In
analyzing the language of Samuel Beckett’s Endgame,
Gerald Weales found delight in the ‘sudden recognition of the rhythm and grace
of simple sentences in repetitive patterns; the incongruity of an ordinary conversation
in an unlikely context; and, most important, the surprise that follows when a
word in daily use is taken literally’.1 Weales went on to say that
many of the exchanges in Endgame
bring to mind the sounds of vaudeville or the music hall and sometimes even
suggest the old Abbott and Costello routine of ‘Who’s on first?’:
HAMM: He comes crawling on his belly -
CLOV: Who?
HAMM: What?
CLOV: Who do you mean, he?
HAMM: Who do I mean! Yet another.
CLOV: Ah him! I wasn’t sure. (p. 59-60)
Stanley
Cavell has also pointed out that, among other things, repartee is highly
characteristic of Endgame and of
Beckett in general, but repartee of a special kind, one in which ‘victory or
salvation consists (not exactly in proving a point or defending a position but)
in coming up with the right answer - or rather, the next answer,
one which continues the dialogue, but whose point is to win a contest of wits
by capping a gag or getting the last word’ .2
It
is not part of my purpose to dispute the stylistic perceptions of Cavell and
Weales. No one could deny that Hamm and Clov converse in certain distinctive
ways and that these distinctive ways can find agreement among readers. I
should, however, like to extend the terms of their analyses by examining why
Hamm and Clov speak the way they do. To put it another way, given the kinds of
stylistic features identified by Weales and Cavell, why do such features occur
in the dialogue of Endgame in the
first place?
The
optimum way of answering this question is to approach it by way of
conversational ends and conversational means. I assume that when characters in
drama participate in conversation they do so with purposes similar to those of
people in real life; that is, they converse to convey information, to implement
some action, to reaffirm the bonds of social union, and the like. I assume
further than when characters in drama seek certain ends they do not seek to
achieve them in a solely random way; thus characters in drama, like people in
real life, will take care to fashion their utterances to produce certain
effects, to gain certain preliminary outcomes, to make certain impressions. The
accomplishment of ends, I suggest, requires or is at least facilitated by the
use of certain verbal ploys or what one language scholar has called ‘conversational
strategems’ - devices which achieve conversational purposes but which
simultaneously conceal these purposes.3
Verbal
ploys, of course, are not magic formulae. Their effectiveness depends on, among
other things, matching the right ploy not only to the end in mind but also to
the situation. A field commander should not expect to inspire confidence in his
troops by being mealy-mouthed before the big battle. But what is the
situation in Endgame? Obviously, this
is a question which cannot be answered easily in a few words, for in the play
we encounter a range of situations as the play develops. We can, however, fruitfully
explore ends and means by focusing on some essentials, or better yet, a
specific kind of essential.
According
to Eugene Webb, what is important in Beckett’s plays is not so much the
conventional elements of plot but rather the essential situation - the
stark, perplexing, and often cruel reality in which the characters find
themselves.4 Although the essential situation in Endgame broaches the loftier
metaphysical situation (is there a God? Does he care?), my purposes are served
by focusing on a more limited and mundane sphere - the essential
conversational situation. This focus seems appropriate if for no other reason
than that Hamm and Clov must cope not only with the cosmic elements (or lack of
them) but also with each other. For Clov, the situation is especially harsh and
trying since he must daily cope with the verbal tyranny of Hamm. The question
then is, how does Clov cope or try to cope? That is, what strategies does he
employ or try to employ? In addressing this issue, we obviously need to take a
closer look at the conversational situation (greater and smaller) existing
between Hamm and Clov. Scrutiny here will, I believe, help to explain why
certain strategies are used and, ultimately, why stylistic features of the kind
Weales and Cavell have identified are basic to the dialogue of Endgame.
