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A sad tale’s best for winter

Yan Brailowsky
Anny A. Crunelle
Jean-Michel Déprats

Psychanalyse et philosophie

Freedom and Necessity in The Winter’s Tale

Claire Guéron


Dès la première scène,The Winter’s Tale décline la notion de nécessité sous toutes ses formes, à travers l’emploi du terme lui-même, de ses formes dérivées (necessities, necessary) et de leurs synonymes (needful, required), ou à travers la notion de ce qui « doit » advenir, de ce qui « ne peut manquer » d’advenir. La récurrence de ces formules donne l’impression d’un monde sans liberté, où tout est soumis à la contrainte, une idée renforcée par l’emploi d’images traditionnellement liées à la représentation du destin. Pourtant, les personnages se soumettent difficilement à la nécessité et certains rêvent même d’une liberté absolue, qui leur permettrait de s’affranchir des lois de la nature. La pièce elle-même, nonobstant la prophétie de l’oracle, remet en cause sa propre représentation de la fatalité en suggérant l’imprévisibilité des événements futurs. Cette remise en cause du destin ouvre la voie, à plus petite échelle, à une mise-en-scène du libre-arbitre, notamment avec la statue en mouvement, une métaphore du libre-arbitre en action, qui permet d’associer le principe de la liberté humaine à celui du temps suspendu.

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  • 1 . All references are to The Winter’s Tale, Orgel Stephen (ed.), Oxford, Oxford University Press, “T (...)

1From the first scene, The Winter’s Tale exhibits a concern with necessity, either through the use of the word itself, its derivatives (necessities, necessary), and their synonyms (needful, required), or through the notion of what “must” happen, what “cannot but” happen. This begins when councillors Camillo and Archidamus discuss the friendship of the kings of Bohemia and Sicilia in terms of the necessities that keep them apart, and the need to nurture a relationship that “cannot choose but branch” (1. 1. 23).1 The recurrence of such terms conveys a sense that this is a world where no one is free, and every action is dictated by force of circumstance. At the same time, and perhaps more than in any other play, characters fantasize states of absolute freedom, including freedom from the laws of nature. Old men on crutches refuse to die, Camillo wishes to forgo sustenance and “only live by gazing” (4. 4. 110), the Second lady fancies herself with blue eyebrows. This paper will explore how the claims of necessity and human freedom are balanced against each other in the play, culminating in a discussion of the figure of the moving statue. I will first discuss how various forms of necessity coalesce into a representation of fate, then how that fate is put to the test of predictability, and finally how, in the figure of the moving statue, the play offers a phenomenology of free will.


  • 2 . Greene Robert, “Pandosto”, in The Winter’s Tale, op. cit., p. 250.

2The play, with the exhaustiveness that is typical of Renaissance writing, illustrates the concept of necessity in all its forms. The list begins with the political requirements of kingship, which Camillo refers to as “royal necessities” (1. 1. 24), and which later degenerate into a parody of political expediency, when Autolycus, after describing the harsh punishment in store for the shepherd and his son, adds that “though it be great pity, yet, it is necessary” (4. 4. 770-771). Political necessity is supplemented with the requirements of courtesy and honour, as when Hermione explains that she loved Polixenes, because “in honour he required [it]” (3. 2. 62), or when Antigonus feels he must abandon baby Perdita because he gave his word that he would do so. Even animals feel the pinch of necessity. When a bear attacks Antigonus, the shepherd comments that bears “are never curst, but when they are hungry” (3. 3. 125-126). In the bear’s attack on Antigonus, we have an image of necessity as dearth or poverty, a meaning whose first occurrence the OED traces back to 1390. This meaning appears explicitly in Pandosto, where “Necessity wished [the shepherd] to retain the gold.”2

  • 3 . Lipsius Justus, A Discourse of Constancy in Two Books, 1584, London, printed for Humphrey Mosely, (...)
  • 4 . Ibid., p. 52.
  • 5 . Ibid., p. 65.
  • 6 . Calvin Jean, “Argument”, in A commentarie of Iohn Calvin, upon the First booke of Moses called Ge (...)

