 and C2 structures in §10, and on the source of C1 and C2 structures
in §11.
2. C1 in complement clauses
C1 structures occurred frequently in my recordings in declarative complement clauses
like those below:
(2) a. You have to say [that Higuain, normally he would have hit the target]
 (Jon Driscoll, Sky Sports TV)
		 b.	
I just felt [that Roy Hodgson, a few weeks ago, when Liverpool lost to
Everton, he was in a minority of one] (John Motson, BBC Radio 5)
		 c.	
You just get the feeling [that Arsenal, the way they keep the ball, it’s
particularly clever, isn’t it]? (Steve Claridge, BBC Radio 5)
		 d.	
I have heard [that William, the Brazilian midfielder who plays for
Shahtar Donetsk, Liverpool are interested in him]
 (Listener, BBC Radio 5)
		 e.	
And advance warning [that from midnight tonight, the A3 in Surrey, it’s
going to be closed] (Traffic reporter, BBC Radio 5)
In the bracketed clauses in (2), a (bold-printed) complementiser is positioned in front
of all other (italicised) peripheral constituents preceding the (underlined) subject,
such as dislocated topics and adjuncts. This is consistent with the picture painted in
 Andrew Radford
the previous section of that being canonically used to introduce a subordinate clause
which is declarative in force.3
However, Radford (1988: 585) reported the (constructed) Example in (3a) below
in which that is used in a (bracketed) C1 complement clause where it is followed by
a wh-constituent, and in addition my recordings contain 30 examples of that+wh
clauses like those in (3b–i):4
(3) a.	
He protested [that how could he have known that his office was
bugged?]
		 b.	
And I can understand [that why] (Graham Taylor, BBC Radio 5,
in response to ‘Not too many people give Villa a chance of beating
United’)
		 c.	
I’d just like to find out [that how do people on the continent remember
Paul Scholes?] (Listener, BBC Radio 5)
		 d.	
I had a tweet from an Everton fan saying [that what’s the point of
league tables at this stage?] (Shelagh Fogarty, BBC Radio 5)
		 e.	
The strange thing with Joe Cole going to Lille is [that why did nobody
in the Premier League want him?] (Ian McGarry, BBC Radio 5)
		 f.	
He’s proved in his career [that what a very, very good manager he is]
 (Peter Taylor, Talk Sport Radio)
		 g.	
The fact they had to beat Holland to get through as the best ­
qualified
second-place team I think shows you [that how good they can be]
 (Andy Brassell, BBC Radio 5)
		 h.	
One of the things we were talking about, kind of backstage, was that
how it seems, both to me and to him, that the age of the sergeant-major
type coach has gone (Tim Vickery, BBC Radio 5)
3. I note in passing that Huddleston (1994) argues that (illocutionary) force is a pragmatic
rather than a syntactic notion, and that its syntactic counterpart is clause type (see also Cheng
1991) – but I shall set aside this point here,because force is a term used in much of the research
mentioned in Note 7, and because type is often employed as a more general term (e.g. active
and passive clauses are sometimes said to differ in type).
4. If yes-no questions with auxiliary inversion contain an abstract interrogative operator
(op), there will be parallels between comp+wh structures like those in (3) and comp+op
structures like those in (i), nine examples of which occurred in my recordings:
i.	
Umpires should be saying that is there any reason why it should be given out?
 (Chris Martin-Jenkins, BBC Radio 5 Sports Extra)
The complementiser system in spoken English 
		 i.	
Harry Redknapp makes a very good point [that why on earth is Villas
Boas getting wound up by those comments?]
 (John Cross, Talk Sport Radio)
		 j.	
The thing is such a complete mess [that where does the kid start?]
 (Interviewee, BBC Radio 5)
comp+wh clauses are reported to occur (inter alia) in Spanish (Rivero 1978, 1980,
1994; Plann 1982; Suñer 1991, 1993; Brucart 1993; Demonte  Fernández-Soriano
2009), Hungarian (Kenesei et al. 1998) and Japanese (Saito 2010). But what is the role
of that in such structures?
Claudia Felser (pc) observes that the complementiser that in cases like (3) occurs
in contexts which allow a that-clause (e.g. as in He protested that he couldn’t possibly
have known that his office was bugged or He’s proved in his career that he’s a very, very
good manager). If so, sentences like (3) may be a blend (in the sense of Bolinger 1961)
of a wh-clause with a that-clause. However, the plausibility of any such blend analysis
is called into question by the occurrence of sentences such as the following in my
recordings:
(4) a.	
When you see Spain line up, do you sometimes wonder [that whether
they need Xabi Alonso and Busquets]?
 (Mark Chapman, BBC Radio 5)
		 b.	
It just makes you wonder [that, if we haven’t got this world cup, when-
ever will we get one?] (Alan Shearer, BBC Radio 5)
		 c	
The question’s got to be asked [that who would you want to be
manager?] (Lee Dixon, BBC2 TV)
		 d.	
Meg, can I ask [that how many police would normally be on duty at any
one time?] (Neil Ashton, Talk Sport Radio)
		 e.	
That’s what that government’s trying to resolve there, [that who’s going
to pay for all of this?] (Industrialist, BBC Radio 5)
This is because the underlined predicates (in the relevant use) do not take a that-clause
complement (cf. *I wonder that they need Xavi and Busquets).
An alternative generalization (formulated by Plann 1982 in relation to analogous
structures in Spanish) is that comp+wh structures are only used after quotative predi-
cates (i.e. predicates which allow a direct quote as a complement). However, while this
holds for many of the Examples in (3,4), it does not hold for Examples like (3b,f,g)
and (4e) since verbs like understand/prove/show/resolve are not typical quotative predi-
cates. A related analysis is offered by Saito (2010), who maintains that they are used
to report direct discourse (and so typically occur after verbs of saying/thinking).
He concludes from this that the complementiser in such structures is a Report head
 Andrew Radford
(in the sense of Lahiri 1991). Examples like (3–4) would seem compatible with this
characterisation: for example, we find Subject-Auxiliary Inversion in the interroga-
tive wh-clause in (3a) – a phenomenon typically associated with direct (root clause)
questions. This might suggest that the complementiser that in such structures serves
to embed root clause structures.5
However, this characterisation turns out to be too narrow, in that my recordings
also contain comp+wh clauses like those bracketed below which show characteristics
of embedded rather than root questions:
(5) a.	
When you see Spain line up, do you sometimes wonder [that whether
they need Xabi Alonso and Busquets]?
 (Mark Chapman, BBC Radio 5)
		 b.	
What’s going to be important is [that whether he can win the final stage
of the Tour de France] (Gary Imlach, ITV4)
		 c.	
I think he blotted his copybook a little bit, in terms of [that ­
whether
there was money he was prepared to give up in order to join
Corinthians] (Tim Vickery, BBC Radio 5)
		 d.	
Can you remember [that when he suddenly said he was going to go to
the arch rivals]? (Danny Kelly, Talk Sport Radio)
		 e.	
It just shows [that how they’re losing touch with the common man]
 (Listener, Talk Sport Radio)
		 f.	
Among the wider Greek community, is it understood [that what he has
done and why he has done it]? (Suzanne Chislet, BBC Radio 5)
		 g.	
I’m trying to understand [that why we don’t see any French planes as
part of the strike force] (American journalist, BBC Radio 5)
		 h.	
I spoke to him to say [that what had happened] (Brendan Rogers, Talk
Sport Radio = ‘I spoke to him to say “What happened?”’)
The use of the embedded clause complementiser whether in (5a–c) together with the
absence of Subject-Auxiliary Inversion in (5d–g) and (pastpluperfect) tense trans-
position in (5h) suggest that the bracketed structures are embedded rather than root
clauses.
5. Structures like those below are also compatible with this suggestion:
i. It’s one of those [that do we just push to one side?] (Brian Laws, BBC Radio 5)
ii.	
The moment you have rain on the first day, it just becomes mandatory [that finish
at 7 and walk off] (Nasser Hussain, Sky Sports TV)
In (i) the complement of that is a root yes-no question with Subject-Auxiliary Inversion, and
in (ii) the complement is a root imperative.
The complementiser system in spoken English 
Furthermore, my recordings also contain the following 6 examples of relative
clauses with a comp+wh structure:
(6) a.	
Klinsmann is someone [that how can you argue with what he did as a
footballer?] (Sean Wheelock, BBC Radio 5)
		 b.	
You need to buy a world class striker [that who you can put in up front]
 (Mark Saggers, Talk Sport Radio)
		 c.	
It’s the business of the state such as the one [that in which we live to say
what the tax should be on alcohol] (Politician, BBC Radio 5)
		 d.	
This is a country [that whose leadership has been our ally for over
30 years] (Harvard professor, BBC Radio 5)
		 e. The speed [that which they go at these days leaves no margin for error]
 (Darren Gough, Talk Sport Radio)
		 f. He’s taken many by surprise with the speed [that which he’s adapted]
 (Tim Vickery, BBC Radio 5)
While the complementiser that could be taken to serve a report function (embedding
a direct question inside a relative clause) in (6a,b), it doesn’t seem to have any such
function in (6c–f). So what is the nature of that in such cases?
It seems clear that the complementiser that does not mark declarative force in
comp+wh clauses such as those in (3–6) above, since it can be used to introduce inter-
rogative and exclamative clauses: rather, it seems more likely that it is a maximally
underspecified complementiser which simply marks finiteness and subordination, and
so serves to introduce a subordinate finite clause. Under a conventional CP analysis of
the left periphery (i.e. of that part of the clause structure above the canonical subject
position/above TP), complement clauses like those bracketed in (3–6) can be handled in
terms of a CP recursion analysis under which (e.g.) the bracketed clause in (5a) would
have a structure along the following lines (if we take whether to be a complementiser):
(7) [CP [C that] [CP [C whether] they need Xavi Alonso and Busquets]]
However, an alternative possibility arises if we adopt a Cartographic approach to the
structure of the left periphery, under which CP can split into number of separate
­
projections such as those shown in schematic form in the template below:6
(8) [SubP … [ForceP … [TopP … [FocP … [FinP …[TP Subject…]]]]]]
6. For a Cartographic analysis of the syntax of the periphery,see Benincà (2001,2006,2010a,
2010b), Benincà  Poletto (2004), Benincà and Cinque (2010), Bocci (2004), Cardinaletti
(2004, 2009), Cinque  Rizzi (2010), Cruschina (2006, 2008, 2010a, b, 2011a, b), Cruschina 
Remberger (2008), Demonte and Fernández-Soriano (2009), Frascarelli  Hinterhölzl (2007),
Haegeman (2000a, 2003, 2006a, 2006b, 2007, 2009, 2010, 2011), Jiménez-Fernández (2011),
Munaro (2003),Paoli (2003,2006),Poletto (2000),Rizzi (1997,2001,2004,2005,2006),Rizzi 
Shlonsky (2005), and Villalba (2000).
 Andrew Radford
SubP serves to mark subordination, and consequently is projected only in subordinate
clauses; its head houses subordinating conjunctions (Bhatt  Yoon 1992; Bennis 2000;
Rizzi 1997: Note 6, Roussou 2000; Haegeman 2006a). ForceP contains a constituent
marking a clause as declarative, interrogative, exclamative or imperative in illocution-
ary force; TopP contains a topicalised constituent, while FocP houses a focused con-
stituent (with TopP and FocP being projected only in clauses containing a peripheral
topicalised or focalised constituent); and FinP houses a constituent marking a clause
as finite or non-finite. As Memo Cinque (pc) suggests, if we adopt a Cartographic
approach such as that embodied in the template in (8), we can take that to occupy the
head Sub position of a finite SubP. On this view, the periphery of the bracketed clause
in (5a) would include the following structure:
(9) [SubP [Sub that] [ForceP [Force whether] they need Xavi Alonso and Busquets]]
It may be that in canonical declarative complement clauses like those bracketed in (2)
above, Sub and Force are syncretised on a single head which serves to mark subordina-
tion, finiteness and declarative force.7
Having examined the C1 structures found in my recordings, I now turn (in §§3–9
below) to look at a range of C2 structures found in my data, before going on in §10
to account for an interesting structural asymmetry between C1 and C2 structures,
and in §11 to consider whether non-syntactic factors may play a role in the syntax of
complementisers.
3. C2 in declarative complement clauses
My recordings contain 26 examples of C2 structures like those below in which a (brack-
eted) declarative complement clause contains an (italicised) peripheral ­
constituent
preceding the complementiser:8
(10) a.	
The problem we’ve got is [in an ideal world that all patients would be
on single-sex wards] (Hospital spokesperson, BBC Radio 5)
		 b.	
And I’m hoping [on Friday night that we can turn up and get the
points] (Dean Saunders, BBC Radio 5)
7. Likewise, we can also suppose that speakers who don’t use structures like (9) require Sub
and Force to be syncretised in such structures.
8. I note (for completeness) that my data also included the following examples of a ­for-clause
preceded by a clausal adjunct:
i.	
What’s critical is [if people saw the helicopter, for them to contact us]
 (Police spokeswoman, BBC Radio 5)
The complementiser system in spoken English 
		 c.	
Do you honestly think, though, [if we created a global superleague that
there wouldn’t be less bums on seats]?
 (Georgie Bingham, Talk Sport Radio)
		 d.	
He’s one of those guys [in the past that he’s missed a few finals]
 (Steve Baxter, BBC Radio 5)
		 e.	
I think [Bayern Munich that they are a team to really watch in the final
stages] (Andy Brassell, BBC Radio 5)
		 f.	
You have to hope [Zaragoza that they have a stronger wall than the one
Ronaldo breached in the first 45] (Kevin Keatings, Sky Sports TV)
		 g.	
They’ve been told [eleven types of vegetables that they shouldn’t eat
them if they’re locally produced] (Reporter, BBC Radio 5)
The italicised peripheral constituent would appear to be an (in situ) local phrasal or
clausal adjunct in (10a–d), a dislocated topic in (10e,f), and a dislocated focalised
quantified constituent in (10g).
The picture painted by the examples we have looked at so far is that a complemen-
tiser can either occur in C1 structures in which it is clause-initial, or in C2 structures
where it follows other peripheral material. Interestingly, my recordings also contain
(55) examples of) double-that clauses like those below which contain two different
(bold-printed and underlined) occurrences of that between which is positioned a
clausal or phrasal adjunct in (11a–d), a dislocated Topic in (11e–f)9, and a dislocated
focused constituent in (11g–h):
(11) a.	
The party opposite said [that if we cut 6 billion from the budget that it
would end in catastrophe]
 (David Cameron, Prime Minister’s Questions, BBC Radio 5)
		 b.	
A lot of people feel [that when they’re living in the area that they’re
­
being disadvantaged] (Town planner, BBC Radio 5)
		 c.	
My hope is [that by the time we meet that we’ll have made some
­
progress] (President Obama, press conference, BBC Radio 5)
		 d.	
It’s something [that off the pitch that we’ve got to help the players
deal with] (Football executive, BBC Radio 5)
		 e.	
People like Dale need to have confidence [that the kind of policing they
need, that we can still deliver it] (Police spokesman, BBC Radio 5)
		 f.	
The most we can hope for is [that those people who are blood donors
that they continue to donate blood (Health spokesman, BBC Radio 5)
9. Potentially parallel structures in which a Topic precedes a complementiser (or is posi-
tioned between two complementisers) are reported for Child French in Labelle (1993) and
Roehrs and Labelle (2001).
 Andrew Radford
		 g.	
I think it’s really important that any of the teams down there, obviously
especially West Ham, that they just try and get their home form a little
better (Dean Ashton, BBC Radio 5)
		 h.	
I’m not sure [that any of those that you would put them in the same
bracket as Ferdinand and Terry] (Steve Claridge, BBC Radio 5)
The phenomenon of a clause containing multiple occurrences of the same complemen-
tiser has been termed recomplementation and has been reported not only in English,
but also in a number of Romance languages (Higgins 1988; Escribano 1991; Campos
1992; Iatridou  Kroch 1992; McCloskey 1992, 2006; Fontana 1993; Uriagereka 1995;
Rizzi 1997, Note 19; Barbosa 2000; Ledgeway 2000, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2009, 2010, 2011a,
2011b, 2011c; D’Alessendro  Ledgeway 2010; Poletto 2000; Martín-González 2002;
Rodríguez-Ramalle 2003; Cocchi  Poletto 2007; Fernández-Rubiera 2009; Etxepare
2010; González i Planas 2010; Gupton 2010; Haegeman 2011; Villa-García 2011a).
The question posed by examples such as those above is how we can account for
the variable position of complementisers in clauses like those bracketed in (2), (10)
and (11) above. If we adopt the traditional CP analysis of the clause periphery, we
can suppose that the bracketed clauses in (2) are C1 structures, those in (10) are C2
structures, and those in (11) are C1+C2 structures (in which a C2 structure is embed-
ded within a C1 structure). On this view, the bracketed clause in (11e) would have a
CP-recursion structure along the following lines:
(12) [CP1 [C1 that] [CP2 the kind of policing we need [C2 that]we can still deliver it]]
CP1 is a C1 structure (in which the bold-printed occurrence of that is clause-initial),
and CP2 is a C2 structure in which the underlined occurrence of that is preceded by
an italicised dislocated topic which serves as its specifier. A CP-recursion analysis
of recomplementation has been proposed in Escribano (1991), Iatridou and Kroch
(1992), and Fontana (1993).
However, such an analysis is potentially problematic from a conceptual point of
view, in that (if that in such clauses marks declarative force), CP recursion would lead
to the undesirable outcome that the declarative force of the clause ends up being multiply
marked (on each occurrence of C). This problem can be circumvented if we suppose that
the two different occurrences of that correspond to two different lexical items mark-
ing two different properties: for example, an anonymous reviewer notes that the initial
occurrence of that corresponds to że in Polish, and the second occurrence corresponds
to the different item to. One possible way of treating the two occurrences of that as mark-
ing two different properties would be to adopt a Cartographic approach to the syntax of
the periphery and suppose that the initial occurrence of that marks declarative Force,
and the second occurrence marks Finiteness. We could then suppose that indicative that
The complementiser system in spoken English 
can lexicalise either Force or Fin (as suggested for ­
certain complementisers in Romance
by Brevetto 2002; Demonte  Fernández-Soriano 2009; Fernández-Rubiera 2009 and
López 2009; and for Celtic by Roberts 2004). If so, the that-clauses in sentences such as
(11e,h) would have a structure which includes the peripheral projections shown below:
(13) a.	
People like Dale need to have confidence [ForceP [Force that] [TopP the
kind of policing we need [Top Ø] [FinP [Fin that] we can still deliver it]]]
		 b.	
I’m not sure [ForceP [Force that] [FocP any of those [Foc Ø] [FinP [Fin that]
you would put them in the same bracket as Ferdinand and Terry]]]
Furthermore, a Force-Fin analysis could be extended to account for the syntax of the
bracketed clauses in sentences like (14) below:
(14) a.	
It’s not clear, though [if that they’re just infecting the microbes that
make us sick] (Carl Zimmer, BBC Radio 5)
		 b.	
England have enforced the follow-on. [Whether that they could have
done it had it not been raining], I’m not sure
			 (Jack Bannister, Talk Sport Radio)
if the periphery of the relevant clauses has the structure shown in (15):
(15) a.	
[ForceP [Force if] [FinP [Fin that] they’re just infecting the microbes that
make us sick]]
		b. [ForceP [Force whether] [FinP [Fin that] they could have done it]]
Wecouldthensupposethatinstructureslike(14),if/whetherservetomark­interrogative
Force and that serves to mark finiteness.
However, the Force-Fin analysis faces both conceptual and empirical problems.
The conceptual problem is that it presupposes a non-unitary analysis under which
indicative that has one use in which it marks declarative Force, and another (entirely
distinct) use in which it marks Finiteness. The empirical problem is that there are
occurrences of that which cannot plausibly be taken to occupy either Force or Fin,
but rather must be taken to occupy some other position in the periphery. Cases of this
kind include the clauses bracketed in the Examples below – (16a,b,c,f) being attested
Examples, (16d) being constructed by Liliane Haegeman, and (16e) being constructed
by Chris Potts:
(16) a.	
When you see Spain line up, do you sometimes wonder [that whether
they need Xabi Alonso and Busquets]?
 (= 5a; Mark Chapman, BBC Radio 5)
		 b.	
I think [previously that in trying to protect his off stump he flicked the
ball to the on side] (Ian Chappell, BBC Radio 5 Sports Extra)
 Andrew Radford
		 c.	
It’s deeply embarrassing for the government [that after authorising
this rescue that now it turns out that she was killed by an American
­
grenade] (Reporter, BBC Radio 5)
		 d.	
I hope [that when they are adults that at no time will they forget the
work that their parents put into their education]
 (Haegeman 2011, ch.2, p.42, ex. 78a)
		 e.	
I don’t think [that for the sake of your own well-being that if you are in a
bilingual classroom that once you have completed the homework in one
language that you should have to do it all over again in the second one]
		 f.	
I just wondered [whether that as a next step we might look to see why
this seems to be the case] (Van Gelderen 2009:155)
Under the Force-Fin analysis, that would be predicted to be used either in initial posi-
tion within the periphery to mark declarative force, or in final position within the
periphery (immediately preceding the underlined subject) to mark finiteness. How-
ever none of the bold-printed occurrences of that in (16) can plausibly be taken to be
in either Force or Fin. Thus in (16a), whether marks the clause as interrogative in Force
and so is contained within ForceP, and that occupies a Sub position above ForceP – as
in (9) above. In (16b–e) the bold-printed occurrences of that are sandwiched between
two italicised peripheral constituents, and so cannot be in either Force or Fin, but
rather are more likely to lexicalise the head of an intermediate (Topic or Modifier)
projection whose specifier is the italicised constituent immediately preceding that. In
(16f), whether is in Force and that is unlikely to be in Fin since it is separated from
the underlined subject we by the peripheral constituent as a next step. Sentences such
as those in (16) provide evidence that we cannot limit that to occurring only in Force
and Fin.
An interesting attempt to overcome the conceptual and empirical problems
besetting the Force-Fin analysis is proposed in work on Southern Italian dialects by
Ledgeway (2000, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2009, 2010, 2011a, 2011b, 2011c). He proposes
that (the Southern Italian counterpart of) a finite complementiser like that originates
in Fin and then moves (one head at a time) through any intermediate Top or Foc
heads into Force (each such movement being driven by the need to check a finite-
ness, topic, focus, or force feature): he also supposes that more than one copy of a
moved complementiser can be overtly spelled out in a C-movement chain. This anal-
ysis is lent some initial plausibility by complementiser copying examples such as the
following:
(17) a.	I wonder if, given time, if Ramirez can fulfil that sort of role for
the club (Tim Vickery, BBC Radio 5)
The complementiser system in spoken English 
		 b	
I just wonder, you know, whether really whether Arsenal can get a
result there (Jimmy Armfield, BBC Radio 5)10
If we adapt Ledgeway’s analysis to English, the periphery of the bracketed clauses in
(11e,h) could be taken to have the respective structures shown in (18) below (if all
­copies of that except the lowest one are overtly spelled out in such structures).
(18) a.	
[ForceP [Force that] [TopP the kind of policing we need [Top that]
[FinP [Fin that] we can still deliver it]]]
		b.	
[ForceP [Force that] [FocP any of those [Foc that] [FinP [Fin that] you would
put them in the same bracket as Ferdinand and Terry]]]
The complementiser that would be merged in Fin, and then move through Top or Foc
into Force; the two highest (bold-printed and italicised) copies of that would be spelled
out overtly, and the lowest copy (marked by strikethrough) would receive a null spell-
out. Parallel claims that the counterpart of that in other languages can lexicalise a Topic
and/or Focus head have been made in work by Mioto (1998), Poletto (2000), Rodríguez
Ramalle (2003), Paoli (2006), Mascarenhas (2007) and Villa-García (2011b,c,d).
Interesting though the Complementiser Movement analysis is, it poses both
empirical and theoretical problems. One empirical problem is posed by that-clauses
containing an inverted auxiliary, such as that bracketed in the example below (from
Roberts 2004:303):
(19) I said [that never in my life had I seen a place like Bangor]
Under the account of Subject-Auxiliary Inversion in Rizzi (1997), the auxiliary would
in (19) moves in a successive-cyclic fashion from the head T position of TP, through the
head Fin position of FinP, into the head Foc position of a peripheral Focus Phrase pro-
jection housing the focused negative operator expression never in my life, thereby sat-
isfying the Focus Criterion of Rizzi (2006) and forming the italicised head ­
movement
chain in (20) below:
(20)	
[ForceP [Force that] [FocP never in my life [Foc had] [FinP [Fin had]
[TP I [T had] seen a place like Bangor]]]]
10. A related example involving copying of a wh-word which is not a complementiser is the
following:
i.	
I can’t see why (and I’ve looked at this for years) why Lampard and Gerard can’t
play together (Alan Brazil, Talk Sport Radio)
It may be that why moves from a lower to a higher peripheral projection in such structures.
Alternatively, such structures may be the result of backtracking.
 Andrew Radford
Since Fin and Foc are occupied by copies of would, it is hard to see how the comple-
mentiser that could originate in Fin, and also undergo movement through Foc into
Force in such structures. Any such movement would violate a Head Adjunction Con-
straint which bars an overt (free morpheme) complementiser like that from attracting
a subjacent auxiliary to adjoin to it. Furthermore, even if would were to adjoin to that
in Fin, we would expect the two to move together as a single unit thereafter (in much
the same was as clitics in clusters do), not to move together as far as Foc and then for
that to move into Force on its own (in violation of a constraint against Excorporation).
Even if there were to be Excorporation (as pointed out by Adam Ledgeway, pc), it
would be expected to involve extraction of the least embedded item (viz. the auxiliary
would) and not the complementiser that to which would has adjoined (see Roberts
2010). For reasons such as these, it seems clear that in structures like (19), that must
be directly merged in situ in the head Force position of ForceP (a conclusion also
reached by Roberts 2004:303).
There are other considerations (which I will only touch on briefly here) that
also call into question the plausibility of taking the English complementiser that to
originate in Fin and move to Force. For one thing, a Fin-to-Force movement analysis
proves problematic for a structure like that in (9), where – as argued earlier – that is in
Sub rather than in Force. It also proves problematic for clauses like those bracketed in
(10), since (e.g.) in a sentence like (10e) the complementiser seemingly travels only as
far as a Topic head positioned below an abstract Force head. Furthermore, the comple-
mentiser copying analysis is unable to account for multiple complementiser structures
containing two different complementisers, like the if that and whether that structures
reported in (14) above. A parallel question raised by the Complementiser Movement
analysis is why we don’t find multiple spellout of inverted auxiliaries (when they move
from T through Fin into Foc). In addition, as noted by Villa-García (2011c:35), the
Complementiser Movement analysis begs the twin questions of “why the grammar
would overtly realize more than one copy of a moved element (in this case a comple-
mentizer) and why the relevant complementizer would not be frozen in place after
undergoing feature-checking” (given that Rizzi 2006 and Bošković 2008 argue that a
constituent is frozen in place after feature-checking). It should also be noted that the
principles which determine when multiple spellout of a complementiser is (and is not)
permitted are unclear.
Considerations such as those above make it implausible to suppose that the
English complementiser that originates in Fin and moves into Force (transiting
through intervening Top and Foc heads in clauses which contain these). Rather, it
seems more likely that each occurrence of the complementiser is directly merged
in situ. Since we have already seen that indicative that can occupy a wide range of
head positions in the periphery (Sub, Force, Top, Foc and Fin), what I shall suggest
here is that (in the relevant varieties of Spoken English) the complementiser that
The complementiser system in spoken English 
is a maximally ­
underspecified complementiser whose core function is to mark finite-
ness, and consequently it can in principle lexicalise any head on the periphery of a
finite clause (whether Sub, or Force, or Top, or Foc, or Fin). Adapting the analysis of
feature percolation outlined in Chomsky (2007, 2008), let us suppose that Finiteness
features originate on the highest head on the periphery of a finite clause, and then
percolate down (one head at a time) through all intervening peripheral heads until
they reach the head T position of TP. On this view, every peripheral head in a finite
clause will carry finiteness features. If (as claimed here) the complementiser that can
lexicalise any peripheral head carrying finiteness features, this means that any head
in the periphery of a finite clause can be spelled out as that. This in turn would allow
us to suppose that the complementiser that can lexicalise Sub in a structure like (9),
Force in (20), Foc in (18b), and Fin in (15) – and indeed multiple Topic heads with
scene-setting specifiers in a clause like that bracketed in (16e) with the peripheral
structure shown below:11
(21) I don’t think
		
[ForceP [Force that]
		
[TopP for the sake of your own well-being [Top that]
		
[TopP if you are in a bilingual classroom [Top that]
		
[TopP once you have completed the homework in one language [Top that]
		
[FinP [Fin Ø] you should have to do it all over again in the second one]]]]]
However, it should be noted that constraints will sometimes prevent a peripheral head
from being lexicalised as that. One such (as already noted) is a Head Attraction Con-
straint which prevents a head which attracts an auxiliary to adjoin to it from being
spelled out as an overt complementiser like that. Another is a Haplology Constraint
(Radford 1979; Bošković 2002; Demonte  Fernández-Soriano 2009) which bars
successive occurrences of the same item and so prevents two immediately adjacent
peripheral heads from both being spelled out as that (thereby filtering out that-that
strings). A third constraint (noted by Haegeman 2011, ch.2) is that medial that cannot
be preceded by a fronted argument, as illustrated below:
(22)	
I hope (that) when they are older, (that) their parents (*that) they
won’t forget
11. An anonymous reviewer asks whether finiteness percolates down only as far as Top in
structures like (19). The answer is that finiteness must percolate all the way down through
Force, Top and Fin into T, in order to ensure that T is finite. Since any peripheral finite head in
spoken English can either be spelled out as that or be null, it follows that Fin in (21) is finite
but has a null spellout. The same reviewer asks whether there can be percolation without
­
lexicalisation, and the answer (implicit in my previous response) is ‘Yes’.
 Andrew Radford
In (22), the italicised constituent is the object argument of the verb forget and has been
fronted: it can be preceded but not followed by that. Why should this be? Haegeman
observes that a medial occurrence of that can only be preceded by a dislocated constit-
uent or a local circumstantial adjunct (both of which she takes to be generated in situ),
not by a fronted argument or a fronted long-distance circumstantial adverbial (both of
which she takes to undergo movement). One possible account of this restriction would
be to suppose that a medial overt complementiser (by virtue of not being a phase head)
lacks an edge feature and so cannot trigger movement; another would be to follow
Villa-Garcia (2011c) in arguing that an overt complementiser which occupies a medial
position in the periphery creates a barrier/island for movement.12
4. C2 in subordinate adverbial clauses
My recordings contain 53 examples of adverbial clauses like those below which show
use of that in a clause introduced by an (italicised) subordinating conjunction:
(23) a.	
I don’t see it making a big difference to my life, [purely because that,
having lived for so long, the muscles have deteriorated]
 (Hospital patient, BBC Radio 5)
		 b.	[Just before in actual fact that he broke his leg, he was in
wonderful form] (Ray Wilkins, Sky Sports TV)
		 c.	
Some people were talking about it as some sort of race riot, [as if that
the Dutch team was split along racial lines]
 (Andy Brassell, BBC Radio 5)
		 d.	[If (as David and Brian have indicated) that vitamin C has no effect on
colds], what should we take? (Gabby Logan, BBC Radio 5)
		 e.	
I think that’s the route they’ll go down [unless of course that they
change their recruitment policy] (Mick Dennis, Talk Sport Radio)
		 f.	[Although that Twitter has theirs, this is the only one]
 (Ian Collins, Talk Sport Radio)
		 g.	And [when that we were 71 for none], there was a chance to sort of
close the game out (Peter Moores, BBC Radio 5)
These can be classed as C2 structures in the sense that the bold-printed comple-
mentiser is the second highest head in the bracketed clause (the highest head being
the italicised subordinating conjunction); and potentially analogous conj+comp
12. It may be that a generalised version of the same constraint will account for why an overt
medial complementiser cannot attract an auxiliary to adjoin to it.
The complementiser system in spoken English 
­structures are found in other languages (e.g. Norwegian and French). Interestingly, my
data also contain the 4 examples below, where that is used in the second conjunct of
a co-ordinated adverbial clause structure introduced by an (italicised) subordinating
conjunction:
(24) a.	
There are great deals on offer, [if you’ve got a decent credit score] and
[that you behave in the right way] (Martin Lewis, BBC Radio 5)
		 b.	[If we were sitting here talking about police officers] and [that they
were blatantly breaking the law], you’d be rightly aggrieved
 (Peter Kirkham, BBC Radio 5)
		c.	
That’s [because he looks so young] and [that you are I are in our
­
mid-50s] (Keith Vaz, Talk Sport Radio)
		 d.	
Even clubs within the top 3, [if they do worse in the League than
they expect] or [that they miss the Champions League for a year or
maybe two], they end up having to sell portions of players to agents or
­
investment funds (Andy Brassell, BBC Radio 5)
A parallel type of structure is found in French, as noted by Chevalier et al. (1991:124)
in the following terms (translated from French into English): “When two circumstan-
tial clauses of the same type are co-ordinated, either the conjunction is repeated…
or the second clause is introduced by quethat on its own”. But what is the structure of
conj+comp clauses like those in (24)?
Building on earlier proposals made in Bhatt and Yoon (1992), Bennis (2000), Rizzi
(1997: Note 6), Roussou (2000) and others, Haegeman (2006a) proposes a Cartographic
analysis of subordinating conjunctions under which they occupy the Sub(ordinator)
position above Force.13 If so, the bracketed subordinate adverbial clause in (23a) above
could be taken to have a structure which includes the peripheral projections bracketed
below:
13. Bob Borsley (pc) and Richard Larson (pc) suggest that subordinating conjunctions are
prepositions, as claimed by Emonds (1976:172–6).While it is far from implausible to suppose
that (at least some) subordinating conjunctions may (in diachronic terms at least) be prepo-
sitional in origin, a prepositional analysis faces a number of potential problems. One is why
many subordinating conjunctions are not used as prepositions (e.g. although, if, unless, while,
whereas) and conversely why many prepositions are not used as conjunctions (e.g. with, by,
of, at, on). A second is why, unlike infinitival for, the conjunction counterparts of transitive
prepositions cannot take an infinitive complement with an accusative subject (cf. for/*before
him to leave). A third is why, unlike true prepositions, subordinating conjunctions cannot be
stranded by fronting their complements (Compare That he is innocent, I have absolutely no
doubt about with *You hit me, I will retaliate if).