One
obvious but important aspect of the conversational situation in Endgame is that Hamm and Clov stand in a
distinct hierarchical relationship to each other. As adoptive and putative
father, Hamm holds a superordinate position, while Clov, as adopted and
putative son, holds a subordinate position. The inequality of status between
Hamm and Clov is socially marked in the way the two characters speak to each
other; that is, father and son differ not only in what they say to each but
also in how they say it. The difference in relative status does not, however,
correlate consistently with any fixed speaking order. As far as can be
discerned, either party may speak first. Another way of stating this would be
to say that the order of speakers in Endgame
is more dependent upon the immediate situation than upon some prearranged
speaking order.5
I
raise the issue of speaking order here because the question of who speaks first
in conversational exchanges has considerable interactional consequences. As
analysts of conversation have pointed out, he who issues the first solicitation
(question, request, or remark) in exchanges not only socially obligates the
addressee to give a proper response to the solicitation but also reserves for
himself a slot after the response to issue another solicitation .6
For example, a first question, if given a proper answer, may invite another
question after the answer. Interactionally, what happens is that the first
speaker, by issuing a solicitation and receiving a proper response, gains the
soliciting position. I should emphasize that in the two-part sequence of
solicitation + response, the two speakers tacitly negotiate the role of
solicitor.7 When the first speaker issues a solicitation, he lays
claim to solicitorship; he establishes solicitorship when the second speaker
ratifies the claim by issuing a proper response to the solicitation.
Gaining
the soliciting position, of course, brings considerable power. For example, by
holding the soliciting position, a speaker can socially constrain the type of
utterance immediately following the solicitation. A question calls for an
answer; a request, for a response; a remark, for an evaluation. Holding the
soliciting position also allows a speaker to control to a large extent the
topic or topics that can enter the conversation proper. From the advantageous
position of solicitor, a speaker can, for example, readily initiate the
opening, changing, and closing of topics. In sum, solicitorship brings power
because the speaker who gains and maintains it can control to a large extent
the direction the conversation will take.
Fortunately
for Clov, there exists in Endgame no
precedence rule stipulating that the speaker of higher status always speaks
first. Unfortunately for Clov, the lack of such a precedence rule does not
hinder Hamm from gaining the soliciting position and asserting his authority
over Clov once the conversation has been initiated. Indeed, after gaining the
soliciting position, so strongly and arbitrarily does Hamm assert his authority
that Clov becomes no more than a servant running hither and thither to satisfy
his master’s whims. Hamm’s propensity for exploitation naturally puts Clov in a
highly vulnerable position, for he cannot appeal to fair play or mercy. Indeed,
it is a striking feature of Endgame
that Hamm is as unfeeling to Clov at the end of the play as he is in the
beginning.
Despite
his vulnerability to Hamm’s tyranny, Clov is not, however, completely defenseless.
Apparently the relationship between Hamm and Clov is such that it will allow (up
to a point) an inferior to issue a countering speech, or ‘counter’, to the
speech of a superior. By ‘counter’ I mean a type of speech which, instead of
satisfying the expectations and obligations established by the immediately
preceding solicitation (i.e., which succeeds as a ‘proper response’),
simultaneously challenges and solicits a speech of its own.8 Of the
many counters in Endgame (which
constitute much of the so-called ‘repartee’ in the play), the following
are illustrative:
HAMM: . . . Why do you stay with me?
CLOV: Why do you keep me? (p. 6)
HAMM: . . . It’s a lie! Why do you lie to me!
CLOY: There! There! (p. 25)
HAMM: . . . Is she buried?
CLOV: Buried? Who would have buried her? (p. 42)
HAMM: . . . Go and get the oilcan.
CLOV: What for? (p. 43)
HAMM: Is it working?
The alarm, is it working?
CLOV: Why wouldn’t it be working? (p. 47)
HAMM: Don’t sing.
CLOV: One hasn’t the right to sing any more? (p. 72)
In
each of these examples, we find a solicitation followed not by a ‘proper’
response but by an utterance which both challenges and solicits (i.e., a ‘counter’).
