THE JOURNAL OF ENGLISH AND GERMANIC PHILOLOGY
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MANAGING EDITOR JULIUS GOEBEL, UNIVERSITY or ILLINOIS
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CLARK S. NORTHUP, CORNELL UNIVERSITY
VOLUME XX 1921
PUBLISHED QUARTERLY BY THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS URBANA, ILLINOIS, U. S. A.
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COPYRIGHT, 1921 BY THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
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V
TABLE OF CONTENTS
ARTICLES
Jefferson B. Fletcher, The Allegory of the Pearl 1
Albert Morey Sturtevant, Zum Vokalismus des Gotischen And-waihando,
Rom. 7, 23, in seinem Vernal tnis zu Altislandischem Vega, 'Toten*. . 22
Alan D. Me Killop, Illustrative Notes on Genesis B 28
— --Nathaniel E. Griffin, Chaucer's Portrait of Criseyde 39
Axel Brett, Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 47
Edwin C. Roedder, A Critical Survey of Recent Research in Germanic
Philology 157 <
v/E. C. Knowlton, Nature in Middle English 186
C. M. Lotspeich, The Cause of Long Vowel Changes in English 208
Edward Sapir, The Musical Foundations of Verse 213
Gudmund Schiitte, The Nibelungen Legend and Its Historical Basis 291
Jacob Zeitlin, The Editor of the London Magazine 328
Edwin G. Gudde, Traces of English Influences in Freiligrath's Political
and Social Lyrics 355
Stuart Robertson, Sir Thomas Browne and R. L. Stevenson 371
Otto B. Schlutter, Weitere Nachtrage zu den Althochdeutschen Glossen. 385
Thornton S. Graves, Some Facts About Anthony Aston 391
William A. Read, On Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde I, 228 397
F. B. Kaye, The Writings of Bernard Mandeville 419
E. Prokosch, Inflectional Contrasts in Germanic 468
Albert Morton Bierstadt, "Gertrude of Wyoming" 491
Ernst Voss, Two Alsatian Patriots of the Sixteenth Century 502
Albert Morey Sturtevant, Zum Altnordischen Vokalismus 513
H. W. Puckett, Another "Faust" 539
Oral Sumner Coad, Shakespeare and Aeschylus 556
REVIEWS
T. M. Campbell, Louis Brun's 'Hebbel, sa personnalit6 et son oeuvre
lyrique' 99
Raymond M. Alden, W. L. Cross' 'The History of Henry Fielding' 110
Harold N. Hillebrand, Robert Withington's 'English Pageantry' 118
Arthur Stanley Pease, M. L. Lilly's 'The Georgic' 125
Henry A. Lappen, Thomas Humphrey Ward's 'The English Poets' . 127
James Taft Hatfield, Gustav Roethe's 'Die Entstehung des Urfaust' 129
4-
B. A. Uhlendorf, Lawrence M. Price's 'English > German Literary Influ- ences. Bibliography and Survey' 137
Oliver Farrar Emerson, R. J. Menner's 'Purity, a Middle English Poem' . . 229
Helmut Wocke, Alfred Gotze's 'Fruhneuhochdeutsches Glossar' 242
John Van Home, Charles M. Gayley's and B. P. Kurtz's 'Methods and
Materials of Literary Criticism' 256
Gertrude Schoepperle, F. Lot's 'Etude sur le Lancelot en Prose' 262
Edwin G. Gudde, G. Betz's 'Die Deutsch-Amerikanische patriotische
Lyrik' 266
F. A. Patterson, C. Brown's 'A Register of Middle English Religious and
Didactic Verse' 270
Clark S. Northup, W. Chislett's 'The Classical Influence in English
Literature' 276
George T. Flom, O. von Friesen's 'Lister-Och Listerby-Stenarna I Blek-
inge' 277
Arthur Stanley Pease, Th. O. Wedel's 'The Mediaeval Attitude Toward
Astrology1 286
-^ Clark S. Northup, R. M. Garrett's 'The Pearl' 288
Jacob Zeitlin, M. Callaway's 'Studies in the Syntax of the Lindisfarne
Gospels' 289
Albert Morey Sturtevant, D. A. Seip's 'Norsk Sproghistorie' 399
Harold N. Hillebrand, R. Withington's 'English Pageantry,' Vol. 2 403
Lawrence M. Price, L. van Tuyl Simmons' 'Goethe's Lyric Poems in Eng- .
lish Translation Prior to I860' 404
Harold N. Hillebrand, O. J. Campbell's 'The Position of the Rood en Witte
Roos in the Saga of King Richard III' 407
John J. Parry, F. J. Harries' 'Shakespeare and the Welsh' 410
Arthur Stanley Pease, L. N. Broughton's 'The Theocritean Element in the
Works of William Wordsworth' 412
Notes 415
Camillo von Klenze, P. Hume Brown's 'Life of Goethe' 558
William E. Mead, H. C. Wyld's 'A History of Modern Colloquial English' . 560
Henning Larsen, G. Schiitte's 'Offerpladser i Overlevering og Stedminder' . 566
Julius Goebel, Katharine Anthony's 'Margaret Fuller' 568
Paul R. Pope, Max Koch's 'Richard Wagner' 571
Harold N. Hillebrand, Carleton Brown's 'The Stonyhurst Pageants' 574
Otto B. Schlutter, F. Kluge's 'Von Luther bis Lessing' 577
Harold N. Hillebrand, J. H. H. Lyon's 'A Study of the Newe Meta- morphosis' 578
William E. Mead, H. C. Wyld's 'English Philology in English Universities' . 579
THE ALLEGORY OF THE PEARL
A fitting subtitle for the Pearl would be Paradise Regained. The poet declares how that which Adam lost the Christian may recover. The blood and water which flowed from Christ's wounds, and still mystically flow in the wine of communion and the water of baptism, have washed away all impediments be- tween mankind and its forfeited bliss.
'Inoje is knawen )?at mankyn grete Fyrste watj wrojt to blysse parfyt; Ouie forme fader hit con forfete PUT) an apple pat he vpon con byte; Al wer we dampned for pat mete To dyje in doel out of delyt, & sypen wende to helle hete, perinne to won wythoute respyt. Bot per oncom a bote as-tyt; Ryche blod ran on rode so roghe, & wynne water J>en at pat plyt; pe grace of God wex gret innoghe.
'Innoghe per wax out of pat welle, Blod & water of brode wounde: PC blod vus bojt fro bale of helle, & delyvered vus of pe deth secounde; pe water is baptem, pe sope to telle, pat folded pe glayue so grymly grounde, Pat waschej away ]>e gyltej felle pat Adam wyth inne deth vus drounde. Now is per nojt in pe worlde rounde Bytwene vus & blysse bot pat he wythdroj, & pat is restored in sely stounde, & pe grace of God is gret innogh.1
Man is made one in body and spirit with Christ.
'Of courtaysye, as saytj Saynt Paule, Al arn we membrej of Jesu Kryst; As heued & anne & legg & naule Temen to hys body ful trwe & tyste, Ryjt so is vch a Krysten sawle A longande lym to pe Mayster of myste.**
1 Stanzas liv-lv.
* 11. 457-462. Obviously, the poet means that we are attached in all our parts — extremities and middle, or "navel" — to the divine body. Osgood (ed. Pearl, Boston, 1906, note to 1. 459) renders "naule" as "nail," declaring "navel"
1
2 Fletcher
But to continue truly one with Christ we must act as He. Since He gave all for us, we must give all for Him. So the Pearl- maiden exhorts:
'I rede )?e forsake J>c worlde wode, & porchase ]>y perle maskelles.'
Her words imply the parable of which the poem is chiefly an allegorical interpretation.4 As to the primary signification of the "pretiosa margarita" in the parable the poet is explicit. Christ had said: "Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. Who- soever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven."6 So the poet:
'Jesus con calle to hym hys mylde, & sayde hys ryche no wyj myjt wynne Bot he com J?yder ryjt as a chylde, O}>er ellej neuer more com J>erinne. Harmlej, trwe, & vndefylde, Wythouten mote oj>er mascle of sulpande synne — Quen such t>er cnoken on J>e bylde, Tyt schal hem men \>t jate vnpynne. J>er is J?e blys J?at con not blynne J>at f>e jueler sojte )mrj perre pres, & solde alle hys goud, bo J>e wolen & lynne, To bye hym a perle wat j mascellej.6
To win the Pearl is to win back innocence, the quality of the little child. Without innocence, that "pretiosa margarita," which costs all else that one has in this world, none can enter heaven.
repugnant to phonology, sense, and poetic delicacy. The matter of phonology I leave to experts, but submit that the translation 'nail* makes nonsense. I assume that nail of the Cross is intended, and not a coalescence of finger-nail and toe-nail. But, according to the text, "naule" is not a means of attach- ment, but a thing attached. As to "poetic delicacy," the objection is one more illustration of a lack of historical perspective strangely common among our most learned. Medieval writers saw nothing indelicate in the navel. Albertus Magnus, among others, compares the Virgin Mary's navel to a wine-cup in the hand of the Holy Ghost (De Laud. B. Mar. Virg. V, ii, 68).
»11. 734-744.
4 Matth. xiii, 45-46.
1 Matt zviii, 3-4.
«stlxi.
The Allegory of the Pearl 3
Innocence is not only the quality which wins heaven, it is also the quality of heaven. As Christ had said:
To such is heuenrych arayed.7 And the poet makes the comparison:
' "This maskelle j perele, J>at bojt is dere, J)e joueler gef fore alle hys god, Is like }?e reme of heuenesse clere;" So sayde }>e Fader of folde & flode; For hit is wemle j, clene, & clere, & endelej rounde, & bly>e of mode, & commune to alle }>at ryjtwys were.'8
In other words, the same physical qualities of spotlessness, clarity, beauty, roundness,9 which, subjectively regarded, make the gem a natural symbol of innocence, also suggest in minia- ture the empyrean heaven.10 Accordingly, the "pearl of great price," borne on the bosoms of the 144,000 maiden queens,11 brides of the supreme Innocent,12 the Lamb, is token at once of their merit, innocence, and of their reward of merit, — heaven, or the bliss of heaven. Naturally, also, the "righteous" in heaven wear the pearl, since without it they could not be in heaven. But the innocence of the "righteous" is not the pure innocence of the little child, whose one blot of original sin has been washed away in baptism. The child is "saf by ryjt,"u that is, by merit of innocence. Grace is sufficient to make good its defect of good works.14 But the righteous man is in really worse case respecting the merit of good works. However many he count to his credit, the balance is surely against him.
'Where wystej Jx>u euer any bourne abate Euer so holy in hys prayere
*L719.
•It. 733-739.
» As the perfect form, the sphere symbolizes innumerable excellences, — among others, simplicity and cleanness. So, for example, Albertus Magnus: ". . . quoniam orbicularis figura sine angulis est, quibus duplicitas figuratur, rimplicitatem designat." Also, "sicut dicit beatus Bemardus, ubi . . . angulus, ibi procul dubio sordes, sive rubigo." (De Laud. B. Mar. Virg. VII, i, 1).
'• Dante calls the Moon the "eteraa margarita." (Par. ii, 34).
11 11. 740, 785-786, 865-870, 854-856.
tt Commenting on the text, Rev. xiv, 1-4, which is the poet's authority, Albertus says: "Et vidi, et ecce Agnus stab at supra montem Sion, id est Christus, qui est agnus per innocentiam, quasi juvare paratus." (Op. cit. VI, xiii, 1).
M The refrain of sect. xii.
"Cf. gtliii.
4 Fletcher
pat he ne forfeted by sumkyn gate pe mede sumtyme of heuenej clere? & ay t>e ofter, }>e alder J>ay were, & ay laftcn ryjt & wrojten woghe. Mercy & grace moste hem J>en stere, For J>e grace of God is gret innoje.'u
At the bar of pure Justice, while neither can safely stand by the merit of good works, the little child is really innocent, the righteous man is only constructively so by the fiat of divine Mercy. At most, by contrition he has humbled himself as a little child. In other words, he is not by nature one with the perfect exemplar of Innocence, Christ, as is the little child.
Thus, unexpectedly, in the argument of the Pearl, the glori- fied child turns the tables upon her doubting interlocutor. He had voiced the time-honored protest of common sense against the equal wage of the eleventh-hour laborer:
'That cortayse is to fre of dede, jyf hyt be soth )>at }>ou conej saye; POU lyfed not two $er in oure )>ede; pou cowj?ej neuer God nau J?er plese ne pray, Ne neuer naw}?er Pater ne Crede. & quen mad on )?e fyrst day! I may not traw, so God me spede, pat God wolde wry)?e so wrange away; Of countes, damysel, par ma fay, Wer fayr in heuen to halde asstate, AJ?er ellej a lady of lasse aray; Bot a quene! — hit is to dere a date.'1'
She answers, at first conventionally enough, by the orthodox interpretation of the parable of the Vineyard.17 Her interlocu- tor, still unconvinced, declares her "tale vnresounable," and quotes Scripture on his side:
' "Pou quytej vchon as hys desserte, POU hyje Kyng ay pretermynable." n8
At this, the maid springs her surprise. She says, in effect: if you raise the question of "deserts," what are the deserts of the laborer in God's vineyard of this world? The longer he works, the more he mars. He accumulates, therefore, not more
»11. 616-624.
16 st. xli.
17 Matt, xx, 1-16. Pearl, sts. xlii-xlix. 18 11. 595-596. Ps. bri, 12-12.
The Allegory of the Pearl 5
wages, but more fines. At the end of the day, instead of God owing him the penny agreed upon, he probably owes God several pennies. Only,
J)e grace of God is gret innoje,
not only to remit the debt, but to pay the originally promised penny of eternal life.19 I, on the other hand, called back from this miry world before I could be soiled by it, have the greatest of all deserts — likeness to the spotless kingdom whence I sprang, likeness to the unsullied Lamb, the pure Innocent, Jesus Christ. By deserts, therefore, "by ryjt," the reward of the full penny is mine, — once indeed my one fine for the sin of my father Adam has been remitted by my Lord's Atonement, repeated for me in baptism.20
The poet of the Pearl is a mystic. His solution of the prob- lem of salvation is the mystic solution. His heavenly maiden advises:
'I rede J>e forsake }>e worlde wode, & porchase J>y perle maskelles.'11
If the world, the worldly self, is the great impediment to salva- tion, blessed indeed are they who die as little children, for whom this "worlde wode" hardly exists. Beati pauperes spiritu.
In the poet's dream, the babe that was appears as a maiden of surpassing loveliness, in shining white raiment, pearl- bedecked, and wearing a regal crown,
Hije pynakled of cler quyt perle, Wyth flurted flowres perfet vpon.a
So are the "poor in spirit" enriched, and the humble exalted.23 The Dreamer asks who formed her beauty, and fashioned her raiment.24 The maiden replies that it was Christ, her "maskelez Lambe," who
'calde me to hys bonerte: "Cum hyder to me, my lemman swete,
» st. lii.
*° sts. liii- be.
»11. 743-744.
» 11. 207-208.
»Cf. St Thomas, In Quaest. dispvt. de Potentia, q. vi, 9: "Paupertas meretur regnum et divitias spirituales, et humilitas meretur exaltationem et dignitates coelestes."
M st. bdii.
6 Fletcher
For mote ne spot is non in J>e."
He gef me myjt & als bewte;
In hys blod he wesh my wede on dese,
& coronde dene in vergynte,
& pyjt me in perle j maskellej.'*
In the strikingly parallel passage in Boccaccio's Eclogue, Olympia gives credit for similar^benefits to the Virgin. Silvius, whose r61e is altogether correspondent to that of the Dreamer of the Pearl, asks:
'Die munere cujus Inter tezta auro vestis tibi Candida flavo?'
And Olympia replies:
'Has vestes formamque dedit faciemque coruscam Parthenos, secumque fui.'*
In fact, the poet of the Pearl pays as great tribute to the Virgin, but in subtler fashion. According to him, Christ makes over the risen babe in the image of Mary, and crowns her in be- trothal with the very words attributed to Him, when crowning Mary:
'Cum hyder to me, my lemman swete, For mote ne spot is non in Jje.*1*
The words are those of Cantic. iv, 7-8: "Tota pulchra es, arnica mea, et macula non est in te. Veni de Libano, sponsa mea, veni de Libano, veni, coronaberis." In his monumental De Laudibus B. Mariae Virginis Libri XII," Albertus Magnus gives elaborate interpretations of this text. He says, among other things: "Dicitergo [Christus]: Veni, arnica, id est, conscia secretorum, ut tibi revelem secreta, quae nee oculus vidit nee auris audivit, etc.28 Veni, sponsa, ad thalamum sponsi tui imraortalis, ne ab ipso de caetero separeris. . . Veni, humilis ancilla, ut fias sublimis regina. Qui enim humiliatus fuerit,
»11. 762-768.
»11. 59etseq.
*• ii. 763-764.
17 Op. Omn., ed. Borgnet, Par., 1898, XXXVI. The work is a veritable thesaurus of symbolic lore concerning the Virgin. I use it for that reason, neither asserting nor denying that the poet of the Pearl used it directly.
28 The maiden declares herself
'Sesed in alle hys herytage [1. 417]; and asserts of herself and her peers,
that 'We Jmrjoutly hauen cnawyng' [1. 859].
The Allegory of the Pearl 7
erit in gloria [Job. xxii, 29]: et ancillae debetur exaltatio tanto major, et locus sublimior, quanto ipsa ancilla humilior."29
Mary is not only supreme queen in heaven, but also empress of the three kingdoms of heaven, earth, and hell. She is the "Quene of cortaysye";30 the PearJ-maiden is queen by courtesy. Mary is empress:
pat Emperise al heuenej hat & vrj?e & helle in her bayly.*1
So, according to Albertus, at her Assumption Christ pronounced Mary: "Dixit, inquam, ei sicut legitur, Esther, xv, 14: Accede, et tange sceptrum. Accede hue, et tene sceptrum, accipe regiam dignitatem, esto domina coeli et terrae, esto regina et impera- trix Angelorum et hominum, sede a dextris meis in gloria, quae semper adstitisti a dextris meis serviens pro aeternis, in vestitu deaurato, id est, corpore immaculate."32 And again: "Regnum autem Christi et Mariae quod ideo regnum est, extenditur et continet quasi tres provincias, coelestium, terrestrium, et in- fernorum."31
Because of her infinite love of Christ, Mary is made over into His likeness.34 She is not only His "sister," but even His twin sister.35 Obviously, then, between Olympia's accrediting her transfiguration to Mary, and the Pear/-maiden accrediting her transfiguration to Christ, there is a distinction without a difference. And both, in sex, belong with Mary. In fact, the poet of the Pearl paints his glorified maiden in the very colors of the symbolic portraits of Mary. She appears to him a vision of white and gold.
21 XII, vii, vi, 4. Cf. Ill, xiv: Maria in coelis coronata; V,i:De spiritual* ptikhritudine Mariae; VI, vi: Maria sponsa; VI, xiii: Maria regina. M 1. 456. Cf. Dante's "donna de la cortesia." (Vita Nuova sdi, 10.) " 11. 441-442. 11 Op. cit. Ill, riv.
* Op. cit. VT, xiii, 3.
"Albert. Mag., op. cit. IV, xvii, 1: "Et nota, quod dilectio dicitur quasi duos ligans, diligentem videlicet rei quam diligit, id est, amantem amato: est enim amor amantis et amati quasi quaedam unio potissimum in bonis, et nat- uraliter illud quod amatur, in sui naturam suum convertit amatorem." And, specifically, Mary's "pulchritudines quasi derivantur a pulchritudinibus sponsi, a quo sponsa recipit totam suam pulchritudinem: quia sponsus pulcher est per naturam, sponsa pulchra est per gratiam." (Ib. V, i, 3.)
* Cf. Albert. Mag. op. cit. VI, iii: Maria soror.
8 Fletcher
Blysnande whyt watj hyr bleaunt. . . . As glysnande golde )>at man con schere, So schon )>at schene anvnder schore."
He compares her whiteness to that of ivory: Hyr vysage whyt as playn yuore.17
"Ebur castitas," explains Albertus," . . . aurum humilitas. . . Anima enim Mariae et corpus quasi de ebore per virtutem in- tegerrimae virginitatis, virtutes ejus corpus ejus adornantes quasi aurum."38 Again, the poet compares the maiden's whiteness to that of the lily:
py colour passe j J>e flour-de-lys."
So Mary "propter candorem comparatur ipsa lilio, Cantic. ii, 2: Sicut lilium inter spinas, etc." And Albertus immediately adds the apposite moral interpretation: "Moraliter: Fideli animae necessarius est candor innocentiae."40 Innocence is the one and sufficient virtue of the PearJ-maiden. Once more, the hue of the maiden is likened to that of pearl, not pallid, but warm with rose color:
Her depe colour jet wonted non Of precios perle in porfyl pyjte.41
Osgood says,"This mingling of white and red is a convention."42 So it is, — and also, symbolically, of the Virgin. And the "faith- ful soul" is fitly colored in her likeness. "In frontis planitie et candore, quo scilicet frons quandoque perf unditur quasi quodam roseo rubore, designatur verecundia Virginis. Planities se habet ad simplicitatem, candor ad munditiam, rubor ad charitatem. Frons autem fidelis animae erubescentia nominis Christiani et verecundia, ne audeat scilicet cogitare, loqui, audire, vel facere
» 11. 163, 165-166.
17 L 178. Also, 1. 212: 'Her ble more blajt J>en whallej bon.'
J8 Op. cit. X, ii, 9. Cf. X, ii,5: 'Maria eburnea: quia ebur est os elephantis, . . . prius obscurum sed quibusdam instrumentis elimatum artificiose, red- ditur candidum et lucidum. Sic Maria quando concepta est, obscura fuit per originale, sed subtili sancti Spiritus artificio Candida et lucida facta est in sanctificatione: et tune data est ei gloria Libani, qui interpretatur candor vel candidatio"
M 1.753.
«• Op. cit. V, ii, 19.
41 11. 215-216. Cf. Beatrice's "color di perle .... non for misura." (Vita Nuova, xix, 66-67).
42 Ed. Pearl, 1. 215 note.
The Allegory of the Pearl 9
aliquid inhonestum, aut nutu, aut signo, aut gestu, seu riso."48 Not only is the maiden goldenly radiant, but her hair is specifi- cally like spun gold.
As schorne golde schyr her fax )>enne schon.44
So is the Virgin's hair, signifying her "golden thoughts.'' "Ratione capillorum comparatur Maria, Cantic. IV, 14: Nardus et crocus, etc. Crocus enim crines habet aureos, quales ad lit- teram Virginem credimus habuisse, et tales vidimus in reliquiis apud Rothomagum. Vere enim cogitationes ejus fuerunt aureae: quia dependentes et ortum habentes in capite aureo deitatis, etc."46 This quality of gold in the maid is due to the infusion of the virtues of the Virgin. "Aurum pulcherrimum metallorum: caetera metalla, caeterae virgines, vel caeteri sancti, de quibus format Dominus vasa gloriae, quos omnes olorat et insignit pulchritude virtutum Mariae."46 Because Mary is without taint of sin, she is of the very purest gold. "Mundissimum aurum est carere fomite peccati, quod nullus habuit praeter beatam Virginem. Unde congrue attribuitur ei superlativus gradus."47 The baptized little child in heaven asserts the same of itself:
'Maskelles,' quod J?at myry quene, 'Vnblemyst I am, wythouten blot, & }?at may I wyth mensk menteene.'48
Naturally, also, the babe is virginal, "coronde clene in ver- gynte."49 There would be, however, a distinction. There is no personal merit in the unconscious babe's sinlessness and vir- ginity, whereas in the Virgin Mary these qualities represent a victory. Although she was immune from the lusts of the flesh, yet, like Christ himself, she had to withstand the temptations of Satan.60 So, according to St. Thomas, the innocent babe,
u Albert. Mag., op. cit. V. ii, 7. Hence, also, the appellative of "rose" for both Mary and the maiden. Pearl, 11. 269, 906. De Laud. XII, iv, 34. 44 1.213.
46 Albert. Mag., op. cit. V, ii, 5. 46 Albertus Mag., op. cit. X, ii, 10. "Ib.
48 11. 781-783. "1.767. »° Cf. St. Thomas, Sent. IV, d. xlbc, q. v, a. 3, q. 1, 2».
10 Fletcher
dying after baptism, would lack the reward of victory, the aureole of virginity, but would have a "special joy of innocence and integrity of the flesh."61 So the maid asserts:
'More haf I of ioye & blysse hereinne, Of ladyschyp gret & lyvej blom, pen alle >e wyjej in >e worlde myjt wynne By \>e way of ryjt to aske dome.'"
As brides of the Lamb, both Mary and the maiden are clothed "in linen (bysso), clean and white," as declared in Rev. xix, 7-8. The poet notes that
Blysnande whyt wat) hyr bleaunt;**
and again:
AI blysnande whyt watj hir bleaunt of biys."
Identifying the first nuptials of the Lamb with the Incarnation, Albertus interprets the text of Revelations: "Venerunt nuptiae Agni, id est, tempus carnem assumendi. Et uxor ejus praepar- avit se, id est reddidit idoneam, ut de ipsa carnem assumeret. Praeparavit, inquam, per libertatem arbitrii. Sed quia hoc non sufficit sine adjutorio gratiae, subdit, v. 8: Et datum est Hit ut cooperiat se bysso, id est, castitati, splendent* ad alios per exem- plum, et candido quoad se, et hoc maxime quando vovit virginita- tem."66 And Mary, in turn, confers upon her faithful the "vestem candidam sine admixtione maculae mortalis," the "byssum [qui] candidam significat innocentiam."68 Again, at her second nuptials, her Coronation, in the greeting of the Bridegroom, "Veni de Libano, coronaberis," the word Libanus is inter- preted to mean "whiteness" in several symbolic senses.67 Finally,
11 Sent. IV, d. xxxiii, q. iii, a. 3, 3W: "Aureola est premium accidentale de operibus perfectionis, secundum perfectam victoriam. Sent. IV, d. xlix, q. v, a. 3, q. 1, c. fi.: "Puer moriens post baptismum, habet speciale gaudium de innocentia, et de integritate carnis. Non autem habet proprie aureolam virginitatis."
"11.577-580.
"1. 163.
54 1. 197, Osgood's reading.
* Op. cit. VI, vii, 1.
"Op. cit. II,i, 15.
57 "Libanus interpretatur albus, candidus, candor, candidatio, quia in significatis istorum quatuor habitabat Virgo quando vocabatur ad coronam. Erat enim alba et Candida per duplicem virginitatem, vel per puritatem et innocentiam, quae duo signantur in candore. Erat etiam candor substantiva,
The Allegory of the Pearl U
the maiden's garments, as well as her crown, are richly orna- mented with pearls.*8 Mary, as Virgin, is "universarum vir- tutum margaritis adornata."59 The maiden, indeed, wears only pearls.
A ryjt coroune jet wer J>at gyrle Of marioyrs & non oj>er ston." Pyjt & poyned at vche a hemme, At honde, at sydej, at ouerture, Wyth whyte perle & non oj>er gemme.*1
The gems that Mary wears symbolize her virtues, and these she confers upon her faithful ones." Adorned with these gems, faithful souls are received into heaven as queens, crowned by the Bridegroom even like Mary herself. Such Albertus pre- sents as the moral sense of the scriptural account of the recep- tion by King Solomon of the Queen of Sheba, which account anagogically signifies the Assumption and Coronation of Mary. The passage is singularly apposite to the dramatic symbolism of the Pearl, — except that the "faithful soul" in the poem, the little child, is bedecked with but one gem, one virtue, the pearl of innocence, yet sufficient and supreme. Albertus says: "Mor- aliter: Vis ut anima tua introeat in supernam Jerusalem, et veniat in morte ad verum Salomonem, oportet ut sit regina non serva peccati . . . oportet etiam ut regina ista habeat aurum quadruplex, scilicet aurum castitatis, charitatis, sapientiae, et
non solum adjectiva, quia candor est lucis aeterna, et speculum sine macula. Et ab isto candore candescit quidquid candidum est. . . . Erat et est Candida tio: quia nigros peccatores qui divinam peccando amiserunt simiHtudinem impe- trando eis a Filio gratiam compunctionis, misericorditer candidat et dealbat." (Albert. Mag., op. cit. XII, vii, vi, 4). Cf Pearl, 1. 766:
'in hys blod he wesch my wede on dese.'
In the last analysis, for Albertus also, Christ is really the one who cleanses by his Atonement. But, on the other hand, my whole line of argument goes to show that the poet of the Pearl also believed in the necessary mediation of the Virgin.
68 Sts. 17-18.
" Albert. Mag. top. cit. IV, ix, 7.
«° 11. 205-206.
« 11. 217-219.
88 "Gemmae istae virtu tes designant, scilicet humilitatem, castitatem, pietatem, justitiam, fortitudinem, prudentiam, temperantiam, et hujus modi, quibus Maria per gratiam omat amatores et imitatores suos." (Albert. Mag., op. cit. VI, xiii, 4).