 Andrew Radford
(25)	
[SubP purely [Sub because] [ForceP [Force that] having lived for so long, the
muscles have deteriorated]]
Such structures will be ruled out in varieties of English which observe the C1 con-
straint requiring complementisers to be the first word of the clause containing them;
but varieties where the C1 constraint does not hold will allow C2 structures like (25)
where that is the second highest head in the clause periphery.14
5. C2 in subordinate wh-clauses
Clauses in which a wh-constituent is followed by a complementiser have widely been
viewed as ungrammatical in standard varieties of English (and claimed to be restricted
to use in specific varieties such as Belfast English – see e.g. Henry 1995:90), and a
number of accounts have been developed of their ungrammaticality (see e.g. Chomsky
 Lasnik 1977; Chomsky 1981  Rizzi 1990). A different view is offered by Zwicky
(2002), who maintains that present-day standard spoken English has developed a
wh+comp construction in which an interrogative or exclamative wh-phrase (but not
a relative wh-phrase, or any kind of wh-word) can be followed by that. In this con-
nection, it is interesting to note that my recordings contain 38 examples of embedded
clauses in which a wh-phrase is followed by that, including the following:15
(26) a. It highlights just what a big job that Roy Hodgson’s got on his hands
 (John Duncan, BBC Radio 5)
		 b.	
It’s unbelievable when you think what a big city Paris is and what a
potentially big club that PSG are (Andy Brassell, BBC Radio 5)
		 c.	
Although, in saying that, look at how well that they’re doing in Europe
 (Jason Burt, BBC Radio 5)
14. An interesting possibility is that structures such as that bracketed below (13 examples of
which occurred in my recordings) may also be sub+comp structures:
i. It looks to me [like that Daniel Levy has aggravated the situation]
 (Sam Matterface, Talk Sport Radio)
15. 
I note in passing that my recordings also contain the wh+comp structure in (i) below in
which a wh-constituent precedes the infinitival complementiser for:
i.	
As Liverpool chase the game, there may be more room [in which for Manchester
United to manoeuvre] (Football commentator, Sky Sports TV)
Jim McCloskey (pc) reports the following parallel example, which he found on a tombstone
in New Zealand:
ii.	
There should be six days [on which for men to work] and a day [on which for men
to rest]
The complementiser system in spoken English 
		 d.	
People can see how successful that they’ve been
 (“Reformed” extortionist, BBC World Service)
		 e.	
It’s quite clear on which side of the Blair-Brown divide that Alistair
Campbell comes down on
 (Political correspondent, BBC Radio 5)
		 f.	
I’m aware of the speed with which that they work
 (Tim Vickery, BBC Radio 5)
		 g.	
We want them to hire whatever company that is out there to clear up
the mess (Florida resident, BBC Radio 5)
As the last two Examples in (26) illustrate, some of these wh-phrases are relative in
nature, and so undermine Zwicky’s claim that wh+comp structures do not occur in
relative clauses. Furthermore, my recordings also contain 34 examples of structures
like those below in which a solo wh-word is followed by that:
(27) a.	
I never understood why that, particularly detectives, they never locked
their cars (Ian Payne, BBC Radio 5)
		 b.	
People aren’t told how that every single family in Britain is safer
 (Liberal Democrat spokesman, BBC Radio 5)
		 c.	
Capello has to know who, when the chips are down, that he can trust to
do a job for the team (Graham Taylor, BBC Radio 5)
		 d.	
There’s some unclarity as to whether, if they go into administration,
that they will get a 9-point penalty (Simon Jordan, BBC Radio 5)
		 e. We’ll have to see what that happens (Eddie Irvine, BBC1 TV)
		 f.	
A basic principle of football management is that whatever that goes on
inside the dressing room stays inside the dressing room
 (Sir Geoff Hurst, BBC Radio 5)
		 g.	
They slowed our build-up to a level which that we lost momentum
 (Sir Alex Ferguson, Sky Sports TV)
		 h.	
We could end up with one of these ping-pong scenarios where that it
keeps going backwards and forwards (Reporter, BBC Radio 5)
		 i. There was a long time when that they didn’t win the league
 (Andy Brassell, BBC Radio 5)
Theyalsocontainafurther4exampleslikethosebelowinwhichawh-word­co-­ordinated
with another word is followed by that:
(28) a.	It’s when and how that it happens that can really make it special
 (Dean Ashton, BBC Radio 5)
		 b.	
Arsenal will give us an indication of whether or not that they can stand
up against Chelsea (Steve Claridge, BBC Radio 5)
 Andrew Radford
Examples like those in (27) undermine Zwicky’s claim that only wh-phrases (not wh-
words) can be followed by that (see also Seppänen  Trotta 2000 for further coun-
terevidence): moreover, the relative Examples in (27f–i) undermine the claim that
wh+comp structures never occur in relative clauses. Such wh-word+comp struc-
tures have counterparts in other languages and language varieties, including Bavarian
(Bayer 1984), West Flemish (Haegeman 1983), Norwegian (Taraldsen 1978), and vari-
eties of Italian (Bayer 2004). It seems clear that the complementiser that in structures
like (26–28) does not mark declarative force, since it can occur in interrogative struc-
tures: rather (as suggested in §2), it seems more likely that it is a maximally under-
specified complementiser which simply marks finiteness. In cases like (27a) where
the complementiser is immediately adjacent to the wh-constituent, it may occupy
the head Force position of a ForceP whose specifier is the wh-constituent; in cases like
(27c) where a topicalised clause intervenes between wh-constituent and complemen-
tiser, that occupies a lower position in the periphery (e.g. Top, or Fin, or a syncretised
Top-Fin head).
6. C2 in comparative correlatives
A further potential source of C2 clauses in my recordings are comparative correlative
structures like those below, in which a (bold-printed) overt complementiser follows an
(italicised) comparative correlative constituent:
(29) a.	
The more rubber that goes down, the better the car should perform
 (David Croft, BBC Radio 5)
		 b.	
The longer the game, the less effective that Michael Yardy becomes
 (Vic Marks, Radio 5 Sport Extra)
		 c.	
The more Huddersfield come at them, the more that Millwall will
enjoy that (Alistair Bruce-Ball, BBC Radio 5)
		d.	
The more that we focus on the events, the more that the process of
­
healing is delayed  (Social worker, BBC Radio 5)
As these examples show, either (or both) clauses in this type of structure can be intro-
duced by that. If the italicised string serves as the specifier of the complementiser
that in such cases, these will be C2 clauses. However, if (as claimed by Iwasaki 2011)
­
comparative correlatives have a structure parallel to sentences like the following:
(30) The more you eat means the fatter you get
but with an abstract (null) entailment predicate in place of the verb mean, then com-
parative correlative clauses will be subordinate clauses which serve as the subject and
complement arguments of this abstract entailment predicate, and the two clauses in
The complementiser system in spoken English 
examples like (29) will be instances of subordinate C2 clauses (and so be consistent
with the claim that the complementiser that is only used in subordinate clauses).
However,ithasbeenargued(e.g.byCulicoverJackendoff1999,andbyden­Dikken
2005) that the second clause in comparative correlatives like those in (29) is a main clause
(the first being a subordinate clause). Two pieces of evidence leading to this conclusion
come from sentences like those below (from Culicover  Jackendoff 2005:504):
(31) a. The more we eat, the angrier you get, don’t you/*don’t we?
		 b. I demand that the more John eats/*eat, the more he pays/pay
(31a) shows that only the second clause can be associated with a do-tag, and (31b)
that only the second clause can have a subjunctive verb when the structure is used as
the complement of a verb like demand which selects a subjunctive complement: these
two properties suggest that the second clause of a comparative correlative is the main
clause.16 But if the second clause is a main clause, this suggests that English also has
root C2 clauses, and that C2 structures are found in root clauses as well as subordinate
clauses.
One way of attempting to undermine this conclusion would be to reanalyse com-
parative correlative clauses as reduced clefts, so that the main clause in (29b) would
be a reduced variant of ‘The less effective it is that Michael Yardy becomes’ (with the
italicised material being present in the syntax and given a null spellout in the pho-
nology): this would then mean that that is the first word in a subordinate C1 clause
which functions as the complement of is. Such an analysis would be compatible with
the ­
observation in Green (2007) that focus particles often have their diachronic origins
in cleft sentence structures. However, the main problem posed by such an analysis is the
lack of any independent evidence that comparative correlatives involve concealed clefts.
In this connection, it should be noted that the cleft analysis would (wrongly) predict
that we can have an (italicised) tag echoing the silent cleft structure in sentences such as:
(32) *The more you eat, the fatter you get, isn’t it?
The ungrammaticality of sentences like (32) thus undermines the cleft analysis.
16. Although there are obvious potential pitfalls in drawing comparisons between a par-
ticular structure in English and its apparent counterparts in other languages, Claudia Felser
points out that in German comparative correlatives like (i) below, the first clause shows the
verb-final word order characteristic of subordinate clauses (and in some varieties can contain
the overt complementiser dass ‘that’), whereas the second clause shows the verb-final word
order characteristic of main clauses, and cannot be introduced by dass ‘that’:
(i) Je mehr (%dass) du isst, umso dicker (*dass) wirst du
		
prt more (%that) you eat, prt fatter (*that) get you
		 ‘The more (that) you eat, the fatter you get.’
 Andrew Radford
An alternative way of trying to avoid analysing the final clause in a compara-
tive correlative as a root C2 structure would be to suppose that use of that in a
root comparative correlative clause arises as the result of an analogy drawn between
the structure of the subordinate clause (where use of that is analogous to what we
find in other subordinate C2 clauses) and the root clause (where that would not be
expected to occur): the result is that (to employ a term used by den Dikken 2003
in his description of a similar phenomenon in Dutch), the second clause comes to
‘mimic’ the structure of the first, and so the second clause can be introduced by
an overt complementiser just like the first one. A significant drawback to such an
account, however, is that it is not clear exactly what kind of mechanism is involved
in any such analogy.
A third way of avoiding the conclusion that comparative correlatives instantiate
root C2 structures would be to treat the complementiser that found in comparative
correlatives as a separate lexical item (a correlative particle), restricted to occurring
in (main or subordinate) comparative correlative clauses:17 we could then say there
are no genuine complementisers used in root clauses in English. However, this leaves
unexplained the question of why this correlative particle is homophonous with the
complementiser that. Moreover, in §7–10 below, I will show that a wide range of other
root C2 structures occur in my recordings.
7. C2 in root focus and exclamative clauses
A further class of (potential) root C2 clauses which occur in my recordings involve
focus clauses like those below, in which an italicised focused constituent precedes the
complementiser that:
(33) a.	
He passes the ball back to Flanagan. Three-nil that his side lead
 (Darren Fletcher, BBC Radio 5)
		b. Lap 38 that we’re into
 (Martin Brundle, BBC1 TV)
		c.	
Four and a half years that you said he’s been in charge
 (Jason Cundy, Talk Sport Radio)
However, the relevant focus structures have cleft sentence paraphrases, as we see from
the examples below:
17. Such an analysis could be argued to be extensionally equivalent to constructionist anal-
yses of comparative correlatives such as those outlined by Abeillé and Borsley (2008), Sag
(2010), and Borsley (2011).
The complementiser system in spoken English 
(34) a. It’s three-nil that his side lead
		b. It’s lap 38 that we’re into
		c. It’s four and a half years that you said he’s been in charge
This raises the possibility that structures like (33) could be concealed clefts derived
fromstructureslike(34)viaaPFprocessofTruncationwhichdeletesweak(unstressed)
material at the beginning of a root clause, so giving rise to deletion of the underlined
string it’s in (34) – and also to truncated sentences like Nice day, isn’t it? Evidence in
support of a concealed cleft analysis comes from the fact that sentences like those in
(33) can be tagged by isn’t it – as we see from the (constructed) example below:
(35) Three-nil that his side lead, isn’t it?
If we adopt a concealed cleft analysis of focus structures like those in (33), the that-
clause will serve as the complement of is and so we can continue to maintain that the
complementiser that only occurs in subordinate clauses.
However, a further potential empirical challenge to this claim is posed by (what
appear to be) root exclamative clauses containing the complementiser that. Radford
(1988:501) reported the exclamative clause in (36a) below to have been produced by
a celebrated Irish radio and TV presenter, and my more recent recordings contain the
Example (36b) produced by a former Irish racing driver, (36c) produced former Scot-
tish international footballer, and (36d) produced by a former Welsh athletics superstar:
(36) a.	
What a mine of useless information that I am!
 (Terry Wogan, BBC ­
Radio2)
		 b.	Alonso, what an amazing thing that he did in his home race!
 (Eddie Jordan, BBC1 TV)
		c. What a service that that man’s given this club!
 (Ally McCoist, BBC Radio 5)
		d. What an agile and strong and natural athlete that he is!
 (Colin Jackson, BBC3 TV)18
On the face of it, exclamatives like (36) appear to involve a root CP in which the com-
plementiser that has an exclamative wh-specifier (if exclamative wh-constituents in
English are in spec-CP, as argued in Radford 2009:328–330) – and indeed, parallel
root wh+comp exclamatives are found in French (Radford 1989) and Italian (Radford
1997). If so, exclamatives like (36) are examples of root C2 structures.
18. A further potential wh+comp example is the following (produced by a Belfast-born
commentator):
i. What teamwork that ended up with Gian smashing it into the corner!
 (Alan Green, BBC Radio 5)
However, the that-clause here would seem to be a relative clause modifying a phrasal
­exclamative (with that consequently being substitutable by which).
 Andrew Radford
However, Zwicky (2002:227) makes two interesting claims about English excla-
mative structures like (36). The first is that they are regional variants which are gram-
matical only in some varieties (including Irish English), and that Terry Wogan is “not
only a speaker of Irish English, but a proud speaker of this variety, given to exagger-
ating his Irishness”. The second is that in Irish English, a sentence like (36a) “would
serve as the wh parallel to it exclamatives like It’s a mine of useless information that I
am” (Zwicky 2002:227). Zwicky would appear to be suggesting that (36a) is a reduced
variant of a cleft sentence structure such as ‘What a mine of useless information it is
that I am’ with the (italicised) copula is and its (italicised) subject it undergoing some
form of deletion operation. If so, the that-clauses in (36) will be subordinate C1 struc-
tures (used as the complement of is) rather than root C2 structures. However, it is far
from clear that there is any independent evidence for analyzing root exclamatives as
reduced clefts. For example, as illustrated below, exclamatives don’t allow the kind of
(isn’t it?) tag we would expect to find if they involved concealed clefts:
(37) What a mine of useless information that I am, aren’t I/*isn’t it?
I therefore return to root exclamatives and explore an alternative to the cleft analysis
in §9 below.
8. C2 in root clauses after modal adverbials
A further potential root clause C2 structure which occurred 30 times in my recordings
involved the use of that after modal adverbs like those italicised below:
(38) a.	
Obviously that the Achilles was giving him a bit of a problem
 (Ian Chappell, BBC Radio 5)
		b.	
Clearly that, for whatever reason, the information wasn’t getting
through on the ground
 (Transport spokesman, BBC Radio 5)
		c. Inevitably that there’ll be some temptation there for cricketers
 (Gus Fraser, BBC Radio 5 Sports Extra)
		d.	
Maybe that this is the season for Chelsea to find their form in the
Champion’s League  (Kerry Dixon, BBC Radio 5)
		e. Yes, perhaps that they could do it  (Tim Vickery, BBC Radio 5)
		f.	
Allegedly that Spurs were interested in Carroll
 (Ray Houghton, Talk Sport Radio)
		g. Hopefully that England can qualify in two years time
 (Alan Green, BBC Radio 5)
		h.	
Unfortunately that they won’t have all the players that they had in the
Premier League  (Neil Ashton, Talk Sport Radio)
		i.	
Interestingly that 6 weeks after Martin O’Neill left, Lerner opened his
cheque book  (Chris Davis, Talk Sport Radio)
The complementiser system in spoken English 
These (and most of the other structures discussed in the remainder of this paper) have
no plausible concealed cleft source (cf. *It is interestingly that 6 weeks after Martin
O’Neill left, Lerner opened his cheque book) so how does that come to be used in root
C2 clauses such as those in (38)?
An interesting suggestion made by Bob Borsley (p.c.) is that sentences like (38)
are processing errors which result from ‘speakers forgetting what they said, e.g. saying
obviously and thinking they have said it’s obvious, and saying maybe and thinking they
have said it may be.’ However, this seems unlikely, for the following reasons: (i) that is
immediately adjacent to the adverb, so it is unlikely that speakers will forget the imme-
diately preceding word; (ii) the speakers who produced such utterances are mostly
professional broadcasters who are not prone to dysfluencies; (iii) not all the structures
have subordinate clause paraphrases (cf. It is obvious/*perhaps that); (iv) there appears
to be a systematic pattern here involving a unitary class of modal adverbs; (v) the
­
relevant structures occur quite frequently; and (vi) similar adverb+comp structures
are found in other languages (e.g. French, Italian, Spanish and Romanian).
An alternative possibility (suggested by Mike Jones, pc) is to suppose that the
complementiser functions as the complement of the adverb in sentences like (38), on
the grounds that e.g. obviously that is paraphraseable as it is obvious that and hopefully
that is paraphraseable as ‘I am hopeful that’. On this view, a sentence like (38a) would
have the skeletal structure shown below:19
(39)	
[AdvP [Adv obviously] [CP [C that] the Achilles was giving him a bit of a
­problem]]
Under the analysis in (39), the complementiser that would not be the head of a root
C2 clause, but rather would be the first word of a subordinate C1 clause used as the
complement of the adverb obviously.
However, there are a number of reasons for being sceptical about the
adverb+complement analysis in (39). For one thing, (39) makes the counterintuitive
claim that the overall structure is not a clause but rather an adverbial phrase. Secondly,
adverbs are traditionally taken to have the property that they do not allow comple-
ments, and while this claim is too strong (since e.g. the adverb independently can
have the complement of me in sentence like ‘She made up her mind independently of
me’), it is indeed the case that adverbs (unlike adjectives) don’t generally allow clausal
­
complements – as we see from contrasts such as the following:
(40) a. He looked at her, hopeful that she would agree
		 b. He looked at her hopefully (*that she would agree)
19. A related proposal is made by Hill (2007) to the effect that a Romanian sentential adverb
like sigur ‘surely’ is the head of a Speech Act Projection which has a null specifier denoting
the speaker.
 Andrew Radford
Moreover, an even more intractable problem posed by an adverbial head analysis like
(39) is that alongside structures like those in (38) where the adverbial expression is a
single word and so might be taken to be a head, my recordings also contain 7 other
structures like those in (41) below in which the (italicised) ‘adverbial’ is phrasal in
nature, and hence cannot plausibly be taken to be a head:
(41) a.	
Of course that they haven’t targeted any politicians as such
 (Reporter, BBC Radio 5)
		b.	
No doubt that in 10 years time the draw is going to be full of Asian
players  (Jonathan Overend, BBC Radio 5)
		c.	
Today, without a doubt that in midfield they were world class
 (Listener, BBC Radio 5)
		d.	
To my mind that the qualifiers for the Euros and the European section
of the World Cup are exactly the same competition
 (Listener, BBC Radio 5)
		e.	
Fortunately for them that they were rescued by Chelsea
 (Neil Ashton, Talk Sport Radio)
Given that phrases can serve as specifiers, it is more likely that phrases like those itali-
cised in (41) are specifiers rather than heads. But if so, what kind of head do they serve
as specifiers of?
An intriguing answer to this question is suggested by Anders Holmberg (pc),
who suggests that root declarative clauses may be embedded as the complement of an
abstract truth predicate, and that the modal expression in sentences such as (38) and
(41) serves to modify this predicate. More specifically, Holmberg proposes that since
a sentence like (41a) has a meaning paraphraseable as ‘It’s obviously true/the case that
the Achilles was giving him a bit of a problem’, we should treat the adverb obviously
as ‘a specifier/modifier of a head meaning “true” which takes the that-clause as argu-
ment’. On this view, (38a) would have a structure along the following lines, if we take
Holmberg’s truth head to be an abstract Pred(icate) heading a PredP projection (with
capitals used to mark an abstract item with no overt phonetic spellout):
(42)	
[PredP obviously [Pred TRUE] [CP [C that] the achilles was giving him a bit of
a problem]]
An important consequence of the analysis in (42) is that the complementiser that
would not be used to introduce a root C2 clause, but rather a subordinate C1 clause
which is embedded as the complement of an abstract truth predicate.20
20. As Claudia Felser points out, a related proposal is made by Fitzpatrick (2005), who
­
proposes an abstract factivity head which carries the presupposition that its complement
is true. It is interesting to note that many sentential adverbials can also be used in sentence
The complementiser system in spoken English 
However, if every declarative sentence contains an abstract truth predicate, the
question which would then arise is why declarative root clauses like *That it is raining
again which do not contain a modal adverbial are not introduced by that. As Anders
notes, we would then have to make some additional assumption such as supposing
that ‘when TRUE is modified by an adverb, lexicalised by the adverb as it were, it can
be taken to be the main predicate, and the clause a regular clausal argument’. How-
ever, any such assumption would clearly be ad hoc, so potentially undermining the
­proposed analysis.
A further complication which arises with the analysis in (42) is that some of the
adverbials followed by that are not the kind of expressions which can readily be used to
modify a truth predicate – as we see from the anomaly of paraphrases such as:
(43) a.	!It is interestingly true that 6 weeks after Martin O’Neill left, Lerner
opened his cheque book (cf. 38i)
		 b.	!It is fortunately for them true that they were rescued by Chelsea
(cf. 41e)
Accordingly, I explore an alternative to the ‘truth predicate’ account of the use of that
with modal adverbials in the next section.
9. C2 in other root clauses
In addition to the structures discussed in §§6–8, my recordings also contain examples
of that being used in a range of other (potential) root clause C2 structures. For ­example,
I recorded 20 examples (like those below) of the complementiser that being used in
a root clause following an (italicised) subordinate clause containing an (underlined)
predicate which can be used with a that-clause complement:
(44) a.	
As I said earlier, that they always look dangerous to me from corners
and set pieces (Jimmy Armfield, BBC Radio 5)
		b.	
As Ian mentioned, that the structure of clubs is that they’re not
­
businesses (Tim Vickery, BBC Radio 5)
		c.	
As far as I’m aware, that Kenny Dalglish still believes Liverpool can get
a Champion’s League spot (Neil Ashton, BBC Radio 5)
­fragments where they can optionally be followed by so or not (cf.‘Perhaps’,‘Perhaps so’,‘Perhaps
not’), as in the following dialogue:
i.	
interviewer: Do you see the riots continuing? politician: Hopefully not
 (BBC1 TV)
See Kramer and Rawlins (2011) for one account of this phenomenon, and Holmberg (2010)
on responses to questions.
 Andrew Radford
		 d.	Beating Barnsley, as teams like Leeds have found out, that it’s a good
result, isn’t it? (Simon Jordan, BBC Radio 5)
		 e. He’s a great lad, and as everyone can see, that he can find the net
 (Kieran Richardson, BBC Radio 5)
		f.	
From what we read this morning, that Daniel Levy said ‘You’re going,
mate’ (Alan Brazil, Talk Sport Radio)
		g.	
From what I’m hearing up to now, that Liverpool haven’t made any
move for Juan Mata (Reporter, Talk Sport Radio)
How does that come to be used in such structures?
One possibility is that structures like (44) may be the result of a processing
error: for example, in (44a) the speaker may forget that he used as to introduce the
italicised clause and treat the that-clause as a complement clause (serving as the
complement of the verb said) rather than as a main clause. However, Claudia Felser
(pc) maintains that it is unlikely that main and subordinate clauses get mixed up in
this way, since speakers usually know what message they want to convey, and the
decision about what’s going to be the main clause is a fundamental one in sentence
planning.
Furthermore, however plausible the ‘processing error’ analysis outlined above may
be for sentences like (44), it is hard to see how it could be extended to deal with addi-
tional potential cases of root clause complementisers found after subordinate clauses
in structures like those below (12 examples of which occurred in my recordings):
(45) a.	
As far as I understand it, that they want to freshen up their striking
quadrant (Sam Matterface, Talk Sport Radio)
		b.	
Once he got over his ankle problems, that he came into the team and
proved to be one of the best left backs in the world
 (Neil Ashton, Talk Sport Radio)
		c.	
If it’s using too much fuel, that the engine management system will shut
itself down  (Steve Parrish, BBC2 TV)
		d.	
As I was leaving, that it was absolutely chocka
 (Darren Lewis, Talk Sport Radio)
		e.	
Whatever level he plays at at present, that Bayern Munich have obvi-
ously seen something in him (Neil Ashton, Talk Sport Radio)
		f.	
Having said that, that there was a North Korean player who played in
Germany (Andy Brassell, BBC Radio 5)
In (45a), it is unlikely that the that-clause is treated as the complement of the verb
understand since this has an (italicised) object of its own. Furthermore, in none of the
Examples in (45b–f) does that occur immediately after a verb selecting a that-clause
complement. The same holds for a further 12 examples like those below in which an
(italicised) adjunct is followed by (what would appear to be) a root-clause use of that:
The complementiser system in spoken English 
(46) a.	
As a consequence of being relegated last year, that you always have to
work round the financial situation (Chris Huyton, Talk Sport Radio)
		b.	
In the end, that Spurs could only win by two goals
 (Listener, BBC Radio 5)
		c.	
On these Diamond League evenings, that the races come thick and fast
 (John Inverdale, BBC 2 TV)
		d.	
With the amount of quality that City have, that they should be in front
in this game (Mark Lawrenson, BBC Radio 5)
		e.	
Only a year or so ago, that five lads were blown up
 (Tony Philipson, BBC Radio 5)
		f.	
So far, that what we’re seeing here is a difference in pace between the
two teams (Danny Kelly, Talk Sport Radio)
		g.	
The following season, that I can see Brighton pushing on for promotion
 (Neil Ashton, Talk Sport Radio)
My recordings also contain the two examples below of an (italicised) dislocated topic
being followed by a root clause complementiser:
(47) a.	
Santos, who’ve just won the Libertadores (South America’s Champions
League), that they’ve got a couple of players who are talent personified
 (Tim Vickery, BBC Radio 5)
		b.	
These people who are gifted with those little bits of genius, that they have
that about them (Tim Vickery, BBC Radio 5)
In the absence of any compelling evidence that such structures involve an abstract
truth predicate or a concealed cleft structure,21 the simplest assumption would appear
to be that they are root C2 structures. If we also treat the root comparative correla-
tive, focus, exclamative, and modal adverbial clauses discussed in §§6–8 as root C2
structures, this means that the range of root C2 structures found in my recordings
include those bracketed below (where structures are shown in terms of the traditional
CP analysis of the clause periphery):
(48) a. [CP What a mine of useless information [C that] I am]
		 b.	
The longer the game, [CP the less effective [C that] Michael Yardy
becomes]
		c. [CP Lap 38 [C that] we’re into]
		d. [CP Of course [C that] they haven’t targeted any politicians as such]
21. While e.g. (46c) could conceivably be analysed as a reduced form of the cleft structure
It is on these Diamond League evenings that the races come thick and fast, this is implausible in
most other cases – e.g. (46f) is highly unlikely to be a reduced form of *It is so far that what we
are seeing here is a difference in pace between the two teams.
 Andrew Radford
		e. [CP In the end [C that] Spurs could only win by two goals]
		f.	
[CP Once he got over his ankle problems [C that] he came into the
team…]
		g. [CP Santos… [C that] they’ve got a couple of players who …]
In each case (under the assumptions made in 48), the bracketed root clause will be a
C2 structure in which an overt complementiser has an overt specifier. The specifier
is an exclamative expression in (48a), a comparative correlative expression in (48b), a
focused nominal in (48c), a modal adverbial in (48d), a local circumstantial adverbial
phrase or clause in (48e–f), and a dislocated topic in (48g). If we adopt a Cartographic
approach to the periphery, each C constituent in structures like those in (48) would cor-
respond to a specific dedicated functional head (e.g. C would represent an ­
exclamative
Force head in 48a).
But how can we account for that being used in root clause structures such as those
in (48)? Adam Ledgeway (pc) suggests that there could be potential parallels here with
the use of a root clause finite complementiser in Gascon after an (italicised) topicalised
constituent (as in 49a below) or after an (italicised) focalised constituent (as in 49b) –
the relevant examples being from Ledgeway (2011c:167):
(49) a. Ta pay qu’ey arribat
			 Your father that is arrived
			 ‘Your dad’s arrived’
		b. Quaunque trufandèr que vos dirà…
			 Whatever joker that you will.say…
			 ‘Any joker will tell you…’
However, the parallel with English is only partial, since Gascon also allows an overt
complementiser to introduce a root clause in C1 structures like (50) below where there
is no overt expression preceding the complementiser:
(50) Que calè que s’embarquèssen
		 That it.was.necessary that selves they.embarked
		 ‘They had to embark.’
By contrast, my recordings of spoken English contain no examples of root clause
­
structures like (51) below introduced by an overt complementiser:
(51) *That Messi mesmerises opponents
What this highlights is that there is a significant asymmetry between C1 and C2 struc-
tures in English, in that C2 structures occur in both subordinate and root clauses,
whereas C1 structures are limited to occurring in subordinate clauses. In the next
­
section, I look at how this asymmetry can be accounted for.
The complementiser system in spoken English 
10. Asymmetry between C1 and C2 structures
The data reported in §§2–9 above led me to conclude that (for speakers who pro-
duce such structures), that is an underspecified complementiser which can lexicalise
any head in the periphery of a finite clause (subject to no constraint being violated).
However, as noted at the end of the previous section, C2 structures occur in root and
subordinate clauses alike, whereas C1 structures occur only in subordinate clauses.
Why should this be?
One possible answer is to suppose that English has a silent declarative comple-
mentiser used to lexicalise a root force head (Radford 2004), and that (perhaps for
PF economy reasons) this wins out in the competition to fill the Force position
in root C1 structures. An alternative (suggested by Ian Roberts, pc) is to suppose
that English has a rule obligatorily deleting that in a root Force position. However,
both solutions are essentially stipulative in nature, and raise the question of why
(since that is optional in subordinate clauses like I think (that) it is raining) it is not
similarly optional in root clauses. An alternative possibility (exploiting the ­template
in (8) would be to take that in C1 structures to lexicalize a Sub head (either one
projected independently as in 9, or one syncretized with Force): since Sub is not
projected in root clauses, this would account for the absence of that in root C1
clauses. However, the Sub analysis would fail to account for the use of that in root
C2 clauses.
In order to try and understand what is going on here, let’s take a closer look at
typical uses of that in sentences such as:
(52) a. He told me [that he was feeling unwell]
		 b. This is something [that you have to come to terms with]
		c. He took it for granted [that I would lend him the money]
In (52a), that is linked (via a relation of selection) to the verb told (in that tell selects
a complement headed by that). In (52b), that is linked via a relation of predication
to something (since that is the head of a relative clause predicated of its antecedent
something). In (52c), that is linked via a relation of anaphora to the pronoun it. For
conservative speakers who only use that in C1 structures, there is an antilocality con-
dition on the use of that to the effect that it must linked by an appropriate kind of
grammatical relation (e.g. selection, predication or anaphora) to a superordinate con-
stituent outside the clause containing that. This requirement for that to be linked to
a constituent outside its own clause means that it can occur in structures like (52)
above, but not in structures such as (53) below:
(53) a. *That I am hungry
		b. *Mary, that I am hungry
 Andrew Radford
(53a) is ruled out because there is no superordinate constituent for that to be linked to,
and (53b) because the (italicised) superordinate vocative Mary does not enter into any
grammatical relation (e.g. of selection, predication or anaphora) linking it to that.22
More liberal speakers (who use C1 structures in embedded clauses and C2 struc-
tures in subordinate and root clauses alike) seem not to impose this antilocality condi-
tion on the use of that, but rather allow that to be used in structures where it is linked
to any (local or non-local) superordinate constituent – whether inside or outside its
own clause. Consequently, they allow that to be used not only in structures like (52)
above where that is linked to a superordinate constituent outside its own clause, but
also in structures like (54) below where that is linked (via an appropriate grammatical
relation) to an italicised superordinate constituent inside its own clause:
(54) a. [Although that Twitter has theirs], this is the only one
		 b. People can see [how successful that they’ve been]
		c. [Lap 38 that we’re into]
		d. [Obviously that the Achilles was giving him a bit of a problem]
In (54a), there is a local head-head selection relation between although and that if
although is in Sub and that heads an immediately subjacent peripheral projection
(headed by Force, or a syncretised Force-Fin head). In (54b–d), there is a local head-
specifier relation between that and the italicised expression preceding it, and this
licenses the use of that not only in subordinate clauses like (54b), but also in main
clauses like (54c–d). By contrast, use of that in root clause structures like (53) will be
barred because of the lack of any appropriate superordinate licenser for that.23
The analysis outlined above offers us the possibility of accounting for the use of
that after a co-ordinating conjunction in sentences such as the following (14) examples
of which occurred in my recordings, 7 involving and, 7 involving but):
(55) a.	
He clips it away and that Dravid fields it at mid-on
 (Chris Martin-Jenkins, BBC Radio 5 Sports Extra)
		 b.	
He limped off early in the second half of the 1–1 draw, and that the
team kind of died with him  (Tim Vickery, BBC Radio 5)
22. In this respect, that is different from que in Gascon (Ledgeway 2011c) and from jussive
que in Spanish (Villa-Garcia 2011d), both of which can occur in root C1 clauses.
23. An interesting question raised by Paolo Acquaviva (pc) is whether the analysis outlined
here predicts that clauses introduced by a complementiser will not be used as peripheral
topics in Spoken English. Since topicalised clauses are embedded within a matrix clause, it
is reasonable to assume that they will be linked to some (abstract) superordinate constituent
within the matrix clause – and if so, that would be licensed (and so predicted to occur) in
topicalised clauses.
The complementiser system in spoken English 
		 c.	
He can’t be short of a few quid anyway, but that this will completely set
him  (Andy Brassell, BBC Radio 5)
		 d.	
They’re happy to let him go, but that he wants to play in South America
 (Andy Goldstein, Talk Sport Radio)
If (as claimed here) speakers of the relevant variety allow that to lexicalise any periph-
eral head in a finite clause where licensed by an appropriate grammatical relation with
a superordinate constituent, we can suppose that that is licensed in structures like (55)
via a head-head selection relation with the superordinate conjunction and/but.