In each of these examples, it is clear that Clov not only can, but does
make use of counters to challenge many of Hamm’s speeches. To the extent that
these challenges display Clov’s dissatisfaction with Hamm’s actions and to the
extent that Hamm can correctly interpret these displays and heed their
meanings, Clov can evidently control some of Hamm’s subsequent behaviour.
Yet,
to view some of Clov’s speeches as challenges to Hamm’s speeches and leave it
at that does little justice to some of the interactional subtleties involved. A
less obvious and perhaps more revealing way of viewing Clov’s counters is to
view them as purposive devices to oust Hamm from his solicitor position.
Indeed, part of the potency of counters stems from their capacity not only to
challenge some aspect of the preceding solicitation but also reverse the
solicitor-solicited roles. And as Clov must realize, a Hamm without
solicitorship is a Hamm without access to much of his power.
Because
of its soliciting function, a counter, like a solicitation, serves as a claim
to solicitorship, and, as with a solicitation, a proper response by the other
party serves as a ratification of that claim. What Clov must do to effect a
reversal of the typical alignment in Endgame
(i.e., Hamm as solicitor and Clov as solicited) - and this is no easy
task - is to extract from Hamm a proper response to a counter and, hence,
a ratification of solicitorship.
The
following interactional sequence provides a good example of Clov trying to
obtain the solicitor role for Hamm and Hamm trying equally hard to maintain it:
HAMM: . . . Do you know what’s happened? (Pause.)
Clov!
CLOV: (turning towards Hamm, exasperated) Do you
want me to look at this muckheap, yes or no?
HAMM: Answer me first.
CLOV: What?
HAMM: Do you know what’s happened?
CLOV: When? Where?
HAMM: (violently)
When! What happened? Use
your head, can’t you! What has happened?
CLOV: What for Christ’s sake does it matter?
HAMM: I don’t know. (p. 74-75)
When
Hamm issues the solicitation ‘Do you know what’s happened?’ and Clov responds with
silence (as indicated by the pause in the stage directions), Clov fails to
reconfirm Hamm’s solicitorship. Lacking this reconfirmation, Hamm issues his ‘Clov!’,
an utterance whose semantic import is a command for Clov to pay attention or to
answer the preceding question (or both) and whose interactional purport is,
once again, to acquire a reconfirmation of his solicitorship. Clov’s `Do you
want me to look at this muckheap, yes or no?’ tells Hamm that Clov is, indeed,
paying attention; however, by putting this display in the form of a solicitation,
Clov manages to place himself halfway to achieving solicitorship. If Hamm’s
next utterance were to give a proper response to what is requested in the
solicitation, Clov would have established himself in the solicitor position.
Hamm’s next utterance (‘Answer me first’), however, not only fails to respond
properly to the solicitation (and thereby to ratify Clov’s ascension into the
solicitor position) but also again places Clov in a situation where a proper
response by him would reconfirm Hamm’s solicitorship. Clov declines this
invitation by issuing a solicitous ‘What?’ Hamm’s subsequent response (‘Do you
know what’s happened?’) satisfies Clov’s query, but because it takes the form
of a question, it once again invites Clov to supply a reconfirmation of his
solicitorship. Clov once again declines the invitation, this time by issuing a
double solicitation (`When? Where?’), to which Hamm responds with his own
series of solicitations, to which Clov responds with yet one more solicitation.
When
viewed as purposive devices to secure solicitorship, then, the manifestations
of counters (both single and multiple) in Endgame
take on much greater significance than mere repartee. On a more abstract level,
they form a set of connected interactions in which Clov and Hamm verbally
challenge each other for temporary control of the conversation, each party
issuing counters in hopes of receiving a proper response which will establish
him (in Clov’s case) or re-establish him (in Hamm’s case) in the
solicitor position. (Even the old Abbott and Costello routine which I cited at
the beginning of this essay could be construed in this way). We might even say
that the number of counters, especially the number of back-to-back
counters, is but a measure of the intensity with which this interactional
struggle is being waged. As the example above suggests, this struggle can
extend through a multiplicity of speaking turns with neither party willing to
acquiesce to the other.