12 Fletcher
obedientiae. . . Oportet etiam ut habeat gemmas pretiosas, id est, virtutes. De isto enim auro et gemmis istis componitur corona reginae, id est, fidelis animae. Alioquin impossibile est ipsam ante veri Salomonis faciem pervenire."63
By an easy shift from the quality possessed to the possessor of the quality, the Pearl, which signifies innocence, is made also to signify the innocent one. The poet addresses the glorified maiden:
'O perle,' quod I, 'in perlej pyjt,
Art )>ou my perle J?at I haf playned,
Regretted by myn one, on nyjte'?84
And she acknowledges the identity.
'Sir, je haf your tale mysetente, To say your perle is al awaye, pat is in cofer so comly clente As in Jris gardyn gracios gaye, Hereinne to lenge for euer & play'"
So Mary is also figured in the pearl of the parable. "Ipsa est enim pretiosa margarita, pro quo omnia quae habentur, ven- denda sunt ut ematur, id est, omnia emolumenta vitae praesentis contemnenda, ut ei serviatur."66 The maid's advice —
'I rede \>t forsake J?e worlde wode, & porchase \>y perle maskelles, — '87
would be followed if the penitent faithfully served the Virgin. A hint to this effect is also given in the poet's declaration that his vision was vouchsafed to him
In Augoste in a hyj seysoun. "
This "hyj seysoun," or feastday, would be that of the Assump- tion; and the coincidence would indicate her merciful inter- cession.69 It is hardly possible to exaggerate the importance of the part the Virgin played in the faith of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. St. Bernard had said: "Nihil nos Deus
<» Op. cit. VI, xiii, 4.
"11.241-243.
« 11. 257-261.
" Albert. Mag., op. cit. II, iii, 4.
" 11. 743-744.
«L 39.
•» Cf. Osgood, ed, Pearl, p. xvi.
The Allegory of the Pearl 13
habere voluit, quod per Mariae manus non transiret."70 She is regarded as dispensing mercy as Christ justice:". . . saepe quos Filii justitia damnat, matris misericordia liberal. Quae scilicet justitia Filii et misericordia matris videntur sic altercari, quasi dicat justitia Filii: Ego occidam etpercutiam: misericordia matris respondeat: Et ego vivere faciam, et manabo."11 Mary, it seems, was predestined from the beginning to be the neces- sary complement to Christ in the scheme of salvation, — to me- diate with the Son, as the Son with the Father. "Siquidem deerat nobis advocatus apud Filium antequam Maria nascere- tur. Dixit autem Pater, Genes II, 18: Non est bonum hominem esse solum, id est, non sufficit unicus advocatus, vel mediator, aut intercessor humano generi in coelo, cum tot et tarn peri- culosas habeat causas coram me. Faciamus ei adjutorium, id est, beatam Virginem quae alleget pro genere humano coram Filio, sicut Filius coram me."72 Accordingly, "Paradisi porta per Hevam cunctis clausa'est, et per Mariam Virginem pate- facta est."78
Whether the poet intended it, I cannot say, but there may be a subtler symbolic significance in the dating of his apocalyp- tic vision:
In Augoste in a hyj seysoun,
Quen come is coruen wyth crokej kene.74
A "hyj seysoun" is a feastday, dies festus; and, declares Albertus, "Dies festus, dies aeternitatis. In ipsa [Maria] enim fuit initium diei festi: quia omnia terrena contempsit supernis inhians."78 So fittingly, on Mary's feastday, the poet has his vision of the eternal day, and is told that by "despising all earthly things," he may awake in that eternal day.78 Moreover, the mowing of the corn naturally refers to the harvest-time;
70 In Vig. Nat. Dom., serm. I, in fine.
71 Albert Mag., op. cit. II, i, 23. Cf. ft. VI, xiii, 3: "Regnum Die consis- tit in duobus, scilicet in misericordia et justitia: et Filius Dei sibi quasi reti- nuit justitiam velut dimidiam partera regni, matri concessit misericordiam quasi dimidiam aliam partem. Unde et dicitur regina misericordiae, et Filius sol justitiae"
n Albert. Mag., op. cit. II, i, 19.
71 76. IV, ix, 2.
74 11. 39-40.
n Op. cit. VI, i, 2.
"11.743-744.
14 Fletcher
and the eternal day is the great harvest-time, when the "first- fruits" from among men shall be gathered "unto God and to the Lamb."77
Mary, as has been said, is identified with the "pearl" of the parable, and to possess her we should be willing to give all the world.78 But Albertus carries his application of the parable to bolder praise. To possess that "pearl of great price," God himself gives his all. "Ipsa [Maria] enim est pretiosa ilia mar- garita, quae quasi singularis in Evangelio introducitur Integra carne, et spiritu, in tantum concupiscibilis, ut divinos animos in se converteret, et, ut tota Dei fieret, in negotiatione absque omni exceptione negotiator coelestis omnia sua distrahit et commutat. Undecanitur: "O admirabile commercium." Mar- garita etiam ista totum se Deo dedit, et, omnia divina sibi vin- dicans mutavit. Nam et Deus illam elegit, et in ejus com- paratione omnia sua contulit, et quasi pro ipsa habenda expendit omnia sua propria, id est, divina."79 And the PearJ-maiden appears to declare a similar "commercium" between Christ and herself, the handmaid of Mary:
sesed in alle hys herytage Hys lef is, I am holy hysse.80
And this idea of Christ storing in his golden coffer of paradise the pearl which he has purchased by giving his all, — his life on the Cross, — reappears in the maiden's retort:
'Sir, je haf your tale mysetente, To say your perle is al awaye, pat is in cofer so comly clente.'81
Also, implied in the first two lines —
Perle plesaunte to Princes paye, To clanly clos in golde so clerel —
it strikes the keynote of the whole poem. For to one who understands, these two lines symbolically imply both the means and the reward of salvation: the renouncement of all worldly
" Reo. ariv, 4. " See above, p. 12. " Op. cit. VI, ut, 9. Mll. 417-418. "11.257-259.
The Allegory of the Pearl 15
things, according to the parable; the so won intercession of Mary, the pearl of mercy; the rebirth in her likeness; the espousal with Christ, or to continue the figure, become a "prec- cious pearl," to lie in his golden coffer secure forever.
In the passage just quoted, Albertus applies to the Virgin the adjective "singularis." It is an epithet virtually conse- crated to her. "Unde ei canit Ecclesia:
Virgo singularis,
Inter omnes mitis, etc."8*
She is unique in beauty: "vere enim pulcherrima, quae tot habuit in se pulchritudines, quot virtutes et singulas in super- lative gradu. Et ideo vere dicitur singularis"** The poet of the Pearl himself uses the term of her:
Now for synglerty o hyr dousour, We calle hyr Fenyx of Araby.84
In the first stanza of the poem, the poet declares of his "perle wythouten spot," that
Queresoeuer I jugged gemmej gaye, I sette hyr sengeley in syngulere.
This emphasis upon the familiar word must, I think, have arrested at once the attention of any fourteenth century Catho-
• Albert. Mag., op. cU. XII, iv, 28. Cf. II, ii, 15; IV, vi, 2; X, ii, 12.
* Ib. V, i, 1. The devotees of the Virgin love to ring changes on the word. Thus Albertus enumerates her unique excellences "in pariendi singular itate. . . .... in singular! dominatu super Filium Dei et suum, .... in singulari actione vel bona operatione, .... in singulari passione vel martyrio, .... in singulari transitu vel ascensu de mundo ad Deum, .... in singulari sep- ultura, .... in singulari sublimatione, .... in singulari consessu ad dex- teram Filii, . . . in singulari potestate." (0#.c#.IV,iv,3). Similarly, St. Bon- aventure: "Maria singulariter, tarn corpore quam anima, est aula Domini, domus Dei sanctissima. . . . O vere singulari ter beatam domum, quae sola tarn singulariter talem meruit habere Dominum .... Iste singularis Mariae Domi- nus sic singulariter cum Maria fuit, quod etiam ipsam tarn singulariter dominam fecit, quod nee similem visa est, nee habere sequentem: dum ipsa singulariter; Domini filia, Domini mater, Domini sponsa, et Domini ancilla facta est: Maria enim filia Domini singulariter, generosa mater Domini singulariter, gloriosa sponsa Domini singulariter, pretiosa ancilla Domini singulariter obsequiosa fuit." (Speculum B. Mar. Virg., Lect X).
u 1L 429-430. Albertus likens the Virgin to the phoenix for another singu- larity: ". . . . Maria una sola est mater et virgo. Unde et comparatur phoen- ici, quae est unica avis sine patre." (Op. cit. VTI, iii, 1).
16 Fletcher
lie reader, and, applied to the immaculate Pearl, have called up before his mind the image of the Virgin. Thus his mind is prepared beforehand for the association to be established between the glorified Innocent and the glorious "mater innocen- tiae," and what the poet presents as apparently a mere compli- ment turns out in the sequel to be an inspired prophecy. The device is characteristic of medieval religious allegory. Dante, for instance, in the Vita Nuova as in the Divina Commedia, constantly employs it. In the principle, of course, the poet so assumes the r61e of the prophets of the Old Testament, spokes- men of truths of which they themselves were unaware.
On the warrant of Rev. xiv, 4, the Pearl-maiden declares herself to be one of 144,000 in heaven, all, like herself virgin queens fashioned in the diminished likeness of the virgin queen and empress, Mary. And, in the sequel, the Dreamer sees them all in procession, following the Lamb, and singing "a new song." The apocalyptic number is a multiple of twelve, and as such may have been interpreted by the poet to signify the totality of a class.85 He surely does not include in this unified throng the whole host of the redeemed. In the first place, in accord with the text, he declares them to be virgins.86 The loss of virginity in holy matrimony is certainly no bar to heaven; but not even God can restore virginity lost.87 Moreover, the poet does present certain human personages in heaven outside of the virginal procession, namely, the "aldermen," who,
Ryjt byfore Godej chayere,88
wait to receive it. His authority is Rev. xiv, 3, and, more fully, IV, 10: "Procidebant viginti quatuor seniores ante sedentem in throno, et adorabant viventem in saecula saeculorum." By medieval theologians, these twenty-four elders were variously,
88 So Albertus, op. cit. XII, vii, v, 11: "Duodenarius autem numerus est
universitatis Per viginti quatuor sicut et per duodecim sanctorum uni-
versitatis figuratur." Cf. Dante's two garlands of twelve doctors in Par. z, xii.
88 Rev. xiv, 4: "Hi sunt, qui cum mulieribus non sunt coinquinati, vir- gines sunt."
87 Cf. St. Thomas, S. T. Ill, Ixxxix, 3, c.: "Innocentia, et tempus amissum, irrecuperabilia." St. Jerome, Epist. xxii, ad Eustoch, De custod. Virginit. v: "Cum omnia possit Deus, suscitare virginem non potest post ruinam."
8811.88S,887, 1119.
The Allegory of the Pearl 17
but most commonly taken as the Twelve Patriarchs, sons of Jacob, and the Twelve Apostles, spiritual sons of Christ.89 Their position, right before God's throne, implies a distinction of rank in heaven, and of itself refutes the notion, declaredly heretical, of a flat democracy, or rather oriental despotism of an absolute royal family ruling a dead level of subjects, attrib- uted to the poet of the Pearl by Professor Brown.90 More- over, as Professor Osgood points out, "belief in the equality of heavenly rewards is certainly at variance with the poet's social ideas," and, moreover, the orthodox view is clearly implied in Purity (11. 113-124), a poem almost certainly by him.91 To suppose, as Professor Osgood does, a sud- den change of mind by the poet on so fundamental a dogma is certainly gratuitous unless absolutely demanded. The pre- sumption is against a devout fourteenth-century Catholic acting the heretic; and if he were to do so, he would certainly try to bolster up his position as strongly as possible. In one sense, the poet of the Pearl does assert equality of reward. His baptised infant receives the penny, the promised wage, no less than the saint and martyr. The question is what the "penny" of the parable is interpreted, theologically, to mean. According to the common orthodox view, it means salvation, "eternal life'* in communion with God. So, for instance, St. Augustine: "Ita quia ipsa vita aeterna pariter erit omnibus sanctis, aequalis denarius omnibus attributus est."92 But, as Professor Brown seems, if I understand him, to forget, orthodox writers make a distinction. This eternal "vision of God," the one common reward of all the blest, is the essential reward. So the poet:
pe ryjtwys mon schal se hys face,
pe harmlcj ha}?el schal com hym tylle.9*
But, while objectively the essential reward is one and equal, subjectively it varies. Just as one man can get more good
" So Albertus, op. cit. XII, vii, v, 11: "Duodecim enim Patriarche, scilicet filii Jacob fuerunt in Veteri Testamento, et duodecim Apostoli in Novo, quos Christus luctator noster genuit in passione."
M C. F. Brown, The Author of the Pearl, Publ. Mod. Lang. Assoc. XIX, pp. 115ff.
01 Cf. ed. Pearl, pp. xxxix-xl.
n De Sancta Virginitate, cap. 26, Migne, Patrol., vol. xl, col. 410. Quoted from Brown, op. cit., p. 138.
«n. 675-676.
18 Fletcher
out of a penny than another, so one spirit in the presence of God can realize him more fully than another.94 Bearing this distinction in mind, I can find nothing in the poet's argument counter to the orthodox view.
Where in the hierarchy of the blest he would set the bap- tized infant is another story. In such a question variant views are legitimate enough; for it is a question of opinion, or specula- tion, not of dogma, or infallible truth. At least, the poet seems to represent the baptized infants as all among themselves on an equal plane. They are all just alike in symbolic appearance. In this view he follows St. Thomas,95 and opposes St. Bonaven- ture and Dante.96 According to Dante, the baptized innocents form at least a hierarchy by themselves below that of the adult blest. His reason is that in them personal merit is lacking, and must be supplied by another (altrui).97 By "another," Dante, I think, means Christ. St. Thomas had said: "Nam pueris baptizatis subvenit meritum Christi ad beatitudinem consequendam, licet desint in eis merita propria, eo quod per baptismum sunt Christi membra effecti.98 This pronounce- ment seems to supply the authority for the argument of the Pearl. The baptized innocent, child of a father in the faith,99 ascribes its salvation entirely to Christ,100 and claims the salu- tary effect of baptism indicated by St. Thomas of being made one with Christ.101
•* Cf. St. Thomas, S. T., I-II, v, 2: "Contingit autem aliquem perfectius frui Deo quam alium, ex eo quod est melius dispositus vel ordinatus ad ejus f ruitionem .... Unitas denarii signi ficat unitatem beatitudinis ex parte objecti ; sed diversitas mansionum signi fie at diversitatem beatitudinis secund- um diversum gradum fruitionis."
* S. T. Ill, box, 8.
" Par . xxxii, 40 ff .
»7Ib. 43-45.
98 5. T. I-II, v, 7, 2"»,fi. On the strength of Par. 76-77, "Altrui" is com- monly interpreted to mean "the faith of its parents," but to be born in the faith and to be baptized are rather, I think, the "certe condizioni" (1.43) pre- requisite to salvation.
M Cf. 11. 383-384:
'Bot Crystes mersy & Mary & Jon — Pise are J>e grounde of alle my blysse.'
100 Cf., e. g., st. liii.
101 Cf. 11. 457-462, quoted above, p. 1.
The Allegory of the Pearl 19
This entire dependence upon the vicarious merit of Christ apparently appeals to the poet as the perfection of "poverty in spirit." Combined with utter humility102 and virginity, it forms a perfect defence against the enemies of the spirit, — the world, the flesh, and the devil. So Mary is said to be safe from these three enemies "quia humilis et pauper et virgo fuit."10* For these reasons the Pear/-maiden declares of herself:
'More haf I of ioye & blysse hereinne, Of ladyschyp gret & lyvej blom, pen alle \>& wyjej in J?e worlde myjt wynne By J>e way of ryjt to aske dome.'104
She claims for herself certainly a higher 'accidental reward' of "joy and bliss" than attainable by the "righteous man." The common "penny" means more to her. In claiming also "more
Of ladyschyp gret & lyvej blom,"
I think she means to claim also that greater "clarity" which for orthodox theologians signifies capacity for more perfect fruition of God, and therefore a higher rank, a more exalted "mansion," in heaven.105 Though higher than the "righteous," the innocent does not rank necessarily highest after the Virgin. As already said, there are the "aldermen," patriarchs and apostles, who are closer to the Throne. Doubtless, the poet would higher exalt also the prophets and martyrs, and probably others. But he is not concerned to edit the social register of paradise. He is discussing only one issue in the problem of the divine reward of merit, namely, the comparative worth for salvation of the vicarious merit of Christ's sacrifice and of the direct individual merit of good works; and he decides in favor of the former.106 The example of the little child, born in the faith and dying after baptism, is simply an extreme cas au vif of one saved by vicarious merit solely.
1MSt. xxxiv.
103 Albert. Mag., op. tit. I, vii, 14.
1M 11. 577-580.
10S The poet's case might be reduced to simple mathematical terms. The innocent's merit is zero; but the righteous man's balance of merit is a minus quantity (11. 616-124); and a minus quantity is less than zero.
109 Professor Brown, I think, is in error when he attributes to the poet the extreme view that "salvation is not at all a matter of merit." (Op. cit., p. 132). Merit does count: '
'pe ryjtwys man schal se hys face.' (1. 675). The poet's position is not absolute, but comparative.
20 Fletcher
The child in question may have really lived and died; she may have been the poet's own daughter.107 The issue has undoubtedly a certain literary interest. Modern readers would, I think, prefer a genuine elegy to a homily in the form of an elegy, — even if the two were verbally identical. We have a conviction that "sincerity" — meaning literal truth to fact — must somehow tell. But in the case of the Pearl, as in that of certain other medieval works,108 an altogether false dilemma has been vehemently debated. Either the Pearl is an elegy, or it is an allegory. If one grasps the second horn of the dilemma, and declares the poem an allegory, then ipso facto he must admit that the lamented one is no really-truly child at all, but a mere personification — like Boethius's Lady Philosophy or Bunyan's Giant Despair. The fallacy of this dilemma has been so often exposed, that it is incomprehensible how learned critics should be still guilty of it; but they are. To such as remain stiff- necked in heresy I would commend the work so often cited in this article, that of Albertus Magnus in praise of the Virgin Mary. It is a rich and illuminating corrective of the idea of allegory represented in the Roman de la Rose. According to Albertus, Mary is "figured" in nearly every person or thing mentioned in Scripture. She is figured for instance, in the "hortus conclusus" of Cantic. iv, 12; rather, she is that "garden inclosed." Albertus then proceeds to enumerate and describe in 225 quarto pages the symbolic properties, delights, scents, meteorology, flora, and fauna of Mary qua Garden. It is a huge allegory, but Mary is no mere personification of a Garden. Her historical reality remains unimpeached. Again, to take an illustration from another quarter, in Dante's allegorical inter- pretation of Lucan's account of Martia's return to Cato in her old age, Cato is said to signify God. Would Dante have us believe that Lucan's Cato was not the real Cato? He himself answers the question: "What earthly man was more worthy
1(7 That the babe was a girl might be argued from 11. 447-448:
'Alle J>at may J>erinne aryve
Of alle J>e reme is quen o)>er kyng.'
The procession later described (sts. xcii-xciii) is altogether of maidens exactly like the heroine, "J?e Lambes vyuej." (1. 785). This discrepancy is not ex- plained.
10* Dante's Vita Nuov*t for instance.
The Allegory of the Pearl 21
to signify God than Cato? Surely no one."109 So might the father say of his innocent and baptized babe that no one was more worthy to signify a bride of the Lamb. She who on earth had been to his heart the pearl of great price, more precious than all his earthly goods, herself now possessed the more truly divine jewel which is the 'open sesame' of heaven, which is also symbol of the lucid sphere of heaven. And he meets her there in vision, transformed, a virgin, into the image of the blessed Virgin, that most precious pearl for which God gave even His divine all, — His Son on the Cross. So once again, the poet's babe is not only the exemplum of his sermon, but also example for him and all others. Only by humbling himself as this little child, by sacrifice of all else regaining his lost innocence, may he enter into the kingdom where she is. So the "pearl" takes on still another signification: it is his lost innocence as well as his lost innocent. And in this aspect, his lament is that of the contrite heart groping in the darkness for its lost hope.
A medieval symbol of this kind is like a crystal of many facets. Though each facet may reflect but one object, the sym- bol as a whole may at the same time reflect many objects. The "fourfold sense" in allegorical interpretation is only a limited and systematized application of this multiple reflection, or reference, of a symbol. Diametrically opposed in principle are the fixed and univocal personifications of the Roman de la Rose.
I recognize that I have far from exhaustively discussed the symbolism of the Pearl. I have not touched, for instance, on the richly symbolic background. But if I may have success- fully indicated a profitable direction of study, my hope is more than fulfilled.
JEFFERSON B. FLETCHER Columbia University
M Cotn. IV, xxviii, 121-123.
ZUM VOKALISMUS DES GOTISCHEN AND- WAIHANDO, ROM. 7, 23, IN SEINEM VERHALTNIS ZU ALTISLANDISCHEM VEGA 'TOTEN'
Das gotische Verbum and-waihan 'widerstreiten' ist nur zweimal belegt, 1) im Part. pras. (Rom.) 7, 23) — witob — and- waihando witoda ahmins (v6nov — 6.vTi<TTpaTev6fj.evov r$ vbjxp TOV vobs und 2) im Prat. sg. (Randglosse zu Rom. 9, 13) and — *waih (tulcrilffa, 'ich hasste') von Streitberg (Worterb. S. 172) u. a. erschlossen,
1) Statt and-waihando (so Castiglione-Braun) las Uppstrom falschlich and-weihando ; diese Lesart batten schon Gabelentz- Lobe vorgeschlagen, und dieselbe wurde noch immer von Heyne in seiner Ausgabe des Ulfilas (Paderborn, 1896) beibehalten. In seiner Ausgabe der gotischen Bibel (Heidelberg, 1908), die jetzt als die massgebende Gestalt des gotischen Textes gelten muss, will Streitberg entweder nach Gabelentz-Lobe-Heyne die Konjektur and-weihando beibehalten, oder angesichts aisl. vega 'schlagen/ 'toten,' ahd. ubaruuehan 'uberwinden' ein go- tisches and-waihando ( = wehando) ansetzen. Letztere Vermu- tung ist aber, wie mir scheint, von Braune (Literaturbl. 1908, S. 328) mit Recht abgewiesen.
2) An der Stelle and-*waih (Randglosse zu fy'aida, Rom. 9, 13) ist im Manuskript nur das and- deutlich, das iibrige ist "fast verblichen"; die Form -*waih ist von Streitberg (Wort- erb. S. 172) nach dem Simplex weihan: waih erschlossen. Dieser Form and-waih entsprechend verdient im Part. pras. die Form -weihando (Rom. 7, 23) den Vorzug, wie Braune (a. a. O.) gegen Streitberg richtig hervorhebt: "Str. will nach ahd. ubar-uuehan ein got. and-waihan ansetzen. Mir scheint es angesichts der Glosse andwaih R. 9, 13 und des zweimal belegten Simplex weihan einfacher, die Konjektur andweihando beizubehalten."
tiber and-waihando (Rom. 7, 23) sagt Streitberg (Got. Ele- mentarbuch, §203, 1910): "Natiirlich kann ein Schreibfehler vorliegen; aber die in eine andere Ablautsreihe iibergetretenen Verba ahd. ubar-wehan 'iiberwinden/ aisl. vega 'schlagen* sprechen fur ein urspr. Paradigma andwaiha-andwaih."
Nach Streitberg (Urgerm. Grammatik, S. 291, §200, II, 1) beruhen aisl. vega 'toten* und ahd. ubar-uuehan auf dem uralten suffixbetonten e/o- Verbum, wahrend die Verba mit langem
22
Zum Vokalismus des Gotischen And-waihando 23
Stammvokal der I. Ablautsreihe (got. weihan, ahd. wihari) auf das uralte wurzelbetonte e/o-Verbum zuriickzufiihren seien. Infolge der urspriinglich betonten Endsilbe habe die Stammsilbe den Schwundstufenvokal der I. Ablautsreihe erhalten und somit seien die betreffenden Verba schon in urgerm. Zeit in die V. Reihe iibergetreten. Aisl. -oega 'toten' und ahd. ubar-uuehan will Streitberg also auf gleiche Linie stellen, indem sie beide auf einer urgerm. Prasensbildung1 beruhen sollen, welche in dem- selben Verhaltnis zu *wihan stehe, wie etwa z. B. got. Ifikan (sogenanntes Aoristpras.) zu biudan der II. Reihe, oder got. trudan, anord. troda zu angs. tredan, ahd. tretan der V. Reihe steht.
Zwischen ahd. ubar-uuehan und got. and-waihan mochte man mit Streitberg-Fick jedenfalls einen naheren Zusammen- hang annehmen. Aber angesichts der Tatsache, dass wir iiber beide Verba so mangelhaft unterrichtet sind, lasst sich kaum behaupten, dass wir hier vollig sicher gehen. Hinsicht- lich des Prateritums lasst uns das Ahd. ganz im Stiche, denn von ubar-uuehan sind nur wenige sparliche Reste von Prasens- formen iiberliefert, aus denen sich nur entnehmen lasst, dass der InL-uuehan und die 3. sg. -uuihit lautete.2 Dem Mhd. nach mochte man annehmen, dass ahd. ubar-uuehan mit gi- scehan auf einer Stufe stand. Zwar fehlt das Prateritum an- scheinend auch im Mhd.; die Formen wach: wdhen (in Miiller- Zarnckes Mhd. W'orterbuch III, 650") sind nur erschlossen.
Mit aisl. vega 'kampfen' hingegen ist die Sache ganz anders bestellt, denn von diesem Verbum besitzen wir im Anord. samtliche Formen, sowie auch Nebenformen (Anorw.), also vega (anorw. auch viga), vd: vQgum, vegenn (anorw. auch viginri).
Gegen Streitberg und Fick vermuten schon Falk u. Torp (Norw.-Ddn.-Etym. Worterb. II, S. 1362 unter veie II), dass aisl. vega 'toten' nicht auf einer urgerm. Entgleisung von *wihan zu einem Verbum mit kurzem Stammvokal (*wtgari) beruhe, son- dern erst nachtraglich aus urgerm. *wihan durch das Part. prat.
1 Vgl. hingegen Fick, Vergleich. Wdrterb., 4. Aufl., 3. Bd., S. 408, der diese Verba als Aoristperf . ansehen will. Formell aber lauft Picks Deutung auf das- selbe wie Streitbergs hinaus, da der sogenannte starke Aorist (vgl. griech. vtBeiv, ipvy&v, ISetv usw.) der Bildung nach mit dem Pras. der sufiixbetonten e/o Klasse identisch ist.
1 Vgl. Freis.-Pn. ubaruuehan Inf., R. Glos. uparuuihit 'exsuperat,' Graff I, 701.
24 Sturtevant
*wigan->*wegan-( = a\s\. vegenn, vgl. bedenn zu btda 'warten') hervorgegangen sei.
Wenn sich aisl. vega 'to ten' auf diesem Wege erklaren lasst, d. h. wenn es als Neubildung (auf Grund des umgeformten Part, prat, vegenn entstanden) anzusehen ist, kann aisl. vega, als nach- tragliche Neubildung, natiirlich nichts fur ein alteres got. *-wafhan sprechen.
Mir erscheint Falk und Torps Erklarung des aisl. vega 'toten' als Neubildung ganz richtig, nur hat den Ausgangspunkt zum tfbertritt in die V. Reihe wohl nicht das Part. prat, vegenn, sondern eher das Prat. sg. vd' gewahrt (wie schon Noreen und Heusler angedeutet haben).3
Zwar geht aisl. vd auf urspriingliches *waih zuriick (d. h. *waih>*vdh>vd), aber diese Form vd ist mit dem Prat. sg. vd des Verbs vega 'wiegen,' 'bewegen' ( = got. wigan, angs.-alts.- ahd. wegan) der V. Ablautsreihe zusammengefallen (d. h. *wag > *vah > vd). Weiter hat, wie schon Falk und Torp (a. a. 0.) angedeutet haben, die Umformung des alten Part. prat. *viginn der I. Ablautsreihe zu veginn ein Seitenstiick an bedenn4 Part, prat, (aus alterem *bidinn, vgl. alts, gi-bidan, saigs.-biden) zu btda 'warten' nach bedenn Part. prat, zu bidja 'bitten.' Tat- sachlich ist aber das alte Part. prat, von *wihan der I.Ablauts- reihe in anorw. viginn (neben veginn) noch bewahrt, woraus der neue Inf. viga (neben vega) im Anorw. zu erklaren ist; d. h. im Einklang mit den Vokalverhaltnissen der V. Reihe erhalt hier im Anorw. der Inf. den gleichen Stammvokal wie das Part, prat. (d. h. wie vega: veginn, so a.uch viginn : viga). Die Partizi- pialformen viginn und veginn stehen also im Anord. als alte und
8 Vgl. A. Noreen, Aisl. Grammatik* §488, Anna. 5; Heusler, Aisl. Elementar- buch, §310, 6: "Vega 'kampfen, toten' ging einst nach der 1. Klasse, vgl. got. weihan, ae. wigan, wag; den Ubertritt bewirkte der Sing. Prat. waih>vd = vd 'ich wog' (got. wag)."