3Though the play illustrates various forms of necessity, it also offers a more streamlined vision, in which all aspects of necessity are subsumed under “what must necessarily happen”, or fate. This is consistent with definition I. 3. a of “necessity” in the OED, “The fact of being inevitably fixed or determined.” Neo-stoic philosopher Justus Lipsius equated necessity both with Stoic fatum and divine providence, writing that “[with Seneca, I define fate as] a Necessity of all things, and Actions, which no force can break off”3 and “For if God be, Providence is ; if Providence, then is there a Strict, enjoyn’d Order, and Decree of Things, and if such an Order, then there is a firm, Established Necessity of Events.”4 The equation of necessity with fate in The Winter’s Tale occurs on both the dramatic and the poetic levels. On the dramatic level, characters bent on control present their particular needs as absolute necessity. By declaring something necessary without specifying to whom or in virtue of what it is necessary, manipulative characters pass off their own interests as the dictates of fate. Camillo furthers his own plan to return home to Sicilia by commandeering Autolycus’clothes and telling him he must think “there’s a necessity in’t” (4. 4. 629). At the level of the play’s poetics, the forces exerted on characters, including their actions upon each other, are routinely expressed in terms of the traditional imagery of fate. This includes lines of all kinds, such as fishing-lines, anchors, leashes, reins, the course of an arrow-even lines of descent and plot lines. Angling is a frequent metaphor for the pull of an irresistible force, as when Polixenes identifies the shepherd’s beautiful daughter as the “angle that plucks [his] son” (4. 2. 45) to the cottage. Leontes uses the same image when describing the trap he is laying for Hermione and Polixenes, “I am angling now, though you see not how I give line” (1. 2. 178-179). The imagery of fate also includes sea-voyages and theatrical metaphors, as when Leontes expresses his cuckoldry as a “disgraced” part (1. 2. 186) that he must play. They come together in act 4, scene 4, in which the term “necessity” appears in conjunction with references to a sea-journey, a leash, theatrical performance and hereditary lineage. Such imagery is widespread in sixteenth-century writing. Justus Lipsius describes divine Providence as the hand on the tiller of a ship, writing of “this Fatal Ship, in which we are all embarqu’d.”5 The idea of fate as a plot line was commonplace in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, deriving from the stoic notion of virtue as performing one’s part in the play of life. Calvin famously compared the hand of Providence to that of a playwright : “After the world was created, man was placed as it were, on a theatre or stage.”6

4In the play, theatrical imagery evokes fate most compellingly when it emerges in the negative, as when characters reject or half-heartedly accept the part they have been assigned to play. “I see the play so lies/That I must bear a part” (4. 4. 650-651), Perdita says ruefully, in a reluctant agreement to follow Camillo’s instructions. “No remedy” Camillo confirms (651). Camillo himself has been in a similar position, urged to play the part of the “poisoner” (1. 2. 348) in Leontes’scheme. This dramatic pattern is made perceptible through an emphasis on labels by which characters express their fear of being thrust into a role they have not chosen. Leontes refuses to be called “father” (2. 3. 155) by a bastard, and the old shepherd refuses to be made into “the King’s brother-in-law” (4. 4. 697). Leontes also refuses to be called “tyrant” by Paulina, and this is perhaps what saves her. “Were I a tyrant,/Where were her life ?” (2. 3. 121-122), the king asks rhetorically. In a way that seems to anticipate structuralist poetics, characters are made to fill pre-determined positions, such as those of “thrower-out” (3. 3. 28) of Perdita (Antigonus), “finder-out” (5. 2. 119) of the secret of Perdita’s birth (Autolycus), and “lookers-on” (5. 1. 29). The pattern tends to make controlling characters appear as agents, or authors of fate. Leontes is explicitly conflated with fate when the “ghost” of Hermione tells Antigonus that “fate” (3. 3. 27) has made him, “against [his] better disposition” (27) the “thrower-out” of her child. The topos of involuntary performance may also express resistance to fate more directly. In act 3, scene 3, the old shepherd says : “I would there were no age between ten and three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest ; for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting” (3. 3. 58-62). At the most immediate level, the shepherd is complaining about the behaviour of youth ; at the same time the remark conveys the idea that a totally scripted life is somehow not worth living.