11. Source of C1 and C2 structures
An intriguing question arising out of the research reported here is: ‘What gives rise to the
use of complementisers in C1 and C2 structures?’ In this respect, it is interesting to note
that Casasanto  Sag (2008) and Casasanto, Futrell  Sag (2008) argue that evidence
from reading experiments suggests that complementisers serve sentence processing
functions. More specifically, they claim that a complementiser in a C1 structure serves
the parsing function of ‘signalling that a clause is upcoming’, whereas a complementiser
in a C2 structure “signals that the subject of the clause is immediately upcoming, making
this subject highly predictable and easier to process when it appears” (Casasanto  Sag
2008:1). If we propose a slight modification to their story and suppose that a C1 comple-
mentiser signals that a subordinate clause is upcoming whereas a C2 complementiser
simply serves to signal that a subject is upcoming, we can account for the asymmetry
discussed in the previous section whereby C2 structures occur in subordinate and root
clauses alike, whereas C1 structures occur in subordinate clauses only.
However, the claim that C2 complementisers serve a subject-signalling function
proves problematic for sentences such as those below (repeated from 16 above):
(56) a.	
I think [previously that in trying to protect his off stump he flicked the
ball to the on side] (Ian Chappell, BBC Radio 5 Sports Extra)
		 b.	
It’s deeply embarrassing for the government [that after authorising
this rescue that now it turns out that she was killed by an American
grenade] (Reporter, BBC Radio 5)
		 c.	
I just wondered [whether that as a next step we might look to see why
this seems to be the case] (Van Gelderen 2009:155)
		 d.	
I hope [that when they are adults that at no time will they forget the
work that their parents put into their education]
 (Haegeman 2011, ch.2, p.42, ex. 78a)
		 e.	
I don’t think [that for the sake of your own well-being that if you are in
a bilingual classroom that once you have completed the homework in one
language that you should have to do it all over again in the second one]
 Andrew Radford
Far from signalling an immediately upcoming subject, the bold-printed complemen-
tiser is separated from the underlined subject by an intervening italicised adjunct in
(56a–c) and by an intervening italicised negative constituent and inverted auxiliary
in (56d). In (56e), the bold-printed occurrences of that seem to signal an upcoming
Topic (or Modifier) projection containing a scene-setting adverbial clause, rather than
a subject. Sentences like (56) are thus more compatible with the view that the comple-
mentiser in C2 structures signals an immediately upcoming clausal constituent (where
a clausal constituent is a constituent like ForceP, TopP, FocP, FinP or TP) – and indeed
such an account could be extended to C1 uses as well. We could then say (e.g.) that
the first three occurrences of that in (56e) herald peripheral projections containing an
adjunct phrase or clause, while the fourth heralds a TP housing the subject.
One way in which data from my recordings can be used to evaluate the processing
account is to see whether the C2 structures they contain are consistent with Casasanto
et al.’s claim that C2 structures generally occur when there is a ‘long’ constituent imme-
diately preceding the complementiser (a ‘long’ constituent being taken by them to be
one containing 7 or more words).24 In this connection, I note the following. In declara-
tive C2 complement clauses like those in (10) and double-that complement clauses like
those in (11), the mean number of words preceding the (second occurrence of the)
complementiser was 5.2 words.25 In root clause C2 structures like those discussed in
§9 (involving a root clause headed by that preceded by a local circumstantial adjunct,
or topicalised/focalised constituent), the mean length of the peripheral material pre-
ceding that was 5.9 words.26 Both sets of results are potentially consistent with the
processing view that C2 structures are only used when there is a comparatively ‘long’
constituent preceding the complementiser.
However, for other C2 structures, the processing account seems less plausible. For
example, the use of that in subordinate wh-clauses (discussed in §5) seems not to cor-
relate with the length of the wh-constituent, since the mean length of wh-constituent
preceding that was only 2.4 words (and 45.5% of wh+that structures involved a sin-
gle wh-word preceding that). Similarly, in the case of the adverbial sub+that clauses
24. Although I follow Casasanto and Sag in computing the length of a constituent in terms
of the number of words it contains, I acknowledge that (as pointed out by Stephen Crain pc),
this is less satisfactory than computing length in terms of the number of syllables, segments,
or seconds.
25. For these purposes, I have counted contracted forms like we’ve, compounds like semi-final
and numerals like 1970 as single words.
26. Root modal adverbial structures have not been included in this figure, since they will
not be C2 structures if (as discussed in §8) they involve a C1 structure embedded within a
superordinate projection containing the modal adverbial.
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Bibliography.—The earliest description of London is that written
by the monk Fitzstephen in 1174 as an introduction to his life of
Archbishop Thomas à Becket. This was first printed by Stow in
his Survey. It was reprinted by Strype in his editions of Stow; by
Hearne in his edition of Leland’s Itinerary (vol. 8), by Samuel
Pegge in 1772, and elsewhere. The first history is contained in A
Survey of London by John Stow (1598, 1603). The author died
in 1605, and his work was continued by Anthony Munday and
others (1618, 1633) and in the next century by John Strype
(1720, 1754-1755). Stow’s original work was reprinted by W. J.
Thoms in 1842 and a monumental edition has been published by
C. L. Kingsford (Oxford, 1908).
The following are the most important of subsequent histories
arranged in order of publication; James Howell, Londinopolis
(1657); W. Stow, Remarks on London and Westminster (1722);
Robert Seymour (John Mottley), Survey of the Cities of London
and Westminster (1734, another edition 1753); William Maitland,
History of London (1739, other editions 1756, 1760, 1769,
continued by John Entick 1775); John Entick, A New and
Accurate History of London, Westminster, Southwark (1766);
The City Remembrancer, Narratives of the Plague 1665, Fire
1666 and Great Storm 1703 (1769); A New and Compleat
History and Survey, by a Society of Gentlemen (1770, revised by
H. Chamberlain, folio revised by W. Thornton 1784); J.
Noorthouck, A New History (1773); Walter Harrison, A New and
Universal History (1775); J. P. Malcolm, Londinium Redivivum or
an Ancient History and Modern Description of London (1803);
David Hughson (E. Pugh), London (1805-1809); B. Lambert,
History and Survey of London (1806); Henry Hunter, History of
London (1811); J. W. Abbott, History of London (1821); Thomas
Allen, History and Antiquities of London (1827-1829, continued
by Thomas Wright 1839); William Smith, A New History of
London (1833); Charles Mackay, A History of London (1838);
The History of London, illustrated by W. G. Fearnside (1838);
George Grant, A Comprehensive History of London (Dublin,
1849); John Timbs, Curiosities of London (1855, later editions
1855, 1868, 1875, 1876); Old London Papers, Archaeological
Institute (1867); W. J. Loftie, A History of London (1883); W. J.
Loftie, Historic Towns (London, 1887); Claude de la Roche
Francis, London, Historic and Social (Philadelphia, 1902); Sir
Walter Besant, The Survey of London (1902-1908)—Early
London, Prehistoric, Roman, Saxon and Norman (1908);
Medieval London, vol. 1, Historical and Social (1906), vol. 2,
Ecclesiastical (1906); London in the Time of the Tudors (1904);
London in the Time of the Stuarts (1903); London in the
Eighteenth Century (1902); H. B. Wheatley, The Story of London
[Medieval Towns] (London, 1904).
The following are some of the Chronicles of London which
have been printed, arranged in order of publication: R. Grafton,
Chronicle 1189-1558 (1809); R. Arnold, London Chronicle
(1811); A Chronicle of London from 1089 to 1483 written in the
Fifteenth Century (1827); William Gregory’s Chronicle of London,
1189-1469 (1876); Historical Collections of a Citizen of London,
edited by James Gairdner (Camden Society, 1876); Chronicles of
London [1200-1516], edited by C. L. Kingsford (Oxford, 1905).
Many books have been published on the government of
London, of which the following is a selection: City Law (1647,
1658); Lex Londinensis or the City Law (1680); W. Bohun,
Privilegia Londini (1723); Giles Jacob, City Liberties (1733); Laws
and Customs, Rights, Liberties and Privileges of the City of
London (1765); David Hughson, Epitome of the Privileges of
London (1816); George Norton, Commentaries on the History,
Constitution and Chartered Franchises of the City of London
(1829, 3rd ed. 1869); Munimenta Gildhallae Londoniensis, edited
by H. T. Riley—vol. 1, Liber Albus (1419), vol. 2, Liber
Custumarum (1859); Liber Albus: the White Book of the City of
London, translated by H. T. Riley (1861); H. T. Riley, Memorials
of London and London Life in the 13th, 14th and 15th centuries
(1868); De Antiquis Legibus Liber. Curante Thoma Stapleton
(Camden Society, 1846); Chronicles of the Mayors and Sheriffs
of London 1188-1274, translated from the Liber de Antiquis
Legibus by H. T. Riley. French Chronicle of London 1259-1343
(1863); Analytical Index to the Series of Records known as the
Remembrancia 1579-1664 (1888); Calendar of Letter-Books
[circa 1275-1399] preserved among the Archives of the
Corporation of London at the Guildhall, edited by Reginald R.
Sharpe, D.C.L. (1899-1907); W. and R. Woodcock, Lives of Lord
Mayors (1846); J. F. B. Firth, Municipal London (1876); Walter
Delgray Birch, Historical Charters and Constitutional Documents
of the City of London (1884, 1887); J. H. Round, The Commune
of London and other Studies (1899); Reginald R. Sharpe,
London and the Kingdom; a History derived mainly from the
Archives at Guildhall (1894); G. L. Gomme, The Governance of
London. Studies on the Place occupied by London in English
Institutions (1907); Alfred B. Beaven, The Aldermen of the City
of London temp. Henry III. (1908).
In connexion with the government of London may be noted
works on the following: Inns of Court. William Herbert,
Antiquities of the Inns of Court and Chancery (1804); Robert P.
Pearce, History (1848). Artillery Company, Anthony Highmore,
History of the Hon. Artillery Co. of London to 1802 (1804); G. A.
Raikes, History of the Hon. Artillery Co. (1878). William Herbert
published in 1837 History of the Twelve great Livery Companies
of London, and in 1869 Thomas Arundell published Historical
Reminiscences of the City and its Livery Companies. Since then
have appeared The Livery Companies of the City of London, by
W. Carew Hazlitt (1892); The City Companies of London, by P. H.
Ditchfield (1904); The Gilds and Companies of London, by
George Unwin (1908). Separate histories have been published of
the chief London companies.
The following are some of the chief works connected with the
topography of London: Thomas Pennant, Of London (1790,
1793, 1805, 1813, translated into German 1791); John T. Smith,
Antient Topography of London (1815); David Hughson [E.
Pugh], Walks through London (1817); London (edited by Charles
Knight 1841-1844, reprinted 1851, revised by E. Walford 1875-
1877); J. H. Jesse, Literary and Historical Memorials of London
(1847); Leigh Hunt, The Town, its Memorable Character and
Events (1848, new ed. 1859); Peter Cunningham, A Handbook
of London past and present (1849, 2nd ed. 1850, enlarged into
a new work in 1891); Henry B. Wheatley, London past and
present; Vestiges of Old London, etchings by J. W. Archer
(1851); A New Survey of London (1853); G. W. Thornbury,
Haunted London (1865, new ed. by E. Walford 1880); Old and
New London, vols. i.-ii. by G. W. Thornbury, vols. iii.-vi. by
Edward Walford (1873-1878); Walter Besant, London,
Westminster, South London, East London (1891-1902); East
London Antiquities, edited by Walter A. Locks (East London
Advertiser, 1902); Philip Norman, London vanished and
vanishing (1905); Records of the London Topographical Society;
Monographs of the Committee for the Survey of the Memorials
of Greater London.
The following books on the population of London have been
published: John Graunt, Natural and Political Observations on
the Bills of Mortality (1661, other editions 1662, 1665, 1676);
Essay in Political Arithmetick (1683); Five Essays on Political
Arithmetick (1687); Several Essays in Political Arithmetick (1699,
1711, 1751, 1755); Essay concerning the Multiplication of
Mankind (1682, 1683, 1686), all by Sir William Petty; Corbyn
Morris, Observations on the past Growth and present State of
the City of London (1751); Collection of the Yearly Bills of
Mortality from 1657 to 1758 (ed. by T. Birch, D.D. 1759);
Graunt’s Observations, Petty’s Another Essay and C. Morris’s
Observations are reprinted in this collection. Graunt and Petty’s
Essays are reprinted in Economic Writings of Sir W. Petty (1899).
(H. B. W.*)
1 See map in London Statistics (vol. xix., 1909), an annual publication
of the London County Council, which besides these divisions shows
“Water London,” the London main drainage area, and the Central Criminal
Court district.
2 Charing Cross station was the scene of a remarkable catastrophe on
the 5th of December 1905, when a large part of the roof collapsed, and
the falling débris did very serious damage to the Avenue theatre, which
stands close to the station at a lower level.
3 The report appeared in eight volumes, the first of which, containing
the general conclusions to which allusion is here made, bore the number,
as a blue-book. Cd. 2597.
4 Over 200 local acts were repealed by schemes made under the act
of 1899.
5 A valuable article on “The Conqueror’s Footprints in Domesday” was
published in the English Historical Review in 1898 (vol. xiii. p. 17). This
article contains an account of Duke William’s movements after the battle
of Senlac between Enfield, Edmonton, Tottenham and Berkhampstead.
6 “A map of London engraved on copper-plate, dated 1497,” which
was bought by Ferdinand Columbus during his travels in Europe about
1518-1525, is entered in the catalogue of Ferdinand’s books, maps, c.,
made by himself and preserved in the Cathedral Library at Seville, but
there is no clue to its existence.
7 One is in the Guildhall Library, and the other among the Pepysian
maps in Magdalene College, Cambridge.
8 This map of London by Norden is dated 1593, as stated above. The
same topographer published in his Middlesex a map of Westminster as
well as this one of the City of London.
9 Various changes in the names of the taverns are made in the folio
edition of this play (1616) from the quarto (1601); thus the Mermaid of
the quarto becomes the Windmill in the folio, and the Mitre of the quarto
is the Star of the folio.
10 The Great Revolt of 1381 (Oxford, 1906), p. 27.
11 In a valuable paper on “The Population of Old London” in
Blackwood’s Magazine for April 1891.
12 The old Bills of Mortality, although of value from being the only
authority on the subject, were never complete owing to various causes:
one being that large numbers of Roman Catholics and Dissenters were
not registered in the returns of the parish clerk who was a church officer.
The bills were killed by the action of the Registration Act for England and
Wales, which came into operation July 1, 1837. The weekly Returns of
the Registrar-General began in 1840.
13 “The invention of ‘bills of mortality’ is not so modern as has been
generally supposed, for their proper designation may be found in the
language of ancient Rome. Libitina was the goddess of funerals; her
officers were the Libitinarii our undertakers; her temple in which all
business connected with the last rites was transacted, in which the
account of deaths—ratio Libitinae—was kept, served the purpose of a
register office.”—Journal Statistical Society, xvii. 117 (1854).
14 The return was made “by special command from the Right
Honourable the Lords of His Majesty’s Privy Council.” The Privy Council
were at this time apprehensive of an approaching scarcity of food. The
numbers (130,268) were made up as follows: London Within the Walls
71,029, London Without the Walls 40,579, Old Borough of Southwark
(Bridge Without) 18,660.
15 R. R. Sharpe, London and the Kingdom (1894), i. 541.
LONDON CLAY, in geology, the most important member of
the Lower Eocene strata in the south of England. It is well developed
in the London basin, though not frequently exposed, partly because
it is to a great extent covered by more recent gravels and partly
because it is not often worked on a large scale. It is a stiff,
tenacious, bluish clay that becomes brown on weathering,
occasionally it becomes distinctly sandy, sometimes glauconitic,
especially towards the top; large calcareous septarian concretions
are common, and have been used in the manufacture of cement,
being dug for this purpose at Sheppey, near Southend, and at
Harwich, and dredged off the Hampshire coast. Nodular lumps of
pyrites and crystals of selenite are of frequent occurrence. The clay
has been employed for making bricks, tiles and coarse pottery, but it
is usually too tenacious for this purpose except in well-weathered or
sandy portions. The base of the clay is very regularly indicated by a
few inches of rounded flint pebbles with green and yellowish sand,
parts of this layer being frequently cemented by carbonate of lime.
The average thickness of the London Clay in the London basin is
about 450 ft.; at Windsor it is 400 ft. thick; beneath London it is
rather thicker, while in the south of Essex it is over 480 ft. In
Wiltshire it only reaches a few feet in thickness, while in Berkshire it
is some 50 or 60 ft. It is found in the Isle of Wight, where it is 300
ft. thick at Whitecliff Bay—here the beds are vertical and even
slightly reversed—and in Alum Bay it is 220 ft. thick. In Hampshire it
is sometimes known as the Bognor Beds, and certain layers of
calcareous sandstone within the clays are called Barnes or Bognor
Rock. In the eastern part of the London basin in east Kent the
pebbly basement bed becomes a thick deposit (60 ft.), forming part
of the Oldhaven and Blackheath Beds.
The London Clay is a marine deposit, and its fossils indicate a
moderately warm climate, the flora having a tropical aspect.
Among the fossils may be mentioned Panopoea intermedia,
Ditrupa plana, Teredina personata, Conus concinnus, Rostellaria
ampla, Nautilus centralis, Belosepia, foraminifera and diatoms.
Fish remains include Otodus obliquus, Sphyroenodus crassidens;
birds are represented by Halcyornis Toliapicus, Lithornis and
Odontopteryx, and reptiles by Chelone gigas, and other turtles,
Palaeophis, a serpent and crocodiles. Hyracotherium leporinum,
Palaeotherium and a few other mammals are recorded. Plant
remains in a pyritized condition are found in great abundance
and perfection on the shore of Sheppey; numerous species of
palms, screw pines, water lilies, cypresses, yews, leguminous
plants and many others occur; logs of coniferous wood bored
through by annelids and Teredo are common, and fossil resin
has been found at Highgate.
See Eocene; also W. Whitaker, “The Geology of London and
part of the Thames Valley,” Mem. Geol. Survey (1889), and
Sheet Memoirs of the Geol. Survey, London, Nos. 314, 315, 268,
329, 332, and Memoirs on the Geology of the Isle of Wight
(1889).
LONDONDERRY, EARLS AND MARQUESSES OF.
The 1st earl of Londonderry was Thomas Ridgeway (c. 1565-1631),
a Devon man, who was treasurer in Ireland from 1606 to 1616 and
was engaged in the plantation of Ulster. Ridgeway was made a
baronet in 1611, Baron Ridgeway in 1616 and earl of Londonderry in
1623. The Ridgeways held the earldom until March 1714, when
Robert, the 4th earl, died without sons. In 1726 Robert’s son-in-law,
Thomas Pitt (c. 1688-1729), son of Thomas Pitt, “Diamond Pitt,”
governor at Madras and uncle of the great earl of Chatham, was
created earl of Londonderry, the earldom again becoming extinct
when his younger son Ridgeway, the 3rd earl of this line, died
unmarried in January 1765. In 1796 Robert Stewart (1739-1821), of
Mount Stewart, Co. Down, was made earl of Londonderry in the Irish
peerage. He had been created Baron Londonderry in 1789 and
Viscount Castlereagh in 1795; in 1816 he was advanced to the rank
of marquess of Londonderry. The 3rd marquess married the heiress
of the Vane-Tempests and took the name of Vane instead of Stewart;
the 5th marquess called himself Vane-Tempest and the 6th marquess
Vane-Tempest-Stewart.
LONDONDERRY, CHARLES WILLIAM STEWART
(VANE), 3rd Marquess of (1778-1854), British soldier and
diplomatist, was the son of the 1st marquess by a second marriage
with the daughter of the 1st Earl Camden. He entered the army and
served in the Netherlands (1794), on the Rhine and Danube (1795),
in the Irish rebellion (1798), and Holland (1799), rising to be
colonel; and having been elected to parliament for Kerry he became
under secretary for war under his half-brother Castlereagh in 1807.
In 1808 he was given a cavalry command in the Peninsula, where he
brilliantly distinguished himself. In 1809, and again in the campaigns
of 1810, 1811, having become a major-general, he served under
Wellington in the Peninsula as his adjutant-general, and was at the
capture of Ciudad Rodrigo, but at the beginning of 1812 he was
invalided home. Castlereagh (see Londonderry, 2nd Marquess of)
then sent him to Berlin as minister, to represent Great Britain in the
allied British, Russian and Prussian armies; and as a cavalry leader
he played an important part in the subsequent fighting, while ably
seconding Castlereagh’s diplomacy. In 1814 he was made a peer as
Baron Stewart, and later in the year was appointed ambassador at
Vienna, and was a member of the important congresses which
followed. In 1822 his half-brother’s death made him 3rd marquess of
Londonderry, and shortly afterwards, disagreeing with Canning, he
resigned, being created Earl Vane (1823), and for some years lived
quietly in England, improving his Seaham estates. In 1835 he was
for a short time ambassador at St Petersburg. In 1852, after the
death of Wellington, when he was one of the pall-bearers, he
received the order of the Garter. He died on the 6th of March 1854.
He was twice married, first in 1808 to the daughter of the earl of
Darnley, and secondly in 1819 to the heiress of Sir Harry Vane-
Tempest (a descendant of Sir Piers Tempest, who served at
Agincourt, and heir to Sir Henry Vane, Bart.), when he assumed the
name of Vane. Frederick William Robert (1805-1872), his son by the
first marriage, became 4th marquess; and on the latter’s death in
1872, George Henry (1821-1884), the eldest son by the second
marriage, after succeeding as Earl Vane (according to the patent of
1823), became 5th marquess. In 1884 he was succeeded as 6th
marquess by his son Charles Stewart Vane-Tempest-Stewart (b.
1852), a prominent Conservative politician, who was viceroy of
Ireland (1886-1889), chairman of the London School Board (1895-
1897), postmaster-general (1900-1902), president of the Board of
Education (1902-1905) and lord president of the Council (1903-
1905).
LONDONDERRY, ROBERT STEWART, 2nd Marquess of
(1769-1822), British statesman, was the eldest son of Robert
Stewart of Ballylawn Castle, in Donegal, and Mount Stewart in Down,
an Ulster landowner, of kin to the Galloway Stewarts, who became
baron, viscount, earl and marquess in the peerage of Ireland. The
son, known in history as Lord Castlereagh, was born on the 18th of
June in the same year as Napoleon and Wellington. His mother was
Lady Sarah Seymour, daughter of the earl of Hertford. He went from
Armagh school to St John’s College, Cambridge, but left at the end
of his first year. With Lord Downshire, then holding sway over the
County Down, Lord Stewart had a standing feud, and he put forward
his son, in July 1790, for one of the seats. Young Stewart was
returned, but at a vast cost to his family, when he was barely
twenty-one. He took his seat in the Irish House of Commons at the
same time as his friend, Arthur Wellesley, M.P. for Trim, but sat later
for two close boroughs in England, still remaining member for Down
at College Green.
From 1796, when his father became an earl, he took the courtesy
title of Viscount Castlereagh, and becoming keeper of the privy seal
in Ireland, he acted as chief secretary, during the prolonged absence
of Mr Pelham, from February 1797. Castlereagh’s conviction was
that, in presence of threatened invasion and rebellion, Ireland could
only be made safe by union with Great Britain. In Lord Camden, as
afterwards in Lord Cornwallis, Castlereagh found a congenial chief;
though his favour with these statesmen was jealously viewed both
by the Irish oligarchy and by the English politicians who wished to
keep the machine of Irish administration in their own hands. Pitt
himself was doubtful of the expediency of making an Irishman chief
secretary, but his view was changed by the influence of Cornwallis.
In suppressing Lord Edward Fitzgerald’s conspiracy, and the rebellion
which followed in 1798, Castlereagh’s vigilance and firmness were
invaluable. His administration was denounced by a faction as harsh
and cruel—a charge afterwards repudiated by Grattan and Plunket—
but he was always on the side of lenity. The disloyal in Ireland, both
Jacobins and priest-led, the Protestant zealots and others who
feared the consequence of the Union, coalesced against him in
Dublin. Even there Castlereagh, though defeated in a first campaign
(1799), impressed Pitt with his ability and tact, with Cornwallis he
joined in holding out, during the second Union campaign (1800), the
prospect of emancipation to the Roman Catholics. They were aided
by free expenditure of money and promises of honours, methods too
familiar in Irish politics. When the Act of Union was carried through
the Irish parliament, in the summer of 1800, Castlereagh’s official
connexion with his native land practically ended. Before the Imperial
Parliament met he urged upon Pitt the measures which he and
Cornwallis thought requisite to make the Union effective. In spite of
his services and of Pitt’s support, disillusion awaited him. The king’s
reluctance to yield to the Roman Catholic claims was underestimated
by Pitt, while Cornwallis imprudently permitted himself to use
language which, though not amounting to a pledge, was construed
as one. George III. resented the arguments brought forward by
Castlereagh—“this young man” who had come over to talk him out
of his coronation oath. He peremptorily refused to sanction
emancipation, and Pitt and his cabinet made way for the Addington
administration. Thereupon Castlereagh resigned, with Cornwallis. He
took his seat at Westminster for Down, the constituency he had
represented for ten years in Dublin. The leadership of an Irish party
was offered to him, but he declined so to limit his political activity.
His father accepted, at Portland’s request, an Irish marquessate, on
the understanding that in the future he or his heirs might claim the
same rank in the Imperial Legislature; so that Castlereagh was able
to sit in the House of Commons as Marquess in 1821-1822.
Wilberforce discussed with Pitt the possibility of sending out
Castlereagh to India as governor-general, when the friction between
Lord Wellesley and the directors became grave; but Pitt objected, as
the plan would remove Castlereagh from the House of Commons,
which should be “the theatre of his future fame.”
In 1802, Castlereagh, at Pitt’s suggestion, became president of the
Board of Control in the Addington cabinet. He had, though not in
office, taken charge of Irish measures under Addington, including
the repression of the Rebellion Bill, and the temporary suspension of
the Habeas Corpus in 1801, and continued to advocate Catholic
relief, tithe reform, state payment of Catholic and dissenting clergy
and “the steady application of authority in support of the laws.” To
Lord Wellesley’s Indian policy he gave a staunch support, warmly
recognized by the governor-general. On Pitt’s return to office (May
1804), Castlereagh retained his post, and, next year, took over also
the duties of secretary for war and the colonies. Socially and
politically, the gifts of his wife, Lady Emily Hobart, daughter of a
former Irish viceroy, whom he had married in 1794, assisted him to
make his house a meeting-place of the party; and his influence in
parliament grew notwithstanding his defects of style, spoken and
written. As a manager of men he had no equal. After Pitt’s death his
surviving colleagues failed to form a cabinet strong enough to face
the formidable combination known as “All the Talents,” and
Castlereagh acquiesced in the resignation. But to the foreign policy
of the Fox-Greville ministry and its conduct of the war he was always
opposed. His objections to the Whig doctrine of withdrawal from
“Continental entanglements” and to the reduction of military
expenditure were justified when Fox himself was compelled “to nail
his country’s colours to the mast.”
The cabinet of “All the Talents,” weakened by the death of Fox and
the renewed quarrel with the king, went out in April 1807.
Castlereagh returned to the War Office under Portland, but grave
difficulties arose, though Canning at the Foreign Office was then
thoroughly at one with him. A priceless opportunity had been missed
after Eylau. The Whigs had crippled the transport service, and the
operations to avert the ruin of the coalition at Friedland came too
late. The Tsar Alexander believed that England would no longer
concern herself with the Continental struggle, and Friedland was
followed by Tilsit. The secret articles of that compact, denied at the
time by the Opposition and by French apologists, have now been
revealed from official records in M. Vandal’s work, Napoléon et
Alexandre. Castlereagh and Canning saw the vital importance of
nullifying the aim of this project. The seizure of the Danish squadron
at Copenhagen, and the measures taken to rescue the fleets of
Portugal and Sweden from Napoleon, crushed a combination as
menacing as that defeated at Trafalgar. The expedition to Portugal,
though Castlereagh’s influence was able only to secure Arthur
Wellesley a secondary part at first, soon dwarfed other issues. In the
debates on the Convention of Cintra, Castlereagh defended Wellesley
against parliamentary attacks: “A brother,” the latter wrote, “could
not have done more.” The depression produced by Moore’s
campaign in northern Spain, and the king’s repugnance to the
Peninsular operations, seemed to cut short Wellesley’s career; but
early in 1809, Castlereagh, with no little difficulty, secured his
friend’s appointment as commander-in-chief of the second
Portuguese expedition. The merit has been claimed for Canning by
Stapleton, but the evidence is all the other way.
Meanwhile, Castlereagh’s policy led to a crisis that clouded his own
fortunes. The breach between him and Canning was not due to his
incompetence in the conduct of the Walcheren expedition, In fact,
Castlereagh’s ejection was decided by Canning’s intrigues, though
concealed from the victim, months before the armament was sent
out to the Scheldt. In the selection of the earl of Chatham as
commander the king’s personal preference was known, but there is
evidence also that it was one of Canning’s schemes, as he reckoned,
if Chatham succeeded, on turning him into a convenient ministerial
figurehead. Canning was not openly opposed to the Walcheren
expedition, and on the Peninsular question he mainly differed from
Castlereagh and Wellington in fixing his hopes on national
enthusiasm and popular uprisings. Military opinion is generally
agreed that the plan of striking from Walcheren at Antwerp, the
French naval base, was sound. Napoleon heard the news with
dismay; in principle Wellington approved the plan. Castlereagh’s
proposal was for a coup de main, under strict conditions of celerity
and secrecy, as Antwerp was unable to make any adequate defence.
But Chatham, the naval authorities and the cabinet proceeded with a
deliberation explained by the fact that the war secretary had been
condemned in secret. The expedition, planned at the end of March,
did not reach Walcheren till the end of July 1809; and more time
was lost in movements against Batz and Flushing, protracted until an
unhealthy autumn prostrated the army, which was withdrawn,
discredited and disabled, in September. Public opinion threw the
whole blame upon Castlereagh, who then found that, in deference to
Canning, his colleagues had decreed his removal half a year earlier,
though they kept silence till the troops were brought back from
Walcheren. When Castlereagh learned from Percival that the slur
cast on him had its origin in a secret attack on him many months
before, he was cruelly hurt. The main charge against him was, he
says, that he would not throw over officers on whom unpopularity
fell, at the first shadow of ill-fortune. His refusal to rush into censure
of Moore, following Canning’s sudden change from eulogy to
denunciation, requires no defence. According to the ideas then
prevailing Castlereagh held himself justified in sending a challenge to
the original author, as he held, of a disloyal intrigue against a
colleague. In the subsequent duel Canning was wounded and the
rivals simultaneously resigned. In private letters to his father and
brother, Castlereagh urged that he was bound to show that he “was
not privy to his own disgrace.” When Canning published a lengthy
explanation of his conduct, many who had sided with him were
convinced that Castlereagh had been much wronged. The excuse
that the protest upon which the cabinet decided against Castlereagh
did not mention the minister’s name was regarded as a quibble. Men
widely differing in character and opinions—Walter Scott, Sidney
Smith, Brougham and Cobbett—took this view. Castlereagh loyally
supported the government in parliament, after Lord Wellesley’s
appointment to the Foreign Office. Though Wellington’s retreat after
Talavera had been included, with the disasters of the Corunna and
Walcheren campaigns, in the censures on Castlereagh, and though
ministers were often depressed and doubtful, Castlereagh never lost
faith in Wellington’s genius. Lord Wellesley’s resignation in 1812,
when the Whigs failed to come to terms with the regent, led to
Castlereagh’s return to office as foreign secretary (March 1812). The
assassination of Percival soon threw upon him the leadership of the
House of Commons, and this double burden he continued to bear
during the rest of his life.
From March 1812 to July 1822 Castlereagh’s biography is, in truth,
the history of England. Though never technically prime minister,
during these years he wielded a power such as few ministers have
exercised. Political opponents and personal ill-wishers admitted that
he was the ablest leader who ever controlled the House of Commons
for so long a period. As a diplomatist, nobody save Marlborough had
the same influence over men or was given equal freedom by his
colleagues at home. Foreigners saw in him the living presence of
England in the camp of the Allies. At the War Office he had been
hampered by the lack of technical knowledge, while nature had not
granted him, as an organizer, the powers of a Carnot or Roon. But in
diplomacy his peculiar combination of strength and charm, of
patience and conciliatory adroitness, was acknowledged by all. At
the Foreign Office he set himself at once to meet Napoleon’s designs
in northern Europe, where Russia was preparing for her life-and-
death struggle. Lord Wellesley paid a high tribute to Castlereagh’s
conduct in this situation, and Wellington declared that he had then
“rendered to the world the most important service that ever fell to
the lot of any individual to perform.” Castlereagh wisely rejected
Napoleon’s insincere overtures for peace. After the Moscow débâcle
Napoleon’s fate was affected not only by Wellington’s progress in
Spain, but by the attitude of the northern powers and by the action
of Turkey, due to Castlereagh’s opportune disclosure to the Porte of
the scheme of partition at Tilsit. At home, the repeal of the Orders in
Council was carried, the damage to British trade plainly outweighing
the injury inflicted on France by the restrictive system. The British
subsidies to the Allies were largely increased as the operations of
1813 developed, but all Castlereagh’s skill was needed to keep the
Coalition together. The Allied powers were willing, even after Leipzig,
to treat with France on the basis of restoring her “natural
frontiers”—the Rhine, the Alps and the Pyrenees; but Castlereagh
protested. He would not allow the enemy to take ground for another
tiger-spring. Before the Conference of Châtillon, where Napoleon
sent Caulaincourt to negotiate for peace—with the message
scribbled on the margin of his instructions, “Ne signez rien”—
Aberdeen wrote to hasten Castlereagh’s coming: “Everything which
has been so long smothered is now bursting forth”; and again, “Your
presence has done much and would, I have no doubt, continue to
sustain them (the Allies) in misfortune.” The Liverpool cabinet then
and later were as urgent in pressing him to return to lead the House
of Commons. He had lost his seat for Down in 1805, and afterwards
sat for British boroughs; but in 1812 he was re-elected by his old
constituents; and again in 1818 and 1820, sitting, after he became
marquess of Londonderry in 1821, for Orford. Early in 1814 his
colleagues reluctantly consented to his visit to the allied
headquarters. The Great Alliance showed signs of weakness and
division. Austria was holding back; Prussia had almost broken away;
above all, the ambiguous conduct of Alexander bred alarm and
doubt. This situation became increasingly serious while Napoleon
was giving daily proofs that his military genius, confronting a
hesitant and divided enemy, was at its best. Castlereagh strove to
keep the Allies together, to give no excuse for those separate
arrangements upon which Napoleon was reckoning, to assert no
selfish policy for England, to be tied by no theoretical consistency. At
the Châtillon conferences England was represented by others, but
Castlereagh was present with supreme authority over all, and it was
he who determined the result. He declined to commit his country
either to a blank refusal to negotiate with Napoleon or to the
advocacy of a Bourbon restoration. He was ready to give up almost
the whole of England’s conquests, but he insisted on the return of
France within her ancient limits as the basis of a settlement.