* tber die Neubildung bedenn vgl. Axel Kock, Beitr. XXIII, S. 498 und H. Collitz, "Segimer oder: Germanische Namen in keltischem Gewande," /. E. Germ. Phil. VI, S. 297, Anm. 1.
Man beachte, dass btda nur im Part. prat, bedenn nach dem Muster von bidja umgeformt ist. Ebenso ware zu erwarten, dass nur vigenn zu vegenn nach vegenn der V. Reihe umgeformt ware, wenn nicht das Prat. sg. vd von diesen beiden Verba lautlich zusammengefallen ware. Daher erscheint Heus- lers Annahme gegen Falk u. Torp richtig, dass nicht das Part, prat., sondern das PrSt. sg. vd den Ausgangspunkt zum tlbertritt in die V. Reihe gewahrt babe.
Zum Vokalismuf des Gotischen And-waihando 25
jlingere Bildung neben einander, ebenso wie z. B. aisl. tigenn* 'ausgezeichnet,' 'vornehm,' altes starkes Part. prat, der I. Reihe, neben tepr, schwache Neubildung zu tjd ( = got. teihan), tepa.
Da nun im Aisl. nicht nur *viginn zu vegenn umgeformt, sondern auch vd Prat. sg. mit dem vd der V. Reihe zusam- mengefallen war, so wurden die ubrigen Formen des alten *wihan durch Analogiewirkung ganz natiirlich nach demselben Muster (d. h. nach dem von vega der V. Reihe) umgebildet, und somit ist im Aisl. altes *wihan in die V. Reihe iibergetreten.
Diesen Ubertritt wird aber wohl weiter die naheliegende Bedeutung der beiden Verba befordert haben, indem bei dem Verbum vega 'schlagen,' 'toten' auch der Gedanke an 'das Schwert bewegen' (vgl. vega 'bewegen') hatte vorschweben kon- nen.6
Das alte Verbum *wthan der I. Ablautsreihe hatte im Aisl. lautgesetzlich die folgende Gestalt ergeben miissen,
*vjd,7 *vd: *vigum, *viginn.
Wir sehen aber, dass die kontrahierten Verba der I. Ablauts- reihe mit urspriinglichern h oder hw im Auslaut der Stammsilbe sonst in die schwache Konjugation ubergetreten sind, wie z. B.
Ijd ( = got. leihwan), lepa, lepr (auch lenri)
(=got. teihan), tepa (tj&pa), tepr (tjdpr) usw.
6 Vgl. auch togenn, alten Rest der II. Ablautsreihe, Part. prat, zu jUngerem tj6at tyja (= got. tiuhari) Ij6(a)da, tjo(a)dr; ebenso stehen im Alts.-Angs. z. B. die alten Part. prat, gi-thungan, -dungen neben den jiingeren gi-thigan, -digen zu pihan der I. Ablautsreihe aus urspriinglichem *]rinhan der III. Reihe. Ftir andere Part, prat., als alte Reste der I. Ablautsreihe im Aisl., vgl. Noreen, Aisl. Grammatikf §433, Anm.
• Hiermit ist zu vergleichen angs. (ge)-wegan 't6ten', 'kampfen.' Es lasst sich aber schwer entscheiden, ob dieses (ge)-wegan dasselbe Verbum wie wegan 'tragen' (=got. -wigan) mit sekundarer Bedeutungsentwickelung sei, oder zu altem wthan mit tlbertritt in die V. Reihe gehore. Jedenfalls ist eine Um- bildung des angs. wigan, wag : wigon, -wigen der I. Reihe nach wegan, wag: wagon, -wegen der V. Reihe nicht anzunehmen, wie bei den entsprechenden Verben im Aisl., weil im Angs. kerne grammatische Zweideutigkeit vorliegt, wie bei aisl. vd Prat. sg.
7 Vgl. wthan>vtha> vla> vjd Inf. v& 1. Per. sg. usw.
8 Neben tjd begegnet auch die seltnere Form tega. Die Formen tega Inf. und tiginn Part. prat, stehen also als jiingere und alte Bildung auf gleicher Stufe mit aisl. vega Inf. und anorw. viginn Part. prat.
26 Sturtcvant
Nach dem Vorbild von Ijd: tjd hatte man erwarten kb'nnen, dass auch *vjd in die schwache Konjugation iibergetreten ware, und dieses ware wohl der Fall gewesen, wenn altes *vjd im Prat, sg. (d. h. vd) nicht mit dem starken Verbum vega (d. h. vd) der V. Reihe lautlich zusammengefallen ware, wie oben erklart.
Der auf Grund der grammatischen Zweideutigkeit mit vega 'bewegen' veranlasste tJbertritt des alten *wihan der I. Reihe in die V. Reihe findet vorziigliche Parallelen im Angs., wo z. B. die starken Verba der I. Reihe mit urspriinglichem h oder hw im Auslaut der Stammsilbe in die II. Reihe xibergetreten sind, weil aus der Kontraktion im Pras. derselbe Stammvokal (d. h. io, to) bei der I. Reihe, wie bei der II. Reihe, hervorgeht. Vgl. z. B. angs. tion, tion (got. teihan =aisl. tjd), tdh:tigon, -tigen ( = aisl. tigenn), das infolge des Zusammenfalls des Pras. mit dem Pras. tion, lion (got. tiuhan = ais\. tjda, tyja, tjtiga) der II. Ablautsreihe schiesslich ganz und gar mit diesem Verbum (ebenso wie aisl. *vjd der I. Reihe mit vega der V. Reihe) zusam- mengefallen ist; also neben t&h:tigon, -tigen stehen auch ttah: tugon, -togen.9 Der lautliche Zusammenfall von tion, tion der I. Reihe mit tion, tion der II. Reihe veranlasste im Angs. den tibertritt des alten *tihan in die II. Reihe, gerade wie im Aisl. der Zusammenfall von vd Prat. sg. der I. Reihe mit vd der V. Reihe den Ubertritt des alten *wihan in die V. Reihe veranlasste, nur dass im Aisl. die urspriinglich lautgerechten Formen (von vd Prat. sg. und viginn (anorw.) Part. prat, abgesehen) schon friih (und zwar in vorliterarischer Zeit) geschwunden waren.
Ebensowenig wie die jiingeren angs. Formen ttah: tugon, -togen auf got. tduh : tatihum, tatihans zuriickzufiihren sind, lasst sich die Form vega 'toten' im Aisl. auf ein got. -*waihan zuriick- fiihren, denn aisl. vega 'toten' lasst sich ebenso gut als sekundare Entwicklung aus altem *wihan der I. Reihe erklaren, wie angs. ttah : tugon, -togen als sekundare Entwicklung aus altem *tihan der I. Reihe.
Aus Missverstandnis der Entwicklung des aisl. vega, vd: VQgum, vegenn haben Streitberg, Fick u. a. dieses Verbum auf eine Linie mit ahd. ubar-uuehan gestellt. Zwar scheinen ahd. -uuehan und aisl. vega 'toten' mit gleichem kurzem Stamm-
• VgL Sievers Angs. Grammatik* §383, 2.
Zum Vokalismus des Gotischen And-waihando 27
vokal (vgl. hiermit got. dtgan10 statt *deigan der I. Reihe) auf gleicher Stufe zu stehen, aber hier betriigt doch der Schein, denn der Vokalismus von ahd. -uuehan lasst sich jedenfalls auf an- derem Wege erklaren als der von aisl. vega. Sicher ist es, dass aisl. vega 'toten* eine nachtragliche Entwickelung darstellt. Wie sich aber der Vokalismus von ahd. -uuehan zu dem des got. and-waihan verhalt, lasse ich dahingestellt, zumal der Mangel an Belegen von beiden Verben es unmoglich macht, einen end- giiltigen Schluss iiber die Lautgestalt der beiden Verba zu ziehen. Wenn aber auch ahd. ubar-uuehan auf einer urgerm. Entgleisung des alten wihan in die V. Reihe beruht, wie dies Streitberg und Fick annehmen, lasst sich diese Entwicklung nicht von aisl. vega 'to ten* gelten, und demnach darf man nicht aisl. vega neben ahd. ubar-uuehan (wie dies Streitberg tut) als Stiitze eines sonst nicht belegten got.-*waihan heranziehen. Was den Vokalismus von got. and-waihando (Rom. 7, 23) an- langt, ist es viel einfacher und natiirlicher, mit Braune (Littera- turbl. 1908, S. 328) anzunehmen, dass hier ein Schreibfehler vorliege, wonach man natiirlich die Konjektur and-weihando beibehalten miisste.
ALBERT MOREY STURTEVANT Kansas University
10 Von diesem Verbum sind nur das Part, pras., \>amma digandin (Rom.9, 20), und das Part, prat., ga-digans (I. Tim. 2, 13) und digana (2. Tim. 2, 20), belegt. Mit got. digan Inf. der I. Ablautsreihe sind in den jtingeren Sprachen solche Verba wie z. B. angs.rl^an, northumb. grioppa (mit o-Brechung des J), gripes zu vergleichen (vgl. Sievers, Angs. Grammatik* §382, Anm. 3). Vgl. auch angs.-weosan 'vergehen* (Part. pras. 16-weosende, Part. prat, for-weren, for-weoren) der V. Ablautsreihe aus urgerm. -*wtsan, woneben auch ein urgerm. -*wtsan der I. Reihe muss bestanden haben, wie das alte Part. prat. aisl. visenn 'verwelkt' beweist; vgl. auch aisl. visna, angs. wlsnian, weornian (mit Brechung des alten I vor r).
ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES ON GENESIS B
The vexed question as to the originality of the Genesis B poet may fairly be considered as reopened since Professor Robin- son's Note on the Sources of the Old Saxon Genesis.1 The pre- sumption is now in favor of some apocryphal source for the highly unusual account of the temptation given in this docu- ment. But the present paper 'does not aspire to the honors of Quellenforschung; its purpose is to cite from the commentators some bits of material which are more or less parallel to the striking differences appearing in the B fragment, and to hazard some suggestions about the method and purpose of the Old Saxon poet.
At the beginning of Genesis B we notice that the poet evi- dently began with the story of creation, and then went back to tell of the fall of the angels. In Genesis A, on the other hand, the poet began with the creation, rebellion, and fall of the angels (11. 1-91), and then proceeded as in the opening chapters of the Book of Genesis. The creation of man is a consequence of the fall of the angels (11. 86-102). The Genesis B poet also held this doctrine (11. 365-66; 395-97; 422-23), but that did not keep him from putting the story of the fall of the angels after the creation of the world and immediately before the temp- tation. Therefore the interpolator of Genesis B was obliged to make a composite in which the story of the rebellious angels appears twice. Gotzinger had noticed this, and Sievers later used it to enforce his classic argument.2 Wiilker's rejoinder that Milton also told the story of the rebellious angels twice8 was not to the point, for the account in Paradise Lost, Book VI, is very brief, and Raphael does not repeat at any length the narrative of Book I. This difference between A and B is one illustration of the general difference between the two poets as to interest and purpose. The A poet follows the method of the chronicle; the B poet wants to tell the story of the tempta- tion by centering the interest on the motives and activities of the tempter. After he has shown Adam and Eve established in Paradise, therefore, he takes up the other thread of his story,
1 Modern Philology, IV: 389 ff.
1 Der Heliand und die angelsiichsische Genesis (Halle, 1875), p. 7. 8 Grundriss zur Geschichte der angelsiichsischen Literatur (Leipzig, 1885), p. 127.
28
Illustrative Notes on Genesis B 29
and carries on the narrative without a break till the two threads come together. It must be said, I think, that this method has advantages which Milton's plan in Paradise Lost loses. Milton, it will be remembered, has drawn the reader's attention from Satan by the time he reaches the crisis of his story in Book IX. The encounter of Eve and the serpent is far removed from the earlier account of the rebel angels; the character of Satan has changed, as the critics have pointed out, and we lose, to a large extent, the dramatic contrast that should come from the irrup- tion of the devil into Paradise.
LI. 235-45. Apparently the B poet does not dwell at length on the delights of Paradise. We are not absolutely cer- tain of this, for we have no means of knowing what came just before our fragment. But even if we had the account of the planting of Paradise we should probably find little to remind us of the idyllic descriptions in the Guthlac (B) 795-816, or in the Phoenix. The B poet expands at great length for psycho- logical purposes, but he is not interested in the merely visual and picturesque.
L. 307. The rebel angels fell for three days and nights. I have not seen this datum elsewhere, but it is more likely to be tradition than sheer invention, just as Milton's "Nine days they fell" derives from the fall of the Titans in Hesiod.4 All I can say of the Anglo-Saxon poet's three days is that the detail fits fairly well with the two following traditions. Satan fell, according to one account, on the second day of the creative week. This is given as a Hebrew tradition in Petrus Comestor's Historia Scholastica,6 whence the Middle English Genesis and Exodus has it:
He was mad on >e sunedai He fel out on J>e munendai.*
Again, Adam fell on the day he was created, that is, the sixth day.7 These traditions put together give an interval of three days.
4 Paradise Lost, I, 50-53; VI, 871. Cf. edition by A. W. Verity (Cam- bridge, 1910), p. 371.
'Migne, 198: 1058-59.
• LL 71-72.
7Bede, Hexaemeron I ad Gen. 3; Migne, 91: 210. Bede, however, says that the angels were created on the first day of the week (Quaestiones super Gencsin; Migne, 93: 243 ff.), and also that they fell on that day (Migne, 93: 247 ff).
30 McKillop
LI. 371 /. Satan is bound, and cannot escape from his prison. Abbetmeyer thinks the fetters are "from the de- scensus literature."8 The binding of Satan occurred in connec- tion with the harrowing of hell,9 and was then, in this version, transferred to the original fall of the angels. This feature of the Genesis narrative is closely connected with another, the temptation of Eve by an emissary of Satan, instead of by Satan himself. Satan sends an emissary because he is bound. He is still the leader of the fallen angels, but he has to call for a volunteer to overthrow mankind. Sandras compared this tradition of temptation by an envoy with the reference in the Book of Enoch to Gadrel as the angel who tempted Eve.10 In the Genesis B, then, these elements, probably deriving from different sources, are combined in a closely knit narrative.
Abbetmeyer classifies the accounts of the fall of the angels in Anglo-Saxon poetry into two groups: (1) the "Epical Group"; (2) the "Semi-dramatic Group, or Plaints of Lucifer."11 In his remark about the fetters he seems to imply that there may be some interaction between the two traditions. A later state- ment of his puts the influence of the Plaints on the Genesis somewhat differently: "The idea of the fettered devil in Genesis B probably arose independently of the Plaints; but the short narrative of the fall of the angels, Genesis 736-750, seems to show their influence."12 The question of this rela- tionship naturally arises in connection with the speech of Satan to his thanes. Have we here a version of the episode known as the "infernal council," which has had a long career in European literature? Professor Olin H. Moore traces a tradition of the infernal council from the apocryphal Gospel of Nicodemus through Robert de Boron's Merlin, Boccaccio's Filocolo, Vida's Christiad, Sannazaro's De Partu Virginis, Tasso's Gerusalemme Liberata, and Milton's Paradise Lost.13 But in this series only Milton associates the council with the fall of man. The others
8 Old English Poetical Motives Derived from the Doctrine of Sin (Minneapolis, 1903), p. 10.
• Gospel of Nicodemus, Ch. VIII.
10 De car minibus Anglo-Saxonicis Caedmoni adjudicatis disquisitio (Paris, 1859), p. 67.
11 Op. cit, p. 16. u Ibid., p. 19.
» Modern Philology, XVI: 169 ff.
Illustrative Notes on Genesis B 31
connect it with some later crisis in the affairs of men. To Mr. Moore's list, for example, might be added Phineas Fletcher's Apollyonists,1* in which Satan and his peers evolve the Gun- powder Plot. It is possible, however, that a tradition connect- ing the council with the fall of man might be traced. The idea evidently had wide currency in the seventeenth century. Thus in the Sarcotis of Masenius, Satan, alias Antitheus, makes a speech to his fellows describing their wretched state, and urging them to action. Jealousy of man is emphasized, and Satan finally selects himself for the enterprise of temptation.16 In Vondel's Lucifer there is an infernal council after the defeat of the rebel angels.16 Here Satan does not describe at length the present sufferings of his crew, but goes directly to the point and proposes revenge. He does not talk about a volunteer, or make the appeal for a messenger, but finally —
Even thus spake Lucifer, and then he sent Prince Belial down, that he forthwith might cause Mankind to fall.17
It seems probable that there are other examples of a council of devils connected with the fall of man, between the Anglo- Saxon Genesis and Milton. It is just possible that the tradi- tion represented in the Gospel of Nicodemus is responsible for both the Anglo-Saxon and the seventeenth century councils, that at an early date it was transferred from the harrowing of hell to the original fall by some kind of action from the "Plaint" tradition on the "Epical" tradition, and that, in the course of literary history, it was a second time transferred to the fall of man by the steps described in Mr. Moore's article.
Of the infernal council I have found no trace in the commen- tators. There is a soliloquy of Satan, however, in Ambrose's De Paradise Liber Unus, which may be worth quoting, since any- thing approaching the dramatic is a rare thing in the com- mentaries. "Considerabat enim diabolus quod ipse qui fuisset superioris naturae, in haec saecularia et mundana deciderat;
M Canto I, 17 ff.
* Sarcotis (Paris, 1771), p. 98 ff. Original edition 1650. Quoted in William Lauder, Essay on Milton's Use and Imitation of the Ancients in Paradite Lost (London, 1750), pp. 34-35.
» Trans. L. C. Van Noppen (New York, 1898), p. 424.
"Ibid., p. 427.
32 McKillop
homo autem inferioris naturae sperabat aeterna. Hoc est ergo quod invidet dicens: Iste inferior adipiscitur quod ego servare non potui? Iste deterris migrabit ad coelum, cum ego de coelo lapsus in terra sim? Multas vias habeo quibus hominem de- cipere possim. De limo factus est, terra ei mater est, corrupta- bilis involutus est," etc.18 The wording here is pretty close to the following lines of the Genesis:
pact me is sorga maest, pact Adam sceal, }>e waes of eorSan geworht, minne stronglican stol behcaldan, wesan him on wynne, and we Iris wite Jx>lien, hearm on Jrisse helle.1*
Avitus has a speech of Satan after the fall, which is a plaint for a few lines, but for the most part an outline of policy.10 There is a similar speech, or rather meditation in direct dis- course, in the Middle English Genesis and Exodus, in which envy and policy appear rather than the plaint.21 Fritzsche sug- gested that Avitus possibly influenced the part of the poem in which this meditation occurs.22
LI. 460 jf. The description of the two trees in the garden is strikingly unorthodox. The poet tells first of the tree of life, beautiful and excellent; he who ate of this tree would never experience evil, and would live forever, enjoying the favor of God. But there was also the tree of death, black and gloomy; whoever ate of the fruit of this tree would know both evil and good, would henceforth live a sorrowful and laborious life, and would finally be overcome by old age and death. We see that here the tree of life (Genesis, ii: 9; iii: 22) is brought into direct contrast with the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. This antithesis is not biblical. The poet almost writes as if the choice offered to man were between the fruit of the tree of life and the fruit of the tree of death. But the most striking thing in the passage is the description of the tree of death as "eallenga sweart, dim and pystre."21 This directly contradicts Genesis iii: 6: " . . The woman saw that the tree was good for food,
18 Migne 14: 301.
19 LI. 364-68.
10 De Originali Peccato, 11. 89-116. « LL 295-318. *Anglia,V: 49. » LL 477-78.
Illustrative Notes on Genesis B 33
and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise." Moreover, the commentators were at some pains to explain that the tree was not intrinsically evil, that it was good, like everything else created by God, and could be called the tree of the knowledge of evil as well as good only because of the possibility of transgression which it offered.24 This was the orthodox doctrine on the subject. Bede thus stated it: "Lignum etiam scientiae boni et mali, non est dubi- tandum quod esset lignum visibile, in quo utique non suspicor aliquid noxium inesse, cum fecerit* Deus omnia bona valde; sed malum est homini transgressione praecepti."25 Accordingly, in Christ and Satan the tree is called holy and its fruit beauti- ful—
on }>am halgan tieo beorhte blaeda.*
A. R. Skemp notes the contrast of the two trees in Genesis B as an example of the universal association of brightness with goodness, and of darkness with evil.26a But a poet writing under orthodox influences might avoid such a contrast.
On the other hand, there was also a tendency to denounce the tree that brought death into the world. In the Genesis poem attributed to Juvencus, the dual nature of the fruit of the tree is thus described:
Gignitur haec inter pomis letalibus arbos, Conjunctum generans vitae, mortisque saporem."
Guibert said: "Lignum est cujus robur stoliditas, fructus in- fectio, et umbra caecitas."28 A favorite subject in early Chris- tian literature was the contrast between Adam's tree and Christ's tree,29 called respectively the tree of death and the tree of life;
u So Augustine, De Genesi ad Litteram, Migne 34: 377; Chrysostom, Pat- rologia Graeca, 53: 132-33; Isidore, In Genesin, Migne 83: 216; Remigius Antissiodorensis, Exegetica, Migne 131: 61, etc.
25 In Pentateuchum Commentarii, Migne 91: 207.
» LI. 417-18. Sol. 484.
268 The Transformation of Scriptural Story, Motive, and Conception in Anglo- Saxon Poetry. Modern Philology, IV: 423, especially p. 445.
"Migne 19: 347. Also 2: 1099, Incerti Auctoris Genesis.
M M or 'alia in Genesin, Migne 156: 64.
*• Cf. Sophus Bugge, Studien iiber die Entstehungder nor dischen Cotter- und Heldensagen, trans. Oscar Brenner (Munich, 1881-89), p. 476. Also Abbet- meyer, op. cit., p. 22.
34 McKWop
and this helped to point the contrast between the two trees in the garden, as appears in the following passage in Ambrose: "Paradisum nobis Crux reddidit Christi. Hoc est lignum quod Adae Dominus demonstravit, dicens de ligno vitae, quod esset in medio paradisi, edendum: de ligno autem scientiae boni et mali, non edendum."30 Here the antithesis between the tree of knowledge and the cross is definitely transferred to the two trees in the garden. In Alcuin the fruit of the tree of knowl- edge is intrinsically bad, and the antithesis appears: "Cur [enim] in paradise lignum vitae et lignum scientiae boni et mali creatum est? — Resp. Ut per illud potuisset homo immortalis esse, per hoc vero mortalis; ligno vitae quasi medicina, ut in- corruptabilis esset, utebatur; ligno autem scientiae boni et mali, quasi ut veneno, ut moriretur."31 Wherever the Genesis poet got the idea of the contrast, it falls in very well with his doc- trine of the origin of evil.32 It is probable that he took the idea from such passages as I have cited from the commentators, and elaborated the contrast in his own style.
The remarkable deviation of the Saxon poet's temptation story from the orthodox account has often been noticed. The commentators can be cited only for the sake of contrast. The orthodox opinion was that the serpent was an automaton oper- ated by the devil.33 More unusual was the opinion that Satan transformed himself into a serpent.34 Of course the idea of transformation was simpler and more vivid, and so better adapted for poetry, than the idea of the automaton, and accordingly we have in Genesis B :
Wearp hine J>a on Wynnes lie.
Professor Robinson has shown that the telescoping of the two versions of the temptation story, the tempter appearing in one case as the serpent, and in the other as an angel of light, is to be found both in the Apocalypse of Moses and in Genesis B.88
"In Psalmum XXXV Enarratio, Migne 14: 954.
11 Interrogations et Responsiones in Genesin, Migne 100: 517-18.
** See below.
33 So Augustine, De Genesi ad Litter am, Migne 34: 443; Chrysostom, Homil- iae in Genesin, Patrologia Graeca 53: 127; Eucherius, Migne 50: 910; Bede, In Pentaieuchum Commentarii, Migne 91: 210-11; Alcuin, Migne 100: 523, etc.
M Bruno Astensis, Exposilio in Genesim, Migne 164: 166; Hugo of St. Victor, Dogmaiica, Migne 176:287.
* Modern Philology, loc. cit.
Illustrative Notes on Genesis B 35
Interesting confirmation of this point is offered by Mr. C. W. Kennedy, who draws attention to the fact that some of the pic- tures in the Junius MS. show the tempter in the form of an angel, others in the form of a serpent.86 It may be added that both forms of the temptation occur in Paradise Lost. In the story of the temptation as dreamed by Eve, told at the begin- ning of Book V, the tempter is
One shaped and winged like one of those of Heaven.17
But in Book IX he is the serpent of the biblical account.
The criticism of Ker and others has brought out the fact that the Genesis poet is not trying to justify the ways of God to men. He does not seek to explain away evil. At the same time, he tends to refer evil to causes beyond the province of the human will. The description of the tree of knowledge as in- trinsically evil, already discussed, is a case in point. The evil does not inhere solely in the fallibility of the human will, but in the tree itself. And so Adam and Eve are deceived into thinking that they are doing God's will; they do not fall a prey to gluttony, vanity, and vain-glory. The poet goes so far as to express his wonder at the mystery of the fall:
pact is micel wundor J)aet hit ece God aefre wolde peoden ]?olian J>aet wurde J^egn swa monig forlaedd be }nim ligenum, t>e for )?am larum com.3*
This is directly in opposition to the commentators, who generally emphasize the primordial wickedness of mankind. Only in a few passages have I noticed any attempt to lighten Eve's burden of guilt. Rupertus Tuitiensis says that Eve certainly knew that it was not the serpent, but a spirit, that was speaking to her, and was led astray by sheer wonder at his wisdom and cunning. "Item et illud quaeritur, utrim nesciret mulier quod serpens, aeque ut caetera animantia, irrationalis esset, et sua facultate loqui non posset. Si hoc nescivit, minorem (quod absurdum est) intelligentiam in illo lucido Dei paradise habuit, quam nunc habet in hac obscuri-
* The Caedmon Poems Translated into English Prose (New York, 1916), pp. xl, 208-11, 215. C. R. Morey, The Drawings of the Junius MS., in the same work, p. 193.
" Paradise Lost, V, 55.
*LL 595-98.
36 McKillop
tate vitae plenae miseriis, ubi licet caro quae corrumpitur aggravet animam . . . , scit tamen nullam praeter suam ra- tionalem esse vitam. Si autem (quod verum est) scivit ser- pentem non nisi alieno spiritu potuisse loqui, profecto in eo mire seductionis immensitas est quod quasi omnipotentiam spiritus ejus mirata est mulier, qui per irrationabile animal humana formare verba potuisset. . . . Hoc, inquam, dubium jam non remanet, unde tanti erroris vitium tarn tenaciter hom- inibus inhaeserit: quia videlicet mater nostra, mater cunctorum viventium Eva, prima felle hujus nequitiae intrinsecus amari- cata est, quando in ilia facundiam male diserti serpentis, quasi divinam diabolici spiritus sapientiam mirata, et stulte venenata est."39 This faintly suggests the exoneration of mankind in Genesis B. In a passage in Ambrose, mitigation of Eve's guilt appears in connection with the telescoping of the two modes of temptation, discussed above. "Serpens, inquit, me persuasit: et hoc veniabile Deo visum est; eo quod nosset mul- tas ad decipiendum vias esse serpentis (quia transfiguratur in angelum lucis, et ministri ejus sicut ministri justitiae sunt). ."40 This is about as far as orthodoxy could go in the direction of the Saxon poet's version.
The tempter promises Adam that if he eats the fruit of the forbidden tree his body will be more glorious, and his mind en- larged.41 When he speaks to Eve he goes farther, and promises that this physical and mental transfiguration will bring her a vision of earth and heaven.
ponne wurSao" Jrin eagen swa leoht, pact }?u meaht swa wide ofer woruld ealle geseon sitffian and selfes stol Herren Jrines and habban his hyldo fortS.42
And in fact, after she eats the fruit, she sees a new glory in earth and heaven (11. 600 ff.). She is physically transformed, or thinks herself so —
. . . J?e is ungelic wlite and waestmas.*3
n In Genesim, Migne 167: 289. Cf. also Bruno Astensis, Expositio in Genesim, Migne 164: 166.
wDe Paradiso, Migne 14: 311. 41 U. 502-03; 519-20. 42 LI. 564-67. *» LI. 612-13.