5The fact that fate emerges in the play as something to be rejected or resisted poses something of an ontological problem. There is no resisting fate in Senecan Stoicism. The only way to remain free, when faced with a necessary evil, is to bow to necessity, to accept it with a smiling face. This is the attitude Hermione advises Polixenes to adopt when she tells him he can be her guest or her prisoner. His fate is to stay in Sicilia ; he can do it willingly and be free, or unwillingly and be her prisoner, and the prisoner of fate in the process. Polixenes bows to necessity, but other characters insist on being authors of their fate. Florizel says he will be constant, “though destiny say no” (4. 4. 46), adding “Let myself and fortune/Tug for the time to come” (493). The idea that one may tug with fortune establishes fortune as a force separate from fate, one that does not operate by necessity. The question as to whether fate exists as an active force rather than just a concept is explored in the play through the twin processes of prophecy and prediction.


  • 7 . Valla Lorenzo, Dialogue on Free Will, 1435-1443, Trinkaus Charles Edward, Jr. (trans.), qtd. in T (...)
  • 8 . Ibid., p. 154.
  • 9 . The frailty of human nature appears in both Camillo’s statement that “no man if free” [of moral i (...)

6Renaissance humanist discourse on free will attempted to reconcile human freedom and divine Providence, the Christian counterpart of Stoic fatum. A commonplace of fifteenth- and sixteenth-century treatises on the subject was that an event could be foretold, without being necessary. God knew everything that was going to happen, but man was still free, because “knowing” that an event is going to take place does not “cause” the event to take place. Such a line of reasoning, deriving from Augustine and Aquinas, is found in Valla’s Discourse on Free Will, in Lipsius’On Constancy, and in Montaigne’s essay “ De la Vertu ”. “It is possible for you to do otherwise than God foreknows,” Valla writes, “nevertheless you will not do otherwise, nor will you therefore deceive Him.”7 Valla’s and Lipsius’texts are presented as dialogues. In both, the second speaker points out the logical fallacy of such reasoning, arguing that if something is certain to happen, that means it “must” happen. Valla, and to some extent Lipsius, eventually solve the contradiction by locating necessity in the mind of the mover, which amounts, as Charles Edward Trinkaus puts it, to “psychological determinism.”8 Prophecy in The Winter’s Tale similarly tends to locate the necessity of human actions in both human nature in general and the specific mental make-up of each individual. Apollo’s oracle is just one of the play’s many verified predictions. Characters all engage in predicting the future based on how people necessarily behave in a given situation. Hermione correctly predicts how sorry Leontes will be when he realises his mistake, and Perdita correctly predicts Polixenes’anger on discovering the socially mismatched lovers’relationship, “I told you what would come of this” (4. 4. 444), she says. These predictions are largely based on a conception of immutable human nature. Emilia predicts that Leontes will necessarily be convinced by Paulina’s intervention based on the principle that humans respond in a given way to a given stimulus : “Your honour and goodness is so evident,/That your free undertaking cannot miss a thriving issue” (2. 2. 42-43), she assures Paulina. Paulina seems to be playing the part of Valla’s God when she tells the assembled court that they are free to leave before she unveils the statue, knowing full well that they will not : “Either forebear,/Quit presently the chapel, or resolve you/For more amazement [.] those that think it is unlawful business/I am about, let them depart” (5. 3. 85-87, 96-97). Paulina knows that no one will budge, as Leontes confirms, for the same reason that Shakespeare knows no spectator in his or her right mind will leave the Globe “then”. The audience is free to leave, but will not ; the onlookers, like Hermione, will necessarily stay to see the “issue” or outcome. To some extent, behaving according to human nature is somewhat necessary. Just as the bear remains savage, notwithstanding Antigonus’claim that bears are capable of “casting their savageness aside” (2. 3. 187), people are curious. Free will is limited by human nature and its necessary frailties.9

  • 10 . The prophecy is self-fulfilling because it is also the cause of Leontes’decision to remain single (...)

7However, characters’future actions are not entirely predictable. Emilia turns out to be completely wrong in her prediction that Paulina will mollify Leontes. In fact, there is a reductio ad absurdum of the very notion that the future can be fixed in advance in Hermione’s promise that the “prefixed” (1. 2. 42) date for Leontes’departure from Bohemia will be postponed. Postponing a date before it has even been set makes a mockery of the entire notion of a planned future. This unpredictability of the future, notwithstanding the oracle’s self-fulfilling prophecy,10 is confirmed by the workings of the plot.