Caulaincourt’s advice was to take advantage of these overtures; but
his master was not to be advised. The counter-projects that he
urged Caulaincourt to submit to were advanced after his victory at
Montereau, when he boasted that he was nearer to Munich than the
Allies were to Paris. Even before the Châtillon conference was
dissolved (March 18th), Castlereagh saw that Caulaincourt’s efforts
would never bend Napoleon’s will. The Allies adopted his view and
signed the treaty of Chaumont (March 1st), “my treaty,” as
Castlereagh called it, with an unusual touch of personal pride;
adding “Upon the face of the treaty this year our engagement is
equivalent to theirs united.” The power of England when she threw
her purse into the scale had been just exhibited at Bar-sur-Aube,
when at a council of all the representatives of the powers the retreat
of the allied armies was discussed. Bernadotte, playing a waiting
game in Holland, was unwilling to reinforce Blücher, then in a
dangerous position, by the Russian and Prussian divisions of
Winzingerode and Bülow, temporarily placed under his orders.
Having asked for and received the assurance that the military
leaders were agreed in holding the transfer necessary, Castlereagh
declared that he took upon himself the responsibility of bringing the
Swedish prince to reason. The withholding of the British subsidies
was a vital matter, not only with Bernadotte but with all the powers.
Castlereagh’s avowed intention to take this step without waiting for
sanction from his cabinet put an end to evasion and delay. Blücher
was reinforced by the two divisions; the battle of Laon was fought
and won, and the allies occupied the French capital. In April 1814
Castlereagh arrived in Paris. He did not disguise his discontent with
Napoleon’s position at Elba, close to the French coast, though he
advised England not to separate herself at this crisis from her allies.
His uneasiness led him to summon Wellington from the south to the
Embassy in Paris. He hastened himself to London during the visit of
the allied sovereigns, and met with a splendid reception. He was
honoured with the Garter, being one of the few commoners ever
admitted to that order. When the House of Commons offered to the
Crown its congratulations upon the treaty of peace, Castlereagh’s
triumph was signalized by a brilliantly eloquent panegyric from
Canning, and by a recantation of his former doubts and
denunciations from Whitbread. His own dignified language
vindicated his country from the charge of selfish ambition.
His appointment as British representative at Vienna, where the
congress was to meet in September, was foreseen; but meanwhile
he was not idle. The war with the United States, originating in the
non-intercourse dispute and the Orders in Council, did not cease
with the repeal of the latter. It lasted through 1814 till the signing of
the treaty of Ghent, soon before the flight from Elba. In parliament
the ministry, during Castlereagh’s absence, had been poorly
championed. Canning had thrown away his chance by his unwise
refusal of the Foreign Office. None of the ministers had any
pretension to lead when Castlereagh was busy abroad and Canning
was sulking at home, and Castlereagh’s letters to Vansittart, the
chancellor of the exchequer, show how these difficulties weighed
upon him in facing the position at Vienna, where it was imperative
for him to appear. At Vienna he realized at once that the ambition of
Russia might be as formidable to Europe and to Great Britain as that
of the fallen tyrant. His aim throughout had been to rescue Europe
from military domination; and when he found that Russia and
Prussia were pursuing ends incompatible with the general interest,
he did not hesitate to take a new line. He brought about the secret
treaty (Jan. 3, 1815) between Great Britain, Austria and France,
directed against the plans of Russia in Poland and of Prussia in
Saxony. Through Castlereagh’s efforts, the Polish and Saxon
questions were settled on the basis of compromise. The threat of
Russian interference in the Low Countries was dropped.
While the Congress was still unfinished, Napoleon’s escape from
Elba came like a thunderclap. Castlereagh had come home for a
short visit (Feb. 1815), at the urgent request of the cabinet, just
before the flight was known. The shock revived the Great Alliance
under the compact of Chaumont. All energies were directed to
preparing for the campaign of Waterloo. Castlereagh’s words in
parliament were, “Whatever measures you adopt or decision you
arrive at must rest on your own power and not on reliance on this
man.” Napoleon promptly published the secret treaty which
Castlereagh had concluded with Metternich and Talleyrand, and the
last left in the French archives. But Russia and Prussia, though much
displeased, saw that, in the face of Bonaparte’s return, they dared
not weaken the Alliance. British subsidies were again poured out like
water. After Napoleon’s overthrow, Castlereagh successfully urged
his removal to St Helena, where his custodians were charged to treat
him “with all the respect due to his rank, but under such precautions
as should render his escape a matter of impossibility.” Some of the
continental powers demanded, after Waterloo, fines and cessions
that would have crushed France; but in November a peace was
finally concluded, mainly by Castlereagh’s endeavours, minimising
the penalties exacted, and abandoning on England’s part the whole
of her share of the indemnity. The war created an economic situation
at home which strengthened the Whigs and Radicals, previously
discredited by their hostility to a patriotic struggle. In 1816 the
Income Tax was remitted, despite Castlereagh’s contention that
something should first be done to reduce the Debt Charge. His
policy, impressed upon British representatives abroad, was “to turn
the confidence Great Britain inspired to the account of peace, by
exercising a conciliatory influence in Europe.” Brougham’s action, at
the end of 1815, denouncing the Holy Alliance, even in its early
form, was calculated to embarrass England, though she was no
party to what Castlereagh described as a “piece of sublime
mysticism and nonsense.”
While he saw no reason in this for breaking up the Grand Alliance,
which he looked upon as a convenient organ of diplomatic
intercourse and as essential for the maintenance of peace, he
regarded with alarm “the little spirit of German intrigue,” and agreed
with Wellington that to attempt to crush France, as the Prussians
desired, or to keep her in a perpetual condition of tutelage under a
European concert from which she herself should be excluded, would
be to invite the very disaster which it was the object of the Alliance
to avoid. It was not till Metternich’s idea of extending the scope of
the Alliance, by using it to crush “the revolution” wherever it should
raise its head, began to take shape, from the conference of Aix-la-
Chapelle (1818) onward, that Great Britain’s separation from her
continental allies became inevitable. Against this policy of the
reactionary powers Castlereagh from the first vigorously protested.
As little was he prepared to accept the visionary schemes of the
emperor Alexander for founding an effective “confederation of
Europe” upon the inclusive basis of the Holy Alliance (see Alexander
I. of Russia).
Meanwhile financial troubles at home, complicated by the
resumption of cash payments in 1819, led to acute social tension.
“Peterloo” and the “Six Acts” were furiously denounced, though the
bills introduced by Sidmouth and Castlereagh were carried in both
Houses by overwhelming majorities. The danger that justified them
was proved beyond contest by the Cato Street Conspiracy in 1820. It
is now admitted by Liberal writers that the “Six Acts,” in the
circumstances, were reasonable and necessary. Throughout,
Castlereagh maintained his tranquil ascendancy in the House of
Commons, though he had few colleagues who were capable of
standing up against Brougham. Canning, indeed, had returned to
office and had defended the “Six Acts,” but Castlereagh bore the
whole burden of parliamentary leadership, as well as the enormous
responsibilities of the Foreign Office. His appetite for work caused
him to engage in debates and enquiries on financial and legal
questions when he might have delegated the task to others. Althorp
was struck with his unsleeping energy on the Agricultural Distress
Committee; “His exertions, coupled with his other duties—and
unfortunately he was always obstinate in refusing assistance—
strained his constitution fearfully, as was shown by his careworn
brow and increasing paleness.” In 1821, on Sidmouth’s retirement,
he took upon himself the laborious functions of the Home Office.
The diplomatic situation had become serious. The policy of
“intervention,” with which Great Britain had consistently refused to
identify herself, had been proclaimed to the world by the famous
Troppau Protocol, signed by Russia, Austria and Prussia (see Troppau,
Congress of). The immediate occasion was the revolution at Naples,
where the egregious Spanish constitution of 1812 had been forced
on the king by a military rising. With military revolts, as with paper
constitutions of an unworkable type, Castlereagh had no sympathy;
and in this particular case the revolution, in his opinion, was wholly
without excuse or palliation. He was prepared to allow the
intervention of Austria, if she considered her rights under the treaty
of 1813 violated, or her position as an Italian Power imperilled. But
he protested against the general claim, embodied in the Protocol, of
the European powers to interfere, uninvited, in the internal concerns
of sovereign states; he refused to make Great Britain, even tacitly, a
party to such interference, and again insisted that her part in the
Alliance was defined by the letter of the treaties, beyond which she
was not prepared to go. In no case, he affirmed, would Great Britain
“undertake the moral responsibility for administering a general
European police,” which she would never tolerate as applied to
herself.
To Troppau, accordingly, no British plenipotentiary was sent, since
the outcome of the conferences was a foregone conclusion; though
Lord Stewart came from Vienna to watch the course of events. At
Laibach an attempt to revive the Troppau proposals was defeated by
the firm opposition of Stewart; but a renewal of the struggle at
Verona in the autumn of 1822 was certain. Castlereagh, now
marquess of Londonderry, was again to be the British representative,
and he drew up for himself instructions that were handed over
unaltered by Canning, his successor at the Foreign Office, to the new
plenipotentiary, Wellington. In the threatened intervention of the
continental powers in Spain, as in their earlier action towards Naples
and Sardinia, England refused to take part. The Spanish
revolutionary movement, Castlereagh wrote, “was a matter with
which, in the opinion of the English cabinet, no foreign power had
the smallest right to interfere.” Before, however, the question of
intervention in Spain had reached its most critical stage the
development of the Greek insurrection against the Ottoman
government brought up the Eastern Question in an acute form,
which profoundly modified the relations of the powers within the
Alliance, and again drew Metternich and Castlereagh together in
common dread of an isolated attack by Russia upon Turkey. A visit of
King George IV. to Hanover, in October 1821, was made the occasion
of a meeting between Lord Londonderry and the Austrian chancellor.
A meeting so liable to misinterpretation was in Castlereagh’s opinion
justified by the urgency of the crisis in the East, “a practical
consideration of the greatest moment,” which had nothing in
common with the objectionable “theoretical” question with which the
British government had refused to concern itself. Yet Castlereagh, on
this occasion, showed that he could use the theories of others for his
own practical ends; and he joined cordially with Metternich in taking
advantage of the emperor Alexander’s devotion to the principles of
the Alliance to prevent his taking an independent line in the Eastern
Question. It was, indeed, the belief that this question would be
made the matter of common discussion at the congress that led
Castlereagh to agree to be present at Verona; and in his Instructions
he foreshadowed the policy afterwards carried out by Canning,
pointing out that the development of the war had made the
recognition of the belligerent rights of the Greeks inevitable, and
quoting the precedent of the Spanish American colonies as exactly
applicable. With regard to the Spanish colonies, moreover, though he
was not as yet prepared to recognize their independence de jure, he
was strongly of opinion that the Spanish government should do so
since “other states would acknowledge them sooner or later, and it is
to the interest of Spain herself to find the means of restoring an
intercourse when she cannot succeed in restoring a dominion.”
But the tragic ending of Castlereagh’s strenuous life was near; and
the credit of carrying out the policy foreshadowed in the Instructions
was to fall to his rival Canning. Lord Londonderry’s exhaustion
became evident during the toilsome session of 1822. Both the king
and Wellington were struck by his overwrought condition, which his
family attributed to an attack of the gout and the lowering remedies
employed. Wellington warned Dr Bankhead that Castlereagh was
unwell, and, perhaps, mentally disordered. Bankhead went down to
North Cray and took due precautions. Castlereagh’s razors were
taken away, but a penknife was forgotten in a drawer, and with this
he cut his throat (August 12, 1822). He had just before said, “My
mind, my mind, is, as it were, gone”; and, when he saw his wife and
Bankhead talking together, he moaned “there is a conspiracy laid
against me.” It was as clear a case of brain disease as any on
record. But this did not prevent his enemies of the baser sort from
asserting, without a shadow of proof, that the suicide was caused by
terror at some hideous and undefined charge. The testimony of
statesmen of the highest character and of all parties to Castlereagh’s
gifts and charm is in strong contrast with the flood of vituperation
and calumny poured out upon his memory by those who knew him
not.
Bibliography.—Castlereagh’s correspondence and papers were
published by his brother and successor (1850-1853) in twelve
volumes. Sir Archibald Alison’s Biography in three volumes came
out in 1861, with copious extracts from the manuscripts
preserved at Wynyard. It was made the subject of an interesting
essay in the Quarterly Review for January 1862, reprinted in
Essays by the late Marquis of Salisbury (London, 1905). A
graceful sketch by Theresa, Marchioness of Londonderry
(London, 1904), originally brought out in the Anglo-Saxon
Review, contains some extracts from Castlereagh’s unpublished
correspondence with his wife, the record of an enduring and
passionate attachment which throws a new light on the man.
(E. D. J. W.)
LONDONDERRY, a northern county of Ireland in the
province of Ulster, bounded N. by the Atlantic, W. by Lough Foyle
and Donegal, E. by Antrim and Lough Neagh, and S. by Tyrone. The
area is 522,315 acres, or about 816 sq. m. The county consists
chiefly of river valleys surrounded by elevated table-lands rising
occasionally into mountains, while on the borders of the sea-coast
the surface is generally level. The principal river is the Roe, which
flows northward from the borders of Tyrone into Lough Foyle below
Newton-Limavady, and divides the county into two unequal parts.
Farther west the Faughan also falls into Lough Foyle, and the river
Foyle passes through a small portion of the county near its north-
western boundary. In the south-east the Moyola falls into Lough
Neagh, and the Lower Bann from Lough Neagh forms for some
distance its eastern boundary with Antrim. The only lake in the
county is Lough Finn on the borders of Tyrone, but Lough Neagh
forms about 6 m. of its south-eastern boundary. The scenery of the
shores of Lough Foyle and the neighbouring coast is attractive, and
Castlerock, Downhill, Magilligan and Portstewart are favourite
seaside resorts. On the flat Magilligan peninsula, which forms the
eastern horn of Lough Foyle, the base-line of the trigonometrical
survey of Ireland was measured in 1826. The scenery of the Roe
valley, with the picturesque towns of Limavady and Dungiven, is also
attractive, and the roads from the latter place to Draperstown and to
Maghera, traversing the passes of Evishgore and Glenshane
respectively, afford fine views of the Sperrin and Slieve Gallion
mountains.
The west of this county consists of Dalradian mica-schist, with
some quartzite, and is a continuation of the northern region of
Tyrone. An inlier of these rocks appears in the rising ground east
of Dungiven, including dark grey crystalline limestone. Old Red
Sandstone and Lower Carboniferous Sandstone overlie these old
rocks in the south and east, meeting the igneous “green rocks”
of Tyrone, and the granite intrusive in them, at the north end of
Slieve Gallion. Triassic sandstone covers the lower slope of Slieve
Gallion on the south-east towards Moneymore, and rises above
the Carboniferous Sandstone from Dungiven northward. At
Moneymore we reach the western scarp of the white Limestone
(Chalk) and the overlying basalt of the great plateaus, which dip
down eastward under Lough Neagh. The basalt scarp, protecting
chalk and patches of Liassic and Rhaetic strata, rises to 1260 ft.
in Benevenagh north of Limavady, and repeats the finest
features of the Antrim coast. A raised shelf with post-glacial
marine clays forms the flat land west of Limavady. Haematite
has been mined on the south flank of Slieve Gallion.
The excessive rainfall and the cold and uncertain climate are
unfavourable for agriculture. Along the sea-coast there is a
district of red clay formed by the decomposition of sandstone,
and near the mouth of the Roe there is a tract of marl. Along the
valleys the soil is often fertile, and the elevated districts of the
clay-slate region afford pasture for sheep. The acreage of
pasture-land does not greatly exceed that of tillage. Oats,
potatoes and turnips are chiefly grown, with some flax; and
cattle, sheep, pigs and poultry are kept in considerable numbers.
The staple manufacture of the county is linen. The manufacture
of coarse earthenware is also carried on, and there are large
distilleries and breweries and some salt-works. There are
fisheries for salmon and eels on the Bann, for which Coleraine is
the headquarters. The deep-sea and coast fisheries are valuable,
and are centred at Moville in Co. Donegal. The city of
Londonderry is an important railway centre. The Northern
Counties (Midland) main line reaches it by way of Coleraine and
the north coast of the county, and the same railway serves the
eastern part of the county, with branches from Antrim to
Magherafelt, and Magherafelt to Cookstown (Co. Tyrone), to
Draperstown and to Coleraine, and from Limavady to Dungiven.
The Great Northern railway reaches Londonderry from the
south, and the city is also the starting-point of the County
Donegal, and the Londonderry and Lough Swilly railways.
The population decreases (152,009 in 1891; 144,404 in 1901)
and emigration is extensive, though both decrease and
emigration are well below the average of the Irish counties. Of
the total, about 43% are Roman Catholics, and nearly 50%
Presbyterians or Protestant Episcopalians. Londonderry (pop.
38,892), Coleraine (6958) and Limavady (2692) are the principal
towns, while Magherafelt and Moneymore are lesser market
towns. The county comprises six baronies. Assizes are held at
Londonderry, and quarter sessions at Coleraine, Londonderry
and Magherafelt. The county is represented in parliament by two
members, for the north and south divisions respectively. The
Protestant and Roman Catholic dioceses of Armagh, Derry and
Down each include parts of the county.
At an early period the county was inhabited by the O’Cathans or
O’Catrans, who were tributary to the O’Neills. Towards the close of
the reign of Elizabeth the county was seized, with the purpose of
checking the power of the O’Neills, when it received the name of
Coleraine, having that town for its capital. In 1609, after the
confiscation of the estates of the O’Neills, the citizens of London
obtained possession of the towns of Londonderry and Coleraine and
adjoining lands, 60 acres out of every 1000 being assigned for
church lands. The common council of London undertook to expend
£20,000 on the reclamation of the property, and elected a body of
twenty-six for its management, who in 1613 were incorporated as
the Irish Society, and retained possession of the towns of
Londonderry and Coleraine, the remainder of the property being
divided among twelve of the great livery companies. Their estates
were sequestrated by James I., and in 1637 the charter of the Irish
Society was cancelled. Cromwell restored the society to its former
position, and Charles II. at the Restoration granted it a new charter,
and confirmed the companies in their estates. In the insurrection of
1641 Moneymore was seized by the Irish, and Magherafelt and
Bellaghy, then called Vintner’s Town, burned, as well as other towns
and villages. There are several stone circles, and a large number of
artificial caves. The most ancient castle of Irish origin is that of
Carrickreagh; and of the castles erected by the English those of
Dungiven and Muff are in good preservation. The abbey of
Dungiven, founded in 1109, and standing on a rock about 200 ft.
above the river Roe, is a picturesque ruin.
LONDONDERRY, or Derry, a city, county of a city,
parliamentary borough (returning one member) and the chief town
of Co. Londonderry, Ireland, 4 m. from the junction of the river Foyle
with Lough Foyle, and 95 m. N.N.W. of Belfast. Pop. (1901) 38,892.
The city is situated on an eminence rising abruptly from the west
side of the river to a height of about 120 ft. The eminence is
surrounded by hills which reach, a few miles to the north, an
elevation of upwards of 1500 ft., and the river and lough complete
an admirable picture. The city is surrounded by an ancient rampart
about a mile in circumference, having seven gates and several
bastions, but buildings now extend beyond this boundary. The
summit of the hill, at the centre of the town, is occupied by a
quadrangular area from which the main streets diverge. Some old
houses with high pyramidal gables remain but are much modernized.
The Protestant cathedral of St Columba, in Perpendicular style, was
completed from the design of Sir John Vanbrugh in 1633, at a cost
of £4000 contributed by the city of London, and was enlarged and
restored in 1887. The spire was added in 1778 and rebuilt in 1802.
The bishop’s palace, erected in 1716, occupies the site of the abbey
founded by Columba. The abbot of this monastery, on being made
bishop, erected in 1164 Temple More or the “Great Church,” one of
the finest buildings in Ireland previous to the Anglo-Norman
invasion. The original abbey church was called the “Black Church,”
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Information Structure And Agreement Victoria Camachotaboada

  • 1. Information Structure And Agreement Victoria Camachotaboada download https://ebookbell.com/product/information-structure-and- agreement-victoria-camachotaboada-5228332 Explore and download more ebooks at ebookbell.com
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  • 6. Volume 197 Information Structure and Agreement Edited by Victoria Camacho-Taboada, Ángel L. Jiménez-Fernández, Javier Martín-González and Mariano Reyes-Tejedor General Editors Werner Abraham University of Vienna / Rijksuniversiteit Groningen Elly van Gelderen Arizona State University Linguistik Aktuell/Linguistics Today (LA) provides a platform for original monograph studies into synchronic and diachronic linguistics. Studies in LA confront empirical and theoretical problems as these are currently discussed in syntax, semantics, morphology, phonology, and systematic pragmatics with the aim to establish robust empirical generalizations within a universalistic perspective. For an overview of all books published in this series, please see http://benjamins.com/catalog/la Linguistik Aktuell/Linguistics Today (LA) Advisory Editorial Board Josef Bayer University of Konstanz Cedric Boeckx ICREA/UB Guglielmo Cinque University of Venice Liliane Haegeman University of Ghent Hubert Haider University of Salzburg Terje Lohndal Norwegian University of Science and Technology Christer Platzack University of Lund Ian Roberts Cambridge University Lisa deMena Travis McGill University Sten Vikner University of Aarhus C. Jan-Wouter Zwart University of Groningen
  • 7. Information Structure and Agreement Edited by Victoria Camacho-Taboada Ángel L. Jiménez-Fernández Javier Martín-González Mariano Reyes-Tejedor John Benjamins Publishing Company Amsterdam/Philadelphia
  • 8. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Information structure and agreement / Edited by Victoria Camacho-Taboada, Ángel L. Jiménez-Fernández, Javier Martín-González, Mariano Reyes-Tejedor. p. cm. (Linguistik Aktuell/Linguistics Today, issn 0166-0829 ; v. 197) Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Grammar, Comparative and general--Syntax. 2. Grammar, Comparative and general--Topic and comment. 3. Contrastive linguistics. 4. Focus (Linguistics) I. Camacho Taboada, María Victoria, editor of compilation. II. Jiménez- Fernández, Ángel, editor of compilation. III. Martín-González, Javier, editor of compilation. IV. Reyes-Tejedor, Mariano, editor of compilation. P291.I34   2012 415--dc23 2012037032 isbn 978 90 272 5580 8 (Hb ; alk. paper) isbn 978 90 272 7302 4 (Eb) © 2013 – John Benjamins B.V. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, by print, photoprint, microfilm, or any other means, without written permission from the publisher. John Benjamins Publishing Co. · P.O. Box 36224 · 1020 me Amsterdam · The Netherlands John Benjamins North America · P.O. Box 27519 · Philadelphia pa 19118-0519 · usa 8 TM The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences – Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ansi z39.48-1984.
  • 9. Table of contents Information structure, agreement and CP 1 Victoria Camacho-Taboada, Ángel L. Jiménez-Fernández, Javier Martín-González Mariano Reyes-Tejedor The complementiser system in spoken English: Evidence from broadcast media 11 Andrew Radford ‘Phasing’ contrast at the interfaces: A feature-compositional approach to Topics 55 Mara Frascarelli Francesca Ramaglia The alternation between improper indirect questions and DPs containing a restrictive relative 83 Gabriela Matos Ana Maria Brito Referentiality in Spanish CPs 117 Carlos de Cuba Jonathan E. MacDonald Binding at the syntax-information structure interface 141 Karen Lahousse Deriving “wh-in-situ” through movement in Brazilian Portuguese 175 Mary Aizawa Kato On ‘focus movement’ in Italian 193 Valentina Bianchi Clause-typing by [2] – the loss of the 2nd person pronoun du ‘you’ in Dutch, Frisian and Limburgian dialects 217 Gertjan Postma Degree phrase raising in relative clauses 255 Adam Szczegielniak Low, high and higher applicatives: Evidence from Pazar Laz 275 Balkız Öztürk On richness of tense and verb movement in Brazilian Portuguese 297 Sonia Cyrino
  • 10.  Information Structure and Agreement Vocalic adjustments under positional markedness in Catalan and other Romance languages 319 Jesús Jiménez Maria-Rosa Lloret On sloppy readings, ellipsis and pronouns: Missing arguments in Catalan Sign Language (LSC) and other argument-drop languages 337 Josep Quer Joana Rosselló Index 371
  • 11. Information structure, agreement and CP Victoria Camacho-Taboada, Ángel L. Jiménez-Fernández, Javier Martín-González Mariano Reyes-Tejedor Information structure (IS) deals with how information is presented in discourse. ­ Traditionally, two articulatory levels have been distinguished (Rizzi 1997; Zubizarreta 1998): (1) Topic + Comment; (2) Presupposition + Focus. In the canonical structure of the sentence the topic usually coincides with the subject, whereas the focus very frequently falls upon the verb phrase or one of its elements. However, the canoni- cal word order may change in the syntactic component when discourse functions are played out by constituents other than the unmarked elements. Discourse processes which involve a rearrangement of word order are topic/focus fronting, clitic left dis- location or scrambling. Reordering of sentence constituents in these processes are motivated by a special need to highlight an element whose unmarked position is not informationally prominent. From the beginning of Generative Grammar, information structure has played an important role in the study of language. Chomsky (1971) assumes the ­ distinction focus/presupposition. Emonds (1969) holds that topicalization and focalization are transformations. This proposal has been inherited (in some form or another) by the different reformulations which have arisen in the history of Generative ­ Grammar. Natural languages vary as to the device that they use to convey a spe- cific discourse interpretation. Thus, some languages employ phonological strategies more frequently than others, whereas other languages prefer to use syntactic and morphological resources (Kiss 1995; Miyagawa 2010). Several accounts have tried to locate the ­ connection between syntax and discourse/pragmatics: at the syntax- phonology ­ interface (Zubizarreta 1998, 2010; Fanselow Lenertová 2011), at the syntax-­ pragmatics interface (López 2009) or directly in the syntax (the cartographic approach, Rizzi 1997 et seq.). In this way, the Complementiser Phrase (CP) domain is crucially involved in the manifestation of Information Structure in natural lan- guages. Following Chomsky’s (2008) idea that Universal Grammar sets no specific link between syntax and Information Structure, current theory submits that syntax has no access to it and that movement to the left periphery is motivated by an edge feature in the CP system (Fanselow Lenertová 2011). As for Agreement, Information Structure has also been a crucial notion through- out the history of Linguistics and has played a significant role in the different versions
  • 12.  Victoria Camacho-Taboada et al. of Generative Grammar. Traditionally, agreement has not only been used to signal ­ morphological and syntactic relations, but also to motivate syntactic operations. ­ Proposals like ­ Pollock (1989), Kayne (1989), Ritter (1991) and Shlonsky (1994) brought about the postulation of various agreement projections in verbal, nominal and clausal domains. Agreement was applied to other phenomena like Case relations and it was crucial in accounting for both overt and covert movement triggered by ­ feature checking in Spec-head configurations (Sportiche 1995, among many ­ others). In ­ current Minimalist terms, the notion of agreement has its distinct operation “Agree” whereby a probe receives a morphological value from an available goal (e.g. Chomsky 2000). As with Information Structure, the CP domain is also fully involved in Agreement relations. The present volume consists of thirteen contributions on these topics. Some ­ chapters focus on the syntax of information structure in relation with the position occupied by different constituents in the CP domain and prominence phenomena at word level. Other chapters deal with the notion of agreement and its role in the ­ syntax of specific constructions such as applicatives, correlatives, types of CPs, and others. The results are based on the study of several languages including English, German, Dutch, ­ Frisian, ­ Limburgian, European and Brazilian Portuguese, Galician, ­ Spanish, ­ Catalan, Italian, French, Polish, Pazar Laz, Japanese, Spanish Sign Language, Catalan Sign Language and American Sign Language. There are an important number of chapters in this book which focus on Infor- mation Structure. Within a cartographic framework and dealing with information ­ structure and the structure of CP is Andrew Radford’s The complementiser system in ­ spoken English: Evidence from broadcast media. The author explores the syntax of dis- located topics, fronted topics, focus preposing and modal adverbs in relation to the different positions that complementisers can occupy in English. Using data from live unscripted British radio and TV broadcasts, Radford makes a distinction between complementiser-first (C1) and complementiser-second (C2) in spoken English. He analyses the occurrence of that in subordinate declaratives, wh-interrogatives, rela- tives, correlatives, adverbial clauses, etc., and also in root clauses (wh-exclamatives, modal adverbial clauses, and clauses introduced by an adjunct, dislocated topic, or focalised constituent). Radford makes the observation that in authentic English the complementiser that can occur in different positions relative to other constituents which sit in the CP area. Interestingly, that can even be repeated (recomplementation). Adopting a carto- graphic approach to the CP region (Rizzi 1997; Haegeman 2010), the author claims that the complementiser that is a maximally underspecified complementiser which simply marks finiteness and so serves to introduce a subordinate finite clause. There- fore, this conjunction can, in principle, lexicalise any head on the periphery of a finite clause (whether Sub, Force, Top, Foc, or Fin).