Illustrative Notes on Genesis B 37
She can see God and his angels (11. 666 ff.). But after Adam eats the fruit, the light disappears (11. 772 ff.). Evidently this theme, which is considerably elaborated by the poet, is somehow connected with Genesis iii: 3: . . "in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as God." Of course the ensuing passage, iii: 7 — "And the eyes of them both were opened" — was taken by the commentators to mean that they awoke to a consciousness of guilt. But it is natural that the words of the tempter should have been sometimes inter- preted as a more or less vague promise of glory to come. Thus in the Genesis poem attributed to Juvencus, Satan utters the following curious lines in speaking of the tree:
Atqui si studeas mellitos carpere victus, Aureus astrigero redibit cardine mundus.44
In the same poem Adam and Eve undergo a sort of physical transformation after they have eaten the fruit:
Quod simul ac sumpsit, detersa nocte, nitentes Emicuere oculi, mundo splendente, sereni.*5
This at least represents a departure from the biblical narrative in the direction of the Genesis. However, it is closer to the passage in Avitus cited by Sievers than to the Anglo-Saxon.48 Professor Robinson emphasizes the important difference that this transfiguration takes place after Adam's fall,47 and of course this difference holds for the Juvencus passage also.
In the passage already quoted, the physical transfiguration is associated with the glory that invests heaven and earth after Eve has yielded to the tempter. By this time we are so far from the book of Genesis that the matter seems purely apocryphal, and in truth an apocryphal source has been offered by Professor Robinson, in the 'great glory' which surrounds the forbidden tree in the Apocalypse of Moses. It is perhaps hard tot say further whether Eve's vision of God on His throne, with the angels flying through the heavens, is simply a develop- ment of the ideas of supernatural radiance and heightened vision, or whether it represents an independent element from
"Migne 19: 348. Also Migne 2: 1099, Incerti Auctoris Genesis, with a slightly different text.
** Migne 19: 348. Also Migne 2: 1100. * De Originali Peccato, 11. 261-64. 47 Modern Philology, loc. cit.
38 McKillop
some apocryphal source. But it may be worth while to point out that there was, in the Orient at least, a widespread legend to the effect that Adam and Eve, when they were in Paradise, could see the angels in heaven. In the Book of the Secrets of Enoch, the so-called 'Slavonic Enoch,' God says in his account of the life of Adam in Paradise: "I made for him the heavens open that he should perceive the angels singing the song of triumph."48 This was taken over into the Book of Adam and Eve: "When we dwelt in the garden . . we saw the angels that sang praises in heaven."49 I quote further from the editor of the "Slavonic Enoch": "According to S. Ephrem, i, 139, Adam and Eve lost the angelic vision on their fall (Malan).. Philo, Quaest. xxxii in Gen., believes, 'oculis illofc praeditos esse quibus potuerunt etiam eas quae in coelo sunt.' "50 This vision, of course, is a somewhat different matter from the one in Genesis B. It is of the same nature, and it disappears after the fall, but it is of divine, not of diabolic, origin. And still it does not seem unlikely that a fragment of apocalyptic tradition of this sort should have got attached to the text, "Your eyes shall be opened" of Genesis, and thus have been drawn into the temp- tation story. The tradition would have to be followed much farther into the Occident before any claim for its influence on Genesis B could be set up. Gregory the Great seems to have known it.81
A later episode in the Book of Adam and Eve may also be cited. After the expulsion Adam and Eve are forced to take refuge in a dark cave. Satan and his followers appear as angels of light, and the cave becomes bright. Adam first thinks they are angels of God, but he has certain doubts, and prays for en- lightenment. A true angel then comes, and shows Satan to Adam in his true form.62
The Rice Institute ALAN D. McKiLLOP
4*Oxford, 1896, trans. W. R. Morfill, ed. R. H. Charles, XXXI, 2.
49 Quoted by Charles in note to loc. cit. Cf . also the following passage, which I take from A. Dillmann's translation of this document: "So lange du in demtttigem gehorsam standest," God said to Adam, "war die lichtnatur in dir, und deswegen sahest du die ferns ten dinge; aber seit die lichtnatur dir entzogen ist, kannst du das feme nicht mehr sehen." (Das ckristliche Adam- bitch des Morgenlandes, 1853, p. 17.)
*° Op. cit., p. 44.
M Dialogues, Migne 57: 317.
n Das ckristliche Adambuch des Morgenlandes, pp. 23 ff .
CHAUCER'S PORTRAIT OF CRISEYDE
In an article published in Modern Language Notes for 1904 (XIX, 235) Professor G. P. Krapp inquires why Chaucer in Troilus and Criseyde (ed. Skeat, V, 813-4) should have been so ungallant as to bestow upon his otherwise beautiful heroine the single defect of knit eye-brows:
"And, save hir browes ioyneden y-fere, Ther nas no lak,1n ought I can espeyen."
As Professor Krapp intimates, the question is pertinent not merely upon chivalrous but also upon artistic grounds. Mr. Krapp contends that as an historian, anxious only to preserve the truth of fact, Chaucer might well have pictured Criseyde as he has done but as a poet, intent solely upon an artistic ideal, his representation demands explanation. And this explanation the author of the article in question feels himself not in a posi- tion to supply.
If we assume with Mr. Krapp that Chaucer is proceeding with an artistic ideal in view, then indeed we must admit that the poet has blundered. Even on general grounds we should expect an artist — particularly such an artist as Chaucer — to picture a beautiful woman and call her Criseyde rather than to paint Criseyde as she was, even though her ill-looks were limited to one feature only. Indeed the very singleness of the defect centers attention upon it. Still more should we expect him to refrain from gratuitous animadversion upon this im- perfection. For an unbecoming feature, however slight, can- not fail to be conspicuous when attention is explicitly called to it. But it is not merely on general grounds that we should expect Chaucer to refrain from admitting any blemish in the appearance of his heroine. For, as Professor Kittredge has pointed out (Chaucer and His Poetry, pp. 128 ff.),1 the poet is at evident pains to exonerate the erring Criseyde, to extenuate her faults, and to present her as an object for the utmost pity of the reader. This purpose, as Mr. Kittredge observes,
1 Notwithstanding the fact that two elaborate studies of the character of Criseyde had already been published, one by Cook, A. S., Publications of the Modem Language Association, XXII, 531 ff., and the other by Root, R. K., The Poetry of Chaucer, pp. 105 ff.
39
40 Griffin
Chaucer explicitly acknowledges in a passage that follows hard upon the one just quoted:
"Ne me ne list this sely womman chyde Ferther than the story wol devyse. Hir name, alas! is publisshed so wyde, That for hir gilt it oughte y-now suffyse. And if I mighte excuse hir any wyse, % For she so sory was for hir untrouthe, Y-wis, I wolde excuse hir yet for routhe."
(V, 1093-99.)
Now if Chaucer feels thus tenderly toward his heroine, why should he endow her with a feature not calculated certainly to contribute to such a feeling on the part of poet or reader? We pity those we admire. Imagine an Effie Dean with squint eyes or still worse a Scott who should deliberately call attention to the fact! Elsewhere to be sure Chaucer realized the desirability of limit- ing himself to an exclusively complimentary representation of his heroine. The various references to Criseyde's good looks scattered throughout the Troilus amply bear out the poet's assertion that save for her eye-brows she suffered from no lack of comeliness. How gloriously does he everywhere enlarge upon her schedule of beauty! When she makes her first ap- pearance in the poem we read:
"In al Troyes citee
Nas noon so fair, for passing every wight So aungellyk was hir natyf beautee, That lyk a thing inmortal semed she, As doth an hevenish parfit creature, That doun were sent in scorning of nature." (I, 100-105.)
Again observe that Chaucer makes direct use of her physical beauty as a means of increasing our pity for her when she is forced to abandon Troilus:
"Hir ounded heer, that sonnish was of hewe, She rente." (IV, 736-7.)
Moreover the detailed portrait of Criseyde, from which the passage under consideration is quoted, abounds, both before and after that passage, in complimentary descriptions:
"Criseyde mene was of her stature, Ther-to of shap, of face, and eek of chere, Ther mighte been no fairer creature. And of te tyme this was hir manere
Chaucer's Portrait of Criseyde 41
To gon y-tressed with hir heres clere
Doun by hir coler at hir bak behinde,
Which with a threde of gold she wolde binde." (V, 806-12.)
"But for to speken of her eyen clere,
Lo, trewely, they writen that hir syen,
That Paradys stood formed in her yen.
And with hir riche beautee ever-more
Strof love in hir, ay which of hem was more." (V, 815-19.)
It cannot be gainsaid therefore that in attributing to Cris- eyde a feature avowedly unbecoming Chaucer has allowed him- self to be betrayed into the admission of an attribute not only inconsistent with what he elsewhere says of his heroine but also singularly at variance with the purpose of the poem. Evi- dently from the aesthetic point of view Chaucer has, as Krapp alleges, committed an error and it remains to be seen whether we can discover a reason for that error.
It cannot be pleaded in defence of the poet that he was misled by bad example and strayed from the path of art because those authors from whom he derived the materials of his Troilus, had so strayed before him. Boccaccio, his principal source, omits all mention of knit eye-brows in his portrait of Criseida in the first canto of the Filostrato (st. 27) as well as elsewhere in that poem. Joseph of Exeter, from whose portraits of Troilus (vv. 60-4), Diomedes (vv. 124-7), and Briseis (vv. 156-62) in the fourth book of his De Bello Trojano (ed. A. J. Valpy, Scriptores Latini, London, 1825) Chaucer has, as shown by Professor Root (Chaucer's Dares in Moder^1 Philology, XV, 3ff.), extracted the larger portions of his personal descriptions of his three protagonists in the fifth book of the Troilus (vv. 799- 840), is in like manner completely silent as respects the married brows of Briseis.2 Of the four authors whom the English poet
'Root's suggestion that Chaucer's derogatory reference to Criseyde's eye-brows might be due to a misapprehension of Joseph's 'umbreque minoris delicias' whereby he understood 'the delights of lesser shadow' to mean 'a shadow of lesser delight' is, as he himself acknowledges, not at all probable. Neither the construction of the Latin words as they stand nor the context in which they occur — which demands either umbre (a genitive, as we have it) or umbras (an accusative plural) — would allow such a supposition. Nor would Root's parallel from Claudian allow it, hi which the expression 'umbra minor' — not 'umbra' alone — appears to mean eye-brows (i.e.) lesser shadow, as con- trasted with 'umbra major,' greater shadow, i.e. hair of the head).
42 Griffin
consulted in composing his Troilus and Criseyde but two remain, viz. Benoit de Ste. More and Guido delle Colonne. Both these writers to be sure give Briseida knit eye-brows and both sub- join an adverse comment thereupon:
"Mais les sorcilles li joignerent
Que auques li mesaveneient" (Roman de Troie ed. L. Constans, w. 5279- 80),
"Sed [briseida fuit] superciliis iunctis quorum iunctura dum multa pilosi- tate tumesceret modicam inconuenientiam presentabat."
(Historia Trojana, Strassburg, 1486, sig. e. 2, rect., 2, 16-8.)
But it must be borne in mind that Benoit and Guido main- tain towards their heroine an attitude diametrically opposed to that maintained by Chaucer toward his. Instead of attempt- ing to condone her offence they reproach and upbraid her for it. Even before Briseida has left Troy both authors have so far guaged the fickleness of their heroine as to feel themselves already justified in predicting her defection to Diomede and in uttering in anticipation thereof a prolonged diatribe on the inconstancy of women.8 Again she has no sooner reached the Greek camp than she finds, they say, much that pleases her. Benoit allows her just three days in which to remain faithful to Troilus:
"Anceis que [el] veie le quart seir
N'avra corage ne voleir
De retorner en la cite*.
Mout sont corage tost mu6,
Poi veritable e poi estable;
Mout sont li cuer vain e muable.
Por col comperent li leial:
Sovent en traient peine e mal." (Roman de Troie, w. 13859-66.)
Guido, who in the matter of moral censure always goes Benoit one better, claims that her change of heart began im- mediately:
"Nondum ilia [prima] dies ad horas declinauerat vesperas cum iam briseida suas recentes mutauerat voluntates et vetera proposita sui cordis et iam magis sibi succedit ad votum esse cum grecis quam fuisse hactenus cum troianis. Jam nobilis troili amor cepit in sua mente tapescere et tarn breui bora repente sic subito facta volubilis ceperat in omnibus variari. Quid est ergo quod dicatur de constantia mulierum? Quarum sexus proprium in se habet vt repentina fragilitate eorum proposita dissoluantur et bora breuissima muta-
» Roman de Troie, w, 13429-56; Historia Trojana sig. i, 2, 27— vers. I, 7.
Chaucer's Portrait of Criseyde 43
biliter variantur. Non enim cadit in homine varietates et dolos earum posse describere, cum magis quam dici possint, sint earum volubilia proposita nequi- ora." (Historia Trojana sig. i, 3, rect, I, 41-2, 15.)
Thus the object of Benoit and of Guido was not, like that of Chaucer, artistic but didactic. A disfigured Briseida must ac- cordingly have proved indifferent, if not actually serviceable, to their design.4 But with Chaucer the case was otherwise. A physical defect that might readily pass unchallenged when admitted by authors whose purpose it is to hold their heroine up to ignominy and contempt, cannot fail to excite surprise when allowed by an author whose object it is to enlist the read- er's sympathy for his heroine. Evidently therefore we cannot throw the initial blame for Chaucer's artistic lapse back upon the shoulders of his French and Latin predecessors. Nor can it be maintained that Chaucer merely copied inadvertently a representation appropriate enough for their purpose but out of keeping with his own. The English poet is not in the habit of falling asleep in this manner — particularly in the case of a heroine. Much more probable is it that we have to do with an instance in which Chaucer sought above all else to comply with the facts of history and indeed for the very reason that Criseyde was his heroine felt it incumbent upon him to paint her as she was — not as she might have been. In matters historical — or supposedly historical — a scrupulously conscientious fidelity to sources was, as we know, a characteristic of the author of the Troilus and Criseyde no less than of his contemporaries. More- over in the telling of the Trojan story the English poet had peculiar reasons to sacrifice art to accuracy. For had he
4 Serviceable if we may suppose that the disapprobation visited upon knit eye-brows by Benoit and Guido was due to the fact that they regarded them less as a mark of physical ugliness than as a sign of moral obliquity. Counte- nance is given to this interpretation by the example of Benoit's eleventh century Byzantine contemporary Johannes Tzetzes who in his Ante-Homer ica (vs. 355-7) represents Briseis as one (to translate freely) 'whose sweet smiles did not disguise the fact that she possessed knit eye-brows.' Hamilton, G. L. (Modern Language Notes XX, 80), to be sure, while admitting moral disapprobation on the part of Tzetzes, denies it on the part of Benoit. But certainly Benoit's attitude towards women hi general and towards Briseida hi particular is suf- ficiently censorious to justify amply the conclusion that he too regarded Briseida's knit eye-brows as constituting a sort of bar sinister in her tempera- mental endowment.
44 Griffin
not in the history of Dares Phrygius, whom he twice cites in the Troilus (I, 146; V, 1771), the record of a personal participant in the Trojan war and an eye-witness of that event (De Excidio Trojae Historia, ed. Meister, F., cap. XII)? And was it not with a view to providing special authentication for his portraits of the Trojans (cap. XII) and of the Greeks (cap. XIII) that Dares thus particularizes with regard to his identity? For why otherwise should he have placed the foregoing specifica- tions with regard to himself immediately in front of his list of portraits and why in particular should he have been so care- ful to explain the precise occasions upon which he beheld these Greeks and Trojans, viz. partly during periods of war and partly during intervals of peace? Particularly valuable, of course, must have been his testimony with regard to the exact appearance of Briseida since she was a Trojan and he had fought on the side of the Trojans (cap. XLIV). Now this in- formation respecting Dares, despite his two citations of that author, Chaucer did not glean directly from the Historia. There is no reason to suppose that he ever possessed direct access to the annals of the Phrygian soldier (cf. Young, K., The Origin and Development of the Story of Troilus and Criseyde, Chaucer Society, 1908, p. 106, n, 2). Indeed had he enjoyed such access he could hardly have been led into his present blunder. For while Dares records 'supercilia juncta' among the various at- tributes that go to make up his portrait of Briseida (cap. XIII), he abstains altogether from passing any derogatory comment thereupon. Nor can we doubt that he intended it as a mark of beauty. Such was the interpretation it regularly bore among the ancients (cf. Fiirst, J., Philologus LXI, 387) and Dares, if not himself an ancient,6 was certainly dependent upon antique authors (cf. my Dares and Dictys, Furst and Co., Baltimore, 1907, p. 5. n. 3). Moreover since all the other specifications with which this of the joined eye-brows is associated are without exception complimentary, there can be no doubt that this one as well was intended by the author to be so construed. In any case the absence of any derogatory reference to knit eye-brows
* Since Dictys is now known to have been a Greek author, presumably of the age of Nero, there is no good reason to doubt that his fellow author Dares was likewise a Greek of about the same date.
Chaucer1 's Portrait of Criseyde 45
on the part of Dares would have enabled Chaucer to save him- self the necessity of adverse comment, had he enjoyed oppor- tunity to consult that author directly. Young has, however, shown (op. cit. pp. 105ff.), by the adduction of a number of verbal parallels, that it was in all probability Benoit and Guido whom Chaucer had in mind when he cites Dares (I, 146; V, 1771).6 Both Benoit and Guido refer constantly to Dares throughout their respective histories and it would accordingly appear that in the two foregoing citations Chaucer is seeking merely, in compliance with a practice well nigh universal in the Middle Ages, to win superior authority for his recital by nam- ing an ulterior rather than an immediate source. But whether or no it may have been Benoit and Guido to whom Chaucer is referring under the name of Dares, it was certainly from them that he derived his unflattering allusion to the knit eye-brows
8 It is possible, though by no means probable, that it is Joseph of Exeter rather than Benoit or Guido to whom Chaucer is referring under the name of Dares. The two particulars for which Chaucer cites the authority of Dares are the capture of Troy (1, 146) and the prowess of Troilus (V, 1771). The capture of Troy is treated at length by Benoit (vv. 25945-6590) and by Guido (sig. m, 5 vers. 2, 1 — n. I, rect. I, 29). It is treated also as Root observes (op. cit., p. 5) by Joseph of Exeter in the sixth book of his history. Since, however, Chaucer passes over the incident in silence, as lying outside the scope of his poem, it would be impossible to determine to whom he is here referring. To the bravery of Troilus, however, which naturally lies very much within the province of his poem, Chaucer devotes no inconsiderable amount of attention (I, 482-3, 1074; HI, 1775; V, 1755-6, 1802-4) and in one instance at least, as Young has shown (p. 130), in close conformity with Benoit and Guido, who likewise have much to say of the exploits of Troilus (Roman de Troie vv, 19955-20042; 20451-620; Historia Trojana sig. k, 5, vers. I, 16—6, vers. I, 22; 1. I, rect. 2, 19 — vers. I, 34). As to whether or no Joseph of Exeter, who though he omits altogether the story of his love for Briseis has touched in at least two passages upon the exploits of Troilus, deals with them in a manner at all closely resem- bling Chaucer's, the author of the article in question says nothing. In so far as the Troilus is concerned that critic had, of course, set before himself simply the task of pointing out the indebtedness of Chaucer to Joseph in so far only as regards the portraits. It is therefore a little unfortunate that he should have selected for the title of his article Chaucer's Dares. For while that title, as the writer remarks (p. 5), was not unnaturally suggested by the occurrence, in early mss. of Joseph's history, of the title Frigii Daretis Ylias in place of the more modern title De Betto Trojano, it nevertheless conveys the* impression that the author has prejudged his case and means to go so far as to claim that it is Joseph of Exeter rather than Benoit and Guido that Chaucer has in mind when he uses the name Dares.
46 Griffin
of Criseyde. They alone of Chaucer's sources make uncompli- mentary reference to this feature and make it, as the above quotations indicate, in close agreement with Chaucer. Benoit (vv. 5093-106) and Guide (sig. e; 1, vers., 1, 33-44) are, more- over, careful to repeat Dares's specifications with regard to the exceptional opportunities he enjoyed of observing the exact appearance of the Greeks and Trojans whose portraits he gives and to follow him in placing these specifications immediately in front of the portraits and in explaining them as introduced for the express purpose of authenticating the portraits. There can be but little doubt therefore that the specifications in question were interpreted by Chaucer as placing the portraits in a class by themselves — as the features of his work in which Dares took the greatest pride and sought to render the most accurate. What more natural then than that the English poet, anxious to retain intact every item in a portrait of Cri- seyde attested by so well accredited a witness as Dares, should have felt himself under obligation to repeat, in the interests of historical truth, the construction placed, as he supposed by Dares, upon a feature so prominent in the physiognomy of his heroine as were her eye-brows. Only by assuming an unlimited respect on Chaucer's part for the authority of Dares Phrygius can we explain why, when provided both by Boccaccio and by Joseph of Exeter with ample excuse for rejecting a feature so out of harmony both with the complimentary attributes which he elsewhere has exclusively ascribed to his lady and with the evident artistic demands of his subject, Chaucer should have preferred to retain it rather than 'falsen [his] matere.'
NATHANIEL E. GRIFFIN University of Chattanooga
PSYCHOLOGICAL ABNORMALITIES IN AUGUST STRINDBERG
In his famous preface1 to "Miss Julia," Strindberg has remonstrated against the customary practice in literature of constructing only simple automatic characters. Human nature is too deep, and possesses too plastic a mobility, and too great a complexity of structure to be disposed of in a sweeping manner. Of this complexity and unfathomableness of the human nature, he himself is the best example. The number of pronounced, and, as it will seem, strangely antagonistic elements of his per- sonality, is the first thing noticed by him who attempts to in- terpret the character of August Strindberg.
What a soul-complex is his; the full natural force, and the fear, and the unbridled imagination of early man, proud and irresistible in its unsubdued, primitive strength; the love of perfected, ideal beauty of classical Greece; the voluptuous, sensualistic love of art and life, characteristic of the Renais- sance; the ethical sternness of the Reformation; the keen intellect of the twentieth century scientist: his intensely sensi- tive perceptions, his sceptical attitude, ever ready to criticize, dissect and analyze all things, from the chemical solution in his retort to the vaguest moods of the longing soul; the credo quia a&swrdlww-atmosphere of the Middle Ages, where mischievous goblins in the dusk perform their hocus pocus with duped mortals, and witches prepare their mysterious potations in the church yards by night, — all the different strata of human civili- zation seem to have made their deposits to form the phenom- enon called August Strindberg. But the process was not of that quiet, unpassionate nature which we find represented in the mind of a scientist, nor like the gentle geologic formations of a plain, but rather the wild strata-formations of a volcanic region, fantastic at times, grandiose often, interesting always, a region where impetuous forces are ever at war with one another. It is on these chaotic depths of strength and weakness, of refined genius and strange abnormality that the modern psychologist has ample opportunity to exercise his analytic acuteness.
» FrOken Julie, Samlade skrifter av August Strindberg, v. XXH, p. 102 ff.
47
48 Brett
STRINDBERG'S EARLY DEVELOPMENT AND NEUROTIC DISPOSITON
No matter how vacillating, how incomprehensibly complex Strindberg's personality may be, there are a few traits that ever remain unchanged throughout life: his quenchless thirst for knowledge, his incorruptible honesty, unconditional truth- fulness, child-like open heartedness, and above all, his extreme sensitiveness, — the vividness by which he experiences, the primitive force by which he responds to stimuli, "a life trem- bling as an uncovered nerve"; and as a result of these, a strongly developed tendency to self-revelation and self-torture.
Every literary work must of necessity be more or less colored by the particular life-experience of its author, but this is es- pecially true in our day of extreme individualism, when each little literary Ichheit, every diminutive ego, clamors for atten- tion to his own private home-affairs, and every youth imagines that each emotional ripple of his, each chaste love-dream in life's May-time belongs to the "Eternal Values" without the knowl- edge of which the world would suffer irreparable loss. At the same time there lies deep in our common human nature an im- pulse of self-revelation. No wonder, then, that those great spontaneous beings called poetic geniuses, who see clearer, think deeper, and, above all, feel stronger and consequently suffer more than ordinary men, should feel an invincible impulse to give artistic expression to the varied events of their life. "All I have published is but fragments of a long confession," Goethe wrote. But no great author, unless it be Rousseau, is so thoroughly subjective as August Strindberg. Practically all that he has written may, in the fullest sense, be said to be bone of his bone, flesh of his flesh. His entire productions ought, therefore, to be consulted in a study of this kind, but his autobiographical works, of which there is a considerable number, ought to receive first consideration. In these autobiographica works collected and issued under the title, "The Bondwoman's Son"1 — perhaps the most remarkable volumes of their kind in
1 The series contain the following parts:
1. Tjanstekvinnans son, 3. I roda rummet, 6. Legender,
2. Jasningstiden, 4. Forfattaren, 7. Ensam.
5. Inferno,
Under this group ought also to be considered, "En dares fOrsvarstal," and "Fagervik och skamsund."
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 49
the world's literature, he has recounted his varied life-expe- riences, and submitted his interpretation of them.
What is it that makes these quite innocent looking volumes so unique: youth's common struggle with scepticism and warm blood, thwarted plans, old age and conservatism? It is more than that: it is a great human life-history, — the life-history we might almost say of a whole period with its hopes and sorrows, burning hot, that throb on these pages; a self -consuming genius, who is continually born anew. His was the story of Prometheus and the vulture over again, and the vulture was his own restless thoughts. His was a life so full of intense suffering, of intel- lectual self-torture that ordinary callous mortals find it quite impossible to comprehend; it was the violent reaction of a hyper- sensitive mind to the manifold stimuli of an unsympathetic world.
But the question will naturally be raised how far, after all, may we take this revelation to be a reliable vivisection of his inner mental state? How far has a retrospective falsification of memory played its part in giving us a distorted picture of his real condition? Being a poet, and having a poet's vivid fancy, might he not have idealized or intensified his story? As a dramatist of the first order, might he not have incarnated him- self, so to speak, into different personalities without really being aware of it? To questions like these it is difficult to give a posi- tive answer. Instances are not lacking that point to a remould- ing artistic touch or a presentation of facts that will give force to his view-point at the time of writing, unconscious though it may be.2 But herein friends and foes agree that if ever poet uncovered his soul to the profane world, laid bare his most in- timate experiences with, at times, almost brutal severity, that poet is he. The following stanza, as a critic has pointed out, could serve as a motto to most of his works:
There hangs in the book-store window A thin-clad little book. It is a torn heart, bleeding Which dangles on its hook.3
1 Cf. his introduction to the 2-6 editions of Tjttnstekvinnans son. Sam. skr., v. XXVIII, p. 460; Inferno, Sam. skr., v. XXVII, p. 205.
' SSmng dngarntttter pd vakna dagar, Sam. skr. v. XIII, p. 210.
Bar hanger i bokladsfonstret
en tunnkladd liten bok.
Det ar ett urtaget hjarta
som dinglar dar pa sin krok.
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In the first chapter of the "Bondwoman's Son," which is perhaps, if not the best that he has written, at any rate the most characteristic, full of the keenest psychological observa- tions presented to us with graphical lucidity, it is the child whom he portrays, and that child is the coming August Strindberg in miniature. First, we catch a glimpse of his parents. His father,4 strict, stern, a decided aristocrat who has learned to receive life's hard knocks with quiet resignation, does not seem to have, though mentally gifted, much in common with his son. But there is a much stronger resemblance, we are told,5 between the poet and his grandfather, a passionate man with living, artis- tic interests. We have three dramatic sketches from his hand in print. That Strindberg however should owe the peculiari- ties of his artistic temperament to a very uncertain tinge of Fin- nish blood, as Marholm Hansson6 would have us believe, is mere nonsense. His mother,7 and this should be noted more than has hitherto been the case, was of a highly nervous, hysteric temperament, easily irritated, a woman of the frail and religiously devotional type. That congenital influences of a pathological nature were not absent in the family is shown by the fact that his oldest brother suffered from hysteria.8
Strindberg has himself repeatedly called attention to his pre- mature birth, and the possible influence of the stormy family- affairs on his constitutional development previous to this event.9 However this may be, we know that already as a child he shows something of the abnormality that has often been attributed to genius.
"His first sensations, as he afterward recollected them, were fear and hunger. He was afraid of the dark, afraid of getting thrashed, afraid of irritating everybody, afraid of falling, of stumbling, of being in the way. He was afraid of his brother's fists, the maidservant's hair pullings, grandmother's snubs, mother's switch, and father's rod."10
4 Tjiinstekvinnans son, Sam. skr., v. XVIII, p. 9 ff., 68.
* Eswein: August Strindberg.
' Vi Kmnder og vore Diktere, pp. 126-163.
7 Tjanstekvinnans son, Sam. skr., v. XVIII, p. 10 ff., 88.
8 Tj&nstekvinnans son, Ibid., p. 15.
• Ibid., p. 9; En ddres forsvarstal, Sam. skr., v. XXVI, p. 114. 10 Ibid., p. 8.