8The prevalence of metadramatic imagery makes it possible to read the form of the plot as a mimetic representation of causality in the world of the play. Russ MacDonald, for example, sees in the general “architecture” of plot and syntax a representation of the workings of Providence :

  • 11 . MacDonald Russ, “Poetry and Plot in The Winter’s Tale ”, in Shakespeare Quarterly, vol. 36, n ° 3 (...)

This correspondence of language, form and dramatic universe suggests an identification among speaker, dramatist, and Providence that clarifies the meaning not only of the play but of the tragicomic universe as well. If Leontes’verse does not immediately make itself clear, neither does Shakespeare’s construction of events, nor does the divine architect’s disposition of man’s experience.11

  • 12 . See Aristotle, Poetics, Halliwell Stephen (trans.), Cambridge, MA, Harvard University Press, “Loe (...)

9Using similar principles, I come to a very different conclusion. The plot, I submit, tends to deny the hand of any divine architect. Instead, the sense that things might have happened otherwise is conveyed by the form of the plot, which exhibits none of the “probability or necessity”12 Aristotle famously described as a defining feature of the tragic plot. Mamillius’question “Merry or sad shall’t be ?” (2. 1. 23) reads as a warning that the plot can go either way, that there is no inherent teleological need for it to be either tragic or comic. The unexpected twists and turns of the plot, often de- cried by playgoers and critics alike, confirm that events are connected in the haphazard manner appropriate for romance, rather than in the necessary way of tragedy.

  • 13 . Greene Robert, “Pandosto”, op. cit., p. 243.

10One example of this indeterminacy is the scene in which Paulina presents baby Perdita to Leontes. The episode significantly differs from the source material. In Greene’s novella, the jealous king, on hearing that his wife has given birth to a little girl, gives the order to destroy her : “Bellaria was brought to bed of a fair and beautiful daughter, which no sooner Pandosto heard but he determined that both Bellaria and the young infant should be burnt with fire.”13 In The Winter’s Tale, the decision to expose Perdita is the result of bad strategy, bungling, and frayed nerves. The scene makes it clear that Leontes had no plan to hurt the child when Paulina walked in. It takes a full seventy lines of Paulina’s shoving the baby in Leontes’face and refusing to take it away before it even occurs to him to do it any harm. After he eventually orders the child killed, and the lords bargain him down to mere exposure, disaster is closely averted again, when Antigonus blurts out that death “had been more merciful” (2. 3. 184). The remark goes unheeded, and despite misguided intervention of Paulina and Antigonus, the baby survives. The play goes out of its way to establish the absence of any inevitable outcome. No divine power, it is suggested, could have written anything so messy. The absence of a fixed plan, however, does not of itself imply free will. Chaos and capricious fortune may instead be the prime movers. This is also the impression given by the psychological counterpart to the chaotic structure of the scene, the image of Leontes as a feather in the wind : “I am a feather for each wind that blows” (153). The image is not one of free will, but of randomness and chance. Yet there is another scene in which the principle of a “divine architect” is undermined, this time through a representation of deliberate and purposeful movement. This is the statue scene.


11The various metaphors for necessity-lines, ships, arrows and stagementmanagement-are easily subsumed into the master metaphor of forced motion. Throughout the play, necessity is often implied by the imagery of physical motion, even when mental phenomena are being discussed. Leontes’unshakeable belief in his wife’s guilt is compared by Camillo to the sea responding to the pull of the moon :

you may as well/Forbid the sea for to obey the moon/As or by oath remove or counsel shake/The fabric of his folly (1. 2. 421-424).

12Leontes, after recovering his senses, speaks of having been “transported by [his] jealousies” (3. 2. 156), although he mitigates his denial of responsibility by adding that he “chose” (157) to poison his friend. The metaphor of the feather also images the un-free mind as a body moving under the action of outside forces. Conversely, Camillo turns the upcoming sea voyage into an image of Florizel’s inner resolution with his statement that “He’s irremovable/Resolved for flight” (4. 4. 504-505). If, as these examples tend to suggest, forced motion can be read as a metaphor for a mind under duress, and deliberate motion as a metaphor for the free mind, then the question of who “moves” the statue becomes crucial to interpreting the play’s ultimate stance on free will.