  • 13. Information structure, agreement and CP  Andrew Radford claims that C1 structures are different from C2 structures in many respects. Indeed, C1 is never found in root clauses in English. ­ Following ­ Casanto and Sag (2008), the author assumes that complementisers are used for ­ processing ­ purposes in the sentence and concludes that C2 structures are only used when there is a ­ comparatively ‘long’ constituent preceding the complementiser. Frascarelli Ramaglia’s paper, ‘Phasing’ contrast at the interfaces: A feature- compositional approach to topics, establishes a parallelism between CP phases and DP phases in relation with phonological marking. For the authors IS is crucially ­ connected with prosody. They make a clear connection between the traditional ­ partition of utterances in terms of topic and focus (based on the notion of givenness) and the corresponding split in sentences and nominals. The paper shows that phonological prominence is not by nature related to the notions of givenness or newness; on the contrary, in their analysis what is not expected in the Topic portion (new information) is prosodically marked in this domain, whereas what is not expected in the Comment (given information) is also phonologically marked. Following Krifka (2007), the authors identify two clear parts in the Comment, namely focus and background. The information conveyed by the background will be phonologically marked. This accounts for the occurrence of unfo- cused material in the Comment, for “second occurrence Focus” and for answers to multiple wh-questions. As for the Topic portion, Frascarelli Ramaglia assume that the given part in the Topic section is phonologically unmarked. However, given the typology of ­ topics in terms of Aboutness-Topics, Contrastive-Topics and Given-Topics (Frascarelli ­ Hinterhölzl 2007), and based on Information Structure-related features such as ­ contrast and given, the authors propose that some focussed material can be identified within the topic section and will thus be phonologically marked. Perhaps the most appealing point in their proposal is the syntactic implemen- tation that the authors make with respect to Information Structure. Provided that phonological markedness is determined by the relative position of unexpected infor- mation within a phase, it is clearly shown that the informationally relevant constituents are prosodically marked in the head or edge of CP and DP phases. This implies that Chomsky’s Phase Impenetrability Principle has an impact on Information ­ Structure and Phonology. Gabriela Matos and Ana Brito’s contribution, THe alternation between improper indi- rect questions and DPs containing a restrictive relative, examinesthepropertiesofimproper indirect interrogative constructions and determines DPs containing a restructure relative the semantic type of predicates involved in them in Spanish and European Portuguese. ­ IS-related grammatical features are taken to influence the syntax of the constructions under discussion. The authors also offer an explanation as to why these wh-clauses alter- nate with relative clauses. Following Keenan and Hull (1973) and Moreno Cabrera (2002),
  • 14.  Victoria Camacho-Taboada et al. they propose that improper interrogatives and relatives are instances of how the same phenomenon can be conveyed by different syntactic strategies across languages: embed- ded interrogative sentences (i.e. Finnish), relative clauses (i.e. some Melanesian and ­ Austronesian languages) or both of them (i.e. English and Spanish). According to Matos and Brito, this parametric variation would be lexically restricted. The predicates of both structures are assertive cognitive definite ­ predicates (Hinzer Sheenan to appear) that can select a D-linked wh-CP/ForceP (in a ­ cartographic ­ perspective) or a relativized DP headed by a definite D, respectively. Both complement types are full phases which show a high referential level and display similar features: 〈wh/operator〉 and 〈specific〉. Still, they are not semantically equiva- lent since the identification of the involved entity in improper indirect interrogatives, though assumed as known by the speaker, is not discovered, while in headed relative clauses it is revealed by its antecedent. The (non-)availability of an extra CP layer plays a central role in de Cuba and MacDonald’s paper, Referentiality in Spanish CPs. Bringing together evidence from wh-movement and referentiality, and using data mostly from Spanish embedded clauses, they hold that factive verbs take structurally less complex complements, namely plain CPs, because of their referential nature. On the other hand, non-factives take non-referential cPs, which embed a referential CP. They base their proposal on the syntactic asymmetries observed in extraction phenomena between these two kinds of complements, under the assumption that more structure allows for the possibility of accommodating extracted elements. In order to explain the wh-island effects shown by non-referential-que embedded constructions, the authors elaborate on Suñer’s (1991, 1993) distinction between indirect-questions and semi-questions by proposing that the presence of a question operator in non-referential cPs is responsible for the intervention effects. They also offer a characterisation of referentiality whereby only referential complements are part of the common conversational ground. Finally, they claim that a non-referential que may be the spellout of a distinct speech act operator in cP, which is associated with an initial attempt at introducing a proposition or question into the common ground. Another look at Information Structure is provided by Karen Lahousse’s paper ­ Binding at the syntax-information structure interface. Binding Theory has stood through the history of Generative Grammar as one of the most controversial ­ components of grammar (Cecchetto 2000; Higginbotham 1980 Reinhart 1983). Karen Lahousse shows that binding connectivity effects are heavily influenced by the information ­ structure status of the constituents. She argues that Heycock and Kroch’s (2002) ­ analysis on the basis of focus-reconstruction at LF does not account for all the empirical evidence in cleft sentences and reverse clefting. Lahousse claims that bind- ing effects cannot be accounted for only on the basis of focus reconstruction into the ground. As counter-evidence to Heycock and Kroch’s analysis of binding connectivity,
  • 15. Information structure, agreement and CP  in terms of focus reconstruction, the author uses cases with coreferential or bound interpretation where the binder is in the ground and the bindee in the focus. The solution that Lahousse proposes is based on Rizzi’s (1997) cartographic approach to information structure. Although she concentrates on clefting, her analysis is also extended to other construction types. Assuming the file card analy- sis of information structure, Lahousse divides sentences into two parts, focus and ground. Moreover, she holds that there is an overt Topic in the left periphery which binds the relevant element in some position internal to the clause. This topic can also be covert (in the sense of Zribi-Hertz 2003). In this case, it is coreferential with some other element in the clause, but it is the covert topic (not the explicit coref- erent constituent) that counts for any binding relation to be established in the IP. Hence, regardless of the explicit syntactic position occupied by the binder and the bindee, what matters is that the bindee is c-commanded by a suitable topic in the left periphery. Also dealing with wh-clauses, Mary Kato’s paper, Deriving wh-in-situ through movement in Brazilian Portuguese, proposes that wh-in-situ structures in Brazilian Portuguese (BP) are derived by movement (contra Huang’s wh-parameter). BP is an optional wh-in-situ language, meaning that wh-phrases can be fronted or remain in- situ. Moreover, both question types have the peculiarity of having a falling intonation that contrast with yes/no questions and echo questions, which show a rising one. After Cheng and Rooryck’s (2000) analysis of French, Kato proposes that the rising intonation is given by the interrogative silent operator Q and that only those ­structures with a rising intonation are true interrogative ones. Thus, in her cartography-based approach, while ordinary wh-questions are fake in-situ cases where the wh-phrase moves to a sentence internal Focus Phrase (Belletti 1998), fronted wh-questions are reduced cleft questions where the wh-phrase is moved to the low VP periphery and the copula is optionally deleted at PF. She concludes that her proposal avoids the ­ undesirable problem of optionality. Information structure is also the topic of Valentina Bianchi’s On focus movement in Italian. In her system, IS is the link between the syntactic and semantic components of language. In this paper Bianchi identifies two syntactic slots targeted by Contrastive Focus in Italian, a high focus position and a low focus position. This might be taken to imply optional movement. However, the different focus positions correspond to dif- ferent semantic interpretations. Whereas high focus is corrective, low focus is merely contrastive. The author provides strong evidence for this distinction at the semantic and syn- tactic level. For instance, the high focus construction is inappropriate as an answer to a yes-no question. All the distinguishing properties follow from the fact that semanti- cally high focus involves a corrective conversational move, i.e. it implies an update of the common background (in the sense of Krifka 2007). In order for correction
  • 16.  Victoria Camacho-Taboada et al. to be felicitous, there must be an “antecedent proposition” such that the corrective claim is incompatible with it (or part of it) in the context of interpretation (vanLeusen 2004). On the other hand, low focus does not obey the same kind of rules. This type of focus involves just a contrast, not correction. Put bluntly, Bianchi shows that high and low foci are not semantically equivalent. Syntactically, the two types of focus are sheltered in different projections. High focus is hosted at a peripheral position which depends on the root-like assertive flavour of the sentence, whereas low focus is not attained by remnant IP movement, as other studies propose. It is rather identified with a ­ syntactically low focus position. The connection between the left periphery and Agreement is explicitly addressed in Gertjan Postma’s paper, Clause-typing by [2] – the loss of the 2nd person pronoun du ‘you’ in Dutch, Frisian and Limburgian dialects. Postma argues for two influential pro- posals on the structure of the left-periphery in strict V2-languages, more specifically Den Besten’s (1977/1982) unified CP theory and Zwart’s (1993) IP/CP theory. What is important for Postma is that these two theories of V2 are not competing, but describe two language types with distinct observational properties. Postma coins it the “Two V2 hypothesis” (abbreviated 2V2). While Zwart’s theory describes language variants with positional spell-out in verbs (in most Western and Southern Dutch dialects), Den Besten describes most adequately language variants with unified V2 spellout and with position dependent spell-out in subject pronouns (Frisian, Limburgian, German). According to Postma, initial evidence for the V2 bifurcation is already pres- ent in Zwart in the observation that double paradigms come in two flavours, which he calls type 1 (split V2, most western and southern Dutch dialects) and type 2 (joint V2, eventually contrasting with Vfinal, e.g. Bavarian). Two further observations are discussed. The first observation is that double paradigms are never observed with 3rd person pronouns. Secondly, dialects with double paradigms, nevertheless, show ­ position dependent spellout in 3rd person pronouns. Postma argues that Dutch 3rd person clauses should be analysed according to Den Besten. This can be generalized: the distinction between both structures only shows up with subjects with the 2nd person feature, such as 2sg, 2pl. By testing the 2V2-hypoth- esis, he exploits intriguing consequences upon a transition from one type to the other. Predictions are made regarding the appearance and disappearance of specific pronoun and verbal spellout variants. This is tested quantitatively in the dialectological data on the loss of the 2nd person pronoun in various dialects of Dutch. It turns out that there is a significant correlation between double paradigms in V2 and the loss of [du] as a second person singular pronoun. He argues that Zwart’s ­ structures only show up if the subject-verb agreement involves Postal’s feature [2], i.e. 2sg, 2pl, 1pl. He attributes the blocking of the finite verb moving to C to a hypothetical [2]-trace effect, similar to the that-trace effect with wh-. Postma explains these facts in a Minimalist fashion by assuming that feature [2] has quantificational properties that force it to enter into
  • 17. Information structure, agreement and CP  an AGREE relation with [2] in C, which represents the hearer. [2] functions as a kind of clause typing, similar to wh-. This proposal gives the author reasons to believe that linguistic utterances, at least those involving [2], are modifying the hearer. CPs are approached from a different angle in Adam Szczegielniak’s Degree phrase raising in relative clauses. In this case, its relevance as delimiting the landing site of phrasal movement is central to the author´s proposal. More specifically, the possi- bility of overt raising targeting a position outside of CP is used to account for the difference in scope readings between modal degree of amount relative clauses and comparative clauses. A raising operation for relative clauses has already been defended by Grosu and Landman (1998). However, Szczegielniak offers a novel proposal that makes the right predictions; namely, that DegP in modal degree of amount relatives raises overtly out of CP to a position modifying the external NP. THis process makes the derivation of such relatives take place via head matching -and not through noun raising- and correctly accounting for the observed scope readings. The same deriva- tion is offered for AP degree relatives in Spanish (Gutiérrez-Rexach 1999), only that Deg in this case takes the AP as its complement, which means that AP is pied-piped as part of DegP. Finally, the proposed analysis of modal degree of amount relatives is extended to ´there´ relatives, which is said to account for the similarities with respect to the complementiser restrictions in both types of relatives. Balkiz Öztürk’s Low, high and higher applicatives: Evidence from Pazar Laz offers two important contributions. First, we have the always invaluable work on an endan- gered language, Pazar Laz, a Caucasian language spoken in Turkey. Then, we have the proposal of a new applicative with its own agreement requirements. Aside from low and high applicatives, claimed to be the only two types found cross-linguistically (Pylkkänen 2001), Öztürk argues that Pazar Laz instantiates a third kind, which she calls “higher applicative” since it selects a vP as a complement. Higher applicatives are present in experiential constructions as well as in constructions denoting ability and involuntary actions. From a morphosyntactic viewpoint, a higher applicative head on the verbal complex selects an agentive vP only. The applied argument introduced by this applicative head is coindexed with an implicit agent introduced by the v head. All this results in dative marking for the ergative agent and object agreement on the verb, as well as in the Theme agreeing with the higher T, while at the same time ­ maintaining both the agentive and the experiencer readings -and thus setting itself apart from cases of inversion of syntactic roles (as in Harris 1981, 1982). Furthermore, higher ­ applicatives also have a distinct semantic nature in that they relate a DP to a state instead of an event. Sonia Cyrino, in her paper On richness of tense and verb movement in Brazilian Portuguese, presents a counterexample to Biberauer and Roberts’ (2010) proposal that relates richness of verbal tense paradigms to verb movement. They propose a language typologywhereonlylanguageswithrichtensemarkingshowV-to-T­movementdespite
  • 18.  Victoria Camacho-Taboada et al. the richness of agreement marking. Yet Cyrino observes that Brazilian ­ Portuguese does not fit in this classification since this language has kept some morphological markings in past tenses while at the same time has retained the loss of verb movement. She ­ concludes that morphology may not always indicate verb position. Cyrino follows Giorgi and Pianesi’s (1997) theory on temporal syntactic structure where two different functional categories are projected as T1 and T2. Thus, based on empirical evidence such as vP ellipsis, modality readings of the imperfect and adverb position, the author proposes a third possibility; namely, as in the case of Brazilian Portuguese, there would be some languages with rich tense morphology where the verb does not move to T (T1) but to a lower one (T2). Using Optimality Theory (OT) as framework, Jesús Jiménez and Maria-Rosa Lloret’s chapter, Vocalic adjustments under positional markedness, is concerned with vocalic changes involving opening in word-initial position in Romance languages. Unlike the traditionally well-studied phenomena of feature preservation in word- initial position, which is interpreted as an effect of Positional Faithfulness (Beckman 1998), the preference for more open vowels in that position is not explained in classical studies. Jiménez and Lloret propose that this vowel-initial opening can be accounted for on the basis of Positional Markedness, or the attraction of prominent elements to strong positions (Prince Smolensky 1993). In the final chapter, On sloppy readings, ellipsis and pronouns: Missing arguments in Catalan Sign Language (LSC) and other argument-drop languages, Josep Quer and Joanna Rosselló discuss hybrid and uniform approaches on null arguments based on East Asian Languages and American Sign Language. The hybrid approach, proposed by Huang (1984), considers missing arguments as null pronouns, pros or empty topics; the uniform approach analyses all of them as elliptical arguments, except for null subjects in Mandarin Chinese, that are considered pro elements. Quer and Rosselló argue that neither approach can explain the disparities found in East Asian and sign languages. These authors also disagree with Lillo-Martin (1991), who follows Huang’s proposal in that null objects of sign language plain verbs are variables. For Quer and Rosselló, embedded clauses are always islands in ASL and thus, embedded object ­ variables cannot exist in the language. Moreover, according to the authors, the syntactic behaviour of Catalan Sign Lan- guage (LSC) and other argument-drop languages such as Catalan and Spanish prove both approaches to be inaccurate. They show that the sloppy reading criterion is not a valid one to differentiate between ellipsis and empty pronouns since languages such as LSC, Catalan, and Spanish allow sloppy reading with pro-objects. The authors actually conclude that a new theory of null arguments that takes into account crosslinguistic data is still lacking. To conclude this introduction, the editors would like to thank all contributors and participants in the 21st Colloquium on Generative Grammar, which was jointly held
  • 19. Information structure, agreement and CP  by the University of Seville and Pablo de Olavide University. We are also grateful to the anonymous reviewers who have kindly evaluated the papers in this volume. This publication has been sponsored by Ministerio de Ciencia e Innovación of the Spanish Government (FFI2010-11158-E). References Chomsky, Noam. 1971. Deep structure, surface structure, and semantic interpretation. In ­ Semantics: An Interdisciplinary Reader in Philosophy, Linguistics, and Psychology, D. ­ Steinberg L. Jakobovits (eds), 183–216. Cambridge: CUP. Chomsky, Noam. 2000. Minimalist inquiries. In Step by Step: Essays on Minimalism in Honor of Howard Lasnik, Roger Martin, David Michaels Juan Uriagereka (eds), 89–155. ­ Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Chomsky, Noam. 2008. On phases. In Foundational Issues in Linguistic Theory, Robert Freidin, Carlos Otero Maria Luisa Zubizarreta (eds), 133–166. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Emonds, Joseph. 1969. Root and structure–preserving transformations. Ph.D. dissertation, MIT. Fanselow, Gisbert Lenertová, Denisa. 2011. Left peripheral focus: Mismatches between syntax and information structure. Natural Language and Linguistic Theory 29: 169–209. Kayne, Richard. 1989. Facets of Romance past participle agreement. In Dialect Variation and the Theory of Grammar, Paola Benincà (ed.), 85–103. Dordrecht: Foris. Kiss, Katalin É. 1995. Introduction. In Discourse Configurational Languages, Katalin É. Kiss (ed.), 3–27. Oxford: OUP. López, Luis. 2009. A Derivational Syntax for Information Structure. Oxford: OUP. Miyagawa, Shigeru. 2010. Why Agree? Why Move? Unifying Agreement–based and Discourse Configurational Languages [LI Monograph 54]. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Pollock, Jean-Yves. 1989. Verb movement, universal grammar and the structure of IP. Linguistic Inquiry 20: 365–424. Ritter, Elizabeth. 1991. Two functional categories in noun phrases: Evidence from Modern Hebrew. In Syntax and Semantics 25: Perspectives on Phrase Structure, Susan Rothstein (ed.), 37–62. New York, NY: Academic Press. Rizzi, Luigi. 1997. The fine structure of the left periphery. In Elements of Grammar. Handbook in Generative Syntax, Liliane Haegeman (ed.), 281–337. Dordrecht: Kluwer. Shlonsky, Ur. 1994. Agreement in Comp. The Linguistic Review 11: 351–375. Sportiche, Dominique. 1995. Sketch of a reductionist approach to syntactic variation and ­dependencies. In Evolution and Revolution in Linguistic Theory: Essays in Honor of ­Carlos Otero, Héctor Campos Paula Kempchinsky (eds), 365–398. Washington, DC: ­ Georgetown University Press. Zubizarreta, Maria Luisa. 1998. Word Order, Prosody and Focus. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Zubizarreta, Maria Luisa. 2010. The syntax and prosody of focus: The Bantu-Italian connection. IBERIA 1: 131–168.
  • 21. The complementiser system in spoken English Evidence from broadcast media* Andrew Radford University of Essex This paper looks at the use of complementisers (especially indicative that) in the contemporary spoken English of live unscripted radio and TV broadcasts. Descriptive grammars of English generally claim that indicative that is restricted to occurring in C1/Complementiser-First structures where the complementiser is the first word in a declarative subordinate clause. However, I report a wide range of other structures containing indicative that occurring in spoken English (including interrogative C1 structures), together with a wide range of C2/ Complementiser-Second structures. I note that C2 (but not C1) structures occur in root clauses and conclude that (for speakers who produce such structures), that can lexicalise any head on the periphery of a finite clause which is licensed by a superordinate constituent. I briefly explore possible psycholinguistic and sociolinguistic factors which may have shaped complementiser use. Keywords: broadcast English; cartographic analysis; complementisers; root clause complementisers; wh-clauses * This paper has its origins in material in Radford (2010a, 2010b, 2011), and in presenta- tions made to the Irish Network in Formal Linguistics in Dublin in September 2011, to the University of Sevilla in October 2011, and to the Fifth Annual Conference on Formal Lin- guistics in the Guangdong University of Foreign Studies in December 2011. I am grateful to the audiences there and to Paolo Acquaviva, Enam Al Wer, Merete Anderssen, Martin Atkinson, Sjef Barbiers, Paola Benincà, Bob Borsley, Memo Cinque, Chris Collins, Stephen Crain, Silvio Cruschina, Claudia Felser, Teresa Guasti, Liliane Haegeman,Wolfram Hintzen, Alison Henry, Anders Holmberg, Georgios Ioannou, Ángel L. Jiménez-Fernández, Mike Jones,Marie Labelle,Richard Larson,Adam Ledgeway,Jim McCloskey,Jamal Ouhalla,Susan Pintzuk, Ian Roberts, Tom Roeper, Luigi Rizzi, Andrew Spencer, Julio Villa-García and two anonymous referees for helpful observations, suggestions, references, or data. Structural representations are simplified in various ways for expository purposes (e.g. by showing only constituents relevant to the discussion at hand, and by showing only heads and phrases, not intermediate projections).
  • 22.  Andrew Radford 1. Introduction Typical environments in which descriptive grammars of English claim that the indicative complementiser that is and isn’t used in ‘standard’ varieties of English are illustrated below: (1) a. (*That) he can’t stand garlic b. He says [that garlic, he can’t stand it] c. I wonder [why (*that) he doesn’t like garlic] d. The reason I didn’t eat the soup was [because (*that) it contains lots of garlic] e. *He says [garlic, that he can’t stand it] f. Garlic is something [which (*that) I can’t stand] The contrast between (1a) and (1b) suggests that indicative that can only be used in a subordinate clause like that bracketed in (1b), not in a main clause like (1a). The ungrammaticality of (1c) suggests that is restricted to occurring in declarative clauses like that bracketed in (1b), and so cannot be used in interrogatives like that brack- eted in (1c). The ungrammaticality of (1d) suggests that cannot be used in adverbial clauses introduced by a subordinating conjunction like because. The ungrammati- cality of (1e,f) suggests that is subject to a C1/Complementiser-First Constraint requiring it to be the first (overt)1 constituent in its clause – and indeed the ungram- maticality of (1c,d) could likewise be attributed to violation of the C1 constraint. Thus, the overall picture painted by sentences like (1) is that (in canonical uses in standard varieties of English), indicative that is a subordinate, declarative,2 (clause-) initial complementiser. However, this characterisation is based on the introspective grammaticality judgments of linguists rather than recorded samples of spoken English. Although there is some experimental evidence suggesting that introspective judgments of experienced linguists can be relatively robust (Sprouse Almeida 2011), there 1. I add the qualification overt here, since (on some analyses), the bracketed clauses in sentences like i. This is something [Op that I really like] ii Where do you think [where that he has gone] contain an (italicised) null constituent preceding the complementiser that – viz. a null relative clause Operator in (i) and a null copy of the fronted wh-constituent where in (ii). 2. If we follow Roberts and Roussou (2002) in taking C to be interpreted as declarative by default (viz. when a clause is not marked in some way as being interrogative/exclamative/ imperative etc.), we could alternatively take that simply to be a complementiser signalling the beginning (i.e. serving as the first word) of a subordinate finite clause.
  • 23. The complementiser system in spoken English  is also conflicting experimental evidence (Radford, Felser Boxell 2012) that the judgments of educated native speakers can unwittingly be influenced by ­ prescriptive education. This raises the question of whether the constraints noted above hold in Real English in the sense of Milroy and Milroy (1993) – i.e. in authen- tic spoken ­ English. In an attempt to answer this question, I looked at the use of ­ complementisers in 500 hours of digital recordings of live unscripted broadcasts from ­ popular British radio and TV programmes recorded between May 2010 and September 2011: this yielded a corpus of around 3 million words from phone- ins, interviews, discussion forums and sports commentaries (these being chosen because they contain unscripted dialogue not subject to the prescriptive influence of copy editors). This paper presents a report on (and analysis of) my main findings: most of the non-canonical data come from indicative that (there being relatively few examples of non-canonical uses of subjunctive that, infinitival for or interroga- tive if/whether). I begin in §2 by ­ reporting on C1/Complementiser-First structures found in my recordings, and then go on in §§3–9 to report a range of different C2/ Complementiser-Second structures, before reflecting on an interesting asymmetry between C1 and C2 structures in §10, and on the source of C1 and C2 structures in §11. 2. C1 in complement clauses C1 structures occurred frequently in my recordings in declarative complement clauses like those below: (2) a. You have to say [that Higuain, normally he would have hit the target] (Jon Driscoll, Sky Sports TV) b. I just felt [that Roy Hodgson, a few weeks ago, when Liverpool lost to Everton, he was in a minority of one] (John Motson, BBC Radio 5) c. You just get the feeling [that Arsenal, the way they keep the ball, it’s particularly clever, isn’t it]? (Steve Claridge, BBC Radio 5) d. I have heard [that William, the Brazilian midfielder who plays for Shahtar Donetsk, Liverpool are interested in him] (Listener, BBC Radio 5) e. And advance warning [that from midnight tonight, the A3 in Surrey, it’s going to be closed] (Traffic reporter, BBC Radio 5) In the bracketed clauses in (2), a (bold-printed) complementiser is positioned in front of all other (italicised) peripheral constituents preceding the (underlined) subject, such as dislocated topics and adjuncts. This is consistent with the picture painted in
  • 24.  Andrew Radford the previous section of that being canonically used to introduce a subordinate clause which is declarative in force.3 However, Radford (1988: 585) reported the (constructed) Example in (3a) below in which that is used in a (bracketed) C1 complement clause where it is followed by a wh-constituent, and in addition my recordings contain 30 examples of that+wh clauses like those in (3b–i):4 (3) a. He protested [that how could he have known that his office was bugged?] b. And I can understand [that why] (Graham Taylor, BBC Radio 5, in response to ‘Not too many people give Villa a chance of beating United’) c. I’d just like to find out [that how do people on the continent remember Paul Scholes?] (Listener, BBC Radio 5) d. I had a tweet from an Everton fan saying [that what’s the point of league tables at this stage?] (Shelagh Fogarty, BBC Radio 5) e. The strange thing with Joe Cole going to Lille is [that why did nobody in the Premier League want him?] (Ian McGarry, BBC Radio 5) f. He’s proved in his career [that what a very, very good manager he is] (Peter Taylor, Talk Sport Radio) g. The fact they had to beat Holland to get through as the best ­ qualified second-place team I think shows you [that how good they can be] (Andy Brassell, BBC Radio 5) h. One of the things we were talking about, kind of backstage, was that how it seems, both to me and to him, that the age of the sergeant-major type coach has gone (Tim Vickery, BBC Radio 5) 3. I note in passing that Huddleston (1994) argues that (illocutionary) force is a pragmatic rather than a syntactic notion, and that its syntactic counterpart is clause type (see also Cheng 1991) – but I shall set aside this point here,because force is a term used in much of the research mentioned in Note 7, and because type is often employed as a more general term (e.g. active and passive clauses are sometimes said to differ in type). 4. If yes-no questions with auxiliary inversion contain an abstract interrogative operator (op), there will be parallels between comp+wh structures like those in (3) and comp+op structures like those in (i), nine examples of which occurred in my recordings: i. Umpires should be saying that is there any reason why it should be given out? (Chris Martin-Jenkins, BBC Radio 5 Sports Extra)
  • 25. The complementiser system in spoken English  i. Harry Redknapp makes a very good point [that why on earth is Villas Boas getting wound up by those comments?] (John Cross, Talk Sport Radio) j. The thing is such a complete mess [that where does the kid start?] (Interviewee, BBC Radio 5) comp+wh clauses are reported to occur (inter alia) in Spanish (Rivero 1978, 1980, 1994; Plann 1982; Suñer 1991, 1993; Brucart 1993; Demonte Fernández-Soriano 2009), Hungarian (Kenesei et al. 1998) and Japanese (Saito 2010). But what is the role of that in such structures? Claudia Felser (pc) observes that the complementiser that in cases like (3) occurs in contexts which allow a that-clause (e.g. as in He protested that he couldn’t possibly have known that his office was bugged or He’s proved in his career that he’s a very, very good manager). If so, sentences like (3) may be a blend (in the sense of Bolinger 1961) of a wh-clause with a that-clause. However, the plausibility of any such blend analysis is called into question by the occurrence of sentences such as the following in my recordings: (4) a. When you see Spain line up, do you sometimes wonder [that whether they need Xabi Alonso and Busquets]? (Mark Chapman, BBC Radio 5) b. It just makes you wonder [that, if we haven’t got this world cup, when- ever will we get one?] (Alan Shearer, BBC Radio 5) c The question’s got to be asked [that who would you want to be manager?] (Lee Dixon, BBC2 TV) d. Meg, can I ask [that how many police would normally be on duty at any one time?] (Neil Ashton, Talk Sport Radio) e. That’s what that government’s trying to resolve there, [that who’s going to pay for all of this?] (Industrialist, BBC Radio 5) This is because the underlined predicates (in the relevant use) do not take a that-clause complement (cf. *I wonder that they need Xavi and Busquets). An alternative generalization (formulated by Plann 1982 in relation to analogous structures in Spanish) is that comp+wh structures are only used after quotative predi- cates (i.e. predicates which allow a direct quote as a complement). However, while this holds for many of the Examples in (3,4), it does not hold for Examples like (3b,f,g) and (4e) since verbs like understand/prove/show/resolve are not typical quotative predi- cates. A related analysis is offered by Saito (2010), who maintains that they are used to report direct discourse (and so typically occur after verbs of saying/thinking). He concludes from this that the complementiser in such structures is a Report head
  • 26.  Andrew Radford (in the sense of Lahiri 1991). Examples like (3–4) would seem compatible with this characterisation: for example, we find Subject-Auxiliary Inversion in the interroga- tive wh-clause in (3a) – a phenomenon typically associated with direct (root clause) questions. This might suggest that the complementiser that in such structures serves to embed root clause structures.5 However, this characterisation turns out to be too narrow, in that my recordings also contain comp+wh clauses like those bracketed below which show characteristics of embedded rather than root questions: (5) a. When you see Spain line up, do you sometimes wonder [that whether they need Xabi Alonso and Busquets]? (Mark Chapman, BBC Radio 5) b. What’s going to be important is [that whether he can win the final stage of the Tour de France] (Gary Imlach, ITV4) c. I think he blotted his copybook a little bit, in terms of [that ­ whether there was money he was prepared to give up in order to join Corinthians] (Tim Vickery, BBC Radio 5) d. Can you remember [that when he suddenly said he was going to go to the arch rivals]? (Danny Kelly, Talk Sport Radio) e. It just shows [that how they’re losing touch with the common man] (Listener, Talk Sport Radio) f. Among the wider Greek community, is it understood [that what he has done and why he has done it]? (Suzanne Chislet, BBC Radio 5) g. I’m trying to understand [that why we don’t see any French planes as part of the strike force] (American journalist, BBC Radio 5) h. I spoke to him to say [that what had happened] (Brendan Rogers, Talk Sport Radio = ‘I spoke to him to say “What happened?”’) The use of the embedded clause complementiser whether in (5a–c) together with the absence of Subject-Auxiliary Inversion in (5d–g) and (pastpluperfect) tense trans- position in (5h) suggest that the bracketed structures are embedded rather than root clauses. 5. Structures like those below are also compatible with this suggestion: i. It’s one of those [that do we just push to one side?] (Brian Laws, BBC Radio 5) ii. The moment you have rain on the first day, it just becomes mandatory [that finish at 7 and walk off] (Nasser Hussain, Sky Sports TV) In (i) the complement of that is a root yes-no question with Subject-Auxiliary Inversion, and in (ii) the complement is a root imperative.
  • 27. The complementiser system in spoken English  Furthermore, my recordings also contain the following 6 examples of relative clauses with a comp+wh structure: (6) a. Klinsmann is someone [that how can you argue with what he did as a footballer?] (Sean Wheelock, BBC Radio 5) b. You need to buy a world class striker [that who you can put in up front] (Mark Saggers, Talk Sport Radio) c. It’s the business of the state such as the one [that in which we live to say what the tax should be on alcohol] (Politician, BBC Radio 5) d. This is a country [that whose leadership has been our ally for over 30 years] (Harvard professor, BBC Radio 5) e. The speed [that which they go at these days leaves no margin for error] (Darren Gough, Talk Sport Radio) f. He’s taken many by surprise with the speed [that which he’s adapted] (Tim Vickery, BBC Radio 5) While the complementiser that could be taken to serve a report function (embedding a direct question inside a relative clause) in (6a,b), it doesn’t seem to have any such function in (6c–f). So what is the nature of that in such cases? It seems clear that the complementiser that does not mark declarative force in comp+wh clauses such as those in (3–6) above, since it can be used to introduce inter- rogative and exclamative clauses: rather, it seems more likely that it is a maximally underspecified complementiser which simply marks finiteness and subordination, and so serves to introduce a subordinate finite clause. Under a conventional CP analysis of the left periphery (i.e. of that part of the clause structure above the canonical subject position/above TP), complement clauses like those bracketed in (3–6) can be handled in terms of a CP recursion analysis under which (e.g.) the bracketed clause in (5a) would have a structure along the following lines (if we take whether to be a complementiser): (7) [CP [C that] [CP [C whether] they need Xavi Alonso and Busquets]] However, an alternative possibility arises if we adopt a Cartographic approach to the structure of the left periphery, under which CP can split into number of separate ­ projections such as those shown in schematic form in the template below:6 (8) [SubP … [ForceP … [TopP … [FocP … [FinP …[TP Subject…]]]]]] 6. For a Cartographic analysis of the syntax of the periphery,see Benincà (2001,2006,2010a, 2010b), Benincà Poletto (2004), Benincà and Cinque (2010), Bocci (2004), Cardinaletti (2004, 2009), Cinque Rizzi (2010), Cruschina (2006, 2008, 2010a, b, 2011a, b), Cruschina Remberger (2008), Demonte and Fernández-Soriano (2009), Frascarelli Hinterhölzl (2007), Haegeman (2000a, 2003, 2006a, 2006b, 2007, 2009, 2010, 2011), Jiménez-Fernández (2011), Munaro (2003),Paoli (2003,2006),Poletto (2000),Rizzi (1997,2001,2004,2005,2006),Rizzi Shlonsky (2005), and Villalba (2000).
  • 28.  Andrew Radford SubP serves to mark subordination, and consequently is projected only in subordinate clauses; its head houses subordinating conjunctions (Bhatt Yoon 1992; Bennis 2000; Rizzi 1997: Note 6, Roussou 2000; Haegeman 2006a). ForceP contains a constituent marking a clause as declarative, interrogative, exclamative or imperative in illocution- ary force; TopP contains a topicalised constituent, while FocP houses a focused con- stituent (with TopP and FocP being projected only in clauses containing a peripheral topicalised or focalised constituent); and FinP houses a constituent marking a clause as finite or non-finite. As Memo Cinque (pc) suggests, if we adopt a Cartographic approach such as that embodied in the template in (8), we can take that to occupy the head Sub position of a finite SubP. On this view, the periphery of the bracketed clause in (5a) would include the following structure: (9) [SubP [Sub that] [ForceP [Force whether] they need Xavi Alonso and Busquets]] It may be that in canonical declarative complement clauses like those bracketed in (2) above, Sub and Force are syncretised on a single head which serves to mark subordina- tion, finiteness and declarative force.7 Having examined the C1 structures found in my recordings, I now turn (in §§3–9 below) to look at a range of C2 structures found in my data, before going on in §10 to account for an interesting structural asymmetry between C1 and C2 structures, and in §11 to consider whether non-syntactic factors may play a role in the syntax of complementisers. 3. C2 in declarative complement clauses My recordings contain 26 examples of C2 structures like those below in which a (brack- eted) declarative complement clause contains an (italicised) peripheral ­ constituent preceding the complementiser:8 (10) a. The problem we’ve got is [in an ideal world that all patients would be on single-sex wards] (Hospital spokesperson, BBC Radio 5) b. And I’m hoping [on Friday night that we can turn up and get the points] (Dean Saunders, BBC Radio 5) 7. Likewise, we can also suppose that speakers who don’t use structures like (9) require Sub and Force to be syncretised in such structures. 8. I note (for completeness) that my data also included the following examples of a ­for-clause preceded by a clausal adjunct: i. What’s critical is [if people saw the helicopter, for them to contact us] (Police spokeswoman, BBC Radio 5)
  • 29. The complementiser system in spoken English  c. Do you honestly think, though, [if we created a global superleague that there wouldn’t be less bums on seats]? (Georgie Bingham, Talk Sport Radio) d. He’s one of those guys [in the past that he’s missed a few finals] (Steve Baxter, BBC Radio 5) e. I think [Bayern Munich that they are a team to really watch in the final stages] (Andy Brassell, BBC Radio 5) f. You have to hope [Zaragoza that they have a stronger wall than the one Ronaldo breached in the first 45] (Kevin Keatings, Sky Sports TV) g. They’ve been told [eleven types of vegetables that they shouldn’t eat them if they’re locally produced] (Reporter, BBC Radio 5) The italicised peripheral constituent would appear to be an (in situ) local phrasal or clausal adjunct in (10a–d), a dislocated topic in (10e,f), and a dislocated focalised quantified constituent in (10g). The picture painted by the examples we have looked at so far is that a complemen- tiser can either occur in C1 structures in which it is clause-initial, or in C2 structures where it follows other peripheral material. Interestingly, my recordings also contain (55) examples of) double-that clauses like those below which contain two different (bold-printed and underlined) occurrences of that between which is positioned a clausal or phrasal adjunct in (11a–d), a dislocated Topic in (11e–f)9, and a dislocated focused constituent in (11g–h): (11) a. The party opposite said [that if we cut 6 billion from the budget that it would end in catastrophe] (David Cameron, Prime Minister’s Questions, BBC Radio 5) b. A lot of people feel [that when they’re living in the area that they’re ­ being disadvantaged] (Town planner, BBC Radio 5) c. My hope is [that by the time we meet that we’ll have made some ­ progress] (President Obama, press conference, BBC Radio 5) d. It’s something [that off the pitch that we’ve got to help the players deal with] (Football executive, BBC Radio 5) e. People like Dale need to have confidence [that the kind of policing they need, that we can still deliver it] (Police spokesman, BBC Radio 5) f. The most we can hope for is [that those people who are blood donors that they continue to donate blood (Health spokesman, BBC Radio 5) 9. Potentially parallel structures in which a Topic precedes a complementiser (or is posi- tioned between two complementisers) are reported for Child French in Labelle (1993) and Roehrs and Labelle (2001).