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 51
"His early training," he says, "no one had time to attend to, and the school took a hand in the matter where the maid- servant left off. The family was really an institution for feeding, and a washing and ironing establishment."11
"He was brought up on snubs and hair pullings, 'God who loves thee,' and lessons of obedience. Life received the child with duties, only duties, no rights. The wishes of all the other persons must be granted, but the child's alone suppressed. He could not take hold of a thing without doing something wrong, he could not go anywhere without being in the way, he could not say a word without disturbing someone. At last he did not dare to move. His highest duty and his highest virtue was: to sit still in a chair and be quiet."12
These, perhaps, many of us partly recognize as familiar, but few indeed have August Strindberg's extreme sensitiveness. It is as "if my soul were exposed raw,"13 he writes in "Alone." No figure of speech could better express the nature of his tem- perament. Everything with which he comes in contact burns him. In this extreme sensitiveness, I contend, we find the secret of the unparalleled productivity, but it is also the soil from which have sprung the unfortunate pathological weeds of later tragic hours. If his early nourishment had been healthier,14 if the countenances of those about him had been brighter, their attitude toward him more tenderly loving; had the fortune of the home been more prosperous his life's story would have read differently, the bearing of his works would have been calmer. But this was not to be.
The once prosperous home had met with serious reverses. With seven children and two servants, the family had now to be contented with only three rooms. "The furniture," he writes, "consisted mostly of cradles and beds. Children lay on ironing boards and chairs, children in cradles and beds."16 Baptisms and funerals were the most common events of the house. The food was deficient in quality, even though there was no absolute
11 Ibid., p. 14.
a Ibid., p. 14.
u Ensam.
14 His nurse suffered from some kind of nervous disease.
* Tj&nsltkvinnans son, Sam. skr., v. XVIII, p. 12.
52 Brett
lack of it. John's u "entire youth reminded him of a long starva- tion."17 And when once treated to a square meal and a couple of drams, this, as it might seem, unimportant event had a most decided influence on his religiously brooding mind.
The same unfortunate circumstances extended also to other conditions of life. His home-made gymnasium cap) — and this even at a period when the prosperity of the home had notice- ably increased, his sleeves that reached only to the elbow, his trousers that left a considerable part of his lower extremities uncovered, all were sources of exquisite and continual torture to his sensitive nature. In direct keeping with conditions existing in the house were the influences from without. The scenery from his window consisted largely of roofs and chimneys. The only place outside of the three rooms available for play ground was an inhospitable, dark, well-like back yard, so often met with in large cities, with its refuse boxes, closets, wood sheds and rats. Such an environment must have had a decidedly harmful influence on an organism of inborn, long- ing desire for the beautiful in nature. When he for the first time, from a hill side, saw the archipelago of Stockholm spreading out before him in its varied, charming beauty of innumerable, firth-embraced islets, he experienced a sensation similar to a chill. He forgot duties and comrades.18 This devotional atti- tude towards nature remained characteristic of him throughout life. In a strict sense, he was never irreligious, for during the so-called materialistic period of his forties, he worshipped nature with all the fervor of his passionate soul. Never does he become so despondent, never so hopelessly pessimistic, that a beautiful landscape can not at once stir him to the highest poetic fancy.
But that which, assuredly, had greater effect on his early mental growth than both the sordid surroundings and the material wants was the unsympathetic attitude of his parents. They never seemed to understand their love-thirsting little son. Both had favorites among the other children. No sympathy was left for John. When he sought to win them, especially the
10 Strindberg's baptismal name and the name by which he designated him- self in the Bondwoman's Son. "Ibid., p. 112. » Ibid., p. 192.
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 53
mother, for himself, he was coldly repelled. And when failing to be understood by his own mother, how could he hope to be understood by the world? "His sympathy for humanity would remain unrequited, since their thoughts did not coincide with his. Afterwards he would go about offering his heart to the first one that came along, but no one would receive it, for it was strange to them; he would draw himself back within him- self, wounded, humiliated, unnoticed, passed by."19 In being perpetually misunderstood lay much of the bitterness of his life. He was told to put great requirements upon himself. He did so. But then he demanded of those about him to do likewise. It often happened that he was severely punished, while his brothers would go free. His keen sense of justice was offended, and he protested. But then, when considered jealous, he became reserved, introspective, melancholic and brooding. And so a seed had been sown which, in the course of time, was to develop into a strongly self-critical and self- torturing disposition, an element most vital, it is true, in form- ing the uniqueness of his productions, but which, when carried to its extreme, became morbid. There were two similar inci- dents which left deep, indelible scars in his childhood memories, poisoning his entire life by an ingredient of smarting bitterness. Time and again we meet with references in his works which are traceable directly to these events. Once there was the question of some wine having disappeared from a bottle;20 the other time it concerned some wagon-burs, which his father suspected that he had stolen.21 At both times he was forced to plead guilty to the crimes, which he never had committed. Many of his hasty accusations might have been unwritten, many a fierce invective against home and humanity might have remained unspoken had it not been for those pedagogical mistakes on the part of his father.
Concerning his school days, again wt may say that his lot was neither better nor worse than that of the average school boy of those days; and again we must attribute his sad experiences to a temperament so sensitive that pressure, under any form, at once took the most exaggerated proportions. He always was
»7Wd.,p. 17. « Ibid., p. 68.
54 Brett
the youngest pupil in his class. In spite of the fact that his credits entitled him to promotion, he was kept back not less than three years "in order to ripen,"22 as it was euphemistically expressed. Perchance he did ripen, but the retardation was a bore to him which left its traces. Unlike Rousseau, with whom he otherwise had so much in common, he never could, he tells us, think of the time he spent at a certain school without a strong feeling of disgust. The epithets he applied to it are often coarse. Later in life, when reading books, he always skipped those passages which referred to school memories.
The semesters he spent at the University of Uppsala for the purpose of obtaining a degree, were still more trying. The only help received from home during his first Uppsala period was a "box of cigars and an exhortation to help himself."*1 He lacked the means by which he could obtain proper instruction and necessary books. He suffered at times from want of food, even to the point of starvation, and during the winter months, lacking fuel, he had to remain in bed in order to keep warm.24 He sought to compensate himself by associating with liberal friends at the cafes. He had a natural inclination for strong drinks; his habits became disturbingly irregular. The result was that he made little or no progress academically. It must be acknowledged, however, that this was more on account of the professors' narrowmindedness and absolute inability to understand him, than by reason of inability and lack of knowl- edge on his part. As a matter of fact, he knew considerably more than his courses actually required. At the customary oral individual examinations, however well he knew his subject, he usually suffered from inhibition of speech, or from what he believed were attacks of aphasia,25 to which he also attributes his inability to make public speeches and to speak foreign lan- guages. At other instances he would be seized by an uncon- querable spirit of contradiction, which, of course, quickly ex- tinguished whatsoever little flickering spark of good will others might have had for him.
0 Ibid., pp. 40, 100. * Ibid., p. 212.
M J asningstiden, Ibid., p. 435, and the sketch Mellan drabbningarna in Fjardingen och SvartbtLcken. I Vdrbrytningen. Sam. skr., v. III. 36 Tjdnstekvinnans son, Sam. skr., v. XVIII, pp. 64, 441.
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 55
To these varied and, for a harmonious growth, disturbing influences at home and at school, of jarring environment and misdirected parental zeal, of petty animosity and cruel fate, we must also add the struggles of his own inner thoughts, patho- logical almost from the beginning, in their convulsive frenzy. An inborn religious feeling, nursed by a mother's and a step- mother's narrowly pietistic views and the anaemic religious- ness of his first love, intensified by the remorse of the usual boy- hood, puberty transgressions, — so closely connected with all early, so-called spiritual awakenings, — it is these religious feel- ings, with ascetic ideals and self-renunciations, which fight their bitter contests with an equally strong sensuality and a growing knowledge and intellect. It is asceticism against sensualism, mysticism against positivism, tradition contra scepticism, in a word, it is the life and death struggle between "the old and the new man."
Apparently the new man won, but only for a time, as we shall see. Strindberg could never forget the past, and herein we have another cause for his life's many fitful fevers; fevers that got their first literary expression in his "Free-Thinker, "in "Master Olof," and "The Red Room" with the impressionistic force of a wounded soul.
His thoughts demanded expression, nay, they insisted on being proclaimed loudly to the world. A literary confession of his innermost thoughts was for Strindberg a question of life and death. If he had been prevented from heralding his ideas, from opening his heart, he would have committed suicide, or gone completely insane. Indeed, he made several attempts to end his life, as we shall have occasion to speak of later. The aesthetic element in his productions was never the most im- portant with him, but reform, revolution, truth. When people misunderstood his intentions, despised his endeavors, misin- terpreted his thoughts, black-mailed him, scorned him, his whole being was filled with wrath, and he shook his fist in wild, frantic despair26 against home, humanity, against God and religion, and lastly even against himself. He became the poet of :
The great beautiful hate.w
" / hafsbandet, Sam. skr., v. XXIV, p. 242. *7 Dikter, Sam. skr., v. XIII, p. 29.
56 Brett
Strindberg is a "Naturwesen" whose longing for freedom is unlimited, and whose consideration for the existing condition is nil; a natural phenomenon who responds only to his own laws; untamable, strange, incalculable.28 As a boy he breaks open the chest if the key is not at hand. Electric machines, inventions, which it has taken days or weeks to construct, are impatiently smashed at the very instant when he is about to finish them.29 When he, as a youth, for the first time became intoxicated, he had hallucinations.30 In a moment of weakness he chanced to promise a birthday poem to an adored one, a kitchen wench, by the way, of slightly questionable reputation. But meter, strange as it may seem, was at this time an utter impossibility for the future poet. A friend came to his rescue, but when the origin of the verses was discovered, he escaped to the woods as a wounded animal in utter despair.31 When his first accepted drama82 was presented on the stage, he was so deeply affected by its na'ive faults, — he was then twenty-two, and the playlet was written the year before, — that he rushed out with the intention of drowning himself.
There is a scene in his autobiographical work "In the Red Room" (not to be confused with the novel "The Red Room") which in one single stroke exposes the whole emotional im- pulsiveness of his passionate temperament:
"But, wherever he went, along the shore, over the fences and into the woods, contours and colors began to flow together, as though he saw everything through a mist of tears. Soul anguish, twinges of conscience, remorse, shame, began to dis- integrate his mind, and the seams of consciousness were loos- ened. Old thoughts emerged of a life purpose misspent, of a humanity that suffered through mistakes and delusions. This suffering expanded his ego. The impression of fighting an evil force lashed his powers of resistance into a wild opposition; the desire to struggle against fate awoke in him, and from a picket fence he tore a long pointed stake. It became in his hand a spear
M Cf. Johan Mortenson's Introduction, Sveriges national-litteratur 1500- 1900, v. XXII.
*• Tjtinstekvinnans son, Sam. skr., V. XVIII, p. 97 ff. "Ibid., p. 173. « Ibid., p. 268. *IRom.
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 57
and a club. He rushed into the woods, beating down branches about him as though he were fighting murky giants. He trampled mushrooms under his feet as though he were crush- ing the empty skulls of so many dwarfs. He shouted as if he would arouse the wolves and foxes, and up! up! up! rolled the cry in the pine forest. He finally came to a cliff which almost vertically raised itself like a wall before him. He beat against it with his spear, as though to overthrow it, and then he stormed it. Under his hand bushes, torn up by the roots, crashed and rattled down the hill; stones clattered down; he put his foot on young junipers and lashed them till they lay broken as down- trodden grass. He clambered up and stood on the hilly plateau. There lay the archipelago and beyond it the ocean in a large broad panorama. He inhaled as if for the first time he had found breathing space. But a naked pine, taller than he, stood on the cliff. With the spear in one hand he climbed up, and on the top that formed a saddle, he sat like an equestrian. Then he removed his belt and hung it around a branch, de- scended from the tree and brought up a large stone which he laid in the tightly drawn belt that represented a sling. Now he had nothing but the heavens above him. But below him stood the evergreen forest, head upon head, like an army that stormed his castle. Beyond it surged the billows that came toward him wave after wave as white Cossacks cavalry; and beyond them lay the rocky islets like a fleet of monitors.
"Come on!" he cried and swung his spear, 'come hundreds, come thousands!' he shouted and then he spurred his tall wooden horse and shook his spear.
"The September wind blew from the bay, and the sun went down. The spruce forest beneath him became a murmuring mob. And now he wished to speak to it. But it merely mur- mured unintelligible words and answered, 'wood' when he spoke to it.
" 'Jesus or Barabbas!' he bellowed, 'Jesus or Barabbas!'
" 'Barabbas, of course,' he answered himself as he waited for a response. The darkness fell and he was afraid. He dis- mounted from the saddle and went home.
"Was he mad? No! He was only a poet who composed out in the forest instead of at his writing desk. But he hoped that
58 Brett
he was insane, he longed for the darkness to blot out his light, since he saw no hope shining in the darkness."33
Mad! No, not mad, but it is certainly dwelling upon the borderland of those terribly fantastic regions of human con- sciousness where the beautifully balanced harmony of self is no more, and the ghostly spirits of discord reign supreme.
II
TRAITS OP ABNORMALITY FROM "MASTER OLOF" TO "iNFERNO"
Some of the most widely read works from Strindberg's early period are "Master Olof," "The Red Room," "The New King- dom," "Swedish Events," "Poems," "The Nights of Sleep- walking," "The Wanderings of Lucky-Per," "Marriage I," and "Real Utopias." It would be difficult to describe the pe- culiar and poignantly delicious satisfaction experienced in read- ing books like these, by one whose aesthetic cravings heretofore had been mainly satisfied with Bible history and catechism and, at solemn occasions, with poetry of the "Evangeline" and "Angelica" type. It is something of that feeling of expansion, of exuberant vitality one experiences on a beautiful spring morning, after having been a whole winter confined in close, dusty rooms, in being suddenly transferred to a rocky plateau close to the sea, where the view is unobstructed and the air invigorating, while a salt-laden breeze scatters the shadows of night. Pulses quicken, thoughts take on wings; feelings that youth often harbored, but never dared disclose, even to inti- mate friends, are here freely expressed. Fructified by his powerful soul, new, daring ideas are continually conceived and born.
It was something of this infinite delight which Young Sweden felt, when August Strindberg's rebellious thoughts flashed through the sultry, wine-colored, after-dinner atmosphere of the sixties and seventies. There are soft, tender moods also in his books, but also youthful haughtiness and potential vital- ity as well, fresh northern winds and the clang of tempered steel, spring-floods that sweep everything before them. Old murky institutions trembled on their foundations. Instead of a pale yearning romanticism one was treated to the strong natural- istic wine of the eighties.
* I r'dda rummet, Sam. skr., v. XIX, pp. 93-95.
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 59
It is incomprehensible how August Strindberg, in this first literary period, could in the true sense of the word be charged with dark pessimism.1 Was it not rather the proud scorn of a young iconoclast? He lashed with unmerciful sarcasm "The gods of time," dutifully worshipped by pharisaic patriots. With perfect surgical skill, he dissected the cancers of social and political corruption and held them up to the light. He trampled on what he believed to be but illusions of a stagnant imagination or mere constructions of egotistic coteries; but he did it all, because he fervently believed that if we could only learn to see how hopelessly deformed and stigmatized existing society really is, true progress would be possible. He may have been at times deeply despondent, but back of caustic invectives and drastic pictures, which lovers of all existing conditions have termed pessimistic creations of a sordid mind, we discern "Loke's"
"Ever young hope."8
He had, as every enthusiastic young reformer, that happy pragmatic conception of the world: it is bad, but it may become better.
Who could, from the reading of these books, have predicted that this tall viking warrior, before whose terrible onslaughts large fragments of the murky walls of antiquated conceptions fell to the ground, in his old days should busy himself with amulets, tax his brain with explanations of theosophic emana- tions, or seek conference with Swedenborgian spirits; nay worse, that he, lashed by the furies of night, should speed from place to place like a wounded beast?
And still, mayhap, a more keensighted psychiatrist could already from the beginning have scented a strongly neuropathic disposition. Book printer Gert, one of those characters with whom the dramatist identifies himself "as he was in passionate moments,"3 is a revolutionary fanatic. We are at this time not acquainted with Strindberg's subjective procedure, since his autobiographical books have as yet not been published. Hence we must be very cautious lest we should arrive at un-
I Cf . David av Wirsen, Kritiker.
J Dikter, Sam. skr., v. XIII, Lakes smttdelser, p. 37.
I I rSda rummet, Sam. skr., v. XIX, p. 32.
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warranted conclusions by a too free identification of subject and object. But we are justified by the intensity of certain characteristic traits to infer the close relationship between the author and his heroes. In the ingenious novel "For Higher Purposes," the sensitive minister, as a result of narrow dogmas and idiotic decrees, goes mad. That the exposition here is made by a sympathetic, deeply understanding master mind, which itself is but too familiar with the morbid emotions of consciousness, is undeniable.
In "Remorse" we have again one of those masterly, un- surpassable, sympathetically made analyses of a condition in which the fine mechanism of the soul has become disordered. Read for example the following lines: —
"He hardly thought any more, for all the activities of his soul lay as in a mortar stirred to a mush. Thoughts attempted to crystallize, but dissolved and floated away, memories, hopes, malice, tender feelings and a single great hate against all wrong, which through an unprobed natural force had come to govern the world, melted together in his mind as if an inner fire had suddenly raised the temperature and forced all solid particles to assume a liquid form."4 ... or "He dropped the book for he heard some one who screeched and thumped in his own bed! Who was in the bed? He saw a body whose abdomen was contracted with cramps and whose chest bulged out as the hoops of a wooden bucket, and he heard a wonderful, hollow voice that screeched under the sheets. It was his own body!"6
It is Strindberg himself who has experienced this. As far as our limited material has enabled us to ascertain, the first time that we publicly hear that his productions are purely of a pathological stamp is in the year 1883, when a collection of his poems was published.6 Granting some irregularities in the composition, many of which are purposely affected, any one who has read the poems must admit that such a statement must have been caused by personal enmity. C. D. of Wirsen, Strind- berg's irreconcilable adversary, had greater cause by far to stamp the author of "The Bondwoman's Son"7 as abnormal,
4 Utopier i verkligheten, Sam. skr., v. XV, p. 187.
6 Ibid., p. 195.
6 Ny Svensk tidskrift, pp. 77-84.
'Parts I-III appeared 1886-1887.
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 61
especially since there is no longer any question of an objective work of art, but it is frankly admitted to be strictly autobio- graphical.
As we have already pointed out in the previous chapter, Strindberg himself makes no secret of the fact that from early childhood he may have carried a dangerous germ of disease. On page 53 of "The Bondwoman's Son" he writes:
"He remains irregular and from now on ever fickle minded. Fickleness, caprice, of "diables noirs," as the French call it, is not a fully explained phenomenon. The victim is possessed, he wishes to do one thing but does the opposite; he suffers from the desire to inflict evil upon himself and almost enjoys self- torture. This is a soul-sickness, a disease of the will," a view which his parents and brothers did not seem to have any desire to contradict.8 That he believed himself to be suffering from aphasia has already been touched upon.9 "He came scared to the world and he lived" we are told, "in continued fear of life and men."10 From the start he manifested a fear of public gatherings and of open places that bordered on agoraphobia.11 Further we learn of several more or less earnest suicidal at- tempts. If the mother instinct of the human organism has become so weakened by disturbing influences that suicidal at- tempts are made possible, it seems to point to a serious defect in the mechanism's normal equilibrium.
At the end of his second University period his state of mind was so critically serious that his friends in real earnest con- sidered him mad. At an earlier time they had been forced to watch over him night and day. In order to prevent a forced confinement, he himself wrote to an insane asylum and asked for admission. This was refused, a fact which, of course, indi- cates that the specialist did not consider the symptoms very dangerous. Probably the real reason for the refusal was that he took the first step himself, which is rather a deviation from the common behavior of similarly afflicted persons. But all this could probably be looked upon as a terminated stage in his life, if his subsequent production did not occasion other reflections.
8 Tj&nstekvinnans son, Sam. skr., v. XVIII, pp. 55, 67, 74. • See above, p. 16. 18 Ibid., p. 47. \Jtsningstidcn, Ibid., p. 316.
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Even in those works by which his genius has celebrated its greatest intellectual triumphs, for example, in "The Father," and "At the Edge of the Sea," he has depicted the soul-sickness of his heroes with such ominously fatal power, with such strength as to give one a presentiment that here it is not only a question of masterly objective creations, but actual life ex- periences which have been treated with consummate skill. One has a distinct perception that here we are confronted with observations, based upon profound introspective studies, that here we have before us a man "who, like Dante, has seen the nethermost hell."12 Under the "big brains," keen thought analysis, and magnificently daring intellectuality, broods a Saul's sick spirit, a glowing mysticism with its roots in the organism itself. Now and then we meet with words, whose nervously trembling immediacy points to a rapidly approaching crisis.
It is also by reason of the "Father" that Strindberg's former friends and protectors, George Brandes and Bjornstjerne Bjorn- son put him under the ban and spread the report over the entire North that the author, who had written "The Father" was en gal mand — a mad man. A rumor was even circulating that Strindberg really had lived through a period of madness on a Danish island, and that he was ripe for the insane asylum, a rumor which the biographer adds, "was mere literary tea gossip."13
If "The Father," by eminent critics pronounced to be a consummate masterpiece of dramatic tragedy, of closely knit plot and almost abysmal knowledge of human nature,14 a drama which has repeatedly won laurels on the German, French, and lately also on the American stage, could earn him such an epithet, what should not then result from making immediate acquaintance with a being so madly torn to pieces, so bitterly disillusionized from life's and love's fair dreams as the author of "The Defense of a Fool"?15 It is a story of a slowly disinte- grating home happiness, or should I say of a vanishing ideal, re-
u Huneker, Iconoclasts, p. 151. u Gustaf Uddgren: En ny bok om Strindberg, p. 31. 14 Johan Mortenson: Sveriges national-litter atur, v. XVII, p. 10. 11 Oscar Levertin, Diktare och drommare, p. 233. Cf. also Huneker, Icono- clasts, and E. BjSrkman, Forum, v. 47, pp. 274-288.
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 63
lated to us with brutal sincerity by a man who not only had to fight human enemies, — and he had many, — but what is infinitely more difficult, his own treacherous thoughts. Strindberg, the great worshipper of unconditional truthfulness, has himself con- fessed, "This is a terrible book, I fully admit, and I regret that I ever wrote it."16 It was intended as the last document of one who had resolved to die. More than once, when reading it, one sees, as in a vision, a bare, bleeding heart.
"Analyze, dissect, diagnose" is the continual demand of a dilettantic, psychology-mad public of our day, as if it were possible to diagnose the death agonies of a bruised soul. One does not analyze a cry. All he can do is to give a fairly accurate description of certain functional abnormalities, and the possible causes for their appearance.
The first incident in "The Defense of a Fool" which strikes us with peculiar force is, I suppose, the fantastic suicidal attempt described in the fifth chapter. Strindberg had met with the Baroness, who later, divorced from her husband, was to become his wife. The consuming fire of love had taken pos- session of his soul. Knowing himself, and fully aware of the danger of the situation, he decided to disappear from the scene. He was already on board a steamer on his way to Paris, when a sudden "inexpressible longing to see her again" took possession of him with such an irresistible power that he prevailed upon the captain to put him ashore. Once ashore, however, he recog- nized the hopelessness and disgrace of the condition. He writes :
"And now that everything was at an end, I longed to die, for life without her was impossible.
"But, with the cunning of a mad man, I decided to get some satisfaction out of my death by contracting pneumonia, or a similar fatal disease, for in that case, I argued, I should have to lie in bed for some time; I could see her again and kiss her hand in saying goodbye forever. . . .
"The coast was precipitous and the water deep; everything was as it should be. With careful attention, which betrayed nothing of my sinister purpose, I undressed myself .... the wind was cold, at this time of the year, in October, the tempera- ture of the water could be but a very few degrees above freezing
11 Introductory remarks of the Author, Sam. skr., v. XXVII, p. 5.
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point. I took a run over the rocks and threw myself headlong into the water, aiming at a cleft between two gigantic waves. I felt as if I had fallen into red-hot lava. But I came quickly to the surface, dragging up with me pieces of seaweed which I had glimpsed at the bottom, and the tiny vesicles of which were scratching my legs. I swam out into the open sea, breast- ing the huge waves, greeted by the laughter of the sea gulls and the cawing of the crows. When my strength began to fail, I turned and swam back to the cliff.
"Now the moment of greatest importance had arrived. Ac- cording to all instructions given to bathers, the real danger consists in remaining too long out of the water in a state of nudity. I sat down on the rock which was most fully exposed to the wind, and allowed the October gale to lash my bare back. My muscles, my chest immediately contracted, as if the instinct of self-preservation would protect the vital organs at any price. But I was unable to remain on the same spot, and, seizing the branch of an alder tree, I climbed to its top. The tree swayed with the convulsive, uncontrollable movements of my muscles. In this way I succeeded in remaining in the same place for some time. The icy air scorched my lungs like a red-hot iron.
"At last I was convinced that I had attained my end, and hastily dressed myself.
"In the meantime the night had fallen. When I ree"ntered the wood it was quite dark. Terror seized me, I knocked my head against the lower branches of the trees, and was obliged to feel my way along. Suddenly, under the influence of my un- reasonable fear, my senses became so acute that I could tell the variety of the trees which surrounded me by the rustling of their branches. What depth there was in the base of the Scotch firs, with the firm and closely-set needles, forming, as it were, gigantic mouth organs. The tall and more pliable stems of the pines gave a higher note; their sibilant fife resembled the hissing of a thousand snakes .... the gale tore off the branches of an alder tree, and they crashed to the ground with a hollow thud. I could have distinguished a pine cone from the cone of the Scotch fir by the sound it made in falling; my sense of smell detected the proximity of a mushroom, and the nerves
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 65
of my large toe seemed to feel whether it trod on soil, clubmoss or maiden hair."17
The very literary excellency of the account somewhat weak- ens its pathological value, but so much we can take for granted, that no one without a morbid emotional temperament would very likely indulge in such extravagant death experiments. The last paragraph reads like a prologue to the description of the hyperaesthetic condition of his senses, which later found so prominent a place in the "Blue Books."
But this incident is only the drastic preliminary scene in this sad tragedy, extending through a period of ten years. More serious indictments can be brought against him. Dr. Hirsch, who has given us a short, rather positive analysis of Strindberg's mental state based upon "The Defense of a Fool," does not hesi- tate to charge him with "a manifest case of jealous insanity."18 From the very first Strindberg suspects his wife of illicit rela- tions with other men, and not only with other men, but also of unnatural desires for members of her own sex. And though he is unable to adduce a single positive proof, he is nevertheless haunted by the oppressive thoughts. He may feel at ease for a short period, but a "strange reflection in the expression of her face" is enough to make the "smouldering jealousy burst into fierce flames."19 A look in the direction of "her feet," a kiss by a relative, or the "exposure of her shoulder" to the servant girl, may prove sufficient reason for him to cause unpleasant family scenes or to hurl grave charges of immorality into her face. Time and again, he makes up his mind to break forever the degrading union, but the sight of her "ankle," "a tiny piece of stocking," "the garter," sends him whining to her feet, humbles him in the dust, begging for pardon. Not less than six times he tries to escape. All in vain. The love for his wife
17 En dares forsvarstal, v. XXVI, pp. 123, 124.
For this translation, as well as other direst quotations from "En dares fflrsvarstal" I am indebted to Ellie Sleussner's translation, "The Confession of a Fool." At the time of writing neither the French original, "Leplaidoyerd'un fou," nor John Landquist's undoubtedly more faithful rendering into Swedish, were at my disposal. In comparing the two translations, I find considerable discrepancies but none that is of material importance for the purpose at hand. All other translations are my own.
18 Dr. Hirsch, Genius and Degeneration, pp. 221-225. lf En d&res forsvarstal, Sam. skr., v. XXVI, p. 294.
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seizes him anew, and he returns to his family, the last time, however, with the firm resolve to write the story of his life and die.
Moreover, we meet with several other instances of abnor- mality, of unmotivated self -reference. "There was a hidden mean- ing in the laughing words," an accidental remark, "a whispering conversation," the smile of a friend, all are instantly interpreted as personal insults or as referring to his wife's moral conduct. Words and phrases long forgotten come back to his mind and are eagerly snatched up and cleverly forced to throw new light on the situation. The most remarkable manifestation of this trait in this book is where the author makes use of every detail in "The Wild Duck" to show that Ibsen had written the play for the express purpose of exposing Strindberg's family secrets, intended, he seems to believe, as a retaliation for his stand on the woman-question. In this case, as usually, the self-referen- tial sensitiveness is most intimately connected with persecutory delusions.
Almost from the beginning he accuses his wife of entering secret conspiracies with friends and foes alike, furnishing them with material for newspaper articles and brochures, in which he is branded as an insane misogynist, a criminal, who ought to be placed in confinement. It was in order to escape intrigues and persecutions that he left Sweden in 1883; it was in order to escape intrigues and "sexless women," blue-stockings, who like octopi sucked dry his home happiness, that he repeatedly changed his whereabouts, while abroad. But now he recognized that definite "symptoms of persecutional mania"20 began to appear. "He tried to get into touch with strangers. But they treated him with the forbearance which a sane person usually shows to a lunatic."21 He writes to his friends in Sweden, but with the same results. Now and then his suspicions seem absurd to him, and he exerts himself to the utmost to shake them off; but, like a single obsessing idea, the doubts of his wife's constancy, the legitimacy of his children and, lastly, of his own sanity come back to him with ever increasing irresisti- bility.