That
Clov cannot win these sallies and acquire solicitorship (or if he were to
acquire it, maintain it) means, of course, that he will have to resort to other
courses of action to cope with Hamm. In the event Clov does seem to have a
number of options open to him, but each has its drawbacks. Clov could, for
instance, abandon Hamm as he does, or at least, as he attempts to do, at the
end of the play. Clov realizes, however, that outside of Hamm’s abode ‘it’s
death’. Moreover, to leave Hamm would mean certain death for Hamm since he is
paraplegic and cannot feed himself. Another course of action would be for Clov
to remain in Hamm’s abode and to try to avoid Hamm as much as possible. This
would, however, appear difficult not only because of the small size of Hamm’s
abode but also because of Hamm’s penchant for asserting his authority over Clov
whenever the opportunity arises. Just as futile, perhaps, would be for Clov to
wait until Hamm undergoes a change of heart in his behaviour towards him. Clov
has suffered numerous cruelties at the hands of his putative father, but these
cruelties, as Clov realizes, have produced in Hamm neither pangs of conscience
nor physical exhaustion.
A
careful reading of the play shows that, throughout most of the play, Clov
chooses to remain with Hamm and, if not to enjoy, then at least to endure Hamm’s
whims. Clov, in short, adopts a strategy of accommodation. That this strategy
of accommodation is only intermittently successful is evidenced by Clov’s
repeated recourse to counters. But since Clov maintains this general strategy
of accommodation (or at least partial accommodation) throughout most of the
play, the relevant question becomes: what verbal strategy can Clov adopt to
cope with the likely abuse he will receive from Hamm? Since Clov’s general plan
is to accommodate as much as possible Hamm’s dictatorial behavior, he cannot
use counters to prevent the introduction of unpleasant topics or to shut down
conversation altogether (with, for example, a resounding ‘Shut up!’). Although
Clov no doubt wishes he could take such measures, these options are largely
unavailable to him given his subordinate relationship to Hamm. Moreover, even
if he could resort to such measures they would seem to be doomed to failure
given Hamm’s insistence on having things his own way. A shutdown of
conversation would in fact be especially repugnant to Hamm given his fondness
for dialogue.9
While
Clov cannot summarily shut down conversation, he can do (or attempt to do) the
next best thing under the circumstances, namely, to accommodate Hamm
conversationally but to make him struggle every step of the way. In this
regard, counters of the following type are of particular importance to Clov’s
strategy of accommodation:
HAMM: Go and get two bicycle-wheels.
CLOY: There are no more bicycle-wheels.
HAMM: What have you done with your bicycle?
CLOY: I never had
a bicycle. (p. S)
HAMM: Give him his pap.
CLOV: There’s no more pap. (p. 9)
HAMM: Sit on him!
CLOV: I can’t sit. (p. 10)
HAMM: Nature has forgotten us.
CLOV: There’s no nature. (p. 11)
HAMM: Has he changed your sawdust?
CLOV: It isn’t sawdust. (p. 17)
HAMM: . . . The dog’s gone.
CLOV: He’s not a real dog, he can’t go. (p. 56)
HAMM: . . . Give me a rug, I’m freezing.
CLOV: There are no more rugs. (p. 67)
HAMM: He can’t go far. Eh?
CLOV: He doesn’t need to go far.
HAMM: Is it time for my pain-killer?
CLOY: Yes.
HAMM: Ah! At last! Give it to me!
Quick!
CLOV: There’s no more pain-killer. (p. 71)
HAMM: . . . Put me in my coffin.
CLOV: There are no more coffins. (p. 79)
HAMM: Before you go . . . . . . say something.
CLOV: There is nothing to say. (p. 79)
These
responses are examples not so much of what Weales calls the ‘incongruity of an
ordinary conversation in an unlikely context,’ but rather the repetitive
pattern of simple sentences to which he also refers. The pattern here is, of
course, not only syntactic but semantic as well: the counters here generally
challenge a presupposition that a particular ability or particular referent
exists.