  • 30.  Andrew Radford g. I think it’s really important that any of the teams down there, obviously especially West Ham, that they just try and get their home form a little better (Dean Ashton, BBC Radio 5) h. I’m not sure [that any of those that you would put them in the same bracket as Ferdinand and Terry] (Steve Claridge, BBC Radio 5) The phenomenon of a clause containing multiple occurrences of the same complemen- tiser has been termed recomplementation and has been reported not only in English, but also in a number of Romance languages (Higgins 1988; Escribano 1991; Campos 1992; Iatridou Kroch 1992; McCloskey 1992, 2006; Fontana 1993; Uriagereka 1995; Rizzi 1997, Note 19; Barbosa 2000; Ledgeway 2000, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2009, 2010, 2011a, 2011b, 2011c; D’Alessendro Ledgeway 2010; Poletto 2000; Martín-González 2002; Rodríguez-Ramalle 2003; Cocchi Poletto 2007; Fernández-Rubiera 2009; Etxepare 2010; González i Planas 2010; Gupton 2010; Haegeman 2011; Villa-García 2011a). The question posed by examples such as those above is how we can account for the variable position of complementisers in clauses like those bracketed in (2), (10) and (11) above. If we adopt the traditional CP analysis of the clause periphery, we can suppose that the bracketed clauses in (2) are C1 structures, those in (10) are C2 structures, and those in (11) are C1+C2 structures (in which a C2 structure is embed- ded within a C1 structure). On this view, the bracketed clause in (11e) would have a CP-recursion structure along the following lines: (12) [CP1 [C1 that] [CP2 the kind of policing we need [C2 that]we can still deliver it]] CP1 is a C1 structure (in which the bold-printed occurrence of that is clause-initial), and CP2 is a C2 structure in which the underlined occurrence of that is preceded by an italicised dislocated topic which serves as its specifier. A CP-recursion analysis of recomplementation has been proposed in Escribano (1991), Iatridou and Kroch (1992), and Fontana (1993). However, such an analysis is potentially problematic from a conceptual point of view, in that (if that in such clauses marks declarative force), CP recursion would lead to the undesirable outcome that the declarative force of the clause ends up being multiply marked (on each occurrence of C). This problem can be circumvented if we suppose that the two different occurrences of that correspond to two different lexical items mark- ing two different properties: for example, an anonymous reviewer notes that the initial occurrence of that corresponds to że in Polish, and the second occurrence corresponds to the different item to. One possible way of treating the two occurrences of that as mark- ing two different properties would be to adopt a Cartographic approach to the syntax of the periphery and suppose that the initial occurrence of that marks declarative Force, and the second occurrence marks Finiteness. We could then suppose that indicative that
  • 31. The complementiser system in spoken English  can lexicalise either Force or Fin (as suggested for ­ certain complementisers in Romance by Brevetto 2002; Demonte Fernández-Soriano 2009; Fernández-Rubiera 2009 and López 2009; and for Celtic by Roberts 2004). If so, the that-clauses in sentences such as (11e,h) would have a structure which includes the peripheral projections shown below: (13) a. People like Dale need to have confidence [ForceP [Force that] [TopP the kind of policing we need [Top Ø] [FinP [Fin that] we can still deliver it]]] b. I’m not sure [ForceP [Force that] [FocP any of those [Foc Ø] [FinP [Fin that] you would put them in the same bracket as Ferdinand and Terry]]] Furthermore, a Force-Fin analysis could be extended to account for the syntax of the bracketed clauses in sentences like (14) below: (14) a. It’s not clear, though [if that they’re just infecting the microbes that make us sick] (Carl Zimmer, BBC Radio 5) b. England have enforced the follow-on. [Whether that they could have done it had it not been raining], I’m not sure (Jack Bannister, Talk Sport Radio) if the periphery of the relevant clauses has the structure shown in (15): (15) a. [ForceP [Force if] [FinP [Fin that] they’re just infecting the microbes that make us sick]] b. [ForceP [Force whether] [FinP [Fin that] they could have done it]] Wecouldthensupposethatinstructureslike(14),if/whetherservetomark­interrogative Force and that serves to mark finiteness. However, the Force-Fin analysis faces both conceptual and empirical problems. The conceptual problem is that it presupposes a non-unitary analysis under which indicative that has one use in which it marks declarative Force, and another (entirely distinct) use in which it marks Finiteness. The empirical problem is that there are occurrences of that which cannot plausibly be taken to occupy either Force or Fin, but rather must be taken to occupy some other position in the periphery. Cases of this kind include the clauses bracketed in the Examples below – (16a,b,c,f) being attested Examples, (16d) being constructed by Liliane Haegeman, and (16e) being constructed by Chris Potts: (16) a. When you see Spain line up, do you sometimes wonder [that whether they need Xabi Alonso and Busquets]? (= 5a; Mark Chapman, BBC Radio 5) b. I think [previously that in trying to protect his off stump he flicked the ball to the on side] (Ian Chappell, BBC Radio 5 Sports Extra)
  • 32.  Andrew Radford c. It’s deeply embarrassing for the government [that after authorising this rescue that now it turns out that she was killed by an American ­ grenade] (Reporter, BBC Radio 5) d. I hope [that when they are adults that at no time will they forget the work that their parents put into their education] (Haegeman 2011, ch.2, p.42, ex. 78a) e. I don’t think [that for the sake of your own well-being that if you are in a bilingual classroom that once you have completed the homework in one language that you should have to do it all over again in the second one] f. I just wondered [whether that as a next step we might look to see why this seems to be the case] (Van Gelderen 2009:155) Under the Force-Fin analysis, that would be predicted to be used either in initial posi- tion within the periphery to mark declarative force, or in final position within the periphery (immediately preceding the underlined subject) to mark finiteness. How- ever none of the bold-printed occurrences of that in (16) can plausibly be taken to be in either Force or Fin. Thus in (16a), whether marks the clause as interrogative in Force and so is contained within ForceP, and that occupies a Sub position above ForceP – as in (9) above. In (16b–e) the bold-printed occurrences of that are sandwiched between two italicised peripheral constituents, and so cannot be in either Force or Fin, but rather are more likely to lexicalise the head of an intermediate (Topic or Modifier) projection whose specifier is the italicised constituent immediately preceding that. In (16f), whether is in Force and that is unlikely to be in Fin since it is separated from the underlined subject we by the peripheral constituent as a next step. Sentences such as those in (16) provide evidence that we cannot limit that to occurring only in Force and Fin. An interesting attempt to overcome the conceptual and empirical problems besetting the Force-Fin analysis is proposed in work on Southern Italian dialects by Ledgeway (2000, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2009, 2010, 2011a, 2011b, 2011c). He proposes that (the Southern Italian counterpart of) a finite complementiser like that originates in Fin and then moves (one head at a time) through any intermediate Top or Foc heads into Force (each such movement being driven by the need to check a finite- ness, topic, focus, or force feature): he also supposes that more than one copy of a moved complementiser can be overtly spelled out in a C-movement chain. This anal- ysis is lent some initial plausibility by complementiser copying examples such as the following: (17) a. I wonder if, given time, if Ramirez can fulfil that sort of role for the club (Tim Vickery, BBC Radio 5)
  • 33. The complementiser system in spoken English  b I just wonder, you know, whether really whether Arsenal can get a result there (Jimmy Armfield, BBC Radio 5)10 If we adapt Ledgeway’s analysis to English, the periphery of the bracketed clauses in (11e,h) could be taken to have the respective structures shown in (18) below (if all ­copies of that except the lowest one are overtly spelled out in such structures). (18) a. [ForceP [Force that] [TopP the kind of policing we need [Top that] [FinP [Fin that] we can still deliver it]]] b. [ForceP [Force that] [FocP any of those [Foc that] [FinP [Fin that] you would put them in the same bracket as Ferdinand and Terry]]] The complementiser that would be merged in Fin, and then move through Top or Foc into Force; the two highest (bold-printed and italicised) copies of that would be spelled out overtly, and the lowest copy (marked by strikethrough) would receive a null spell- out. Parallel claims that the counterpart of that in other languages can lexicalise a Topic and/or Focus head have been made in work by Mioto (1998), Poletto (2000), Rodríguez Ramalle (2003), Paoli (2006), Mascarenhas (2007) and Villa-García (2011b,c,d). Interesting though the Complementiser Movement analysis is, it poses both empirical and theoretical problems. One empirical problem is posed by that-clauses containing an inverted auxiliary, such as that bracketed in the example below (from Roberts 2004:303): (19) I said [that never in my life had I seen a place like Bangor] Under the account of Subject-Auxiliary Inversion in Rizzi (1997), the auxiliary would in (19) moves in a successive-cyclic fashion from the head T position of TP, through the head Fin position of FinP, into the head Foc position of a peripheral Focus Phrase pro- jection housing the focused negative operator expression never in my life, thereby sat- isfying the Focus Criterion of Rizzi (2006) and forming the italicised head ­ movement chain in (20) below: (20) [ForceP [Force that] [FocP never in my life [Foc had] [FinP [Fin had] [TP I [T had] seen a place like Bangor]]]] 10. A related example involving copying of a wh-word which is not a complementiser is the following: i. I can’t see why (and I’ve looked at this for years) why Lampard and Gerard can’t play together (Alan Brazil, Talk Sport Radio) It may be that why moves from a lower to a higher peripheral projection in such structures. Alternatively, such structures may be the result of backtracking.
  • 34.  Andrew Radford Since Fin and Foc are occupied by copies of would, it is hard to see how the comple- mentiser that could originate in Fin, and also undergo movement through Foc into Force in such structures. Any such movement would violate a Head Adjunction Con- straint which bars an overt (free morpheme) complementiser like that from attracting a subjacent auxiliary to adjoin to it. Furthermore, even if would were to adjoin to that in Fin, we would expect the two to move together as a single unit thereafter (in much the same was as clitics in clusters do), not to move together as far as Foc and then for that to move into Force on its own (in violation of a constraint against Excorporation). Even if there were to be Excorporation (as pointed out by Adam Ledgeway, pc), it would be expected to involve extraction of the least embedded item (viz. the auxiliary would) and not the complementiser that to which would has adjoined (see Roberts 2010). For reasons such as these, it seems clear that in structures like (19), that must be directly merged in situ in the head Force position of ForceP (a conclusion also reached by Roberts 2004:303). There are other considerations (which I will only touch on briefly here) that also call into question the plausibility of taking the English complementiser that to originate in Fin and move to Force. For one thing, a Fin-to-Force movement analysis proves problematic for a structure like that in (9), where – as argued earlier – that is in Sub rather than in Force. It also proves problematic for clauses like those bracketed in (10), since (e.g.) in a sentence like (10e) the complementiser seemingly travels only as far as a Topic head positioned below an abstract Force head. Furthermore, the comple- mentiser copying analysis is unable to account for multiple complementiser structures containing two different complementisers, like the if that and whether that structures reported in (14) above. A parallel question raised by the Complementiser Movement analysis is why we don’t find multiple spellout of inverted auxiliaries (when they move from T through Fin into Foc). In addition, as noted by Villa-García (2011c:35), the Complementiser Movement analysis begs the twin questions of “why the grammar would overtly realize more than one copy of a moved element (in this case a comple- mentizer) and why the relevant complementizer would not be frozen in place after undergoing feature-checking” (given that Rizzi 2006 and Bošković 2008 argue that a constituent is frozen in place after feature-checking). It should also be noted that the principles which determine when multiple spellout of a complementiser is (and is not) permitted are unclear. Considerations such as those above make it implausible to suppose that the English complementiser that originates in Fin and moves into Force (transiting through intervening Top and Foc heads in clauses which contain these). Rather, it seems more likely that each occurrence of the complementiser is directly merged in situ. Since we have already seen that indicative that can occupy a wide range of head positions in the periphery (Sub, Force, Top, Foc and Fin), what I shall suggest here is that (in the relevant varieties of Spoken English) the complementiser that
  • 35. The complementiser system in spoken English  is a maximally ­ underspecified complementiser whose core function is to mark finite- ness, and consequently it can in principle lexicalise any head on the periphery of a finite clause (whether Sub, or Force, or Top, or Foc, or Fin). Adapting the analysis of feature percolation outlined in Chomsky (2007, 2008), let us suppose that Finiteness features originate on the highest head on the periphery of a finite clause, and then percolate down (one head at a time) through all intervening peripheral heads until they reach the head T position of TP. On this view, every peripheral head in a finite clause will carry finiteness features. If (as claimed here) the complementiser that can lexicalise any peripheral head carrying finiteness features, this means that any head in the periphery of a finite clause can be spelled out as that. This in turn would allow us to suppose that the complementiser that can lexicalise Sub in a structure like (9), Force in (20), Foc in (18b), and Fin in (15) – and indeed multiple Topic heads with scene-setting specifiers in a clause like that bracketed in (16e) with the peripheral structure shown below:11 (21) I don’t think [ForceP [Force that] [TopP for the sake of your own well-being [Top that] [TopP if you are in a bilingual classroom [Top that] [TopP once you have completed the homework in one language [Top that] [FinP [Fin Ø] you should have to do it all over again in the second one]]]]] However, it should be noted that constraints will sometimes prevent a peripheral head from being lexicalised as that. One such (as already noted) is a Head Attraction Con- straint which prevents a head which attracts an auxiliary to adjoin to it from being spelled out as an overt complementiser like that. Another is a Haplology Constraint (Radford 1979; Bošković 2002; Demonte Fernández-Soriano 2009) which bars successive occurrences of the same item and so prevents two immediately adjacent peripheral heads from both being spelled out as that (thereby filtering out that-that strings). A third constraint (noted by Haegeman 2011, ch.2) is that medial that cannot be preceded by a fronted argument, as illustrated below: (22) I hope (that) when they are older, (that) their parents (*that) they won’t forget 11. An anonymous reviewer asks whether finiteness percolates down only as far as Top in structures like (19). The answer is that finiteness must percolate all the way down through Force, Top and Fin into T, in order to ensure that T is finite. Since any peripheral finite head in spoken English can either be spelled out as that or be null, it follows that Fin in (21) is finite but has a null spellout. The same reviewer asks whether there can be percolation without ­ lexicalisation, and the answer (implicit in my previous response) is ‘Yes’.
  • 36.  Andrew Radford In (22), the italicised constituent is the object argument of the verb forget and has been fronted: it can be preceded but not followed by that. Why should this be? Haegeman observes that a medial occurrence of that can only be preceded by a dislocated constit- uent or a local circumstantial adjunct (both of which she takes to be generated in situ), not by a fronted argument or a fronted long-distance circumstantial adverbial (both of which she takes to undergo movement). One possible account of this restriction would be to suppose that a medial overt complementiser (by virtue of not being a phase head) lacks an edge feature and so cannot trigger movement; another would be to follow Villa-Garcia (2011c) in arguing that an overt complementiser which occupies a medial position in the periphery creates a barrier/island for movement.12 4. C2 in subordinate adverbial clauses My recordings contain 53 examples of adverbial clauses like those below which show use of that in a clause introduced by an (italicised) subordinating conjunction: (23) a. I don’t see it making a big difference to my life, [purely because that, having lived for so long, the muscles have deteriorated] (Hospital patient, BBC Radio 5) b. [Just before in actual fact that he broke his leg, he was in wonderful form] (Ray Wilkins, Sky Sports TV) c. Some people were talking about it as some sort of race riot, [as if that the Dutch team was split along racial lines] (Andy Brassell, BBC Radio 5) d. [If (as David and Brian have indicated) that vitamin C has no effect on colds], what should we take? (Gabby Logan, BBC Radio 5) e. I think that’s the route they’ll go down [unless of course that they change their recruitment policy] (Mick Dennis, Talk Sport Radio) f. [Although that Twitter has theirs, this is the only one] (Ian Collins, Talk Sport Radio) g. And [when that we were 71 for none], there was a chance to sort of close the game out (Peter Moores, BBC Radio 5) These can be classed as C2 structures in the sense that the bold-printed comple- mentiser is the second highest head in the bracketed clause (the highest head being the italicised subordinating conjunction); and potentially analogous conj+comp 12. It may be that a generalised version of the same constraint will account for why an overt medial complementiser cannot attract an auxiliary to adjoin to it.
  • 37. The complementiser system in spoken English  ­structures are found in other languages (e.g. Norwegian and French). Interestingly, my data also contain the 4 examples below, where that is used in the second conjunct of a co-ordinated adverbial clause structure introduced by an (italicised) subordinating conjunction: (24) a. There are great deals on offer, [if you’ve got a decent credit score] and [that you behave in the right way] (Martin Lewis, BBC Radio 5) b. [If we were sitting here talking about police officers] and [that they were blatantly breaking the law], you’d be rightly aggrieved (Peter Kirkham, BBC Radio 5) c. That’s [because he looks so young] and [that you are I are in our ­ mid-50s] (Keith Vaz, Talk Sport Radio) d. Even clubs within the top 3, [if they do worse in the League than they expect] or [that they miss the Champions League for a year or maybe two], they end up having to sell portions of players to agents or ­ investment funds (Andy Brassell, BBC Radio 5) A parallel type of structure is found in French, as noted by Chevalier et al. (1991:124) in the following terms (translated from French into English): “When two circumstan- tial clauses of the same type are co-ordinated, either the conjunction is repeated… or the second clause is introduced by quethat on its own”. But what is the structure of conj+comp clauses like those in (24)? Building on earlier proposals made in Bhatt and Yoon (1992), Bennis (2000), Rizzi (1997: Note 6), Roussou (2000) and others, Haegeman (2006a) proposes a Cartographic analysis of subordinating conjunctions under which they occupy the Sub(ordinator) position above Force.13 If so, the bracketed subordinate adverbial clause in (23a) above could be taken to have a structure which includes the peripheral projections bracketed below: 13. Bob Borsley (pc) and Richard Larson (pc) suggest that subordinating conjunctions are prepositions, as claimed by Emonds (1976:172–6).While it is far from implausible to suppose that (at least some) subordinating conjunctions may (in diachronic terms at least) be prepo- sitional in origin, a prepositional analysis faces a number of potential problems. One is why many subordinating conjunctions are not used as prepositions (e.g. although, if, unless, while, whereas) and conversely why many prepositions are not used as conjunctions (e.g. with, by, of, at, on). A second is why, unlike infinitival for, the conjunction counterparts of transitive prepositions cannot take an infinitive complement with an accusative subject (cf. for/*before him to leave). A third is why, unlike true prepositions, subordinating conjunctions cannot be stranded by fronting their complements (Compare That he is innocent, I have absolutely no doubt about with *You hit me, I will retaliate if).
  • 38.  Andrew Radford (25) [SubP purely [Sub because] [ForceP [Force that] having lived for so long, the muscles have deteriorated]] Such structures will be ruled out in varieties of English which observe the C1 con- straint requiring complementisers to be the first word of the clause containing them; but varieties where the C1 constraint does not hold will allow C2 structures like (25) where that is the second highest head in the clause periphery.14 5. C2 in subordinate wh-clauses Clauses in which a wh-constituent is followed by a complementiser have widely been viewed as ungrammatical in standard varieties of English (and claimed to be restricted to use in specific varieties such as Belfast English – see e.g. Henry 1995:90), and a number of accounts have been developed of their ungrammaticality (see e.g. Chomsky Lasnik 1977; Chomsky 1981 Rizzi 1990). A different view is offered by Zwicky (2002), who maintains that present-day standard spoken English has developed a wh+comp construction in which an interrogative or exclamative wh-phrase (but not a relative wh-phrase, or any kind of wh-word) can be followed by that. In this con- nection, it is interesting to note that my recordings contain 38 examples of embedded clauses in which a wh-phrase is followed by that, including the following:15 (26) a. It highlights just what a big job that Roy Hodgson’s got on his hands (John Duncan, BBC Radio 5) b. It’s unbelievable when you think what a big city Paris is and what a potentially big club that PSG are (Andy Brassell, BBC Radio 5) c. Although, in saying that, look at how well that they’re doing in Europe (Jason Burt, BBC Radio 5) 14. An interesting possibility is that structures such as that bracketed below (13 examples of which occurred in my recordings) may also be sub+comp structures: i. It looks to me [like that Daniel Levy has aggravated the situation] (Sam Matterface, Talk Sport Radio) 15. I note in passing that my recordings also contain the wh+comp structure in (i) below in which a wh-constituent precedes the infinitival complementiser for: i. As Liverpool chase the game, there may be more room [in which for Manchester United to manoeuvre] (Football commentator, Sky Sports TV) Jim McCloskey (pc) reports the following parallel example, which he found on a tombstone in New Zealand: ii. There should be six days [on which for men to work] and a day [on which for men to rest]
  • 39. The complementiser system in spoken English  d. People can see how successful that they’ve been (“Reformed” extortionist, BBC World Service) e. It’s quite clear on which side of the Blair-Brown divide that Alistair Campbell comes down on (Political correspondent, BBC Radio 5) f. I’m aware of the speed with which that they work (Tim Vickery, BBC Radio 5) g. We want them to hire whatever company that is out there to clear up the mess (Florida resident, BBC Radio 5) As the last two Examples in (26) illustrate, some of these wh-phrases are relative in nature, and so undermine Zwicky’s claim that wh+comp structures do not occur in relative clauses. Furthermore, my recordings also contain 34 examples of structures like those below in which a solo wh-word is followed by that: (27) a. I never understood why that, particularly detectives, they never locked their cars (Ian Payne, BBC Radio 5) b. People aren’t told how that every single family in Britain is safer (Liberal Democrat spokesman, BBC Radio 5) c. Capello has to know who, when the chips are down, that he can trust to do a job for the team (Graham Taylor, BBC Radio 5) d. There’s some unclarity as to whether, if they go into administration, that they will get a 9-point penalty (Simon Jordan, BBC Radio 5) e. We’ll have to see what that happens (Eddie Irvine, BBC1 TV) f. A basic principle of football management is that whatever that goes on inside the dressing room stays inside the dressing room (Sir Geoff Hurst, BBC Radio 5) g. They slowed our build-up to a level which that we lost momentum (Sir Alex Ferguson, Sky Sports TV) h. We could end up with one of these ping-pong scenarios where that it keeps going backwards and forwards (Reporter, BBC Radio 5) i. There was a long time when that they didn’t win the league (Andy Brassell, BBC Radio 5) Theyalsocontainafurther4exampleslikethosebelowinwhichawh-word­co-­ordinated with another word is followed by that: (28) a. It’s when and how that it happens that can really make it special (Dean Ashton, BBC Radio 5) b. Arsenal will give us an indication of whether or not that they can stand up against Chelsea (Steve Claridge, BBC Radio 5)
  • 40.  Andrew Radford Examples like those in (27) undermine Zwicky’s claim that only wh-phrases (not wh- words) can be followed by that (see also Seppänen Trotta 2000 for further coun- terevidence): moreover, the relative Examples in (27f–i) undermine the claim that wh+comp structures never occur in relative clauses. Such wh-word+comp struc- tures have counterparts in other languages and language varieties, including Bavarian (Bayer 1984), West Flemish (Haegeman 1983), Norwegian (Taraldsen 1978), and vari- eties of Italian (Bayer 2004). It seems clear that the complementiser that in structures like (26–28) does not mark declarative force, since it can occur in interrogative struc- tures: rather (as suggested in §2), it seems more likely that it is a maximally under- specified complementiser which simply marks finiteness. In cases like (27a) where the complementiser is immediately adjacent to the wh-constituent, it may occupy the head Force position of a ForceP whose specifier is the wh-constituent; in cases like (27c) where a topicalised clause intervenes between wh-constituent and complemen- tiser, that occupies a lower position in the periphery (e.g. Top, or Fin, or a syncretised Top-Fin head). 6. C2 in comparative correlatives A further potential source of C2 clauses in my recordings are comparative correlative structures like those below, in which a (bold-printed) overt complementiser follows an (italicised) comparative correlative constituent: (29) a. The more rubber that goes down, the better the car should perform (David Croft, BBC Radio 5) b. The longer the game, the less effective that Michael Yardy becomes (Vic Marks, Radio 5 Sport Extra) c. The more Huddersfield come at them, the more that Millwall will enjoy that (Alistair Bruce-Ball, BBC Radio 5) d. The more that we focus on the events, the more that the process of ­ healing is delayed (Social worker, BBC Radio 5) As these examples show, either (or both) clauses in this type of structure can be intro- duced by that. If the italicised string serves as the specifier of the complementiser that in such cases, these will be C2 clauses. However, if (as claimed by Iwasaki 2011) ­ comparative correlatives have a structure parallel to sentences like the following: (30) The more you eat means the fatter you get but with an abstract (null) entailment predicate in place of the verb mean, then com- parative correlative clauses will be subordinate clauses which serve as the subject and complement arguments of this abstract entailment predicate, and the two clauses in
  • 41. The complementiser system in spoken English  examples like (29) will be instances of subordinate C2 clauses (and so be consistent with the claim that the complementiser that is only used in subordinate clauses). However,ithasbeenargued(e.g.byCulicoverJackendoff1999,andbyden­Dikken 2005) that the second clause in comparative correlatives like those in (29) is a main clause (the first being a subordinate clause). Two pieces of evidence leading to this conclusion come from sentences like those below (from Culicover Jackendoff 2005:504): (31) a. The more we eat, the angrier you get, don’t you/*don’t we? b. I demand that the more John eats/*eat, the more he pays/pay (31a) shows that only the second clause can be associated with a do-tag, and (31b) that only the second clause can have a subjunctive verb when the structure is used as the complement of a verb like demand which selects a subjunctive complement: these two properties suggest that the second clause of a comparative correlative is the main clause.16 But if the second clause is a main clause, this suggests that English also has root C2 clauses, and that C2 structures are found in root clauses as well as subordinate clauses. One way of attempting to undermine this conclusion would be to reanalyse com- parative correlative clauses as reduced clefts, so that the main clause in (29b) would be a reduced variant of ‘The less effective it is that Michael Yardy becomes’ (with the italicised material being present in the syntax and given a null spellout in the pho- nology): this would then mean that that is the first word in a subordinate C1 clause which functions as the complement of is. Such an analysis would be compatible with the ­ observation in Green (2007) that focus particles often have their diachronic origins in cleft sentence structures. However, the main problem posed by such an analysis is the lack of any independent evidence that comparative correlatives involve concealed clefts. In this connection, it should be noted that the cleft analysis would (wrongly) predict that we can have an (italicised) tag echoing the silent cleft structure in sentences such as: (32) *The more you eat, the fatter you get, isn’t it? The ungrammaticality of sentences like (32) thus undermines the cleft analysis. 16. Although there are obvious potential pitfalls in drawing comparisons between a par- ticular structure in English and its apparent counterparts in other languages, Claudia Felser points out that in German comparative correlatives like (i) below, the first clause shows the verb-final word order characteristic of subordinate clauses (and in some varieties can contain the overt complementiser dass ‘that’), whereas the second clause shows the verb-final word order characteristic of main clauses, and cannot be introduced by dass ‘that’: (i) Je mehr (%dass) du isst, umso dicker (*dass) wirst du prt more (%that) you eat, prt fatter (*that) get you ‘The more (that) you eat, the fatter you get.’
  • 42.  Andrew Radford An alternative way of trying to avoid analysing the final clause in a compara- tive correlative as a root C2 structure would be to suppose that use of that in a root comparative correlative clause arises as the result of an analogy drawn between the structure of the subordinate clause (where use of that is analogous to what we find in other subordinate C2 clauses) and the root clause (where that would not be expected to occur): the result is that (to employ a term used by den Dikken 2003 in his description of a similar phenomenon in Dutch), the second clause comes to ‘mimic’ the structure of the first, and so the second clause can be introduced by an overt complementiser just like the first one. A significant drawback to such an account, however, is that it is not clear exactly what kind of mechanism is involved in any such analogy. A third way of avoiding the conclusion that comparative correlatives instantiate root C2 structures would be to treat the complementiser that found in comparative correlatives as a separate lexical item (a correlative particle), restricted to occurring in (main or subordinate) comparative correlative clauses:17 we could then say there are no genuine complementisers used in root clauses in English. However, this leaves unexplained the question of why this correlative particle is homophonous with the complementiser that. Moreover, in §7–10 below, I will show that a wide range of other root C2 structures occur in my recordings. 7. C2 in root focus and exclamative clauses A further class of (potential) root C2 clauses which occur in my recordings involve focus clauses like those below, in which an italicised focused constituent precedes the complementiser that: (33) a. He passes the ball back to Flanagan. Three-nil that his side lead (Darren Fletcher, BBC Radio 5) b. Lap 38 that we’re into (Martin Brundle, BBC1 TV) c. Four and a half years that you said he’s been in charge (Jason Cundy, Talk Sport Radio) However, the relevant focus structures have cleft sentence paraphrases, as we see from the examples below: 17. Such an analysis could be argued to be extensionally equivalent to constructionist anal- yses of comparative correlatives such as those outlined by Abeillé and Borsley (2008), Sag (2010), and Borsley (2011).
  • 43. The complementiser system in spoken English  (34) a. It’s three-nil that his side lead b. It’s lap 38 that we’re into c. It’s four and a half years that you said he’s been in charge This raises the possibility that structures like (33) could be concealed clefts derived fromstructureslike(34)viaaPFprocessofTruncationwhichdeletesweak(unstressed) material at the beginning of a root clause, so giving rise to deletion of the underlined string it’s in (34) – and also to truncated sentences like Nice day, isn’t it? Evidence in support of a concealed cleft analysis comes from the fact that sentences like those in (33) can be tagged by isn’t it – as we see from the (constructed) example below: (35) Three-nil that his side lead, isn’t it? If we adopt a concealed cleft analysis of focus structures like those in (33), the that- clause will serve as the complement of is and so we can continue to maintain that the complementiser that only occurs in subordinate clauses. However, a further potential empirical challenge to this claim is posed by (what appear to be) root exclamative clauses containing the complementiser that. Radford (1988:501) reported the exclamative clause in (36a) below to have been produced by a celebrated Irish radio and TV presenter, and my more recent recordings contain the Example (36b) produced by a former Irish racing driver, (36c) produced former Scot- tish international footballer, and (36d) produced by a former Welsh athletics superstar: (36) a. What a mine of useless information that I am! (Terry Wogan, BBC ­ Radio2) b. Alonso, what an amazing thing that he did in his home race! (Eddie Jordan, BBC1 TV) c. What a service that that man’s given this club! (Ally McCoist, BBC Radio 5) d. What an agile and strong and natural athlete that he is! (Colin Jackson, BBC3 TV)18 On the face of it, exclamatives like (36) appear to involve a root CP in which the com- plementiser that has an exclamative wh-specifier (if exclamative wh-constituents in English are in spec-CP, as argued in Radford 2009:328–330) – and indeed, parallel root wh+comp exclamatives are found in French (Radford 1989) and Italian (Radford 1997). If so, exclamatives like (36) are examples of root C2 structures. 18. A further potential wh+comp example is the following (produced by a Belfast-born commentator): i. What teamwork that ended up with Gian smashing it into the corner! (Alan Green, BBC Radio 5) However, the that-clause here would seem to be a relative clause modifying a phrasal ­exclamative (with that consequently being substitutable by which).
  • 44.  Andrew Radford However, Zwicky (2002:227) makes two interesting claims about English excla- mative structures like (36). The first is that they are regional variants which are gram- matical only in some varieties (including Irish English), and that Terry Wogan is “not only a speaker of Irish English, but a proud speaker of this variety, given to exagger- ating his Irishness”. The second is that in Irish English, a sentence like (36a) “would serve as the wh parallel to it exclamatives like It’s a mine of useless information that I am” (Zwicky 2002:227). Zwicky would appear to be suggesting that (36a) is a reduced variant of a cleft sentence structure such as ‘What a mine of useless information it is that I am’ with the (italicised) copula is and its (italicised) subject it undergoing some form of deletion operation. If so, the that-clauses in (36) will be subordinate C1 struc- tures (used as the complement of is) rather than root C2 structures. However, it is far from clear that there is any independent evidence for analyzing root exclamatives as reduced clefts. For example, as illustrated below, exclamatives don’t allow the kind of (isn’t it?) tag we would expect to find if they involved concealed clefts: (37) What a mine of useless information that I am, aren’t I/*isn’t it? I therefore return to root exclamatives and explore an alternative to the cleft analysis in §9 below. 8. C2 in root clauses after modal adverbials A further potential root clause C2 structure which occurred 30 times in my recordings involved the use of that after modal adverbs like those italicised below: (38) a. Obviously that the Achilles was giving him a bit of a problem (Ian Chappell, BBC Radio 5) b. Clearly that, for whatever reason, the information wasn’t getting through on the ground (Transport spokesman, BBC Radio 5) c. Inevitably that there’ll be some temptation there for cricketers (Gus Fraser, BBC Radio 5 Sports Extra) d. Maybe that this is the season for Chelsea to find their form in the Champion’s League (Kerry Dixon, BBC Radio 5) e. Yes, perhaps that they could do it (Tim Vickery, BBC Radio 5) f. Allegedly that Spurs were interested in Carroll (Ray Houghton, Talk Sport Radio) g. Hopefully that England can qualify in two years time (Alan Green, BBC Radio 5) h. Unfortunately that they won’t have all the players that they had in the Premier League (Neil Ashton, Talk Sport Radio) i. Interestingly that 6 weeks after Martin O’Neill left, Lerner opened his cheque book (Chris Davis, Talk Sport Radio)
  • 45. The complementiser system in spoken English  These (and most of the other structures discussed in the remainder of this paper) have no plausible concealed cleft source (cf. *It is interestingly that 6 weeks after Martin O’Neill left, Lerner opened his cheque book) so how does that come to be used in root C2 clauses such as those in (38)? An interesting suggestion made by Bob Borsley (p.c.) is that sentences like (38) are processing errors which result from ‘speakers forgetting what they said, e.g. saying obviously and thinking they have said it’s obvious, and saying maybe and thinking they have said it may be.’ However, this seems unlikely, for the following reasons: (i) that is immediately adjacent to the adverb, so it is unlikely that speakers will forget the imme- diately preceding word; (ii) the speakers who produced such utterances are mostly professional broadcasters who are not prone to dysfluencies; (iii) not all the structures have subordinate clause paraphrases (cf. It is obvious/*perhaps that); (iv) there appears to be a systematic pattern here involving a unitary class of modal adverbs; (v) the ­ relevant structures occur quite frequently; and (vi) similar adverb+comp structures are found in other languages (e.g. French, Italian, Spanish and Romanian). An alternative possibility (suggested by Mike Jones, pc) is to suppose that the complementiser functions as the complement of the adverb in sentences like (38), on the grounds that e.g. obviously that is paraphraseable as it is obvious that and hopefully that is paraphraseable as ‘I am hopeful that’. On this view, a sentence like (38a) would have the skeletal structure shown below:19 (39) [AdvP [Adv obviously] [CP [C that] the Achilles was giving him a bit of a ­problem]] Under the analysis in (39), the complementiser that would not be the head of a root C2 clause, but rather would be the first word of a subordinate C1 clause used as the complement of the adverb obviously. However, there are a number of reasons for being sceptical about the adverb+complement analysis in (39). For one thing, (39) makes the counterintuitive claim that the overall structure is not a clause but rather an adverbial phrase. Secondly, adverbs are traditionally taken to have the property that they do not allow comple- ments, and while this claim is too strong (since e.g. the adverb independently can have the complement of me in sentence like ‘She made up her mind independently of me’), it is indeed the case that adverbs (unlike adjectives) don’t generally allow clausal ­ complements – as we see from contrasts such as the following: (40) a. He looked at her, hopeful that she would agree b. He looked at her hopefully (*that she would agree) 19. A related proposal is made by Hill (2007) to the effect that a Romanian sentential adverb like sigur ‘surely’ is the head of a Speech Act Projection which has a null specifier denoting the speaker.