«• Ibid., p. 317. « Ibid., p. 317.
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 67
In spite of his emotional temperament Strindberg for the most part showed good control over his actions, but in two instances he confesses that, moved as by a "sudden impulse" he maltreated his wife. At both times, it is the children who prevent more serious consequences. In addition to referential and persecutory delusions we generally find more or less of expansive delusions, a trait which also may be detected in "The Defense of a Fool." Everywhere he speaks about himself as the "aristocrat of the brain," "the renowned scholar," "a famous writer." All these seem to indicate, as Dr. Hirsch has pointed out, a case of paranoia simplex chronical But with a knowledge of Strindberg's later development, I think he now would have considerably to reconstruct his view, "as no case of genuine paranoia ever recovers."23 Considered by themselves the absurdities adduced appear serious indeed, but to do so with- out a few words of explanation would not be doing Strindberg full justice. It is true that Strindberg's ego is a very prominent factor in "The Defense of a Fool," as well as in the greatest part of his works, but in this he is at least not alone among the great writers. Neither Goethe nor Schopenhauer had very humble opinions of themselves. Dante stated rather frankly what he considered to be his place among the greatest men of letters. Voltaire and especially Rousseau are other familiar examples. The reason probably is, as Strindberg states it, that if prominent men attract attention to themselves, it is because they have a larger self than other people. We must also remem- ber that Strindberg, even at this time, actually was what he professed to be, "a famous author," and that he was recognized as such throughout Europe no matter what Dr. Hirsch's per- sonal opinion may be with regard to the value of his writings.
Strindberg may have been a slave under the quenchless fire of his passions; he may have been ridiculously jealous, unfoundedly suspicious, at times, but he had grave reasons to be. Both Dr. Hirsch and others of his judges might have murmured quite distinctly had they been subjected to similar matrimonial stimuli. "His passionate misogamy and other absurdities"24 might have appeared to them in a more natural
M Genius and Degeneration, p. 224.
* Diefendorf, Clinical psychiatry, p. 342.
14 Dr. Hirsch, Genius and Degeneration, p. 220.
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light. "I know no other work," writes John Landquist in his "Philosophic Essays," "which infused such sympathy for Strindberg as this settlement, 'The Defense of a Fool. "» With regard to his delusions of persecution, the following remarks seem to be quite justified: "She triumphed. I was on the verge of insanity, and the first symptoms of persecutional mania showed themselves. Mania? Did I say mania? I was being persecuted, there was nothing irrational in the thought."26 Few authors have been more ruthlessly abused than Strindberg. And that his wife actually did spread .reports of his mental derangement, there is hardly any room for doubt. The sudden impulsive acts, too, when closely scrutinized, lose a good deal of their impulsiveness. They are simply the natural discharge of ten years' brooding thoughts, and as such are to be widely differentiated from what is usually understood as "impulsive insanity." It is simply the lack of self-control at an un- guarded moment such as any man may be guilty of at one time or another of his life.
When all has been said, perchance it is life's terrible realities that take us aback, and the tremendous earnestness with which he has exposed, not only the lighter fads and foibles, lyric fancies and fair heavens, but also and especially the strange misgivings and sinister thoughts lurking in the most obscure crevices of the soul's nethermost pits. Or may be that just this honest openness, this childlike frankness is one of August Strindberg's greatest mental abnormalities. Certainly it is not the way in which common mortals behave.
Ill
INFERNO
In "The Defense of a Fool" the apparent absurdities were so strangely and inseparably fused with perfect sanity of idea- tion and judgment that a single sweeping statement as to Strindberg's mental condition seemed unwarranted. Even when describing his most luxuriant idea of self-reference, the identification of his own affairs with the story of "The Wild Duck," there seems to be some insight into the real character
* Landquist, Filosofiska essayer, p. 294.
* En ddres forsvarstal, Sam. skr., v. XXVII, p. 317.
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of his misconception, which is revealed with a sly touch of humor in the following words:
"I knew that my conclusion was not altogether sound, nevertheless I had arrived at a conclusion of some sort."1
But when we read "Inferno" (1897) it is no longer possible to doubt that we are brought into contact with a seriously un- balanced mind. He suffers from a fully developed system of delusions of persecution, self-reference and expansion, halluci- nations of hearing and feeling and moments of elation, expe- riences which finally terminate in a Swedenborgian-Theosophic "Weltanschauung. ' '
A few paragraphs, selected from the first part of the book, will give us an excellent conception of its content:
"I pass the terrible rue de la Gaiete, where the artificial joy of the crowd has a painful effect, and the gloomy and silent rue Delambre, a street which more than any other in the district can make one despair, I turn on to boulevard Montparnasse and sink down on a chair in front of Brasserie des Lilas.
"A good absinthe consoles me for a few minutes, after that I am attacked by a company of grisettes and students, who hit me in the face with switches, and haunted as by furies I sacri- fice my absinthe and hurry to get another at the Cafe" Francois Premier.
"It was like jumping from the ashes into the fire; another crowd grins at me. Look at the recluse! And I flee, lashed by the Eumenides, to my home, with the nefarious strain in my ears."2 ....
"The thought of chastisement as the result of a crime does not appear. I play the part of an innocent, the object of an unjust persecution. The Unknown prevented me from com- pleting my great work (Strindberg had for several years been occupied by scientific investigations), and it was necessary to break down the obstacles before the crown of victory could be won.
"I have been in the wrong; nevertheless I am in the right and shall obtain right.
1 Ibid., p. 333.
a Inferno, Sam. skr., v. XXVII, p. 11.
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"This Christmas night I slept badly, a cold current of air swept repeatedly over my face."3
"In the evening I go out for a walk in the dreary district and I pass the Saint-Martin canal, which is black as night and seems to be constructed solely to drown oneself in. I pause at the corner of rue Alibert. Who is he? Was not that graphite, which the chemist found in my sulphur analysis, called Alibert graphite? What then? It is foolish, but I cannot prevent the impression of something inexpressible from lingering in my
mind Rue Beaurepaire. Just a 'beautiful retreat'
for criminals. . . . Rue de Bondy Am I led by a
demon? .... I stop reading the street signs, I go astray, try to turn back the same way without finding it, shrink back from an enormous shed which stinks raw meat and stale vegetables,
especially sauerkraut Suspicious persons brush by me
and give vent to coarse words. ... I am afraid of the Un- known, turn off to the right, to the left, chance upon a dirty alley, a dumping ground for slops, vice and crime. Street nymphs block my road, gangs of thieving boys grin at me. Who is it that prepares these ambushes for me as quickly as I free myself from the world and men? It is some one who has let me fall into this snare ! Where is he, so that I may wrestle with him"?4
Besides the fully developed symptoms of persecution and self-reference and the fear of open places, referred to in the second chapter, we meet with two distinctly new elements, signs of hallucinations and a superstitiously mystic attitude. In "The Defense of a Fool" he stands on an incomparably sounder foundation. Everything is there interpreted from a strictly rationalistic point of view. What has taken place be- tween 1888 and 1896, the year in which his malady appeared in its most acute form? Or rather, let us at this point take a step still further back and inquire, what has transformed the proud iconoclast of "The Red Room" and "New Kingdom" to the haunted, tragic figure we meet with in "Inferno"?
In the latter half of the nineteenth century a new, powerful wave of extreme rationalism swept over Europe, similar in character to the pride of enlightenment of the seventeenth, but
» Ibid., p. 11. * Ibid., p. 18.
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more far-reaching and penetrating in its consequences. The many discoveries within the pale of Semitic philology and science, the youthful, but extraordinarily precocious, science of psychology, not to be forgotten, led man to believe that he had in his hand the key to the secrets of the universe. There was hardly any limit to the power of his thoughts. Away, therefore, with all romantic phantasms, and reactionary constructions. Man had finally arrived at maturity, and childish stories could henceforth be dispensed with. If milk under any form had to be tolerated, serve it to the undeveloped, mental weaklings, for whose crippled digestive organs the substantial, rationalistic food might yet, for a few years, prove too strong. The intellect is our guidance, the only creature to the honor of whom we will burn our incense and offer sacrifice. Emotions, feelings belong to an earlier stage of human development and are now not only unnecessary, but actually harmful ingredients,5 in the process of intellectual self-aggrandizement.
No one did the scientific fever affect more strongly than August Strindberg. With the whole force of his tremendous energy, he put himself, as we have seen, to the task of disillu- sionizing mankind. Partly he suceeded. A whole company of impetuous youths both in Sweden and Germany rallied to his standard. Fiercely they fought to overthrow what was con- sidered old or unsound, in order to make room for the young and vernal. But the young was still too young, the vernal yet too tender. When he paused and looked about, he did not find the green fields of his dream, he found only smoking ruins; and he heard but curses and angry words in connection with his name. Then the scourge of remorse smote him heavily. And, as a matter of fact, his warm unreasonable heart had felt but ill at ease in the cold iron grip of determinism. "The old blasphemer began to worship the altars he had burned."
This is a free but fair resume of contemporary criticisms, which involves the causes and motives of August Strindberg's "sudden" leap from the extreme naturalistic position, formu- lated in the novel "At the Edge of the Sea" to the undignified
* Forfattaren, Sam. skr., v. XIX, p. 248. / havsbandct, Sam. skr., v. XXIV, p. 48.
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cabalistic, middle age philosophy manifest in his "Inferno," "Legends," and later also in his "Blue Books."6
It is not strange that the official book reviewers in their necessarily hurried and slip-shod manner of treating all that comes in their way, should seize upon the first respectable thought entering their mind; but that a genius like Oscar Levertin, who was personally acquainted with the author and thoroughly familiar with his works, emphasized only this purely psychic cause for the change is more remarkable. That burned altars and the cries of woe should exert a powerful influence on a sensitive temperament is evident. That the strongly emotional element in Strindberg's nature did not find its full expression during his naturalistic period is a vital fact which ought not to be lost sight of.
"Oh, well I knew long time ago, That cells are not the food for souls."7
uttered in 1884 proved a prophetic word. To indulge in intel- lectual mountain-climbing is invigorating, but in the cold regions of "Die reine Vernuft" tender emotions are not at home. They yearn for the winter evening's and the picture book's fancy-feeding atmosphere, for the dream-castles of puberty. So begins the descent. But up there on the heights of reason were uttered many irreverent and challenging words, which now depress the spirit and disturb the sleep. With the desired sweetness of the childhood dreams mingle the recollections of wrongs. The fancies of youth receive an unsavory tincture of remorse.
But however important this emotional element is, and how- ever satisfactorily it may be applied in explaining the conver- sion of such a writer as Huysmans, and made to account for the remarkable change, two or three decades ago, from English scepticism to nonsensical American spiritualism, it is certainly not the all-sufficient logical principle in the Strindberg case. The most important causes are constitutional, complicated and
6 See the criticisms in Ord och bild and Norddisk tidskrift for 1897 and 1898. Levertin's Diktare och drommare, pp. 186-195; 239-247; cf. also Esswein,
August Strindberg, pp. 102, 103.
7 Somngdngarnatter, Sam. skr., v. XIII, p. 270. Ack, det jag viste val langt forut att man ej mat tar sjalar med cellar!
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 73
intensified by intimate personal experiences. If this had been recognized, much unjust criticism might have remained un- uttered. That his delusions of persecution originated at a period of physical weakness and more than usual mental strain can easily be proven, but we shall also endeavor to show that his cabalistic "Weltanschauung" has a similar psycho-physical ancestry. If we are careful, it may even be possible to discern the different stages of their development:
I. Nursed in a soil of morbidly emotional temperament, rendered still more susceptible by mental strains and physical illness, well-founded suspicions gradually develop into a sus- picious mood with transitory delusions of persecution, which, however, are recognized as such, or rest on a rational basis.
II. With increased bodily weakness, caused both by un- happy family relations and hard work, probably also by excesses, hallucinations appear. And when unable to explain his vivid experiences by natural means, supernatural agencies are intro- duced, a course of events conditioned also by earlier religious experiences and by later scientific and theosophic studies.
III. If he is continually persecuted and subjected to all the tortures of hell, there must be some reasons for it. He has probed into the secrets of the supernatural; he has committed crimes, probably in a pre-existent state. But if the Powers take such trouble to purge and direct him, he must evidently have been chosen for some great mission.
IV. Being acquainted with the writings of Swedenborg, and gradually regaining his health, the supposition that his entire life, persecutions and all, had been led by a supernatural force, passes into certainty, the result of which is a more com- posed conception of life, and a tremendous literary activity.
It must not be supposed that these stages are sharply de- fined, that they mutually exclude one another. On the contrary, it should be clearly understood from the start, that the different views gradually fuse into one another, appear simultaneously, gain strength or subside in rhythm with health and environ- ment. All we purpose to demonstrate is that the essential principles of the development are of the character outlined above.
Strindberg's morbidly emotional temperament has been emphatically dwelt on. Tke influence of environment, educa-
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tion, and finally his experiences as young author, have also been sufficiently emphasized for our present purpose. It is the salient facts subsequent to these that remain to be presented.
If we are to depend on Strindberg's own account in "The Defense of a Fool," — and it is in fact the only account we have a right to depend on in this respect, — his suspicions concerning his wife's moral conduct are well founded. "Orders to reserve the best pieces of meat for the dog" and a coming home in the morning with uncertain gait are likely to irritate any husband. And his fear of enemies is sound, although frequently some incidents receive an unduly exaggerated importance from his unruly fancy. Besides this unhappy state of affairs, the house- hold was extremely ill-managed. He was by nature a most extra- ordinary worker; essays, learned treatises, novels and dramas, flowed from his pen with astonishing rapidity, but when he redoubled his energy in order to keep things above water the strain of his nerves began to tell: "I was exhausted by overwork and misery; I suffered much from headaches, nervous irrita- bility, indigestion. . . . The doctor diagnosed catarrh of the stomach."8 These are his own words. Had there been no previous suspicions, the illness would naturally not have re- ceived any peculiar interpretation, but now, as it is, he appar- ently believes that the malady is caused by cyanide poisoning.9 This supposed criminal act was directly connected with his decision to go abroad, a decision which was most strenuously opposed by Marie.10 This must have taken place in the early part of 1883. The next time he speaks of "symptoms of per- secutional mania" is also in direct connection with physical weakness: "My illness became worse; I was so ill that I could take nothing but beef tea; I lay awake all night, suffering agonies, tortured by an unbearable thirst."11
But Strindberg's greatest torture during these years was not the physical agonies of which he here speaks, but an obsessing idea that never left him at peace, and one to which he himself has attributed the greatest psychological importance in the bringing about of the final crisis, — the doubt of the legitimacy
» En d&res forsvarstal, Sam. skr., v. XXIV, p. 299. • Cf. Ibid., pp. 299, 362. 10 Strindberg's wife.
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 75
of his children. He was now an atheist; his primitive soul's most passionate desire for immortality was concentrated in the hope of living on in his children, even if his body should mingle with the chemical elements. When this last hope vanished, he found himself suspended in mid-air like a rootless plant. Never is he so truly, so intensely dramatic as in those passages of his tragedies where he pictures the death-agony of paternal hope. It is easy to understand that this state of mind must have played a part in the change of his conception with regard to religion. As yet it is but a symptom, but it is a symptom which in turn may become a cause.
In Tschandala, written in 1889 and said to be based on actual experiences while in Denmark, there are some very inter- esting revelations of subjective psychological importance. But in this short novel his imagination has indulged in such oriental orgies, his fancy proved itself so rank and gorgeous a blossom from the soil of experience that it is better not to make any scientific use of it for the present purpose. But in the novel "At the Edge of the Sea," written a year later, we find the fol- lowing passage, the direct reference of which to the author's own experiences, there can be little doubt:
"There must be some secret in his life which all knew except himself. He soon saw in the preacher's actions a deliberate espionage, supported by some who wished to persecute him. He did not believe in it during his quieter moments, for he knew well enough that a persecutional mania was the first symptom of that weakness which follows isolation
"But had not this morbid persecutional mania, which comes from bodily weakness, its real cause, when he actually had been persecuted, worked against ever since the time when he had shown himself in school to be a power."12
From "At the Edge of the Sea" to "Inferno" there is a wide gap of six or seven years. What took place during this import- ant period we can only conjecture. Available biographical data are either insufficient or unreliable for our purpose. Fortunately however, we have at our disposal a short essay ("Confused Sense-Impressions")13 which gives us an interesting glimpse into the author's physical and mental condition immediately before
12 I havsbandet, Sam. skr., v. XXIV, p. 223.
tt FOrvirrade sinncsintryck, Sam. skr., v. XXVII, pp. 530-550.
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the real crisis, and enables us to draw important conclusions. A brief r6sume will at once reveal its importance.
He was in Paris, living alone in a large house, evidently most of the time engaged in scientific investigations and solitary meditations. He was depressed with melancholy. Superstitious notions linger in the background of his feelings without daring to appear boldly. Reclining on his bed, he experienced the same unpleasant sensation as he did when riding backwards in a wagon, a sensation which he tries to explain by the fact that he lies with his head turned towards the east so that he, "with the movement of the earth, turns sommersault backwards in space." He changed position, and felt at once extremely well.
When he, after half an hour of sleep, opened his eyes and gazed at the marble fire-place, he detected on it a net of blood- red threads. "It is," he explained, "the retina of my own eye that magnified is there projected, — a discovery, therefore, which no one should have made before me.
"Again I close my eyes for five minutes and when I open them, what do I see? On the fire-place is delineated a Begonia with white and red flowers, which tremble. I ask myself, why those trembling flowers? .... In the same moment the vision disappears.
"What was it?
"Most likely the blood vessels of the cornea, with white and red corpuscles, looked at from a distance, enormously magni- fied.
"Should my eye be on the way to develop itself into a helioscope of tremendous power?"
He suffered from sleeplessness; but if disturbed sleep and excesses have thus sharpened his senses and nerves so effectively that he can see his own blood vessels as in a laterna magica, he thinks that he ought not to complain.
But the most interesting impression, probably, is a de- scription of his difficulties when making a visit to the castle of Versailles, located at a not very great distance from his house. Between the two places there was a spacious semicircle, which Strindberg was forced to pass in order to reach the castle. But no sooner was he out on the open space than a mysterious fear seized him. The large building attracted him as large bodies attract small, but the open place terrified him as empty space.
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 77
He looked about for support and discovered a policeman whom he followed. First he had a feeling of well-being, ascribed "to the animal warmth that radiates from his body," but as soon as he became the object of the policeman's attention the feeling of well-being vanished. He was afraid of, he knew not what. Happily he chanced upon a lamp-post which he clung to like a ship-wrecked man to the plank. The spacious building con- tinued to attract him, but he did not dare to let go of the post. In his "agony" he tried to solve his peculiar dilemma by meta- physical speculations. Here are two bodies, the castle and the iron lamp-post. Both exert their attraction on him. In order to be able to fight the blind brutal force, he personifies it. In vain. He almost feels his body divide itself, one half staying by the post, the other half promenading off to the castle, when finally he hits upon the happy idea of using a drifting cloud as an imaginary canoe and effecting a passage.
Going by an orangery, he claimed that he saw "the captive forces radiate over the arcades like Northern lights, natural enough to a very sensitive eye if we but consider that all energy is one." When he passed over the arcades, he discovered the ground gently rocking. The phenomenon, he believed, was caused by the surplus of power from the orangeries under ground, transmitted by his extremely sensitive nerves.
Standing by the castle wall, fearing all these invisible enemies, he suddenly imagined that he heard voices, laughs and cries from the city.
He ended these accounts by asking himself whether, after all, the sense-impressions may not have been purely subjec- tive, or due to mental derangement. He was as nervous as a crab that has cast its shell.
After due allowance has been made for the artistic presenta- tion of his experiences, the fact still remains that he has here invented the most ingenious scientific explanations, resorted to every possible and impossible hypothesis, in order to explain his pathological state; and it is clear that the least increase in the vividness, or persistency of his sense-delusion, would end in a falsified conception of their genesis. The time is evidently rapidly approaching when the most hair-drawn rationalistic interpretation would prove unsatisfactory. Clearly, enemies lurk on every side; he begins to detect plots and conspiracies
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everywhere.14 But all is planned on such a tremendously large scale, every detail of which is so fiendishly conceived, and so superbly executed, that it would be ridiculous to ascribe it to "ordinary dense mortals" — in a word, extraorganic agencies are introduced.16
This course of events will appear even more natural to us if we but for a moment stop to consider that psychiatric symptoms are only exaggerations of familiar forces, latent or otherwise, present in the healthy mind. The introduction of the uncanny, supernatural forces in Strindberg's case is nothing more than by certain pressing conditions, forced revival of old acquaintances from his boyhood days. As a young lad he felt himself con- tinually surrounded "by unknown threatening powers."18 In this, as in other respects, Strindberg is the child of nature whose powerful primitive fancy fills the universe with living creatures. The clouds take the shapes, not only of canoes by the aid of which a man, suffering from agoraphobia, may success- fully cross the "semi-circular Place d'Armes,"17 but ships of hope by which he may embark for fancy's most precious islands; or they may become threatening dragons. It depends on whether or not his conscience at the moment is free or troubled. Elves dance on the silvery mists in the forest lanes, mermaids peer forth between white birch stems. But it may also be real imps with horns and claws that caper among the brandy bottles and wine goblets after a night of deep potations. It happens even that they turn offensive and attack their defence- less victim, pinch him unmercifully in both sides and back.
For there is no need to suppose that there was any maiden modesty observed in those circles of authors and scientists among whom Strindberg moved. Being a thorough Swede, he knew very little of the delicate law of the golden mean. And it can be assumed that nightly carousals played a very definite part in bringing about his unpleasant attacks. Nay more than that, there are positive proofs. His university career, we re- member, was not very abstemious. During the first part of his married life his conduct in this respect seems to have been
14 Inferno, Sam. skr., v. XXVIII, p. 47. 14 Ibid., p. 47.
16 See Tjanstekvinnans son, pp. 17, 46.
17 See above, p. 61.
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 79
exemplary, but when life at home became unbearable, he took, we are told, "a liberal recourse to absinthe."18 In another place, referring to the same habit, he writes that good spirits had taken it upon themselves to liberate him from a vice that leads to the insane asylums.19 After the separation from his first wife, he lived through a very stormy period at Berlin, during which his best friend was the passionate Polish author Stanislaw Przybyszewski, who later under the name of "The Russian Popoffsky" was to play an important part in his most acute delusions of persecution. The very name of the wine tavern, "Zum Schwartzen Ferkel," where they usually spent their nights, symbolizes, as Gustaf Uddgren has already pointed out,20 the character of this period. There is no doubt that both Bacchus and Venus received frequent sacrifices. And Strindberg, who has tried to keep those things secret no more than he has tried to conceal anything else of his life from our view, hinted at excesses as causes for his ailments; especially is this the case in "Legends." This may also partly account for his rapid re- covery. I dare say that he has touched upon a very vital ele- ment of the mystic healing power of Swedenborg's teachings, when he points to the sentence: "Do not do this any more," referring no doubt to Swedenborg's denunciation of all excess.21 But the "imps" threw us mischievously, though profitably, a little out of our course. We were discussing Strindberg's early relation to the "powers." A few words more. It is true that those luxuriant growths of his imagination had been merci- lessly pruned by English sceptics, but it requires no more than a short illness, and a conception of a world ruled by evil powers is at once formulated.22 His atheism, too, was not so deep- rooted as one might be led to believe from a hasty reading. His naturalistic philosophy was least of all the outcome of cold, merciless logic, of a closely-knit chain of reasoning, but more the result of immediate personal experiences. God has neglected to reveal himself to Strindberg. He had failed to fulfil his part
'»£» dares forsvarstal, v. XXVI, p. 338. 19 Inferno, Sam. skr., v. XXVIII, p. 71. M En ny bok om Strindberg, p. 52.
* Legender, Sam. skr., v, XXVIII, p. 265.
* / r'dda rummet, Sam. skr., v. XIX, p. 88.
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of the social contract and was therefore simply dethroned.** And in the beginning of "Inferno," he informs us that he, as the years passed, had become an atheist, because he noticed that the "Unknown Powers" had left the world to itself without showing any signs of life.24 But now, when "immediate personal experience" warrants their presence, and at times a decidedly troublesome presence, they are again reinstalled, though it should be borne in mind, not without a great deal of strenuous opposition. Only by slow degrees he yielded.
But since we have once taken upon ourselves to lay bare the mediate and immediate causes most active in developing the August Strindberg we meet with in the "Inferno-books," there remain a few words to be said about the occult atmosphere he seems to have imbibed so freely while in Paris. Strindberg, wearied to the point of exhaustion of aesthetic productivity, and at the very height of his success, had resolved to devote himself exclusively to science. And he did devote himself for a time with all the fanatic-zeal and almost childish faith of which men of his passionate temperament alone are capable. Here he should finally obtain the indisputable truth he so long had sought in vain. "Now, when he entered the territory of the sciences," writes Gustaf Uddgren, "he felt himself on solid ground. He rejoiced with the raptures of a child because those subjects with which he should now busy himself were so obvious that doubts were impossible. He would no longer be the per- petual doubter, the perpetual destroyer of all existing condi- tions. Now the task of clearing away had been finished, and he considered the time ripe for beginning to build up anew.28
No doubt he discovered truths. His scientific works have been sharply criticized, but the time will probably come when many of the so-called "Strindbergian side-shots" will be recog- nized as precious jewels of ingenious observation; and, in- deed, some have been acknowledged as such already.26 But the unconditional exactitude he had so earnestly sought, he did not discover. It was the flaws, the breaches, the mystic ele-
» Fdrfattoren, Ibid., pp. 237-250. "Sam. skr., v. XXVIII, p. 9.
* Gustaf Uddgren, En ny bok om Strindberg, p. 50.
* See Christian Claussen's article in For Kirke og Ktdtur, v. 17, p. 548.
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 81
ments in the sciences that attracted and repelled, soothed and irritated him, with irresistible force.
It was in this state of disintegrating scientific faith, and at a moment of extreme nervous instability, which left him at the mercy of every wave of suggestion, that he was poisoned by one of the most disagreeable of religious epidemics: occultism, the very antithesis of a causal conception of things. The world is no longer the beautiful cosmos which inspires with veneration, but a despicable chaos of human whims and invalid spirits whose favorite servants seem to be weak-minded women. The strangest of all in Strindberg's life, it appears, is that after such a saltomortale of the reason, he could be saved for a new drama- turgic activity of frequently sublime results.
The development of the disease was very gradual. The period of time covered by "Inferno" alone extended from No- vember 1894, the date of parting with his second wife, to June 1897, when the book was finished. The first part treats of his scientific experiments. He was busily occupied with the rather difficult task of extracting iodine from benzine, and of demon- strating that sulphur is not a simple element but a compound of carbon, hydrogen and oxygen. The impelling motives in these and many of his former experiments were to overthrow the dominant conception in chemistry; to prove to the world that his theory of the unity of the world-stuff was correct; to con- vince his friends and enemies that he was not insane.
In order to make satisfactory progress, he isolated himseld almost completely from the world, friends and all. He worked so intensely that in the evening utter depression generally was the result. He was without money — all his literary activity amounted exclusively to a few scientific essays. Consequently his meals were taken at irregular intervals, and the man who but lately had been greeted as the hero dramatist of the day, had not even a sou with which to pay his hotel bills.
No special gift of occult clairvoyance would have been needed to predict the disastrous effect of such a mode of living on a nervous instrument, long ere then strung to the highest pitch of sensitivity. The results were not slow to appear.
He now began to notice a number of small things which before had escaped his attention. "Three pianos in the adjoin- ing rooms were performed on simultaneously." It was "prob-
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ably an intrigue set on foot by the Scandinavian women artists," residing at the hotel, from whose company he had withdrawn. As soon as he went to sleep he was disturbed by their hammer- ings and noises. In the meanwhile his friends at the milk-shop where he took some of his meals, "began to change their attitude" towards him, "and an insidious enmity manifested itself by side-glances and mysterious words."27
He was persecuted, no doubt. "Tired of fighting," he moved to Hotel Orfilia. This took place in February 1896. The hotel was an old, dreary looking, cloisterlike structure. "An atmosphere of mysticism hovers over the building." Evidently, it was the most unfortunate choice he could have made. But to make things worse, he was now seized by the frantic desire to make gold. The mere thought of this, with its innumerable magic-idea associations from a hundred alchemistic tales, was enough to inspire a poet with a spirit of enigmatical awe.
Characteristically enough, at first he felt at ease ia his new abode, but not for long. Delusions were soon to appear more persistent and more fatal in their consequences than ever. He found letters with strange addresses put up in the corridor "in a challenging manner." He drew the conclusion that someone must be spying upon his gold synthesis. "But the devil himself has mixed the cards," so ingeniously was it all conceived.28
One afternoon, when especially sad at heart, he heard someone play Schumann's "Aufschwung" from behind the fol- iage under his window. It is the "Russian Popoffsky," formerly his best friend, now his bitter enemy, who has come to kill him. Why? Because the Pole's present wife had been Strindberg's mistress. (Another proof that erotic ideas somehow are closely connected with delusions of persecutions.) It was he, therefore, who had disturbed him with the falsely addressed letters.