  • 14 . Frey Charles, Shakespeare’s Vast Romance, A Study of The Winter’s Tale, Columbia, University of M (...)
  • 15 . Ibid.
  • 16 . Ibid., p. 146.

13Before turning to the statue scene, I would like to make a quick detour by way of the sheep-shearing scene. Charles Frey points to various “statue scenes”14 before the climactic one, moments in which a male accuser hurls abuse at a frozen woman standing in the middle of a circle of onlookers : “The four scenes in which Leontes misdefines Hermione or Paulina are all statue scenes. In each, he points an accusatory finger at a woman, centrally observed, and charges her with artifice and deceit.”15 Frey goes on to refer to Perdita’s “statuesque pose”16 at the sheep-shearing feast. I wish to take up this idea of Perdita as a statue, and relate it more specifically to her reaction following Polixenes’outburst :

I was not much afeared, for once or twice
I was about to speak and tell him plainly
The selfsame sun that shines upon his court
Hides not his visage from our cottage, but
Looks on alike (4. 4. 439-443).

  • 17 . Sokol B. J., Art and Illusion in The Winter’s Tale, Manchester, Manchester University Press, 1994 (...)

14The passage is both psychologically realistic, and highly relevant to the statue scene. Perdita’s “once or twice” indicates that the frozen young girl we witnessed enduring the vicious verbal onslaughts of the angry old man was in fact bubbling with suppressed animation and just on the verge of moving and speaking. It would have taken very little, Perdita suggests, to tip the scales and make her come alive. Whether or not she would have dared to speak is not the main issue here. What is, is her experience, throughout Polixenes’verbal attack, of an extended moment of choice, when the decision to speak or not to speak was hers alone to make. B. J. Sokol identifies the play’s “representation of’inner’perceptions of time” as “a chief source of phenomenological realism in the play.”17 I believe it is precisely in such “inner perceptions of time” that Shakespeare locates the experience, if not the fact, of free will.

15Perdita’s speech has many implications for the climactic statue scene. It encourages us to see the statue’s animation as coming from within, as the result of life simmering just below the surface, erupting as a conscious decision of the mover herself. Hermione in fact identifies herself as a free agent when she explains that she preserved herself in the hope of seeing “the issue”-both her daughter and the outcome. The author of Hermione’s motion was not the evil powers Paulina refuted, but neither was it Paulina herself. If what we see is a play, the author and stage-director is Hermione. Paulina is not the god-like figure of the stage director, but rather a glorified usherette.

16What Perdita’s suppressed protest also drives home is the statue’s iconic role as a figure of suspended time. In Frey’s analysis of “statue moments” the woman turned statue is a passive victim of male violence. Seen from within, however, the petrified woman is thinking, waiting, weighing her options, biding her time. This dynamics occurs in many other potential “statue scenes”. One of these stands in symmetrical position to the climactic scene, in the fist act of the play, when Leontes remembers Hermione waiting “three crabbèd months” (1. 2. 101) before opening her “white hand” (102) and agreeing to become his wife. Here too a frozen maiden’s animation symbolizes a yes-or-no decision coming after a long period of inner deliberation. Though Leontes claims to have made Hermione move (“Ere I could make thee open thy white hand”, 102), the three-month wait made the motion a free one, just as, at the end, forgiveness was freely consented after and because of a sixteen-year gap. The statue figure, then, associates the free motion of body and mind with suspended time.

17This is consistent with the play’s systematic condemnation of rash actions, and approval of deliberation, as when Leontes acknowledges that murder was only averted because Camillo, unlike Leontes, took the time to think about what he was doing : “the good mind of Camillo tardied/My swift command” (3. 2. 160-161). It is also consistent with a play in which characters define themselves as free by deciding not “whether”, but “when” to move. This goes from Polixenes insisting on picking the day of his departure, to Paulina saying she will leave the room when she is ready to (“On my own accord I’ll off,/But first, I’ll do my errand”, 2. 3. 63-64), to the old men on crutches, the shepherd, and Hermione, claiming the right to choose when they will die. One could add to this list the ballad scene, with the song of “two maids wooing a man” (4. 4. 295-306). There Autolycus plays the petrified figure, taking the time afforded by the song’s repetitive chorus (“whither”) to weigh whether to go “to th’grange or mill” (301), whether to pick one maid or the other.