  • 46.  Andrew Radford Moreover, an even more intractable problem posed by an adverbial head analysis like (39) is that alongside structures like those in (38) where the adverbial expression is a single word and so might be taken to be a head, my recordings also contain 7 other structures like those in (41) below in which the (italicised) ‘adverbial’ is phrasal in nature, and hence cannot plausibly be taken to be a head: (41) a. Of course that they haven’t targeted any politicians as such (Reporter, BBC Radio 5) b. No doubt that in 10 years time the draw is going to be full of Asian players (Jonathan Overend, BBC Radio 5) c. Today, without a doubt that in midfield they were world class (Listener, BBC Radio 5) d. To my mind that the qualifiers for the Euros and the European section of the World Cup are exactly the same competition (Listener, BBC Radio 5) e. Fortunately for them that they were rescued by Chelsea (Neil Ashton, Talk Sport Radio) Given that phrases can serve as specifiers, it is more likely that phrases like those itali- cised in (41) are specifiers rather than heads. But if so, what kind of head do they serve as specifiers of? An intriguing answer to this question is suggested by Anders Holmberg (pc), who suggests that root declarative clauses may be embedded as the complement of an abstract truth predicate, and that the modal expression in sentences such as (38) and (41) serves to modify this predicate. More specifically, Holmberg proposes that since a sentence like (41a) has a meaning paraphraseable as ‘It’s obviously true/the case that the Achilles was giving him a bit of a problem’, we should treat the adverb obviously as ‘a specifier/modifier of a head meaning “true” which takes the that-clause as argu- ment’. On this view, (38a) would have a structure along the following lines, if we take Holmberg’s truth head to be an abstract Pred(icate) heading a PredP projection (with capitals used to mark an abstract item with no overt phonetic spellout): (42) [PredP obviously [Pred TRUE] [CP [C that] the achilles was giving him a bit of a problem]] An important consequence of the analysis in (42) is that the complementiser that would not be used to introduce a root C2 clause, but rather a subordinate C1 clause which is embedded as the complement of an abstract truth predicate.20 20. As Claudia Felser points out, a related proposal is made by Fitzpatrick (2005), who ­ proposes an abstract factivity head which carries the presupposition that its complement is true. It is interesting to note that many sentential adverbials can also be used in sentence
  • 47. The complementiser system in spoken English  However, if every declarative sentence contains an abstract truth predicate, the question which would then arise is why declarative root clauses like *That it is raining again which do not contain a modal adverbial are not introduced by that. As Anders notes, we would then have to make some additional assumption such as supposing that ‘when TRUE is modified by an adverb, lexicalised by the adverb as it were, it can be taken to be the main predicate, and the clause a regular clausal argument’. How- ever, any such assumption would clearly be ad hoc, so potentially undermining the ­proposed analysis. A further complication which arises with the analysis in (42) is that some of the adverbials followed by that are not the kind of expressions which can readily be used to modify a truth predicate – as we see from the anomaly of paraphrases such as: (43) a. !It is interestingly true that 6 weeks after Martin O’Neill left, Lerner opened his cheque book (cf. 38i) b. !It is fortunately for them true that they were rescued by Chelsea (cf. 41e) Accordingly, I explore an alternative to the ‘truth predicate’ account of the use of that with modal adverbials in the next section. 9. C2 in other root clauses In addition to the structures discussed in §§6–8, my recordings also contain examples of that being used in a range of other (potential) root clause C2 structures. For ­example, I recorded 20 examples (like those below) of the complementiser that being used in a root clause following an (italicised) subordinate clause containing an (underlined) predicate which can be used with a that-clause complement: (44) a. As I said earlier, that they always look dangerous to me from corners and set pieces (Jimmy Armfield, BBC Radio 5) b. As Ian mentioned, that the structure of clubs is that they’re not ­ businesses (Tim Vickery, BBC Radio 5) c. As far as I’m aware, that Kenny Dalglish still believes Liverpool can get a Champion’s League spot (Neil Ashton, BBC Radio 5) ­fragments where they can optionally be followed by so or not (cf.‘Perhaps’,‘Perhaps so’,‘Perhaps not’), as in the following dialogue: i. interviewer: Do you see the riots continuing? politician: Hopefully not (BBC1 TV) See Kramer and Rawlins (2011) for one account of this phenomenon, and Holmberg (2010) on responses to questions.
  • 48.  Andrew Radford d. Beating Barnsley, as teams like Leeds have found out, that it’s a good result, isn’t it? (Simon Jordan, BBC Radio 5) e. He’s a great lad, and as everyone can see, that he can find the net (Kieran Richardson, BBC Radio 5) f. From what we read this morning, that Daniel Levy said ‘You’re going, mate’ (Alan Brazil, Talk Sport Radio) g. From what I’m hearing up to now, that Liverpool haven’t made any move for Juan Mata (Reporter, Talk Sport Radio) How does that come to be used in such structures? One possibility is that structures like (44) may be the result of a processing error: for example, in (44a) the speaker may forget that he used as to introduce the italicised clause and treat the that-clause as a complement clause (serving as the complement of the verb said) rather than as a main clause. However, Claudia Felser (pc) maintains that it is unlikely that main and subordinate clauses get mixed up in this way, since speakers usually know what message they want to convey, and the decision about what’s going to be the main clause is a fundamental one in sentence planning. Furthermore, however plausible the ‘processing error’ analysis outlined above may be for sentences like (44), it is hard to see how it could be extended to deal with addi- tional potential cases of root clause complementisers found after subordinate clauses in structures like those below (12 examples of which occurred in my recordings): (45) a. As far as I understand it, that they want to freshen up their striking quadrant (Sam Matterface, Talk Sport Radio) b. Once he got over his ankle problems, that he came into the team and proved to be one of the best left backs in the world (Neil Ashton, Talk Sport Radio) c. If it’s using too much fuel, that the engine management system will shut itself down (Steve Parrish, BBC2 TV) d. As I was leaving, that it was absolutely chocka (Darren Lewis, Talk Sport Radio) e. Whatever level he plays at at present, that Bayern Munich have obvi- ously seen something in him (Neil Ashton, Talk Sport Radio) f. Having said that, that there was a North Korean player who played in Germany (Andy Brassell, BBC Radio 5) In (45a), it is unlikely that the that-clause is treated as the complement of the verb understand since this has an (italicised) object of its own. Furthermore, in none of the Examples in (45b–f) does that occur immediately after a verb selecting a that-clause complement. The same holds for a further 12 examples like those below in which an (italicised) adjunct is followed by (what would appear to be) a root-clause use of that:
  • 49. The complementiser system in spoken English  (46) a. As a consequence of being relegated last year, that you always have to work round the financial situation (Chris Huyton, Talk Sport Radio) b. In the end, that Spurs could only win by two goals (Listener, BBC Radio 5) c. On these Diamond League evenings, that the races come thick and fast (John Inverdale, BBC 2 TV) d. With the amount of quality that City have, that they should be in front in this game (Mark Lawrenson, BBC Radio 5) e. Only a year or so ago, that five lads were blown up (Tony Philipson, BBC Radio 5) f. So far, that what we’re seeing here is a difference in pace between the two teams (Danny Kelly, Talk Sport Radio) g. The following season, that I can see Brighton pushing on for promotion (Neil Ashton, Talk Sport Radio) My recordings also contain the two examples below of an (italicised) dislocated topic being followed by a root clause complementiser: (47) a. Santos, who’ve just won the Libertadores (South America’s Champions League), that they’ve got a couple of players who are talent personified (Tim Vickery, BBC Radio 5) b. These people who are gifted with those little bits of genius, that they have that about them (Tim Vickery, BBC Radio 5) In the absence of any compelling evidence that such structures involve an abstract truth predicate or a concealed cleft structure,21 the simplest assumption would appear to be that they are root C2 structures. If we also treat the root comparative correla- tive, focus, exclamative, and modal adverbial clauses discussed in §§6–8 as root C2 structures, this means that the range of root C2 structures found in my recordings include those bracketed below (where structures are shown in terms of the traditional CP analysis of the clause periphery): (48) a. [CP What a mine of useless information [C that] I am] b. The longer the game, [CP the less effective [C that] Michael Yardy becomes] c. [CP Lap 38 [C that] we’re into] d. [CP Of course [C that] they haven’t targeted any politicians as such] 21. While e.g. (46c) could conceivably be analysed as a reduced form of the cleft structure It is on these Diamond League evenings that the races come thick and fast, this is implausible in most other cases – e.g. (46f) is highly unlikely to be a reduced form of *It is so far that what we are seeing here is a difference in pace between the two teams.
  • 50.  Andrew Radford e. [CP In the end [C that] Spurs could only win by two goals] f. [CP Once he got over his ankle problems [C that] he came into the team…] g. [CP Santos… [C that] they’ve got a couple of players who …] In each case (under the assumptions made in 48), the bracketed root clause will be a C2 structure in which an overt complementiser has an overt specifier. The specifier is an exclamative expression in (48a), a comparative correlative expression in (48b), a focused nominal in (48c), a modal adverbial in (48d), a local circumstantial adverbial phrase or clause in (48e–f), and a dislocated topic in (48g). If we adopt a Cartographic approach to the periphery, each C constituent in structures like those in (48) would cor- respond to a specific dedicated functional head (e.g. C would represent an ­ exclamative Force head in 48a). But how can we account for that being used in root clause structures such as those in (48)? Adam Ledgeway (pc) suggests that there could be potential parallels here with the use of a root clause finite complementiser in Gascon after an (italicised) topicalised constituent (as in 49a below) or after an (italicised) focalised constituent (as in 49b) – the relevant examples being from Ledgeway (2011c:167): (49) a. Ta pay qu’ey arribat Your father that is arrived ‘Your dad’s arrived’ b. Quaunque trufandèr que vos dirà… Whatever joker that you will.say… ‘Any joker will tell you…’ However, the parallel with English is only partial, since Gascon also allows an overt complementiser to introduce a root clause in C1 structures like (50) below where there is no overt expression preceding the complementiser: (50) Que calè que s’embarquèssen That it.was.necessary that selves they.embarked ‘They had to embark.’ By contrast, my recordings of spoken English contain no examples of root clause ­ structures like (51) below introduced by an overt complementiser: (51) *That Messi mesmerises opponents What this highlights is that there is a significant asymmetry between C1 and C2 struc- tures in English, in that C2 structures occur in both subordinate and root clauses, whereas C1 structures are limited to occurring in subordinate clauses. In the next ­ section, I look at how this asymmetry can be accounted for.
  • 51. The complementiser system in spoken English  10. Asymmetry between C1 and C2 structures The data reported in §§2–9 above led me to conclude that (for speakers who pro- duce such structures), that is an underspecified complementiser which can lexicalise any head in the periphery of a finite clause (subject to no constraint being violated). However, as noted at the end of the previous section, C2 structures occur in root and subordinate clauses alike, whereas C1 structures occur only in subordinate clauses. Why should this be? One possible answer is to suppose that English has a silent declarative comple- mentiser used to lexicalise a root force head (Radford 2004), and that (perhaps for PF economy reasons) this wins out in the competition to fill the Force position in root C1 structures. An alternative (suggested by Ian Roberts, pc) is to suppose that English has a rule obligatorily deleting that in a root Force position. However, both solutions are essentially stipulative in nature, and raise the question of why (since that is optional in subordinate clauses like I think (that) it is raining) it is not similarly optional in root clauses. An alternative possibility (exploiting the ­template in (8) would be to take that in C1 structures to lexicalize a Sub head (either one projected independently as in 9, or one syncretized with Force): since Sub is not projected in root clauses, this would account for the absence of that in root C1 clauses. However, the Sub analysis would fail to account for the use of that in root C2 clauses. In order to try and understand what is going on here, let’s take a closer look at typical uses of that in sentences such as: (52) a. He told me [that he was feeling unwell] b. This is something [that you have to come to terms with] c. He took it for granted [that I would lend him the money] In (52a), that is linked (via a relation of selection) to the verb told (in that tell selects a complement headed by that). In (52b), that is linked via a relation of predication to something (since that is the head of a relative clause predicated of its antecedent something). In (52c), that is linked via a relation of anaphora to the pronoun it. For conservative speakers who only use that in C1 structures, there is an antilocality con- dition on the use of that to the effect that it must linked by an appropriate kind of grammatical relation (e.g. selection, predication or anaphora) to a superordinate con- stituent outside the clause containing that. This requirement for that to be linked to a constituent outside its own clause means that it can occur in structures like (52) above, but not in structures such as (53) below: (53) a. *That I am hungry b. *Mary, that I am hungry
  • 52.  Andrew Radford (53a) is ruled out because there is no superordinate constituent for that to be linked to, and (53b) because the (italicised) superordinate vocative Mary does not enter into any grammatical relation (e.g. of selection, predication or anaphora) linking it to that.22 More liberal speakers (who use C1 structures in embedded clauses and C2 struc- tures in subordinate and root clauses alike) seem not to impose this antilocality condi- tion on the use of that, but rather allow that to be used in structures where it is linked to any (local or non-local) superordinate constituent – whether inside or outside its own clause. Consequently, they allow that to be used not only in structures like (52) above where that is linked to a superordinate constituent outside its own clause, but also in structures like (54) below where that is linked (via an appropriate grammatical relation) to an italicised superordinate constituent inside its own clause: (54) a. [Although that Twitter has theirs], this is the only one b. People can see [how successful that they’ve been] c. [Lap 38 that we’re into] d. [Obviously that the Achilles was giving him a bit of a problem] In (54a), there is a local head-head selection relation between although and that if although is in Sub and that heads an immediately subjacent peripheral projection (headed by Force, or a syncretised Force-Fin head). In (54b–d), there is a local head- specifier relation between that and the italicised expression preceding it, and this licenses the use of that not only in subordinate clauses like (54b), but also in main clauses like (54c–d). By contrast, use of that in root clause structures like (53) will be barred because of the lack of any appropriate superordinate licenser for that.23 The analysis outlined above offers us the possibility of accounting for the use of that after a co-ordinating conjunction in sentences such as the following (14) examples of which occurred in my recordings, 7 involving and, 7 involving but): (55) a. He clips it away and that Dravid fields it at mid-on (Chris Martin-Jenkins, BBC Radio 5 Sports Extra) b. He limped off early in the second half of the 1–1 draw, and that the team kind of died with him (Tim Vickery, BBC Radio 5) 22. In this respect, that is different from que in Gascon (Ledgeway 2011c) and from jussive que in Spanish (Villa-Garcia 2011d), both of which can occur in root C1 clauses. 23. An interesting question raised by Paolo Acquaviva (pc) is whether the analysis outlined here predicts that clauses introduced by a complementiser will not be used as peripheral topics in Spoken English. Since topicalised clauses are embedded within a matrix clause, it is reasonable to assume that they will be linked to some (abstract) superordinate constituent within the matrix clause – and if so, that would be licensed (and so predicted to occur) in topicalised clauses.
  • 53. The complementiser system in spoken English  c. He can’t be short of a few quid anyway, but that this will completely set him (Andy Brassell, BBC Radio 5) d. They’re happy to let him go, but that he wants to play in South America (Andy Goldstein, Talk Sport Radio) If (as claimed here) speakers of the relevant variety allow that to lexicalise any periph- eral head in a finite clause where licensed by an appropriate grammatical relation with a superordinate constituent, we can suppose that that is licensed in structures like (55) via a head-head selection relation with the superordinate conjunction and/but. 11. Source of C1 and C2 structures An intriguing question arising out of the research reported here is: ‘What gives rise to the use of complementisers in C1 and C2 structures?’ In this respect, it is interesting to note that Casasanto Sag (2008) and Casasanto, Futrell Sag (2008) argue that evidence from reading experiments suggests that complementisers serve sentence processing functions. More specifically, they claim that a complementiser in a C1 structure serves the parsing function of ‘signalling that a clause is upcoming’, whereas a complementiser in a C2 structure “signals that the subject of the clause is immediately upcoming, making this subject highly predictable and easier to process when it appears” (Casasanto Sag 2008:1). If we propose a slight modification to their story and suppose that a C1 comple- mentiser signals that a subordinate clause is upcoming whereas a C2 complementiser simply serves to signal that a subject is upcoming, we can account for the asymmetry discussed in the previous section whereby C2 structures occur in subordinate and root clauses alike, whereas C1 structures occur in subordinate clauses only. However, the claim that C2 complementisers serve a subject-signalling function proves problematic for sentences such as those below (repeated from 16 above): (56) a. I think [previously that in trying to protect his off stump he flicked the ball to the on side] (Ian Chappell, BBC Radio 5 Sports Extra) b. It’s deeply embarrassing for the government [that after authorising this rescue that now it turns out that she was killed by an American grenade] (Reporter, BBC Radio 5) c. I just wondered [whether that as a next step we might look to see why this seems to be the case] (Van Gelderen 2009:155) d. I hope [that when they are adults that at no time will they forget the work that their parents put into their education] (Haegeman 2011, ch.2, p.42, ex. 78a) e. I don’t think [that for the sake of your own well-being that if you are in a bilingual classroom that once you have completed the homework in one language that you should have to do it all over again in the second one]
  • 54.  Andrew Radford Far from signalling an immediately upcoming subject, the bold-printed complemen- tiser is separated from the underlined subject by an intervening italicised adjunct in (56a–c) and by an intervening italicised negative constituent and inverted auxiliary in (56d). In (56e), the bold-printed occurrences of that seem to signal an upcoming Topic (or Modifier) projection containing a scene-setting adverbial clause, rather than a subject. Sentences like (56) are thus more compatible with the view that the comple- mentiser in C2 structures signals an immediately upcoming clausal constituent (where a clausal constituent is a constituent like ForceP, TopP, FocP, FinP or TP) – and indeed such an account could be extended to C1 uses as well. We could then say (e.g.) that the first three occurrences of that in (56e) herald peripheral projections containing an adjunct phrase or clause, while the fourth heralds a TP housing the subject. One way in which data from my recordings can be used to evaluate the processing account is to see whether the C2 structures they contain are consistent with Casasanto et al.’s claim that C2 structures generally occur when there is a ‘long’ constituent imme- diately preceding the complementiser (a ‘long’ constituent being taken by them to be one containing 7 or more words).24 In this connection, I note the following. In declara- tive C2 complement clauses like those in (10) and double-that complement clauses like those in (11), the mean number of words preceding the (second occurrence of the) complementiser was 5.2 words.25 In root clause C2 structures like those discussed in §9 (involving a root clause headed by that preceded by a local circumstantial adjunct, or topicalised/focalised constituent), the mean length of the peripheral material pre- ceding that was 5.9 words.26 Both sets of results are potentially consistent with the processing view that C2 structures are only used when there is a comparatively ‘long’ constituent preceding the complementiser. However, for other C2 structures, the processing account seems less plausible. For example, the use of that in subordinate wh-clauses (discussed in §5) seems not to cor- relate with the length of the wh-constituent, since the mean length of wh-constituent preceding that was only 2.4 words (and 45.5% of wh+that structures involved a sin- gle wh-word preceding that). Similarly, in the case of the adverbial sub+that clauses 24. Although I follow Casasanto and Sag in computing the length of a constituent in terms of the number of words it contains, I acknowledge that (as pointed out by Stephen Crain pc), this is less satisfactory than computing length in terms of the number of syllables, segments, or seconds. 25. For these purposes, I have counted contracted forms like we’ve, compounds like semi-final and numerals like 1970 as single words. 26. Root modal adverbial structures have not been included in this figure, since they will not be C2 structures if (as discussed in §8) they involve a C1 structure embedded within a superordinate projection containing the modal adverbial.
  • 55. Random documents with unrelated content Scribd suggests to you:
  • 56. the coronation of King Edward VII. the claim was excluded from the consideration of the Court of Claims under the royal proclamation. The terms of the judgment on a further claim are as follows: “The Court considers and adjudges that the lord mayor has by usage a right, subject to His Majesty’s pleasure, to attend the Abbey during the coronation and bear the crystal mace.” Bibliography.—The earliest description of London is that written by the monk Fitzstephen in 1174 as an introduction to his life of Archbishop Thomas à Becket. This was first printed by Stow in his Survey. It was reprinted by Strype in his editions of Stow; by Hearne in his edition of Leland’s Itinerary (vol. 8), by Samuel Pegge in 1772, and elsewhere. The first history is contained in A Survey of London by John Stow (1598, 1603). The author died in 1605, and his work was continued by Anthony Munday and others (1618, 1633) and in the next century by John Strype (1720, 1754-1755). Stow’s original work was reprinted by W. J. Thoms in 1842 and a monumental edition has been published by C. L. Kingsford (Oxford, 1908). The following are the most important of subsequent histories arranged in order of publication; James Howell, Londinopolis (1657); W. Stow, Remarks on London and Westminster (1722); Robert Seymour (John Mottley), Survey of the Cities of London and Westminster (1734, another edition 1753); William Maitland, History of London (1739, other editions 1756, 1760, 1769, continued by John Entick 1775); John Entick, A New and Accurate History of London, Westminster, Southwark (1766); The City Remembrancer, Narratives of the Plague 1665, Fire 1666 and Great Storm 1703 (1769); A New and Compleat
  • 57. History and Survey, by a Society of Gentlemen (1770, revised by H. Chamberlain, folio revised by W. Thornton 1784); J. Noorthouck, A New History (1773); Walter Harrison, A New and Universal History (1775); J. P. Malcolm, Londinium Redivivum or an Ancient History and Modern Description of London (1803); David Hughson (E. Pugh), London (1805-1809); B. Lambert, History and Survey of London (1806); Henry Hunter, History of London (1811); J. W. Abbott, History of London (1821); Thomas Allen, History and Antiquities of London (1827-1829, continued by Thomas Wright 1839); William Smith, A New History of London (1833); Charles Mackay, A History of London (1838); The History of London, illustrated by W. G. Fearnside (1838); George Grant, A Comprehensive History of London (Dublin, 1849); John Timbs, Curiosities of London (1855, later editions 1855, 1868, 1875, 1876); Old London Papers, Archaeological Institute (1867); W. J. Loftie, A History of London (1883); W. J. Loftie, Historic Towns (London, 1887); Claude de la Roche Francis, London, Historic and Social (Philadelphia, 1902); Sir Walter Besant, The Survey of London (1902-1908)—Early London, Prehistoric, Roman, Saxon and Norman (1908); Medieval London, vol. 1, Historical and Social (1906), vol. 2, Ecclesiastical (1906); London in the Time of the Tudors (1904); London in the Time of the Stuarts (1903); London in the Eighteenth Century (1902); H. B. Wheatley, The Story of London [Medieval Towns] (London, 1904). The following are some of the Chronicles of London which have been printed, arranged in order of publication: R. Grafton, Chronicle 1189-1558 (1809); R. Arnold, London Chronicle (1811); A Chronicle of London from 1089 to 1483 written in the Fifteenth Century (1827); William Gregory’s Chronicle of London,
  • 58. 1189-1469 (1876); Historical Collections of a Citizen of London, edited by James Gairdner (Camden Society, 1876); Chronicles of London [1200-1516], edited by C. L. Kingsford (Oxford, 1905). Many books have been published on the government of London, of which the following is a selection: City Law (1647, 1658); Lex Londinensis or the City Law (1680); W. Bohun, Privilegia Londini (1723); Giles Jacob, City Liberties (1733); Laws and Customs, Rights, Liberties and Privileges of the City of London (1765); David Hughson, Epitome of the Privileges of London (1816); George Norton, Commentaries on the History, Constitution and Chartered Franchises of the City of London (1829, 3rd ed. 1869); Munimenta Gildhallae Londoniensis, edited by H. T. Riley—vol. 1, Liber Albus (1419), vol. 2, Liber Custumarum (1859); Liber Albus: the White Book of the City of London, translated by H. T. Riley (1861); H. T. Riley, Memorials of London and London Life in the 13th, 14th and 15th centuries (1868); De Antiquis Legibus Liber. Curante Thoma Stapleton (Camden Society, 1846); Chronicles of the Mayors and Sheriffs of London 1188-1274, translated from the Liber de Antiquis Legibus by H. T. Riley. French Chronicle of London 1259-1343 (1863); Analytical Index to the Series of Records known as the Remembrancia 1579-1664 (1888); Calendar of Letter-Books [circa 1275-1399] preserved among the Archives of the Corporation of London at the Guildhall, edited by Reginald R. Sharpe, D.C.L. (1899-1907); W. and R. Woodcock, Lives of Lord Mayors (1846); J. F. B. Firth, Municipal London (1876); Walter Delgray Birch, Historical Charters and Constitutional Documents of the City of London (1884, 1887); J. H. Round, The Commune of London and other Studies (1899); Reginald R. Sharpe, London and the Kingdom; a History derived mainly from the
  • 59. Archives at Guildhall (1894); G. L. Gomme, The Governance of London. Studies on the Place occupied by London in English Institutions (1907); Alfred B. Beaven, The Aldermen of the City of London temp. Henry III. (1908). In connexion with the government of London may be noted works on the following: Inns of Court. William Herbert, Antiquities of the Inns of Court and Chancery (1804); Robert P. Pearce, History (1848). Artillery Company, Anthony Highmore, History of the Hon. Artillery Co. of London to 1802 (1804); G. A. Raikes, History of the Hon. Artillery Co. (1878). William Herbert published in 1837 History of the Twelve great Livery Companies of London, and in 1869 Thomas Arundell published Historical Reminiscences of the City and its Livery Companies. Since then have appeared The Livery Companies of the City of London, by W. Carew Hazlitt (1892); The City Companies of London, by P. H. Ditchfield (1904); The Gilds and Companies of London, by George Unwin (1908). Separate histories have been published of the chief London companies. The following are some of the chief works connected with the topography of London: Thomas Pennant, Of London (1790, 1793, 1805, 1813, translated into German 1791); John T. Smith, Antient Topography of London (1815); David Hughson [E. Pugh], Walks through London (1817); London (edited by Charles Knight 1841-1844, reprinted 1851, revised by E. Walford 1875- 1877); J. H. Jesse, Literary and Historical Memorials of London (1847); Leigh Hunt, The Town, its Memorable Character and Events (1848, new ed. 1859); Peter Cunningham, A Handbook of London past and present (1849, 2nd ed. 1850, enlarged into a new work in 1891); Henry B. Wheatley, London past and
  • 60. present; Vestiges of Old London, etchings by J. W. Archer (1851); A New Survey of London (1853); G. W. Thornbury, Haunted London (1865, new ed. by E. Walford 1880); Old and New London, vols. i.-ii. by G. W. Thornbury, vols. iii.-vi. by Edward Walford (1873-1878); Walter Besant, London, Westminster, South London, East London (1891-1902); East London Antiquities, edited by Walter A. Locks (East London Advertiser, 1902); Philip Norman, London vanished and vanishing (1905); Records of the London Topographical Society; Monographs of the Committee for the Survey of the Memorials of Greater London. The following books on the population of London have been published: John Graunt, Natural and Political Observations on the Bills of Mortality (1661, other editions 1662, 1665, 1676); Essay in Political Arithmetick (1683); Five Essays on Political Arithmetick (1687); Several Essays in Political Arithmetick (1699, 1711, 1751, 1755); Essay concerning the Multiplication of Mankind (1682, 1683, 1686), all by Sir William Petty; Corbyn Morris, Observations on the past Growth and present State of the City of London (1751); Collection of the Yearly Bills of Mortality from 1657 to 1758 (ed. by T. Birch, D.D. 1759); Graunt’s Observations, Petty’s Another Essay and C. Morris’s Observations are reprinted in this collection. Graunt and Petty’s Essays are reprinted in Economic Writings of Sir W. Petty (1899). (H. B. W.*) 1 See map in London Statistics (vol. xix., 1909), an annual publication of the London County Council, which besides these divisions shows “Water London,” the London main drainage area, and the Central Criminal Court district.
  • 61. 2 Charing Cross station was the scene of a remarkable catastrophe on the 5th of December 1905, when a large part of the roof collapsed, and the falling débris did very serious damage to the Avenue theatre, which stands close to the station at a lower level. 3 The report appeared in eight volumes, the first of which, containing the general conclusions to which allusion is here made, bore the number, as a blue-book. Cd. 2597. 4 Over 200 local acts were repealed by schemes made under the act of 1899. 5 A valuable article on “The Conqueror’s Footprints in Domesday” was published in the English Historical Review in 1898 (vol. xiii. p. 17). This article contains an account of Duke William’s movements after the battle of Senlac between Enfield, Edmonton, Tottenham and Berkhampstead. 6 “A map of London engraved on copper-plate, dated 1497,” which was bought by Ferdinand Columbus during his travels in Europe about 1518-1525, is entered in the catalogue of Ferdinand’s books, maps, c., made by himself and preserved in the Cathedral Library at Seville, but there is no clue to its existence. 7 One is in the Guildhall Library, and the other among the Pepysian maps in Magdalene College, Cambridge. 8 This map of London by Norden is dated 1593, as stated above. The same topographer published in his Middlesex a map of Westminster as well as this one of the City of London. 9 Various changes in the names of the taverns are made in the folio edition of this play (1616) from the quarto (1601); thus the Mermaid of the quarto becomes the Windmill in the folio, and the Mitre of the quarto is the Star of the folio. 10 The Great Revolt of 1381 (Oxford, 1906), p. 27. 11 In a valuable paper on “The Population of Old London” in Blackwood’s Magazine for April 1891.
  • 62. 12 The old Bills of Mortality, although of value from being the only authority on the subject, were never complete owing to various causes: one being that large numbers of Roman Catholics and Dissenters were not registered in the returns of the parish clerk who was a church officer. The bills were killed by the action of the Registration Act for England and Wales, which came into operation July 1, 1837. The weekly Returns of the Registrar-General began in 1840. 13 “The invention of ‘bills of mortality’ is not so modern as has been generally supposed, for their proper designation may be found in the language of ancient Rome. Libitina was the goddess of funerals; her officers were the Libitinarii our undertakers; her temple in which all business connected with the last rites was transacted, in which the account of deaths—ratio Libitinae—was kept, served the purpose of a register office.”—Journal Statistical Society, xvii. 117 (1854). 14 The return was made “by special command from the Right Honourable the Lords of His Majesty’s Privy Council.” The Privy Council were at this time apprehensive of an approaching scarcity of food. The numbers (130,268) were made up as follows: London Within the Walls 71,029, London Without the Walls 40,579, Old Borough of Southwark (Bridge Without) 18,660. 15 R. R. Sharpe, London and the Kingdom (1894), i. 541. LONDON CLAY, in geology, the most important member of the Lower Eocene strata in the south of England. It is well developed in the London basin, though not frequently exposed, partly because it is to a great extent covered by more recent gravels and partly because it is not often worked on a large scale. It is a stiff,
  • 63. tenacious, bluish clay that becomes brown on weathering, occasionally it becomes distinctly sandy, sometimes glauconitic, especially towards the top; large calcareous septarian concretions are common, and have been used in the manufacture of cement, being dug for this purpose at Sheppey, near Southend, and at Harwich, and dredged off the Hampshire coast. Nodular lumps of pyrites and crystals of selenite are of frequent occurrence. The clay has been employed for making bricks, tiles and coarse pottery, but it is usually too tenacious for this purpose except in well-weathered or sandy portions. The base of the clay is very regularly indicated by a few inches of rounded flint pebbles with green and yellowish sand, parts of this layer being frequently cemented by carbonate of lime. The average thickness of the London Clay in the London basin is about 450 ft.; at Windsor it is 400 ft. thick; beneath London it is rather thicker, while in the south of Essex it is over 480 ft. In Wiltshire it only reaches a few feet in thickness, while in Berkshire it is some 50 or 60 ft. It is found in the Isle of Wight, where it is 300 ft. thick at Whitecliff Bay—here the beds are vertical and even slightly reversed—and in Alum Bay it is 220 ft. thick. In Hampshire it is sometimes known as the Bognor Beds, and certain layers of calcareous sandstone within the clays are called Barnes or Bognor Rock. In the eastern part of the London basin in east Kent the pebbly basement bed becomes a thick deposit (60 ft.), forming part of the Oldhaven and Blackheath Beds. The London Clay is a marine deposit, and its fossils indicate a moderately warm climate, the flora having a tropical aspect. Among the fossils may be mentioned Panopoea intermedia, Ditrupa plana, Teredina personata, Conus concinnus, Rostellaria ampla, Nautilus centralis, Belosepia, foraminifera and diatoms. Fish remains include Otodus obliquus, Sphyroenodus crassidens;
  • 64. birds are represented by Halcyornis Toliapicus, Lithornis and Odontopteryx, and reptiles by Chelone gigas, and other turtles, Palaeophis, a serpent and crocodiles. Hyracotherium leporinum, Palaeotherium and a few other mammals are recorded. Plant remains in a pyritized condition are found in great abundance and perfection on the shore of Sheppey; numerous species of palms, screw pines, water lilies, cypresses, yews, leguminous plants and many others occur; logs of coniferous wood bored through by annelids and Teredo are common, and fossil resin has been found at Highgate. See Eocene; also W. Whitaker, “The Geology of London and part of the Thames Valley,” Mem. Geol. Survey (1889), and Sheet Memoirs of the Geol. Survey, London, Nos. 314, 315, 268, 329, 332, and Memoirs on the Geology of the Isle of Wight (1889). LONDONDERRY, EARLS AND MARQUESSES OF. The 1st earl of Londonderry was Thomas Ridgeway (c. 1565-1631), a Devon man, who was treasurer in Ireland from 1606 to 1616 and was engaged in the plantation of Ulster. Ridgeway was made a baronet in 1611, Baron Ridgeway in 1616 and earl of Londonderry in 1623. The Ridgeways held the earldom until March 1714, when Robert, the 4th earl, died without sons. In 1726 Robert’s son-in-law, Thomas Pitt (c. 1688-1729), son of Thomas Pitt, “Diamond Pitt,”
  • 65. governor at Madras and uncle of the great earl of Chatham, was created earl of Londonderry, the earldom again becoming extinct when his younger son Ridgeway, the 3rd earl of this line, died unmarried in January 1765. In 1796 Robert Stewart (1739-1821), of Mount Stewart, Co. Down, was made earl of Londonderry in the Irish peerage. He had been created Baron Londonderry in 1789 and Viscount Castlereagh in 1795; in 1816 he was advanced to the rank of marquess of Londonderry. The 3rd marquess married the heiress of the Vane-Tempests and took the name of Vane instead of Stewart; the 5th marquess called himself Vane-Tempest and the 6th marquess Vane-Tempest-Stewart. LONDONDERRY, CHARLES WILLIAM STEWART (VANE), 3rd Marquess of (1778-1854), British soldier and diplomatist, was the son of the 1st marquess by a second marriage with the daughter of the 1st Earl Camden. He entered the army and served in the Netherlands (1794), on the Rhine and Danube (1795), in the Irish rebellion (1798), and Holland (1799), rising to be colonel; and having been elected to parliament for Kerry he became under secretary for war under his half-brother Castlereagh in 1807. In 1808 he was given a cavalry command in the Peninsula, where he brilliantly distinguished himself. In 1809, and again in the campaigns of 1810, 1811, having become a major-general, he served under Wellington in the Peninsula as his adjutant-general, and was at the
  • 66. capture of Ciudad Rodrigo, but at the beginning of 1812 he was invalided home. Castlereagh (see Londonderry, 2nd Marquess of) then sent him to Berlin as minister, to represent Great Britain in the allied British, Russian and Prussian armies; and as a cavalry leader he played an important part in the subsequent fighting, while ably seconding Castlereagh’s diplomacy. In 1814 he was made a peer as Baron Stewart, and later in the year was appointed ambassador at Vienna, and was a member of the important congresses which followed. In 1822 his half-brother’s death made him 3rd marquess of Londonderry, and shortly afterwards, disagreeing with Canning, he resigned, being created Earl Vane (1823), and for some years lived quietly in England, improving his Seaham estates. In 1835 he was for a short time ambassador at St Petersburg. In 1852, after the death of Wellington, when he was one of the pall-bearers, he received the order of the Garter. He died on the 6th of March 1854. He was twice married, first in 1808 to the daughter of the earl of Darnley, and secondly in 1819 to the heiress of Sir Harry Vane- Tempest (a descendant of Sir Piers Tempest, who served at Agincourt, and heir to Sir Henry Vane, Bart.), when he assumed the name of Vane. Frederick William Robert (1805-1872), his son by the first marriage, became 4th marquess; and on the latter’s death in 1872, George Henry (1821-1884), the eldest son by the second marriage, after succeeding as Earl Vane (according to the patent of 1823), became 5th marquess. In 1884 he was succeeded as 6th marquess by his son Charles Stewart Vane-Tempest-Stewart (b. 1852), a prominent Conservative politician, who was viceroy of Ireland (1886-1889), chairman of the London School Board (1895- 1897), postmaster-general (1900-1902), president of the Board of Education (1902-1905) and lord president of the Council (1903- 1905).