A whole month he was irritated by Schumann's "Auf- schwung." True, the Polander's friends denied his presence, but there were other proofs. One day he found on the ground two dry twigs. They represented the forms of two Greek let- ters, p and y. He combined them. P — y meant Popoffsky. It was the powers who wished to warn him. One evening he
17 Inferno, Sam. skr., v. XXVIII, p. 40. 28 Ibid., p. 47.
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg S3
saw in the heavens a hind. As he admired its perfect form and color, it made a sign with its head towards the southeast. A new warning of the presence of enemies. A third time, when in a still more excited state, it was a group of pansies that warned him.
Entirely in harmony with these revelations were his other experiences. A few characteristic examples will suffice. When out walking one day, he discovered an inscription on a wall. The thought came to him "like a flash of lightning" that the two intertwined letters F and S were the chemical sign for iron and sulphur. It was the secret of gold.29 A series of experiments followed. Another time, he chanced upon "two oval pieces of paper, the one with the number 207 printed on it, the other with the number 28, which meant lead (atomic weight 207) and sili- cum (atomic weight 28). "80 It resulted in a new series of al- chemistic experiments.
We are told that he never was troubled by visions, but it fre- quently happened that real things appeared to him in human forms. Thus his pillow assumed grand sculpturesque shapes; and on the cupola of the Invalide dome, he succeeded in constru- ing the silhouettes of — Napoleon and his marshals. In his chemical precipitates he detected faces and landscapes. Stones in the shape of hearts attracted him in particular.
His superstitious notions become so troublesome that he did not dare to enter the house of a friend because a child, sit- ting on the threshold, held a ten of spades in his hand. Old stories of witchcraft do not seem at all impossible to him any more, and he even goes so far as to try magical charms, himself.
Is this Strindberg, one is tempted to ask, the same man who but a few years before had written that pietism was what spirit- ualism now is: "a cheap edition, a pretended higher knowledge of concealed things, and it was therefore eagerly embraced by women and the uneducated."31 In one respect he is the same. Behold a man in whom there is no guile. It is not saying too much, that never before has the pathological character of spirit- ualism been so unmercifully, though unconsciously, revealed.
"Ibid., p. 45. "Ibid., p. 57. 11 TjUnstekvinnans son, Sam. skr., v. XVIII, p. 128.
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All these scientific and personal superstitions are even more pronounced in "Legends" and the "Blue Books," but with an important difference. There the Powers are under the control of a Purposive Will. In this book, however, they are of special interest to the psychiatrist, because they appear in their genesis.
Most readers of "Inferno" will, in all likelihood, without further thought, look upon his superstitions as the product of his belief in the Powers; a view which, of course, may be cheaply obtained from his own words. And the conception is correct, if we but first admit a pathological cause for his occult spiritualism. This new faith and his superstitions are insepar- ably interwoven. Nevertheless, for the sake of clearness, they may profitably be treated apart. Or probably, it would even be more logical to believe that his superstitions, some of them at least, were the direct outgrowth of his delusions of self- reference, the children of his morbidly suspicious mood. He was now in an intensely agitated state of mind. "The expression of a face," the moving of a chair in the next room," "the sight of a clothes-line," — all may seem to him factors of utmost im- portance, while all the thousand other incidents, which would entirely disapprove the foundation for his fears, are left entirely unnoticed. Would it not be natural to suppose, then, that his superstitions referred to are the outgrowth of the same soil of falsified ideation as his delusions? Let us but hastily compare the two, and perhaps the supposition will pass into certainty.
The Napoleonic silhouettes on the cupola of the Invalide dome, the sculpturesque Zeus head on his pillow, may be the wilful creation of a poetic fancy, but no man with unbiased power of judgment would interpret as a sign of murderous inten- tion the fact that a musician is leisurely amusing himself with a composition of Schumann, nor would he attribute any super- natural importance to such a commonplace occurrence as a cloud changing its shape, except so far as it may be looked upon as a suggestive hint. All men are superstitious. Even the most ardent, up-to-date worshipper of "The New Realism" may feel unbecomingly irritated if his path is but crossed by the tradi- tional black cat, and may silently have to call up whole hosts of beautiful "relations" in order to calm himself, but no univer- sity-bred man, ever so superstitiously inclined, would very likely read any higher intellectual meaning into the movements of a
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 85
group of pansies, caused by an afternoon breeze, and just as little would he interpret the initial letters inscribed on a wall some evening by a couple of romantic lovers as a special mes- sage from the Powers, — granting his belief in such creatures, — especially if he knew beforehand that those Powers were ex- ceedingly wroth with his chemical experiments. It is his all- absorbing or abnormal desire to make gold that suffers him to read any mysterious meaning into the numbers on the pieces of paper flying about the street. It is his morbid fears that serve as a motor cue in the construction of a heavenly message from "a couple of dry twigs" which have accidentally dropped from a tree. Few things are more impossible than to escape entirely the influence of those tales administered to us during child- hood days. Superstitious notions linger in every man's heart, in August Strindberg's by no means the least. He has, more- over, a natural inclination towards the mysterious, but it is his apperceptive illusions that enable them to run wild.
Only if we look upon Strindberg's "Inferno"-revelations from the pathological point of view, will we succeed in finding full logical explanations of his religious and superstitious ab- normalities. Even his most credulous beliefs in magic telepathy stand in the closest relation to his physical condition. He had for a long time, it seems, been suffering from what is called precordial anxiety. Since he could detect no visible cause for his strange disturbances, the thought struck him that it must all be due to telepathic waves of hate; and that he should feel himself capable of exerting a similar influence over others is but the necessary corollary. It is when reaching its maximum in- tensity that poisonous gases and electricity are first resorted to, and even then for a brief period. Swedenborg's works are soon to supply him with a subtler machinery than "storage batter- ies."
Besides the deceptions of sense caused by the precordial anxiety just referred to, hallucinations of hearing are the most prominent. Noises are frequently heard above his head, fre- quently also from the adjoining rooms, or a swishing sound in the ears disturbs him,82 but sometimes he hears "voices."33 His
82 Inferno, Sam. skr., v. XXVIII, pp. 40, 94, 107, 178. Legcnder, Ibid., pp. 218-220, 224 and others. «Ibid., pp. 104, 114.
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visual experiences are, as we have seen, illusions rather than hallucinations.
In July 1896 the lowest circle of his Inferno is reached. The most effective conception of his tortures may perhaps be given by citing a few paragraphs in his own words. He has moved away from Hotel Orfilia and there is again a moment of rest.
"The day after I had unveiled my incognito the peace is broken. One thing and another begin to happen, which dis- turb me, and the same feeling of disagreeableness as before depresses me anew. To begin with, in the room next to mine on the lower floor, which stands unoccupied and unfurnished, things are heaped, the use of which I am incapable of explain- ing At the same time the noise from Rue de la Grande
begins over my head, hawsers are dragged about, they pound with hammers, just as if the construction of an infernal machine were going on according to the methods of the Nihilists.
"In the meantime the hostess, who at the beginning of my stay was extremely polite, becomes more reserved, spies upon me, and puts something derisive into her greetings
"The maid-servant, who tends to my room and serves my meals, has assumed a grave mien and casts furtive glances, full of compassion, at me.
"Now a wheel has been set up over my head which all day goes round, round. Condemned to death! That is the impres- sion I have received, decidedly. By whom? The Russians? For what r61e? By the Pietists, Catholics, Jesuits, or Theoso- phists? As a sorcerer or as a black magician?
"Or perhaps by the police as an anarchist; an accusation often made use of in order to get at personal enemies."*4
A terrible night followed.
The preparations continued and assumed yet more danger- ous forms. He detected infernal machines and accumulators on every side, and whole companies of conspirators arrive. His last night's experience at Rue de la Clef he described thus:
"I awake; the hall clock strikes two, a door is slammed and ... I am out of bed, as if lifted by a pump that sucks my heart. I have hardly put my feet on the floor before an electric douche is poured over my neck and presses me to the ground. I raise myself again, snatch together my clothes and rush out
« Ibid., pp. 94, 95.
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 87
into the orchard, a victim of the most terrible palpitation of the heart.
"When I have gotten on my clothes, my first intelligent thought is to find the police inspector and have the house searched."
In his attempt to enter the house, he accidentally knocked over the night lamp in the kitchen, leaving himself in darkness.
"The terror brings me back to my senses, and I go back to my room guided by this thought: If I am mistaken, I am lost.
"I drag out an easy chair into the garden; and sitting under the starry heavens I reflect on what has occurred.
"A sickness? Impossible, because I felt splendidly until I unveiled my incognito. An attempt against my life? Yes, because the preparations were carried out before my eyes. Be- sides, I feel restored here in the garden, where I am out of my enemies' reach, and the functions of my heart are entirely nor- mal. In the midst of these reflections, I hear someone cough in the room next to mine. Immediately a light cough answers from the room above. Most likely they are signals."36
In order to find protection, he set out in the morning for Dieppe, where his Norwegian friends, the Thanlows, were liv- ing. They were terrified by his ghastly appearance: cheeks hollowed, hair streaked with gray, eyes haggardly staring, his linen dirty, — he himself was filled with horror at the sight of his condition. His friends gave him what he so sorely needed, sympathy; but their very kindness made him "feel out of place, like a condemned man in Paradise. I begin to detect that I am a bad being."
A room is assigned to him. In the evening he sees two men suspiciously point in the direction of his window, and the thought that he was persecuted by hostile electricians took possession of him anew.
"The night between the 25th and 26th of July, 1896, comes on. My friends have done what they can to calm me. Together we have examined all the garret rooms near to mine and even the attic, in order to assure me that no one conceals himself there for criminal purposes."
Fully dressed, he lay down on the bed to wait the fatal hour of two, but nothing happened. In a defiant spirit and in
» Ibid., pp. 99, 100.
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order to challenge the Unseen and Unknown he got up, opened both windows and lit two candles. The electric current imme- diately began to work, slowly at first. He looked at the compass, which had been fixed as an indicator, but not a trace of electri- city could be detected.
"But the tension increases, the beating of my heart becomes more violent. I offer resistance, but as by a burst of thunder my body is charged with a fluid that suffocates me and sucks out my heart.
"I rush downstairs into the drawing-room where a provi- sional bed had been arranged for me in case it should be needed. There I lay five minutes and collected my thoughts. Can it be radiating electricity? No, for the compass has denied it. An illness, which in turn has been called forth by fear of the two o'clock strike? No, because courage did not fail me, when I defied the attacks. Why should it then be necessary to light the candles in order to attract the unknown fluid that pesters me?
"Without finding an answer, lost in a labyrinth, I exert my- self in order to sleep, but then the charge seizes me like a cyclone, it lifts me out of bed and, — the hunt is started. I conceal myself behind walls, I lay down by the door cases, in front of the stoves. Everywhere, everywhere, the furies find me. The soul-anguish prevails, the panic fear of everything and nothing overpowers me, so that I flee from room to room."38
It was not before morning that rest was secured and sleep took pity on him.
Anyone reading passages like those cited above will at once become convinced that the Frenchman's celebrated "patho- logical 'Confessions' " are but calm, esthetic dreams compared with the midnight horrors of "Inferno," recorded to us, as the English critic Edmund Gosse puts it, "by a maniac who is posi- tive Lucifer of the intellect."37 Not once does he relax the vigilance over his own turbulent thoughts. It is not indulging in any youthful extravagance to claim that it is the keenest in- trospective and retrospective soul-analysis a neuropathic on the brink of hopeless insanity has ever written, a fact which ought
»IW., pp. 101-103.
37 Huneker's Iconoclasts, p. 141.
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 89
to render this record of the utmost importance to students of pathology.38
The more delicate a person's temperament is, the more sus- ceptible he is to impressions and the greater his capacity for conscious introspection, the more intense, undoubtedly, must also the torture of life become. One is almost forced to admit the truth of his assertion: "I am in hell, and condemnation hangs heavily over me,"39 and to say that he is thoroughly justi- fied when he exclaims with Jeremiah: "I have forgotten what happiness was."40 "Why," he asks himself repeatedly, "must I thus suffer?" All the forgotten memories of youthful transgres- sions, of revengeful deeds, and Bohemian liberties again force themselves within the periphery of his consciousness. Did we say "forgotten"? No, Strindberg is one of those unhappy beings to whom the soothing gifts of forgetting was not granted. Memories of the past, drunk on the intoxicating fermentations of his fancy, hold however their grotesque witch-dances in his mind. And the number of this motley crew is ever increased by new and all too vivid experiences. He accuses himself of having trampled on the sacred laws of matrimony, and reproaches him- self for the inconsistency of the views for which he has fought at different times. Now also he begins to think that his alche- mistic researches into the unknown are displeasing to the Pow- ers, who, like the gods of old, are envious of poor mortals; he has sinned through arrogance, hybris, the only sin the gods do not forgive, by imagining that he has solved the riddle of the Sphinx. But all his real or imaginary crimes did not seem to stand in any rational proportion to his tortures. Besides, had not his entire life been one long via dolorosa?' He therefore con- cluded that the tortures to which he was subjected might partly have been caused by crimes committed in a pre-existent state.41
However this may be, the idea slowly takes possession of him that if he is thus doomed to suffer as no other man has suffered, crimes or no crimes, there must be some meaning be- hind it all. The nearest and most probable explanation is that
18 A special translation of Inferno ought to be prepared especially for use in the psychological departments of our colleges and universities. " Inferno, Sam. skr., v. XXVIII, p. 133. "Ibid., p. 63. 41 Ibid., pp. 133, 137.
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the Unknown Powers have taken upon themselves to purge him and correct him for the purpose of preparing him for some great and important mission in life,42 an idea which, for brief moments at least, became a source of infinite delight. With special pleasure he read passages from the old prophets, and from Job, which he interpreted as having been spoken and written for him exclusively.
But not even during the hours of his deepest despair was the vitality of his old scepticism entirely overcome. Strindberg was the born doubter, and he remained thus, however much we may hear about conversion and passive obedience to the mysterious voices about him and within him. He changed positions and views as the snake changes its skin, but though every semi- metamorphosis this characteristic follows him. He bowed be- fore the storm, but only to rise, defiant as before, as soon as the severest attacks were over. And there were moments when his judgment of his own condition was unbiased and his vision clear. Not infrequently did he perceive that all his plans, constructed with utmost pain and ingenuity, were false; all sinister conspiracies and subtle plots, all hate- waves and electric fluids, were nothing but subjective creations of his own over- wrought brain; that all the elaborate messages from the Un- known were coincidences of the most natural origin, and that the one thing necessary to restore his health would be medical attendance, rest, and quiet.
It was also during one of these lucid intervals that he decided to return to Sweden after a self-imposed exile of seven years, and there give himself over to the care of friendly hands.
IV
CONVALESCENCE
During the last days in July, 1896, we find Strindberg in Ystad, a somewhat antiquated little town, situated by the sea side in the south of Sweden. Here he entrusted himself to the care of his personal friend, Dr. A. Eliasson, who frankly spoke to him concerning his mental condition, and began at once to give him systematic treatment. This medical treatment, to- gether with the invigorating sea breeze, the meeting with
"Ibid., pp. 20, 137,164, 165.
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 91
understanding friends, and, by no means the least, the discon- tinuation of his chemical experiments,1 had an almost instan- taneous effect. He had, it is true, one or two attacks, charac- terized by the same fitful intensity as those already referred to.8 Nevertheless, it is from this moment that we must begin to look for his recovery. Hardly more than about" two weeks after his arrival, we are informed that his health was regained; that he slept by night and worked by day; and that the displeasure of Providence, as is quite natural, seemed to have postponed any further manifestations.8
He rejoiced somewhat too prematurely; past experiences had left their imprints too deeply in flesh and soul to permit so unconditional and complete a recovery. Inferno was not yet ended, though there might be a considerable abatement in the white-hot intensity of its flames. After only a month's stay at Ystad, he departed for Austria, having accepted an invitation to his mother-in-law's home on the Danube. The whole com- munity seems to have been a veritable abode of crippled thoughts, superstitions, squalor and degenerate religions, emo- tions of every imaginable hue, saturation and tone quality. The whole atmosphere is a prism by which every intellectual ray of light, seeking to penetrate, is broken up into fancy-colored mystic conceptions.
Strindberg had no sooner put his foot into this community than his hypersensitive soul, ever open to new impressions, like a huge phonograph receiver of most delicate sensitivity, gath- ered up, as it were, the manifold ripples of religious thoughts and emotions, and thereupon objectified them before our eyes into a picture on which we are forced to gaze with a strange mingling of admiration, pity and disdain. The influence of such an environment could certainly not prove to be the very best. Some of his old troubles were almost instantaneously re- newed, others of a more specifically theosophic and magic nature were added. Probably the most pathetic chapter in this remark- able documentary record of a mind struggling to maintain its equilibrium, is the one which pictures the August Strindberg
1 As far as it has been possible for me to learn, no persistent chemical experimenting was carried on after this time.
2 See above, pp. 80-85. * Inferno, Ibid., p. 103.
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who once brandished his sword for the new thoughts with the boldness and power of an old war-god, now sitting at his writing table, and in strict obedience to the advice given to him by initiated occultists, busily warding off the attacks of his imag- inary spiritual foes by thrusts of a Dalmatian dagger, in order that he may be able to finish a treatise in chemistry,4 contrary to their wishes. Deeper than this an intellectual iconoclast never fell; but it is his glory that he fell fighting. Not an inch of ground was lost which he did not bitterly contest.
Yet we must not suppose that his visit had disastrous re- sults only; rather the contrary is true. Here he found what for years he had vainly sought, genuine motherly sympathy. His mother-in-law and her sister, in whose houses he intermittently stayed, were pitifully superstitious, but animated, nevertheless, by an earnest desire to understand and forgive. It was here, too, that his fiery emotional temperament was caressed into meek- ness by the touch of little chubby hands, and his feverish thoughts turned into harmony by the ring of healthy laughter and looks from the innocent, sparkling eyes of his two year old daughter, who was being brought up by his mother-in-law. His wife he was not allowed to see, a condition to which he submitted without a murmur.
But the most important factor among these gentler forces working for his recovery remains yet to be touched upon. It was here that, through the agency of his relatives, he became more thoroughly acquainted with his countryman, Emanuel Swedenborg. As Strindberg had much in common with this remarkable man, it is not at all strange that he should feel attracted by him. Both were possessed by an all-embracing in- terest in life's phenomena and everything connected therewith; both were moved by the same questioning, probing spirit that knew no rest, and by the same impetuous imagination that suf- fered itself to be guided by no reins, — and below all this there is in both a substratum of that Teutonic ethical sternness of which the Romanic peoples seldom have a conception. At the age of 56 Swedenborg passed through a remarkable psycho- religious crisis, out of which he emerged, according to some authorities, a madman, but according to others, a spiritual seer of hitherto unsurpassed penetrative insight. It was as a
* Ibid., pp. 152, 153.
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 93
middle-aged man, likewise, that August Strindberg performed his Inferno-journey from which he returned, perchance neither saner nor wiser than before, yet with a fund of experiences which, given esthetic expression, in many respects made his second literary activity surpass his first.
Swedenborg's bodily affections during his crisis were neither so obviously pathological, nor so varied as those of Strind- berg. Afterwards, when culminating in visions, they took a matter-of-fact form different from anything else in the world that we have on record. Still there is enough similarity in the two cases to offer an interesting comparison. Read, for example, the following description of the Seer's first vision:
"At ten o'clock I went to bed, and was somewhat better; a half hour later I heard a noise under my head, I thought that then the tempter flew away; immediately a quaking came over me, so violent from my head and my whole body, but with some rumbling, and that several times, I found that something holy enveloped me, at which I went to sleep, and about twelve, one or two o'clock at night such a violent quaking came over me from head to foot, with a rumbling as if many winds rushed together, which shook me, which was indescribable, and pros- trated me upon my face. Then while I was prostrated, in that moment I was wide awake and saw that I was thrown down, and wondered what it meant. And I spoke as if I were awake, but yet found that the words were put into my mouth and (said) 'O Almighty Jesus Christ, that thou dost condescend to come to such a great sinner, make me worthy of that grace'; I clasped my hands together and prayed, and then a hand came forth, which pressed my hands tightly."6
Or, read a corresponding account in the same book:
"Something very wonderful happened to me; violent quak- ings came over me, such as when Christ gave me the divine grace, one after the other, ten or fifteen times; I expected to be thrown upon my face as on the former occasion, but this did not happen. At the last quaking I was lifted up, and I touched with my hands a back, felt over the whole back as well as underneath on the breast; straightway it lay down, and I also saw before me a face, but it was quite obscure; I stood on my knees; I wondered whether I should lie down beside it; but I
•Swedenborg's Drommar, p. 11.
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did not do so, just as if it were not permissible: all quakings went from my body below up to my head: this was in a vision when I was neither waking nor sleeping, for my thoughts were all collected; it was the internal man separated from the ex- ternal, which sensed it; when I was wholly awake, such quak- ings came over me several times. It must have been a holy angel, since I was not thrown down upon my face."8
Who is so biased by preconceived conceptions or religious zeal that he can not detect the close pathological connection between the experiences as here set forth by Swedenborg and those cited in the previous chapter? The time at which the attacks came over him, the noises, the violent quakings, pros- trations and uplif tings, — all stand in the closest possible rela- tionship to Strindberg's nightly experiences.7 It is also interest- ing to notice the feelings of elation that now and then were common to both of them. Compare, for example, these state- ments in the "Dreams." "Otherwise I was awake as in a heavenly ecstacy, which is indescribable." . ,s . "Had also in mind and body a feeling of indescribable joy, that, had it existed in a higher degree, the body would have dissolved from pure joy,"8 with the following in Inferno: "The first result was a tremendous expansion of my mind; a psychic feeling of energy, which demanded to be revealed. I thought I had unlimited powers, and pride inspired me with the foolish thought of try- ing to perform wonders."9 .... "In the morning my mind can rejoice over an equilibrium and an expansion which comes close to ecstacy; I do not walk, I fly; I do not feel that I have a body, all sadness volatilizes, and I am altogether soul."10
This close relationship Strindberg was not slow to perceive. That at first he made a totally different interpretation of his experiences, depended of course on the difference in direction and momentum of their expectations, conditioned by the content of their consciousness previous to these experiences. But now when his violently agitated emotions had been some- what calmed, leaving room for reflection, the Seer's explana-
• Swedenborg's Drdmmar, p. 45. ' Cf. above pp. 77-83.
• Swedenborg's DrSmmar, p. 10.
• Inferno, Sam. skr., v. XXVIII, p. 36.
.l46.
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 95
tions easily gained ground, since they seemed to Strindberg to be subtler and apparently offering fewer logical difficul- ties. He had been too completely a slave under the "Ape- King," too sadly blindfolded by the gross materialistic falsity of "The Horse-Doctor Theory" to perceive the real nature of his experiences, but now his eyes had finally been opened. He had been afflicted neither by "black magicians" nor "expe- rienced electricians," neither by "Jesuits" nor "Occultists," but by chastising spirits sent by God himself with the specific pur- pose of cleansing him and preparing him for a higher sphere of existence. If, perchance, human beings had plotted against him, they had only been instruments of a higher will and there- fore in reality blameless. In other words, he had passed through what Swedenborg terms "Vastation."11
We have every reason to doubt Swedenborg's normality when we learn from him that; melancholy is caused by spirits not yet in conjunction with hell, being still in their first state. "Such spirits love," we are informed, "things undigested and foul, such as pertain to food becoming foul in the stomach; consequently they are present with men in such things because they find delight in them, and they talk there with one another from their own evil affection. The affection that it in their speech flows in from this source into man, and when this affec^ tion is the opposite of man's affection it becomes in him sadness and melancholy anxiety; but when it agrees with him it becomes in him gladness and cheerfulness. These spirits appear near to the stomach, some to the left and some to the right, and some beneath and some above, also nearer and more remote, thus variously in accordance with their affections. That this is the source of anxiety has been proven to me by much experience."12 We may feel greatly amused when told that toothache is caused by the spirit of St. Paul lurking in the corresponding cavities of hell. But in whatever manner we are personally inclined to interpret the cause of such and similar statements, we must nevertheless agree that "if he must needs be mad, there is a rare method in his madness; and if the world insists on his being a visionary it must admit that his visions are something anoma-
» Arcana Coelestia, V. I, n. 1106-1113; Inferno, Sam skr., v. XXVTII, p. 184; En bla bok, Sam skr., v. XLVI, p. 33. " Heaven and Hell, n. 299.
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lous, in their systematic and mathematical form."13 And it is just this rare and mathematical order that August Strindberg now above everything else needed. A man of his turn of mind must absolutely have some unifying principle by which to hold together the manifold experiences of life. It matters not essen- tially, as far as its psychological working is concerned, whether this principle is a sectarian creed or a naturalistic philosophy; whether it is the systematized illusions of a visionary or a cosmic truth, but a unifying principle he must have if he is to live and to act.14 But let us be on our guard lest we should imagine that Strindberg was more indebted to Swedenborg than he really is. It would be an unpardonable mistake and a great injustice to hold that he received and swallowed Swedenborg's theology bodily. He interpreted his master rather liberally and in a way which most likely would not have met with Swedenborg's per- sonal approval, had he lived. In several places he gives us to understand that by him Swedenborg's conception of hell was conceived as referring solely to the life in this world, and it will seem, at times at least, he considered his chastising spirits as the self-created creatures of a troubled conscience.16 It is likely that in the ear of a devout Swedenborgian the following sum- mary would produce a twinge of sacrilegious dissonance: "Be ye comforted therefore, and rejoice over the grace which has been granted unto you, all ye who are troubled and plagued with sleeplessness, nightmares, visions, anxiety, and palpitation of the heart! Numen adest! God will have you"!1'
On May 3, 1897, he had recovered sufficiently to begin the composition of "Inferno." On June 25 of the same year, it was already finished, and for the first time his innermost ex- periences during the years of his literary silence, and his views resulting therefrom, were made known to the world. A distinct shock was produced. His old friends mourned because their hero had fallen. His enemies rejoiced that the wit which had given them so many smarting slashes had lastly turned its
13 Tenneman's Manual of the History of Philosophy,
14 In tracing the influence of Swedenborg, the passage in the third chapter on page 65 with regard to Strindberg's excesses should be recalled.
* Inferno, Sam. skr., v. XXVIII, pp. 95, 132, 133. En U& bok, Sam. skr., v. XLVI, pp. 60, 76. "Inferno, p. 189.
Psychological Abnormalities in August Strindberg 97
deadly edge against its own life, and that the proud intellect, which had caused them worries and sleepless nights, now lay wounded and bleeding on the ground, never henceforth likely to trouble their peace. But not so, they were all led astray. It is out of "Inferno's" chaotic absurdities that his artistic Phoe- nix rises from its ashes, cleaving the azure blue on mighty pinions.
How was it done? A glance at a description of the manner in which he composed most of his works will, perhaps, help to solve the riddle:
"Just as I have pen and paper ready, it breaks loose. The words actually rush down upon me, and my pen works under high pressure to set everything down on paper. When I have written for a while, I feel that I am floating about in space. Then it is as if a higher will than my own causes the pen to glide over the paper and writes down words, which seem to me to be pure inspirations."17
It is the psychic residua of former life experiences which unconsciously crystallize themselves into dramatic personages and dialogues. It is the psychic law of experience itself that gives esthetic form and unity to his productions. Only occa- sionally does any conscious logical ideation take place. Now and then his desire for metaphysical explanation becomes the de- termining factor in his creations and mostly with disastrous results. We may read the anti-scientific portions of his "Blue Books" until all our conscious feelings of a causal cosmic order become wearied and sick, but with most of his artistic pro- ductions it is different. Even when introduced to the most mystic, "To Damascus" and "The Dream Play," one gets a distinct impression that behind the capricious dream-fancies operates the merciless logic of life. In a word, it is the voice of the soul-stratum itself, as is the case with every truly inspired writer, that rises up and composes independently, as it were, of his philosophic superman. Perhaps this is what he himself felt when he said: "I am inclined to believe that we are most learned in those beautiful moments, when we are unconscious of ourselves."18
Like the spider, he wove art's golden web from his own en- trails. While reading his best stories we are held captive as in a
17 Gustaf Uddgren: En ny bok om Strindberg, p. 136. » P&kyrkog&rden, Sam. skr., v. XXVII, p. 600.
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magic grasp ; the voice that tells them vibrates over the tremen- dous resonance-chambers of his individual experiences, and they are many, for he lived a thousand lives. His words stir the blood and the heart; they burn themselves into our memory; he plays upon every harp string of our emotions, knows how to strike every chord from the harshest dissonances of diabolical hatred to the sweetest harmonies of maiden love.