But
how do these counters relate to Clov’s strategy of accommodation? We can get a
clearer picture by focusing on one example. When Hamm says to Clov ‘Go and get
two bicycle-wheels’ and Clov responds ‘There are no more bicycle-wheels,’
Clov interactionally accomplishes several important accommodative actions. On
the more superficial level, he provides an utterance that indicates to Hamm
that he has heard and interpreted the solicitation and that it deserves some
relevant response. Clov’s utterance, in other words, signals to Hamm that Clov
is attuned to Hamm’s speech and that he is willing to continue participation
(though not necessarily happily) in the ongoing conversation.
On
a deeper level, however, Clov’s utterance has more important interactional
consequences with respect to his accommodative strategy. One peculiar quality
of the counters above is that they allow Clov, so to speak, to have his cake
and to eat it too. On the one hand Clov’s ‘There are no more bicycle-wheels’
is accommodative insofar as it cannot be construed as a direct refusal to
execute the command. Clov does not explicitly state that he will not get the
two wheels. Indeed, the response could be interpreted as ‘I would get two
bicycle-wheels if there were two bicycle wheels to get’. But Clov’s
utterance is accommodative in a much more profound sense. By saying ‘There are
no more bicycle-wheels,’ Clov not only indicates to Hamm that Hamm has
erred in making such a solicitation when, in fact, no bicycle-wheels
exist to get but also indicates that he is willing to help Hamm correct the
error. Clov, in other words, accommodates Hamm by offering him assistance when
and where (whether he is aware of it or not) assistance is clearly needed.
The
same kind of situation obtains in respect of those counters which point out
some mistakenly assumed ability. When, for example, Hamm says ‘Sit down on him’
and Clov replies ‘I can’t sit,’ this should not be construed as a refusal on
Clov’s part to comply. Beckett has stressed repeatedly that the dramatic
situation in Endgame (as in other
plays) is essentially simple, and a simple appraisal of Clov’s remark yields
the eminently mundane meaning that he would sit down if he were
physically capable (which he is not). Clov’s ‘I can’t sit’ is in essence
accommodative in that it points out an error and attempts to help rectify it.
Yet
it would be false to the play to interpret the counters cited above as merely
accommodative. However much they may exhibit deference on one level of
analysis, they are obviously challenges on another. Utterances of this type
invariably challenge certain presuppositions inherent in the solicitations themselves.
In Endgame they represent a challenge
to Hamm’s ability to produce logically appropriate solicitations, and by extension
they call in question his ability to handle the solicitor role in conversation.
Clov’s counters are carefully designed to imply that in view of his frailties
Hamm would do well either to make fewer solicitations or to relinquish the
solicitor role altogether, either of which outcomes Clov would naturally
welcome and even relish, given the conditions under which he lives and labours.
Because
of the indirection involved, the subtler and less complimentary meaning of Clov’s
counters could easily pass unnoticed by Hamm, who is of a markedly self-absorbed
disposition. Yet Hamm’s loss is Clov’s gain, inevitably so given the fulcrum of
forces upon which the play depends. It is of particular strategic importance to
Clov that he should manage not only to challenge Hamm’s solicitations but also
to win for himself a measure of satisfaction by diverting Hamm into logical
dead ends - both of these aims to be achieved under the cover of accommodation.
In this sense the situation is one in which Clov, while seemingly doomed to
lose, cannot lose. For if his counters should be taken as uncomplimentary and
aggressive, Clov can always dismiss this as merely a misunderstanding on Hamm’s
part. Not even Hamm can hold him directly accountable for what he has never
directly uttered.
The
foregoing analysis is not intended to be in any way exhaustive. My purpose has
been merely to explore some of the complex and purposeful uses characters make
of speech in dialogue by applying a rudimentary methodology. I have made no
attempt to address the ‘overtones’ which Beckett himself tends to regard with
suspicion. And valuable as such attempts have been, there may be something to
be gained from treating this play in the ‘real life’ terms that are currently
deemed to be outmoded and inappropriate. But it is easy to forget that, like
people in real life, characters in drama devise and utilize various strategies
because they want their utterance to accomplish certain things. The literary
critic may have something to learn from his colleague, the socio-linguist.