  • 67. LONDONDERRY, ROBERT STEWART, 2nd Marquess of (1769-1822), British statesman, was the eldest son of Robert Stewart of Ballylawn Castle, in Donegal, and Mount Stewart in Down, an Ulster landowner, of kin to the Galloway Stewarts, who became baron, viscount, earl and marquess in the peerage of Ireland. The son, known in history as Lord Castlereagh, was born on the 18th of June in the same year as Napoleon and Wellington. His mother was Lady Sarah Seymour, daughter of the earl of Hertford. He went from Armagh school to St John’s College, Cambridge, but left at the end of his first year. With Lord Downshire, then holding sway over the County Down, Lord Stewart had a standing feud, and he put forward his son, in July 1790, for one of the seats. Young Stewart was returned, but at a vast cost to his family, when he was barely twenty-one. He took his seat in the Irish House of Commons at the same time as his friend, Arthur Wellesley, M.P. for Trim, but sat later for two close boroughs in England, still remaining member for Down at College Green. From 1796, when his father became an earl, he took the courtesy title of Viscount Castlereagh, and becoming keeper of the privy seal in Ireland, he acted as chief secretary, during the prolonged absence of Mr Pelham, from February 1797. Castlereagh’s conviction was that, in presence of threatened invasion and rebellion, Ireland could only be made safe by union with Great Britain. In Lord Camden, as
  • 68. afterwards in Lord Cornwallis, Castlereagh found a congenial chief; though his favour with these statesmen was jealously viewed both by the Irish oligarchy and by the English politicians who wished to keep the machine of Irish administration in their own hands. Pitt himself was doubtful of the expediency of making an Irishman chief secretary, but his view was changed by the influence of Cornwallis. In suppressing Lord Edward Fitzgerald’s conspiracy, and the rebellion which followed in 1798, Castlereagh’s vigilance and firmness were invaluable. His administration was denounced by a faction as harsh and cruel—a charge afterwards repudiated by Grattan and Plunket— but he was always on the side of lenity. The disloyal in Ireland, both Jacobins and priest-led, the Protestant zealots and others who feared the consequence of the Union, coalesced against him in Dublin. Even there Castlereagh, though defeated in a first campaign (1799), impressed Pitt with his ability and tact, with Cornwallis he joined in holding out, during the second Union campaign (1800), the prospect of emancipation to the Roman Catholics. They were aided by free expenditure of money and promises of honours, methods too familiar in Irish politics. When the Act of Union was carried through the Irish parliament, in the summer of 1800, Castlereagh’s official connexion with his native land practically ended. Before the Imperial Parliament met he urged upon Pitt the measures which he and Cornwallis thought requisite to make the Union effective. In spite of his services and of Pitt’s support, disillusion awaited him. The king’s reluctance to yield to the Roman Catholic claims was underestimated by Pitt, while Cornwallis imprudently permitted himself to use language which, though not amounting to a pledge, was construed as one. George III. resented the arguments brought forward by Castlereagh—“this young man” who had come over to talk him out of his coronation oath. He peremptorily refused to sanction
  • 69. emancipation, and Pitt and his cabinet made way for the Addington administration. Thereupon Castlereagh resigned, with Cornwallis. He took his seat at Westminster for Down, the constituency he had represented for ten years in Dublin. The leadership of an Irish party was offered to him, but he declined so to limit his political activity. His father accepted, at Portland’s request, an Irish marquessate, on the understanding that in the future he or his heirs might claim the same rank in the Imperial Legislature; so that Castlereagh was able to sit in the House of Commons as Marquess in 1821-1822. Wilberforce discussed with Pitt the possibility of sending out Castlereagh to India as governor-general, when the friction between Lord Wellesley and the directors became grave; but Pitt objected, as the plan would remove Castlereagh from the House of Commons, which should be “the theatre of his future fame.” In 1802, Castlereagh, at Pitt’s suggestion, became president of the Board of Control in the Addington cabinet. He had, though not in office, taken charge of Irish measures under Addington, including the repression of the Rebellion Bill, and the temporary suspension of the Habeas Corpus in 1801, and continued to advocate Catholic relief, tithe reform, state payment of Catholic and dissenting clergy and “the steady application of authority in support of the laws.” To Lord Wellesley’s Indian policy he gave a staunch support, warmly recognized by the governor-general. On Pitt’s return to office (May 1804), Castlereagh retained his post, and, next year, took over also the duties of secretary for war and the colonies. Socially and politically, the gifts of his wife, Lady Emily Hobart, daughter of a former Irish viceroy, whom he had married in 1794, assisted him to make his house a meeting-place of the party; and his influence in parliament grew notwithstanding his defects of style, spoken and written. As a manager of men he had no equal. After Pitt’s death his
  • 70. surviving colleagues failed to form a cabinet strong enough to face the formidable combination known as “All the Talents,” and Castlereagh acquiesced in the resignation. But to the foreign policy of the Fox-Greville ministry and its conduct of the war he was always opposed. His objections to the Whig doctrine of withdrawal from “Continental entanglements” and to the reduction of military expenditure were justified when Fox himself was compelled “to nail his country’s colours to the mast.” The cabinet of “All the Talents,” weakened by the death of Fox and the renewed quarrel with the king, went out in April 1807. Castlereagh returned to the War Office under Portland, but grave difficulties arose, though Canning at the Foreign Office was then thoroughly at one with him. A priceless opportunity had been missed after Eylau. The Whigs had crippled the transport service, and the operations to avert the ruin of the coalition at Friedland came too late. The Tsar Alexander believed that England would no longer concern herself with the Continental struggle, and Friedland was followed by Tilsit. The secret articles of that compact, denied at the time by the Opposition and by French apologists, have now been revealed from official records in M. Vandal’s work, Napoléon et Alexandre. Castlereagh and Canning saw the vital importance of nullifying the aim of this project. The seizure of the Danish squadron at Copenhagen, and the measures taken to rescue the fleets of Portugal and Sweden from Napoleon, crushed a combination as menacing as that defeated at Trafalgar. The expedition to Portugal, though Castlereagh’s influence was able only to secure Arthur Wellesley a secondary part at first, soon dwarfed other issues. In the debates on the Convention of Cintra, Castlereagh defended Wellesley against parliamentary attacks: “A brother,” the latter wrote, “could not have done more.” The depression produced by Moore’s
  • 71. campaign in northern Spain, and the king’s repugnance to the Peninsular operations, seemed to cut short Wellesley’s career; but early in 1809, Castlereagh, with no little difficulty, secured his friend’s appointment as commander-in-chief of the second Portuguese expedition. The merit has been claimed for Canning by Stapleton, but the evidence is all the other way. Meanwhile, Castlereagh’s policy led to a crisis that clouded his own fortunes. The breach between him and Canning was not due to his incompetence in the conduct of the Walcheren expedition, In fact, Castlereagh’s ejection was decided by Canning’s intrigues, though concealed from the victim, months before the armament was sent out to the Scheldt. In the selection of the earl of Chatham as commander the king’s personal preference was known, but there is evidence also that it was one of Canning’s schemes, as he reckoned, if Chatham succeeded, on turning him into a convenient ministerial figurehead. Canning was not openly opposed to the Walcheren expedition, and on the Peninsular question he mainly differed from Castlereagh and Wellington in fixing his hopes on national enthusiasm and popular uprisings. Military opinion is generally agreed that the plan of striking from Walcheren at Antwerp, the French naval base, was sound. Napoleon heard the news with dismay; in principle Wellington approved the plan. Castlereagh’s proposal was for a coup de main, under strict conditions of celerity and secrecy, as Antwerp was unable to make any adequate defence. But Chatham, the naval authorities and the cabinet proceeded with a deliberation explained by the fact that the war secretary had been condemned in secret. The expedition, planned at the end of March, did not reach Walcheren till the end of July 1809; and more time was lost in movements against Batz and Flushing, protracted until an unhealthy autumn prostrated the army, which was withdrawn,
  • 72. discredited and disabled, in September. Public opinion threw the whole blame upon Castlereagh, who then found that, in deference to Canning, his colleagues had decreed his removal half a year earlier, though they kept silence till the troops were brought back from Walcheren. When Castlereagh learned from Percival that the slur cast on him had its origin in a secret attack on him many months before, he was cruelly hurt. The main charge against him was, he says, that he would not throw over officers on whom unpopularity fell, at the first shadow of ill-fortune. His refusal to rush into censure of Moore, following Canning’s sudden change from eulogy to denunciation, requires no defence. According to the ideas then prevailing Castlereagh held himself justified in sending a challenge to the original author, as he held, of a disloyal intrigue against a colleague. In the subsequent duel Canning was wounded and the rivals simultaneously resigned. In private letters to his father and brother, Castlereagh urged that he was bound to show that he “was not privy to his own disgrace.” When Canning published a lengthy explanation of his conduct, many who had sided with him were convinced that Castlereagh had been much wronged. The excuse that the protest upon which the cabinet decided against Castlereagh did not mention the minister’s name was regarded as a quibble. Men widely differing in character and opinions—Walter Scott, Sidney Smith, Brougham and Cobbett—took this view. Castlereagh loyally supported the government in parliament, after Lord Wellesley’s appointment to the Foreign Office. Though Wellington’s retreat after Talavera had been included, with the disasters of the Corunna and Walcheren campaigns, in the censures on Castlereagh, and though ministers were often depressed and doubtful, Castlereagh never lost faith in Wellington’s genius. Lord Wellesley’s resignation in 1812, when the Whigs failed to come to terms with the regent, led to
  • 73. Castlereagh’s return to office as foreign secretary (March 1812). The assassination of Percival soon threw upon him the leadership of the House of Commons, and this double burden he continued to bear during the rest of his life. From March 1812 to July 1822 Castlereagh’s biography is, in truth, the history of England. Though never technically prime minister, during these years he wielded a power such as few ministers have exercised. Political opponents and personal ill-wishers admitted that he was the ablest leader who ever controlled the House of Commons for so long a period. As a diplomatist, nobody save Marlborough had the same influence over men or was given equal freedom by his colleagues at home. Foreigners saw in him the living presence of England in the camp of the Allies. At the War Office he had been hampered by the lack of technical knowledge, while nature had not granted him, as an organizer, the powers of a Carnot or Roon. But in diplomacy his peculiar combination of strength and charm, of patience and conciliatory adroitness, was acknowledged by all. At the Foreign Office he set himself at once to meet Napoleon’s designs in northern Europe, where Russia was preparing for her life-and- death struggle. Lord Wellesley paid a high tribute to Castlereagh’s conduct in this situation, and Wellington declared that he had then “rendered to the world the most important service that ever fell to the lot of any individual to perform.” Castlereagh wisely rejected Napoleon’s insincere overtures for peace. After the Moscow débâcle Napoleon’s fate was affected not only by Wellington’s progress in Spain, but by the attitude of the northern powers and by the action of Turkey, due to Castlereagh’s opportune disclosure to the Porte of the scheme of partition at Tilsit. At home, the repeal of the Orders in Council was carried, the damage to British trade plainly outweighing the injury inflicted on France by the restrictive system. The British
  • 74. subsidies to the Allies were largely increased as the operations of 1813 developed, but all Castlereagh’s skill was needed to keep the Coalition together. The Allied powers were willing, even after Leipzig, to treat with France on the basis of restoring her “natural frontiers”—the Rhine, the Alps and the Pyrenees; but Castlereagh protested. He would not allow the enemy to take ground for another tiger-spring. Before the Conference of Châtillon, where Napoleon sent Caulaincourt to negotiate for peace—with the message scribbled on the margin of his instructions, “Ne signez rien”— Aberdeen wrote to hasten Castlereagh’s coming: “Everything which has been so long smothered is now bursting forth”; and again, “Your presence has done much and would, I have no doubt, continue to sustain them (the Allies) in misfortune.” The Liverpool cabinet then and later were as urgent in pressing him to return to lead the House of Commons. He had lost his seat for Down in 1805, and afterwards sat for British boroughs; but in 1812 he was re-elected by his old constituents; and again in 1818 and 1820, sitting, after he became marquess of Londonderry in 1821, for Orford. Early in 1814 his colleagues reluctantly consented to his visit to the allied headquarters. The Great Alliance showed signs of weakness and division. Austria was holding back; Prussia had almost broken away; above all, the ambiguous conduct of Alexander bred alarm and doubt. This situation became increasingly serious while Napoleon was giving daily proofs that his military genius, confronting a hesitant and divided enemy, was at its best. Castlereagh strove to keep the Allies together, to give no excuse for those separate arrangements upon which Napoleon was reckoning, to assert no selfish policy for England, to be tied by no theoretical consistency. At the Châtillon conferences England was represented by others, but Castlereagh was present with supreme authority over all, and it was
  • 75. he who determined the result. He declined to commit his country either to a blank refusal to negotiate with Napoleon or to the advocacy of a Bourbon restoration. He was ready to give up almost the whole of England’s conquests, but he insisted on the return of France within her ancient limits as the basis of a settlement. Caulaincourt’s advice was to take advantage of these overtures; but his master was not to be advised. The counter-projects that he urged Caulaincourt to submit to were advanced after his victory at Montereau, when he boasted that he was nearer to Munich than the Allies were to Paris. Even before the Châtillon conference was dissolved (March 18th), Castlereagh saw that Caulaincourt’s efforts would never bend Napoleon’s will. The Allies adopted his view and signed the treaty of Chaumont (March 1st), “my treaty,” as Castlereagh called it, with an unusual touch of personal pride; adding “Upon the face of the treaty this year our engagement is equivalent to theirs united.” The power of England when she threw her purse into the scale had been just exhibited at Bar-sur-Aube, when at a council of all the representatives of the powers the retreat of the allied armies was discussed. Bernadotte, playing a waiting game in Holland, was unwilling to reinforce Blücher, then in a dangerous position, by the Russian and Prussian divisions of Winzingerode and Bülow, temporarily placed under his orders. Having asked for and received the assurance that the military leaders were agreed in holding the transfer necessary, Castlereagh declared that he took upon himself the responsibility of bringing the Swedish prince to reason. The withholding of the British subsidies was a vital matter, not only with Bernadotte but with all the powers. Castlereagh’s avowed intention to take this step without waiting for sanction from his cabinet put an end to evasion and delay. Blücher was reinforced by the two divisions; the battle of Laon was fought
  • 76. and won, and the allies occupied the French capital. In April 1814 Castlereagh arrived in Paris. He did not disguise his discontent with Napoleon’s position at Elba, close to the French coast, though he advised England not to separate herself at this crisis from her allies. His uneasiness led him to summon Wellington from the south to the Embassy in Paris. He hastened himself to London during the visit of the allied sovereigns, and met with a splendid reception. He was honoured with the Garter, being one of the few commoners ever admitted to that order. When the House of Commons offered to the Crown its congratulations upon the treaty of peace, Castlereagh’s triumph was signalized by a brilliantly eloquent panegyric from Canning, and by a recantation of his former doubts and denunciations from Whitbread. His own dignified language vindicated his country from the charge of selfish ambition. His appointment as British representative at Vienna, where the congress was to meet in September, was foreseen; but meanwhile he was not idle. The war with the United States, originating in the non-intercourse dispute and the Orders in Council, did not cease with the repeal of the latter. It lasted through 1814 till the signing of the treaty of Ghent, soon before the flight from Elba. In parliament the ministry, during Castlereagh’s absence, had been poorly championed. Canning had thrown away his chance by his unwise refusal of the Foreign Office. None of the ministers had any pretension to lead when Castlereagh was busy abroad and Canning was sulking at home, and Castlereagh’s letters to Vansittart, the chancellor of the exchequer, show how these difficulties weighed upon him in facing the position at Vienna, where it was imperative for him to appear. At Vienna he realized at once that the ambition of Russia might be as formidable to Europe and to Great Britain as that of the fallen tyrant. His aim throughout had been to rescue Europe
  • 77. from military domination; and when he found that Russia and Prussia were pursuing ends incompatible with the general interest, he did not hesitate to take a new line. He brought about the secret treaty (Jan. 3, 1815) between Great Britain, Austria and France, directed against the plans of Russia in Poland and of Prussia in Saxony. Through Castlereagh’s efforts, the Polish and Saxon questions were settled on the basis of compromise. The threat of Russian interference in the Low Countries was dropped. While the Congress was still unfinished, Napoleon’s escape from Elba came like a thunderclap. Castlereagh had come home for a short visit (Feb. 1815), at the urgent request of the cabinet, just before the flight was known. The shock revived the Great Alliance under the compact of Chaumont. All energies were directed to preparing for the campaign of Waterloo. Castlereagh’s words in parliament were, “Whatever measures you adopt or decision you arrive at must rest on your own power and not on reliance on this man.” Napoleon promptly published the secret treaty which Castlereagh had concluded with Metternich and Talleyrand, and the last left in the French archives. But Russia and Prussia, though much displeased, saw that, in the face of Bonaparte’s return, they dared not weaken the Alliance. British subsidies were again poured out like water. After Napoleon’s overthrow, Castlereagh successfully urged his removal to St Helena, where his custodians were charged to treat him “with all the respect due to his rank, but under such precautions as should render his escape a matter of impossibility.” Some of the continental powers demanded, after Waterloo, fines and cessions that would have crushed France; but in November a peace was finally concluded, mainly by Castlereagh’s endeavours, minimising the penalties exacted, and abandoning on England’s part the whole of her share of the indemnity. The war created an economic situation
  • 78. at home which strengthened the Whigs and Radicals, previously discredited by their hostility to a patriotic struggle. In 1816 the Income Tax was remitted, despite Castlereagh’s contention that something should first be done to reduce the Debt Charge. His policy, impressed upon British representatives abroad, was “to turn the confidence Great Britain inspired to the account of peace, by exercising a conciliatory influence in Europe.” Brougham’s action, at the end of 1815, denouncing the Holy Alliance, even in its early form, was calculated to embarrass England, though she was no party to what Castlereagh described as a “piece of sublime mysticism and nonsense.” While he saw no reason in this for breaking up the Grand Alliance, which he looked upon as a convenient organ of diplomatic intercourse and as essential for the maintenance of peace, he regarded with alarm “the little spirit of German intrigue,” and agreed with Wellington that to attempt to crush France, as the Prussians desired, or to keep her in a perpetual condition of tutelage under a European concert from which she herself should be excluded, would be to invite the very disaster which it was the object of the Alliance to avoid. It was not till Metternich’s idea of extending the scope of the Alliance, by using it to crush “the revolution” wherever it should raise its head, began to take shape, from the conference of Aix-la- Chapelle (1818) onward, that Great Britain’s separation from her continental allies became inevitable. Against this policy of the reactionary powers Castlereagh from the first vigorously protested. As little was he prepared to accept the visionary schemes of the emperor Alexander for founding an effective “confederation of Europe” upon the inclusive basis of the Holy Alliance (see Alexander I. of Russia).
  • 79. Meanwhile financial troubles at home, complicated by the resumption of cash payments in 1819, led to acute social tension. “Peterloo” and the “Six Acts” were furiously denounced, though the bills introduced by Sidmouth and Castlereagh were carried in both Houses by overwhelming majorities. The danger that justified them was proved beyond contest by the Cato Street Conspiracy in 1820. It is now admitted by Liberal writers that the “Six Acts,” in the circumstances, were reasonable and necessary. Throughout, Castlereagh maintained his tranquil ascendancy in the House of Commons, though he had few colleagues who were capable of standing up against Brougham. Canning, indeed, had returned to office and had defended the “Six Acts,” but Castlereagh bore the whole burden of parliamentary leadership, as well as the enormous responsibilities of the Foreign Office. His appetite for work caused him to engage in debates and enquiries on financial and legal questions when he might have delegated the task to others. Althorp was struck with his unsleeping energy on the Agricultural Distress Committee; “His exertions, coupled with his other duties—and unfortunately he was always obstinate in refusing assistance— strained his constitution fearfully, as was shown by his careworn brow and increasing paleness.” In 1821, on Sidmouth’s retirement, he took upon himself the laborious functions of the Home Office. The diplomatic situation had become serious. The policy of “intervention,” with which Great Britain had consistently refused to identify herself, had been proclaimed to the world by the famous Troppau Protocol, signed by Russia, Austria and Prussia (see Troppau, Congress of). The immediate occasion was the revolution at Naples, where the egregious Spanish constitution of 1812 had been forced on the king by a military rising. With military revolts, as with paper constitutions of an unworkable type, Castlereagh had no sympathy;
  • 80. and in this particular case the revolution, in his opinion, was wholly without excuse or palliation. He was prepared to allow the intervention of Austria, if she considered her rights under the treaty of 1813 violated, or her position as an Italian Power imperilled. But he protested against the general claim, embodied in the Protocol, of the European powers to interfere, uninvited, in the internal concerns of sovereign states; he refused to make Great Britain, even tacitly, a party to such interference, and again insisted that her part in the Alliance was defined by the letter of the treaties, beyond which she was not prepared to go. In no case, he affirmed, would Great Britain “undertake the moral responsibility for administering a general European police,” which she would never tolerate as applied to herself. To Troppau, accordingly, no British plenipotentiary was sent, since the outcome of the conferences was a foregone conclusion; though Lord Stewart came from Vienna to watch the course of events. At Laibach an attempt to revive the Troppau proposals was defeated by the firm opposition of Stewart; but a renewal of the struggle at Verona in the autumn of 1822 was certain. Castlereagh, now marquess of Londonderry, was again to be the British representative, and he drew up for himself instructions that were handed over unaltered by Canning, his successor at the Foreign Office, to the new plenipotentiary, Wellington. In the threatened intervention of the continental powers in Spain, as in their earlier action towards Naples and Sardinia, England refused to take part. The Spanish revolutionary movement, Castlereagh wrote, “was a matter with which, in the opinion of the English cabinet, no foreign power had the smallest right to interfere.” Before, however, the question of intervention in Spain had reached its most critical stage the development of the Greek insurrection against the Ottoman
  • 81. government brought up the Eastern Question in an acute form, which profoundly modified the relations of the powers within the Alliance, and again drew Metternich and Castlereagh together in common dread of an isolated attack by Russia upon Turkey. A visit of King George IV. to Hanover, in October 1821, was made the occasion of a meeting between Lord Londonderry and the Austrian chancellor. A meeting so liable to misinterpretation was in Castlereagh’s opinion justified by the urgency of the crisis in the East, “a practical consideration of the greatest moment,” which had nothing in common with the objectionable “theoretical” question with which the British government had refused to concern itself. Yet Castlereagh, on this occasion, showed that he could use the theories of others for his own practical ends; and he joined cordially with Metternich in taking advantage of the emperor Alexander’s devotion to the principles of the Alliance to prevent his taking an independent line in the Eastern Question. It was, indeed, the belief that this question would be made the matter of common discussion at the congress that led Castlereagh to agree to be present at Verona; and in his Instructions he foreshadowed the policy afterwards carried out by Canning, pointing out that the development of the war had made the recognition of the belligerent rights of the Greeks inevitable, and quoting the precedent of the Spanish American colonies as exactly applicable. With regard to the Spanish colonies, moreover, though he was not as yet prepared to recognize their independence de jure, he was strongly of opinion that the Spanish government should do so since “other states would acknowledge them sooner or later, and it is to the interest of Spain herself to find the means of restoring an intercourse when she cannot succeed in restoring a dominion.” But the tragic ending of Castlereagh’s strenuous life was near; and the credit of carrying out the policy foreshadowed in the Instructions
  • 82. was to fall to his rival Canning. Lord Londonderry’s exhaustion became evident during the toilsome session of 1822. Both the king and Wellington were struck by his overwrought condition, which his family attributed to an attack of the gout and the lowering remedies employed. Wellington warned Dr Bankhead that Castlereagh was unwell, and, perhaps, mentally disordered. Bankhead went down to North Cray and took due precautions. Castlereagh’s razors were taken away, but a penknife was forgotten in a drawer, and with this he cut his throat (August 12, 1822). He had just before said, “My mind, my mind, is, as it were, gone”; and, when he saw his wife and Bankhead talking together, he moaned “there is a conspiracy laid against me.” It was as clear a case of brain disease as any on record. But this did not prevent his enemies of the baser sort from asserting, without a shadow of proof, that the suicide was caused by terror at some hideous and undefined charge. The testimony of statesmen of the highest character and of all parties to Castlereagh’s gifts and charm is in strong contrast with the flood of vituperation and calumny poured out upon his memory by those who knew him not. Bibliography.—Castlereagh’s correspondence and papers were published by his brother and successor (1850-1853) in twelve volumes. Sir Archibald Alison’s Biography in three volumes came out in 1861, with copious extracts from the manuscripts preserved at Wynyard. It was made the subject of an interesting essay in the Quarterly Review for January 1862, reprinted in Essays by the late Marquis of Salisbury (London, 1905). A graceful sketch by Theresa, Marchioness of Londonderry (London, 1904), originally brought out in the Anglo-Saxon Review, contains some extracts from Castlereagh’s unpublished
  • 83. correspondence with his wife, the record of an enduring and passionate attachment which throws a new light on the man. (E. D. J. W.) LONDONDERRY, a northern county of Ireland in the province of Ulster, bounded N. by the Atlantic, W. by Lough Foyle and Donegal, E. by Antrim and Lough Neagh, and S. by Tyrone. The area is 522,315 acres, or about 816 sq. m. The county consists chiefly of river valleys surrounded by elevated table-lands rising occasionally into mountains, while on the borders of the sea-coast the surface is generally level. The principal river is the Roe, which flows northward from the borders of Tyrone into Lough Foyle below Newton-Limavady, and divides the county into two unequal parts. Farther west the Faughan also falls into Lough Foyle, and the river Foyle passes through a small portion of the county near its north- western boundary. In the south-east the Moyola falls into Lough Neagh, and the Lower Bann from Lough Neagh forms for some distance its eastern boundary with Antrim. The only lake in the county is Lough Finn on the borders of Tyrone, but Lough Neagh forms about 6 m. of its south-eastern boundary. The scenery of the shores of Lough Foyle and the neighbouring coast is attractive, and Castlerock, Downhill, Magilligan and Portstewart are favourite seaside resorts. On the flat Magilligan peninsula, which forms the eastern horn of Lough Foyle, the base-line of the trigonometrical survey of Ireland was measured in 1826. The scenery of the Roe
  • 84. valley, with the picturesque towns of Limavady and Dungiven, is also attractive, and the roads from the latter place to Draperstown and to Maghera, traversing the passes of Evishgore and Glenshane respectively, afford fine views of the Sperrin and Slieve Gallion mountains. The west of this county consists of Dalradian mica-schist, with some quartzite, and is a continuation of the northern region of Tyrone. An inlier of these rocks appears in the rising ground east of Dungiven, including dark grey crystalline limestone. Old Red Sandstone and Lower Carboniferous Sandstone overlie these old rocks in the south and east, meeting the igneous “green rocks” of Tyrone, and the granite intrusive in them, at the north end of Slieve Gallion. Triassic sandstone covers the lower slope of Slieve Gallion on the south-east towards Moneymore, and rises above the Carboniferous Sandstone from Dungiven northward. At Moneymore we reach the western scarp of the white Limestone (Chalk) and the overlying basalt of the great plateaus, which dip down eastward under Lough Neagh. The basalt scarp, protecting chalk and patches of Liassic and Rhaetic strata, rises to 1260 ft. in Benevenagh north of Limavady, and repeats the finest features of the Antrim coast. A raised shelf with post-glacial marine clays forms the flat land west of Limavady. Haematite has been mined on the south flank of Slieve Gallion. The excessive rainfall and the cold and uncertain climate are unfavourable for agriculture. Along the sea-coast there is a district of red clay formed by the decomposition of sandstone, and near the mouth of the Roe there is a tract of marl. Along the valleys the soil is often fertile, and the elevated districts of the clay-slate region afford pasture for sheep. The acreage of
  • 85. pasture-land does not greatly exceed that of tillage. Oats, potatoes and turnips are chiefly grown, with some flax; and cattle, sheep, pigs and poultry are kept in considerable numbers. The staple manufacture of the county is linen. The manufacture of coarse earthenware is also carried on, and there are large distilleries and breweries and some salt-works. There are fisheries for salmon and eels on the Bann, for which Coleraine is the headquarters. The deep-sea and coast fisheries are valuable, and are centred at Moville in Co. Donegal. The city of Londonderry is an important railway centre. The Northern Counties (Midland) main line reaches it by way of Coleraine and the north coast of the county, and the same railway serves the eastern part of the county, with branches from Antrim to Magherafelt, and Magherafelt to Cookstown (Co. Tyrone), to Draperstown and to Coleraine, and from Limavady to Dungiven. The Great Northern railway reaches Londonderry from the south, and the city is also the starting-point of the County Donegal, and the Londonderry and Lough Swilly railways. The population decreases (152,009 in 1891; 144,404 in 1901) and emigration is extensive, though both decrease and emigration are well below the average of the Irish counties. Of the total, about 43% are Roman Catholics, and nearly 50% Presbyterians or Protestant Episcopalians. Londonderry (pop. 38,892), Coleraine (6958) and Limavady (2692) are the principal towns, while Magherafelt and Moneymore are lesser market towns. The county comprises six baronies. Assizes are held at Londonderry, and quarter sessions at Coleraine, Londonderry and Magherafelt. The county is represented in parliament by two members, for the north and south divisions respectively. The
  • 86. Protestant and Roman Catholic dioceses of Armagh, Derry and Down each include parts of the county. At an early period the county was inhabited by the O’Cathans or O’Catrans, who were tributary to the O’Neills. Towards the close of the reign of Elizabeth the county was seized, with the purpose of checking the power of the O’Neills, when it received the name of Coleraine, having that town for its capital. In 1609, after the confiscation of the estates of the O’Neills, the citizens of London obtained possession of the towns of Londonderry and Coleraine and adjoining lands, 60 acres out of every 1000 being assigned for church lands. The common council of London undertook to expend £20,000 on the reclamation of the property, and elected a body of twenty-six for its management, who in 1613 were incorporated as the Irish Society, and retained possession of the towns of Londonderry and Coleraine, the remainder of the property being divided among twelve of the great livery companies. Their estates were sequestrated by James I., and in 1637 the charter of the Irish Society was cancelled. Cromwell restored the society to its former position, and Charles II. at the Restoration granted it a new charter, and confirmed the companies in their estates. In the insurrection of 1641 Moneymore was seized by the Irish, and Magherafelt and Bellaghy, then called Vintner’s Town, burned, as well as other towns and villages. There are several stone circles, and a large number of artificial caves. The most ancient castle of Irish origin is that of Carrickreagh; and of the castles erected by the English those of Dungiven and Muff are in good preservation. The abbey of Dungiven, founded in 1109, and standing on a rock about 200 ft. above the river Roe, is a picturesque ruin.
  • 87. LONDONDERRY, or Derry, a city, county of a city, parliamentary borough (returning one member) and the chief town of Co. Londonderry, Ireland, 4 m. from the junction of the river Foyle with Lough Foyle, and 95 m. N.N.W. of Belfast. Pop. (1901) 38,892. The city is situated on an eminence rising abruptly from the west side of the river to a height of about 120 ft. The eminence is surrounded by hills which reach, a few miles to the north, an elevation of upwards of 1500 ft., and the river and lough complete an admirable picture. The city is surrounded by an ancient rampart about a mile in circumference, having seven gates and several bastions, but buildings now extend beyond this boundary. The summit of the hill, at the centre of the town, is occupied by a quadrangular area from which the main streets diverge. Some old houses with high pyramidal gables remain but are much modernized. The Protestant cathedral of St Columba, in Perpendicular style, was completed from the design of Sir John Vanbrugh in 1633, at a cost of £4000 contributed by the city of London, and was enlarged and restored in 1887. The spire was added in 1778 and rebuilt in 1802. The bishop’s palace, erected in 1716, occupies the site of the abbey founded by Columba. The abbot of this monastery, on being made bishop, erected in 1164 Temple More or the “Great Church,” one of the finest buildings in Ireland previous to the Anglo-Norman invasion. The original abbey church was called the “Black Church,”
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