18In the Perdita scene, the connection between suppressed speech and free will is established phenomenologically, by evoking similar moments of indecision in the audience’s mind, and a feeling that time disrupts the automatic connection between cause and consequence. Some of the effectiveness of these statue scenes may also come from the way the characters’sense of suspended time is mirrored by the playgoer’s experience of watching the play. Through the dramatic devices of suspense and misdirection, we too are made to experience extended moments of uncertainty and possibility. By the time the statue scene is reached, the evidence in favour of Hermione’s death and that in favour of her being alive are so equally balanced, that suspense is complete, and the audience is made to enjoy an extended dramatic moment in which anything may happen.

19Shakespeare, then, uses the concept of necessity as a stepping-stone towards a representation of free will in action. Somewhat paradoxically in a play that is set in motion by one man’s inexplicable and unexplained outburst of irrational passion, Shakespeare seems to suggest that there is such a thing as free will, but that it is conditional on the ability to bring time to a standstill. This begs the question of how such a condition can be met. Though in the above discussion I have spoken of the moving statue as a metaphor for free thought, the statue should perhaps be taken literally as well, as a representation of the power of art to suspend time.

20The point I have made, that Shakespeare uses the trappings of prophecy and miracle to equate free will with taking the time to think things out, may seem a bit trite and anti-climatic. However, I submit it represents either a maturing of Shakespeare’s own thoughts, or a generic shift. In Hamlet, deliberation led to paralysis, and eventually to a default decision to let providence take over. Hamlet’s long delay, in which he hesitated over whether “to be or not to be”, to act or not to act, was a moment of tragic paralysis, a hesitation just as lethal as his rash murder of Polonius. In this softer world of romance, the triumph of time is also that of human freedom and dignity.


1 . All references are to The Winter’s Tale, Orgel Stephen (ed.), Oxford, Oxford University Press, “The Oxford Shakespeare”, 1996.

2 . Greene Robert, “Pandosto”, in The Winter’s Tale, op. cit., p. 250.

3 . Lipsius Justus, A Discourse of Constancy in Two Books, 1584, London, printed for Humphrey Mosely, 1656, p. 55.

4 . Ibid., p. 52.

5 . Ibid., p. 65.

6 . Calvin Jean, “Argument”, in A commentarie of Iohn Calvin, upon the First booke of Moses called Genesis, translated out of the Latine into English, by Thomas Tymme, Minister, imprinteat London [by Henry Middleton] for Iohn Harisson and George Bishop, 1578, p. 21.

7 . Valla Lorenzo, Dialogue on Free Will, 1435-1443, Trinkaus Charles Edward, Jr. (trans.), qtd. in The Renaissance Philosophy of Man, Cassirer Ernst, Kristeller Paul Oskar and Randall John Herman, Jr. (eds.), Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1948, p. 169.

8 . Ibid., p. 154.

9 . The frailty of human nature appears in both Camillo’s statement that “no man if free” [of moral infirmity] (1. 2. 248) and in the play’s many references to original sin. In Lutheran and especially Calvinist theology, man does not have the freedom not to sin, because of his fallen nature.

10 . The prophecy is self-fulfilling because it is also the cause of Leontes’decision to remain single. When his councillors urge him to get married, Paulina reminds him of the oracle (5. 1. 40).

11 . MacDonald Russ, “Poetry and Plot in The Winter’s Tale ”, in Shakespeare Quarterly, vol. 36, n ° 3, Autumn 1985, p. 328-329.

12 . See Aristotle, Poetics, Halliwell Stephen (trans.), Cambridge, MA, Harvard University Press, “Loeb Classical Library”, 2nd edition, 1995, p. 65 : “And these elements [recognition or reversal] should emerge from the very structure of the plot, so that they ensue from the preceding events by necessity or probability ; as it makes a great difference whether things happen because of, or only after, their antecedents.”

13 . Greene Robert, “Pandosto”, op. cit., p. 243.

14 . Frey Charles, Shakespeare’s Vast Romance, A Study of The Winter’s Tale, Columbia, University of Missouri Press, 1994, p. 134.

15 . Ibid.

16 . Ibid., p. 146.

17 . Sokol B. J., Art and Illusion in The Winter’s Tale, Manchester, Manchester University Press, 1994, p. 35.


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