The latter can tell us at least as much as the former about what seems to be
happening in dramatic dialogue. From such a perspective we may gain if not a
clearer then at least a more detailed picture of what we mean when we say two
characters interact.
1 ‘The language of Endgame’, Tulane drama review, 6,
1962, 110. Citations from Endgame are
from the Grove Press edition of 1958.
2 ‘Ending the waiting game: a
reading of Beckett’s Endgame’, in
Stanley Cavell, Must we mean what we say? New York: Scribner’s, 1969, p.
127.
3 Ann Weiser, ‘How to not
answer a question: purposive devices in conversational strategy’, in Papers
from the eleventh regional meeting, Chicago linguistic society, ed. Robin
E. Grossman et al. Chicago: Chicago Linguistic Society, 1975, p. 650.
4 The plays of Samuel
Beckett, Seattle: Univ. of Washington Press, 1972, p. 65.
5 Speaking order, or ‘turn-taking’,
in conversation is not the same across different cultures. For example, among
the people of Burundi, relative status governs the order of speakers in a
group, the one highest in status speaking first and so on down the line. See
Ethel M. Albert, ‘Culture patterning of speech behavior in Burundi’, in Directions
in sociolinguistics, ed. John J. Gumperz and Deli Hymes New York: Holt,
Rinehart and Winston, 1972, pp. 72-105. Those interested in a detailed
account of the mechanics of turn-taking in American and other cultures
are referred to Harvey Sacks, Emanuel A. Schegloff, and Gail Jefferson, ‘A
simple systematics for the organization of turn-taking for conversation’,
Language, 50 (1974), 696-735.
6 This observation comes
originally from Harvey Sacks, a conversational analyst of the
ethnomethodological school of sociology; cited in Matthew Speier, How to
observe face-to-face communication, Pacific Palisades, Calif.:
Goodyear, 1973, p. 97. A clear and cogent summary of the scope and methods of
conversational analysis appears in Malcolm Coulthard, An introduction to
discourse analysis London: Longman, 1977, pp. 52-92. A collection of
studies by conversational analysts can be found in Studies in social
interaction, ed. David Sudnow, New York: Free Press, 1972. More recent
collections include Studies in the organization of conversational
interaction, ed. Jim Schenkein, New York: Academic Press, 1978 and Conversational
routine, ed. Florian Coulmas, The Hague: Mouton, 1981. A series of articles
devoted to language and social interaction appears in a special issue of Sociological
inquiry, 50, nos. 3-4, 1980.
7 The negotiated aspect of
conversation constitutes one of the prime areas of study among the
conversational analysts. For a study of the negotiated nature of conversational
closings, see Emanuel A. Schegloff and Harvey Sacks, ‘Opening up closings’, Semiotica,
8, 1973, 289-327; for analyses of the negotiated nature of repairs in
conversation, see Gail Jefferson, ‘Error Correction as an Interactional
Resource’, Language in society, 2 1974, 181-99, and Emanuel A.
Schegloff, Gail Jefferson, and Harvey Sacks, ‘The preference for self-correction
in the organization of repair in conversation,’ Language, 53, 1977, 361-82.
8 I borrow the notion of
countering speech, or what I call a counter, from Thomas P. Klammer, ‘Foundations
for a theory of dialogue structure’, Poetics, 9, 1973, 33.
9 At one point in the play
where Clov is threatening to leave Hamm, this well-known exchange
sequence occurs:
CLOV: I’ll leave you.
HAMM: No!
CLOV: What is there to keep me here?
HAMM: The dialogue. (p. 58)
Without
prejudice to those commentators who treat Endgame
as a largely autotelic construct, there may be some benefit to be derived from
noting that it is Hamm rather than Clov who utters the celebrated last line of
this exchange.