Even during the hours of his deepest deprivation, he car- ried within himself something of that indestructible spark, which makes a man's life sublime and his works eternal. There seethes and pulsates even in the depressive atmosphere of the Inferno something of that irrepressible militancy of the human soul, which equally demands veneration whether seated on- a throne or prostrated in the dust. Psychiatric interest and pro- fane criticism, alike, should step reverently aside and bow their heads before a man who with all the knowledge at his command strove to control his soul's very death-cry.19 And because of his dark hours we should never forget that there also followed days when the clouds rolled away, and he could exaltingly exclaim: "Now, it is high heaven, the wind is genial, feel its caresses! This is life; yes, now I live, just now! and I feel my ego swell, expand, rarify, become illimitable; I am everywhere, in the sea which is my blood, in the mountains which are my skeleton, in the trees, in the flowers; and my head reaches up into heaven, I look out over the universe that is I, and I feel all the power of the creator within me, for it is I. I would like to take the whole mass in my hands and remold it into something more perfect, more permanent, more beautiful .... would like to see the whole creation and all created beings happy; born with- out pain, living without sorrow, and dying in quiet happiness! Eva! will you die with me now, at this instant, for in the next moment pain will envelop us?"20 This may be the state of mind which, in the language of the psychiatrist, is called elation, it may be the wine of ecstacy that makes the intellect swim wildered, but it is this mental condition as well that, at times, made his words ring out with the earnestness and power of a prophet.
AXEL BRETT University of Illinois
19 See pages 84-85.
*° Till Damaskus, Sam. skr. v. XXIX, p. 54.
REVIEWS AND NOTES
HEBBEL, SA PERSON N A LITE ET SON OEUVRE LYR- IQUE par Louis Brim, AgrSge de PUniversite, Docteur fcs lettres, Professeur au Lycee Charlemagne. Paris, Felix Alcan, 1919. Pp. xiii, 884.
Opposite the title-page of this work are printed the words: Ouvrage termine en 1914, edite sans modification en 1919. Nothing could be more eloquent, and in a sense more pathetic than the silence with which true scholarship thus reaches over the fateful years intervening between those dates in order to resume its natural relationships. Innumerable threads of the spirit that appeared to snap before the violent tempest of those years only yielded to the blast, for though frequently the least visible, they are also the least impermanent. We have here a French book of nearly nine hundred pages, dedicated to the study of one of the most German of German poets. It is a work of true scholarly sympathy. In clearness, thoroughness, com- prehensiveness, and sanity of judgment it leaves on the whole little to be desired. It renders the real Hebbel accessible to French students of literature. Furthermore, even beyond the limits named in the title, it is a valuable companion book to every special student of the subject: both for the saneness of Professor Brun's own opinions on the values and problems in Hebbel's poetry, life, and personality, and for the unusually full scholarly apparatus accompanying the text — in the way of foot-notes, chronological tables, and systematic bibliography. It forms an interesting supplement to the works on Hebbel by Bastier and Tibal.
In order to give the reader a true idea of the comprehensive nature of this work, it is indispensable to outline in all brevity the main divisions adopted by the author and the general method he pursues in his discussion. Following the Introduction, in which the author foreshadows some of his chief conclusions and also takes a definite position on the central problem in Hebbel — i.e., as to whether he was primarily thinker or poet — we find four grand divisions of the subject according to chronology: 1813-1835 (Wesselburen); 1835-1842 (First edition of the poems); 1842-1848 (New Poems); 1848-1863 (centering around the final edition of the poems in 1857). Within these divisions the method of procedure is practically recurrent: First, biog- graphy; second, the discussion of the esthetic theories for the period in question; third, an analysis of the poems of that period. Following these four parts is a fifth part, termed Conclusion. It con tains a brief section: De Tanalyse a la syn these. Then a de-
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tailed separate study of Hebbel's versification, and finally an excellent summary of the main conclusions of the whole book, entitled: L'homme et 1'oeuvre. About twenty pages suc- ceeding this are occupied with a very valuable chronological table of Hebbel's lyric poems, arranged in five columns, show- ing the date, title and reference to the Critical Edition, the place of original publication, the genre, and the page of the work under review on which the poem is analyzed. Every poem of Hebbel, except the individual epigrams, finds its place here, and when we remember that Professor Brun men- tions them all and discusses most of them, including the epi- grams, we can see something of the monumental task he set himself, the more especially as he lays great stress on a strict chronological procedure and often is compelled to dis- cuss the date of a poem as well as the poem itself. He seems never to have shunned this labor of detail, nor any other for that matter. This chronological table is of the greatest value for the student of Hebbel's lyric poems, and the use- fulness of the volume as a book of reference is further increased by the general bibliography, and especially the systematic bibliography, that follow next in order. The book closes with an extensive Index and a Table of Contents.
Thus it will be seen that the method of procedure is very systematic, it is also convenient for reference, and proof against important omissions. On the other hand it involves consider- able repetition and perhaps a rather broad treatment of the whole subject.
We may now try to recapitulate very briefly the author's attitude to the problematic phases of Hebbel's life and works and the chief conclusions he formulates. In a preliminary way these are brought out in the Introduction in a survey given of Tibal's Hebbel et ses oeuvres de 1813 a 1845 (Paris, 1911). He has of course less to say of Bastier, who has dealt with Hebbel, the dramatist, while he has rather adverse criticism of the same author's book entitled: L'esoterisme de Hebbel (Paris, 1910). Indeed we should not expect a man of such eminently sane judgment as Professor Brun shows himself to be throughout this work to concur in the finespun theories of Bastier in the book mentioned. But the study by Tibal, embracing as far as it goes the ground he himself has to traverse, evokes a definite statement from him upon the points of contact and those of divergence between himself and his predecessor. He is in full accord with Tibal in the following decisions: 1) To at- tempt to reduce Hebbel's theories to a unified, dogmatic system would be to do violence to them; 2) The center of gravity in Hebbel lies not in his philosophy but in his poetry. These principles are sound and arouse justified expectations of what follows. On the other hand he disagrees with Tibal in several
Reviews and Notes 101
respects: Tibal presents Hebbel's personality as peu sympatique, and he judges his lyric poetry with too great severity, holding that he failed to find a new and individual note in his poems, that he lacked the gifts of the heart, and also the necessary vision for the external world, the innate cult of perceptible form; that he gave too much room to thought about concrete per- ceptions and reflections on emotions. These views of Tibal, endorsed also, we are informed, by Tibal's reviewer in the Revue Germanique, Professor Brun himself considers too sweeping an indictment of Hebbel as a lyric poet, and it is one of the main tasks of his elaborate work to modify them and assign to Hebbel that better position which he thinks he deserves. Thus the old conflict of opinion so familiar to Hebbel's German critics, as to the fundamental quality of his mind, is fairly introduced into French criticism on the subject.
In the first chapter, on Wesselburen, besides explaining clearly the influences of environment, the author exposes in their genesis the leading traits of Hebbel's mind, and points out to us some of those partly contradictory elements, the synthesis of which was to become his most serious task. Enthusiasm and reflection; precise and penetrating observation on the one hand, and powers of abstract combination and generalization on the other; a realism fond of detail, and a romanticism having its roots in the unconscious depths of the soul; finally an intense interest in the impressions and images of his youth, with a marked tendency to transform them into symbols. One might say that it is the author's chief object in his subsequent discus- sion, by inductive methods, to define more precisely the distinc- tions here intimated, and to determine to his own satisfaction the degree of success with which Hebbel harmonized them into a new individuality in the course of his life: Feeling, emotion; reflection, abstraction; realism, romanticism — what he later terms I'etrange alliance en lui du temperament passione et de la "Grubelei impenitente (P. 133). Or again, in summing up the characteristics of the early poems, he emphasizes the contrasts, such as idealism and realism, pessimism and optimism, mysticism and rationalism (P. 142). He is fully aware of the speculative cast of Hebbel's genius: Et sans doute, Hebbel s'en tient rarement a exprimer un sentiment, presque toujours il 1'approfondit, le creuse, sonde les replis de son coeur, ne se contente pas du fait pur et simple, mais recherche les causes et s' attache aux problemes (P. 269). There is, however, no doubt in his mind as to which element in Hebbel is the primary one, namely feeling. Even his metaphysics is described as a meta- physics of feeling (P. 285). He objects to Fischer's formulation of the case in the words: das Gedankliche, das nun einmal das Primdre bei ihm darstellt; he refutes this by quoting the same author against himself, and comments finally: II est, a nos
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yeux, essential de bien savoir si l'61ement premier (das Primare) est, chez Hebbel, la pensee, ou le sentiment (P. 66, footnote).
It should not be inferred, however, that Professor Brun in- discriminately accepts Hebbel's philosophical poetry as true poetry. On the contrary his comdemnation is at times severe, and he concurs with but little reservation in Tibal's estimate of the philosophical sonnets in the edition of 1842 (See P. 356, footnote). But here again he refuses to allow such a sweeping generalization as the following from Tibal, who would apply one and the same conclusion to practically all the lyric poems of Hebbel: "On est malhereusement oblige de se demander s'il ne pas atteint ici le terme vers lequel 1'entramait naturellement son temperament poetique." This, according to our author, passes the mark, it is an exaggeration. The whole matter is fought over again on page 379, apropos of Tibal's assertion, that in spite of Hebbel's theories about naivete and Gemiit, in practice he evinced a very slight degree of either. The author comments : Nous n'irons pas aussi loin: sans vouloir presenter Hebbel comme type de poete "naif," nous lui accorderons plus de sensibilitf. He ranges himself with Moller (Hebbel als Lyriker) against Tibal and Fischer on this question, and also against R. M. Werner as represented in Lyrik und Lyriker. He finds Werner's modified opinion in the biography more in accord with his own views. It is therefore natural that he protests energetically against the classification of Hebbel with Schiller as lyrist (See especially P. 382). And finally in the long con- clusion he restates the question in the light of all the most im- portant critical views and of his own complete inductive analy- sis, including the comprehensive study of the poet's language and versification. La cont reverse s'est poursuivie sur la ques- tion essentielle du dosage de la reflexion et du sentiment dans le lyrisme de Hebbel (P. 834). And he sums up his own position in these words: Nous nous defierons done jusq'au bout des formules trop generates et des schematisations trop syste'mati- ques et persisterons a affirmer, en fin de compte, 1'irreductible idiosyncrasie de Hebbel. Ni "sentimental" pur au sens de Schiller et a 1'instar de Schiller, ni foncierement "naif" comme I'e'tait Goethe, sa personnalite nous paralt realiser, a ses divers moments, toujours une sorte d'equilibre instable entre des con- trastes etc. (P. 835). These contrasts are specified: idealism and realism, conservative and progressive tendencies; and in his poetry we find "avant tous un compromis entre le roman- ticisme et le classicisme," the harmony of classicism accepting and resolving the romantic dissonance.
If the author is, as it seems to me, sound on this fundamental estimate of Hebbel's genius, and also judicious in the applica- tion of his conclusions to the valuation of the lyric poems, he is none the less careful in his examination of another problem,
Reviews and Notes 103
»
less important though not less vexed. This has to do with the nature and the relative value of the various influences that aided the young Hebbel in developing his style. Indicating that the poet, at the very beginning, was more interested in ideas than in poetic form, he points out the sources of his early attempts. Schiller of course played the chief part, though the minor influences of Salis, Holty, Matthisson and others are not neglected; on the contrary the importance of each is weighed precisely. On pages 65-66 we have a summarizing discussion of these early poems: "We have just seen that almost all the early poems of our author are, in form and content, under the influence of Schiller — it is the same inspiration, the same trans- port, the same youthful exaltation, the same metaphysics, the same pathos, in short the same exaggerations in thought, in feel- ing and in style." However these poems are not without certain other indications: "One can admit even in the early poems of Hebbel two parallel currents, and of contrary direction — the one more subjective, carrying him to abstract speculation and introspection; the other bringing him on the contrary to go out of himself and to look at things as they are; the first explaining the inspiration and the form of the pieces we have just reviewed, the second rendering account of the fact that in certain of these same pieces we find echoes of the folksong and true feeling for nature. But up to the beginning of 1831 this last current rarely comes to the surface, while under the prevailing influence of Schiller the other on the contrary spreads out before our eyes in broad and heavy expanses; then, beginning with this period, it is, on the other hand, and under an influence no less potent, destined to be pressed back more and more and to permit the adverse current to rise and in some fashion give the direction." The two fundamental and adverse currents here mentioned as evident in the early poems were and remained characteristic of Hebbel. Whether one approaches him early or late, whether in his dramas or his lyric poems, his language or his versification, one finds traces of the same conflicting elements, from which it became his supreme effort to evolve a higher harmony. Cor- responding to these innate tendencies we find him seeking his external affiliations: first with Schiller, whose hold upon the poet was less transient than he himself may have thought; then with the true lyrists, the folkpoets, Heine, and above all Uhland and Goethe. Through all the conjectures and counter-conjec- tures, the seemingly endless influences and possible combinations with which the writer on this subject has to reckon, Professor Brun winds his way with patience and skill. He shows us the point at which the traditional Christian conceptions began to yield to a dawning pantheism, he analyses the metaphors to show how their original chaos gradually gives way to the awakening spirit of organization and harmony — a preliminary
104 Campbell
symptom of that impelling thirst for beauty which was to be- come one of Hebbel's chief obsessions. He assigns their proper place to the early epigrams as foreshadowing what was perhaps the highest and most characteristic synthesis that Hebbel was to attain in his poems — a form best adapted to accommodate the conflicting elements of his nature.
In this whole question of outside influence a peculiarly dif- ficult problem is presented, as is well known, by the philosophic poems of the young Hebbel. Professor Brun agrees in general with Zincke in rejecting Neumann's formulation of Shelling's influence on Hebbel. He thinks, however, that Zincke goes too far in denying any influence whatever of Schelling and in mak- ing Schiller the sole inspirer of these poems (P. 93). The dis- cussion turns at this point on a very careful analysis of the Lied der Geister, in which he sees a vacillation between two points of view on the part of the poet: the local color, certain details of symbolism show the influence of the romanticists, while the general "orientation" is "frankly agnostic." Or, in other words, "the separation does not seem to us as yet absolute between the romantic inspiration and the resigned agnosticism with which Hebbel will end" (P. 94). His specific attitude to Zincke's conclusions can best be given perhaps in the following quotations (PP. 99-100, footnote) : Im Winter 1832-1833 muss er durch den materialistischen Gehalt der Schillerschen Jugendgedichte zu philosophischen Spekula- tionen angeregt worden sein und einen guten Teil seiner friiheren Ansichten preisgegeben haben. Thus Zincke. Brun comments: A notre avis, ce mode nouveau de 1'influence schil- le"rienne ne renversa rien, mais vint, au contraire, s'ajouter a d'autres influences et coniinuer 1'evolution deja commencee.
Parallel with the evolution of ideas goes the evolution of form. Hebbel gains in precision and sobriety, he frees himself from rhetoric and makes war on empty phrases (P. 107). His metaphors, while increasing in consistency, still sacrifice beauty to expressiveness, thus reflecting on this scale the conflict be- tween realism and classicism of which we hear a good deal later. Uhland and Goethe become his new masters. From Uhland he learns dramatic concentration and the art of interweaving human emotions with natural conditions, in their action and re- action (PP. 84, 85). Tibal's summary of Uhland's influence on Hebbel is quoted with full approval by the author: "Le ton populaire, le style simple, 1'allure rapide et la nudite du recit sans reflexion ni commentaires, Paccumulation de petits traits en phrases courtes juxtaposees et non subordonnees, la repeti- tion d'une tourne ou d'un membre de phrase, frequente chez un narrateur plus cultive, le parallelisms de deux vers de m£me coupe et de meme pensee, les alliterations, 1'emploi de deux ad- jectifs presque synonymes, enfin un certain vocabulaire legere-
Reviews and Notes 105
ment archaique et quelques artifices de style, le rejet du qualicatif ou du possessif apres le substantif, 1'abondance des diminutifs et la periphrase avec le verbe 'thun' voila ce que Hebbel doit a Uhland, mais on ne peut plus rapprocher tel passage de tel autre comme pour Schiller" (P. 127).
The influence of Goethe demands more attention. Professor Brun's estimate of Hebbel as a lyric poet is, if we judge by his final summary, hardly too high; in fact it is not as high as we might expect from his warm defence of him against certain very usual criticisms. The insistence with which he also, in more places than one, seeks to prove affinities between Hebbel and Goethe, though never without serious qualifications, might lead us to expect less severity in the end. Hebbel as a true classi- cist, as Goethe's disciple both in theory and practice — this is perhaps the main thesis of the whole book. Early we find the statement that in respect to individualism Hebbel is rather a disciple of Goethe than a forerunner of Nietzsche (P. VII) — a statement with which we may certainly agree. Goethe's influence, the inception of which is placed as early as the beginning of 1831, is traced throughout with scrupulous care. The fundamental theoretical idea of both is expressed in this sentence, copied in Hebbel's Diary from a letter of Goethe (I give it in Professor Brun's translation): "Personne ne veut comprendre que 1'unique et supreme operation de la nature et de Part, c'est la raise en forme et, dans la forme, la speci- fication, afin que chaque objet devienne, soit et reste special et significatif" (P. 172). In another place (P. 202) we find a careful exposition of the view that Goethe and Hebbel held: semblable conception de la Nature de 1'Art et de leur rapports; nSmes idees sur 1'origine et la marche de 1'inspiration poetique; developpements identiques sur la technique. Also both held the same view of art as a symbol. Furthermore Hebbel's ethical ideas are compared to Goethe's. Both develop the the same kind of a-moralism, which has nothing to do with Nietzsche's beyond good and evil. The fate of Elise Len- sing reminds us of that of Frederike Brion (P. 182). Hebbel's pantheism, like that of Goethe, was less severely monistic than the pantheism of Schelling (P. 258). Both alike stressed the close relationship between great art and the character of the artist. And that well-known epigram in which Hebbel exhorts his reader to make himself the representative of the Good, the Beautiful and the True, is placed side by side with Goethe's Edel sei der Menschl There were two Hebbels just as there were two Goethes: monist and dualist, Greek and Christian, pagan and German, classicist and romanticist. In each case the poet's work as a whole justifies us in placing him with the classical authors (P. 718).
106 Campbell
Similar theoretical views, similar ethical views, similar views on technical procedure, on the relative r61es played by the imagination and by reason. And also — great similarity in prac- tice! Not that Professor Brun makes a comparison which Hebbel himself definitely repudiated at the end in declaring that he had never fallen so low as to presume to elevate him- self so high. But he does undertake to show in more than one place a definite similarity between the poetry of Goethe and of Hebbel. Vogelleben is compared to Vber alien Gipfeln. L'im- pression d'ensemble est la mSme et aussi les motifs, les termes me'mcs (der Hauch, der Vogel) sont communs (P. 139). And on the same page, though in a different connection, he quotes the famous Stammbuckblatt on the vanity of life, in which really occur two lines that Goethe himself might have written:
Es kann dem Menschen manner geben Und nehmen kann's dem Armen viel.
Pages 741 and 742, however, give us the author's most definite, and also most extreme statement on this matter. Let us quote the conclusion of the argument: Ce n'est done point dans des antitheses systematiques qu'il faut chercher a 6tablir les differences entre les deux poetes ; mieux vaut, nous semble-t-il, s'efforcer de discerner la continuite du maitre au disciple et les occasions n'en seront que plus frequentes de reconnaitre non dans la nature mats dans le degre de mattrise la veritable distance qui en derniere analyse les se*pare. The author stresses through his use of italics this formulation of the case, which seems to me particularly unfortunate, and certainly much less tenable than many other of his statements on the same question. In the first place nothing could affect the nature of mastery in an art more than the degree of it. In the second place such a formula leaves out of account the vast difference between Hebbel's verse and Goethe's that must strike every reader without much argument. Furthermore it seems to me that the very poem which the author uses in this place to support his conclusion does anything but support it. Moller made use of the expres- sion: Wahrend Goethe das Zustdndliche gibt, wie er es geschaut hat, gewinnt Hebbel es durch einen schopferischen Akt der Phan- tasie. This statement contrasts the two poets, though scarcely in an unexceptional fashion. But Professor Brun objects to the contrast. He institutes a comparison, which he bases on the two poems: Der letzte Baum and An den Mond. Nous ne trouvons cependant pas qu'il y ait une bien notable difference de precedes. .... Voila 1'element impressioniste, motif initial corres- pondant, dans I'^legie, a 1'observation e"mue de 1'astre des nuits. Puis c'est ches les deux poetes le travail de reflexion et de
rSverie qui prolonge et intensifie Pemotion "Griibler,"
Goethe et Hebbel, le sont tous deux ici, et la contemplation
Reviews and Notes 107
d'un paysage a 6veill6 dans leur ame d'identiques accords sur la fuite rapide du temps, le parallelisme mysterieux entre I'ame et les choses, la douceur melancolique d'une lumiere et le prix inestimable d'une apaisante amitie. Few poems can stand comparison with An den Mond, and Professor Brun is fully aware of the difference, when he speaks of the "admirable meditation goetheenne, si riche d'harmonies profondes." But even beyond that, is there really any similarity in procedure in these two poems? Hebbel's poem is a comparison — just as the vanishing light of day is held in the memory behind the sil- houette of the last tree it illuminates on the horizon, so will a remembered love (or it may be a friendship) preserve for him his vanishing youth. This method is totally different from the vibrant apostrophe Goethe addresses to the moon and the river, and the direct e/ect they produce on his wounded spirit. The two similes he makes use of do not impair that sense of im- mediateness so characteristic of his lyric verse. He does not here express a state of feeling by means of symbols quietly taken from without his immediate field of vision — he is in the midst of nature, and it is her manifestations that empower him to find relief in expression: Losest endlich auch einmal meine Seele ganz. Hebbel gives us first a picture, then a recollection of the picture, and finally, in the third and last strophe, the emotion of which it is symbolic. Goethe gives us a continual, vital, sensitive interpenetration of nature and emotion. It may be true that both poems proceed from something seen to something felt, but this method is too general to constitute any specific similarity in means of expression.
The author is certainly justified in protesting against a rigid classification of Hebbel with Schiller and the "sentimental" poets, in asserting the "irreductible idiosyncrasie" of the Dit- marsher. And this "idiosyncrasie" differentiates him just as sharply from Goethe as from Schiller. His writings, whether drama or lyric verse, are unmistakably tinged by the profound speculative cast of his mind, and generally by the severity of his ethical ideas. This may be at times his chief reproach, but it is also at times his supreme glory. In many of his theoretical views, and it may be in an occasional verse, or in some particular technical method, Goethe and Hebbel can be placed together. But in the total impression of individual poems, and in the essentials of poetic practice, if it is false to classify him with Schiller, it is fatal to compare him to Goethe.
Yet to stop here would surely be to do Professor Brun an injustice. The error he makes here, if it be one, is to express himself with too great emphasis. One of the most valuable and suggestive features of his book is the treatment of Hebbel in connection with Goethe, which runs more or less from be- ginning to end. And he seems to be fully aware of what sepa-
108 Campbell
rates the two poets, as the following expressions will indicate: L'irre'ductible contraste sera, nous le verrons, dans les tempera- ments" (P. VII). Une chose est certaine, c'est que, comme le remarque son biographe et disciple favori, Hebbel n'avait point la fantasie legere d'un Goethe ou d'un Shakespeare: il lui man-
quait cette mobilite divine, cette ironic souveraine etc
Ce qui le separe de Goethe, c'est toute la distance du sourire hellenique au serieux germanique (P. 837). Thus the author provides his own corrective for wrong inferences that might possibly be drawn from such passages as the one discussed above.
For each of the collections of poems the author gives an analysis of the poet's language, his metaphors, vocabulary etc., reserving, as has been said, the treatment of the versification for a complete investigation at the end. In discussing the col- lection of 1842 he comments on the relatively large number of abstract words in Hebbel's vocabulary, and indicates in the succeeding pages (369 f.) that his verse is somewhat wanting in sensuous elements. En fait de couleurs, n'apparaissent guere dans ce lyrisme que la lueur vive de la flamme ou le rideau
6pais des te"nebres Certaines de ces metaphores ne
manquent pas de fralcheur, on ne peut refuser a d'autres de la simplicity et de la force; mais ou sont celles qui reveleraient le sens de la couleur et 1'amour du pittoresque? Hebbel's chief art, he thinks, lies in his power of describing movement, action, i. e.,even in his lyric verse in the qualities of the dramatist. His language is moins coloree et pittoresque que construite pour I'analyse psychologique et la dialectique dramatique (P. 372). L'originalite de ce lyrisme . . . . ne consiste pas en beaut6s exterieures et sensibles (P. 374). Now there is no doubt that the power of lyric poetry to express emotion does not depend on its so-called picturesqueness, or its plastic qualities, not to mention the frequency of color allusions or any other thing that may be counted or weighed. "The lyrics of Schiller's youth show relatively more frequent resort to visual impressions than do Shakespeare's sonnets and poems. Byron, as far as examined, is about on a par with Shakespeare, while Goethe, strange to say, falls far below the average" (Gubelmann: Studies in the Lyric Poems of Hebbel, Yale University Press, 1912, P. 78). Professor Brun might legitimately consider this another striking similarity between Goethe and Hebbel — if only it were true of Hebbel, as he seems to think. The view he gives countenance to here is at variance with the results of a careful actual count. Gubelmann, whose work on this subject is, as far as I can find, not mentioned in the bibliography, has shown, particularly in his Chapter III, on colors, that Hebbel's language in his lyric poems is by no means wanting in color. The very opposite is in fact true, and Gubelmann concludes: "It is safe
Reviews and Notes 109
to assume on the basis of our examples and illustrations from Hebbel that he approaches the modern poets in his constant resort to visual media (op, cit. P. 79).
Hebbel's personality was complex and full of contradictions. He himself frankly recognized the warring elements in his nature. His critics early began to characterize him and his works in terms that seemed little short of being mutually ex- clusive, so notably Julian Schmidt. While some exhaust their vocabulary in censure, and some in praise of him, most of those who write about him find it difficult to avoid the appearance of self-contradiction. But the real contradiction lies in the subject. Professor Brun, it seems to me, is successful in his treat- ment here. He neither suppresses anything nor does he over- stress anything. He would not, as we have seen, commit himself to Tibal's view, that Hebbel's personality was pen sympatique. Yet he does not, as for example on page 614, fail to mention some traits of that personality to which such a term might apply. Perhaps the following sentences (P. 615) con- tain as good a brief summary of his estimate as any: "Get 6tre noble et tendre se fit une reputation de grossierete par 1'intransigeance de ses gestes. Non seulement ses biographes, mais sa correspondance, temoignent d'un coeur foncierement bon, secourable et sans rancune." In short, the author's de- scription of Hebbel as a human being is in the same tone of fair- ness, comprehensiveness, and sanity as his characterization of the poet.
Even at the risk of prolonging this review unduly, I wish to quote a few sentences from the author's summary of his special study of Hebbel's versification (P. 816). He compares the poet first with himself, then with other German lyrists. Nous le voyons, arme de ses seules dispositions naturelles, adopter d'abord les rythmes libres, puis cultiver tour a tour le genre populaire et les formes savantes ; dans le recueil des Gedichte son originalite s'afnrme et ses poesies nous emeuvent da vantage par leurs harmonies profondes que par leur perfection formelle; le recueil des neue Gedichte nous montre son souci croissant de beaute; le caracteristique 1'interesse moins, sa preocupation de 1'element formel grandit; de 1848 a 1863, la technique s'efforce de devenir classique et deploie son maximum d'habilite et de souplesse dans les cadres les plus simples et les plus reguliers; Tinspiration, par contre, n'est pas toujours en progres, mais lorsque, dans certaines ballades, dans quelques lieds, et sur- tout dans les emouvantes confessions personnelles des derniers mois, le fond et la forme s'accordent et sont a la m£me hauteur, la maltrise de Hebbel poete lyrique remonte a son apogee et ajoute les plus beaux fleurons a sa couronne de joyaux.
Professor Brun agrees with Fischer that rhyme was a weak- ness with Hebbel. And in estimating him finally as a versifier he
110 Alden
not only repudiates a comparison with Goethe and Heine, he places him below Novalis and Holderlin in the dons musicaux (P. 817).
This book as a whole can be heartily welcomed by students of Hebbel. His enemies may quote it in part, but his friends may take it as a whole. Even those of us who have never ques- tioned, with the poet, whether his great talent was lyric or dramatic, can be well satisfied with this further indication that the fruits of his toil are being valued more and more beyond the limits of his native land.
T. M. CAMPBELL Randolph-Macon Woman's College
THE HISTORY OF HENRY FIELDING, by Wilbur L. Cross. 3 volumes. Yale University Press, 1918.
In the title of this biography Professor Cross does himself the pleasure of imitating that of his hero's masterpiece, and in the Preface he intimates that Fielding called Tom Jones a "history" because it was to appear as a biography "that places in the proper social background all the incidents in the life of a man essential to knowing him, in conjunction with a sufficient account of the persons who bore upon that life for good or evil." It may or may not be worth while to question this explanation, so far as concerns Tom Jones. Mr. Cross, at any rate, gives a quite different one in another mood, telling us (ii, 161) that the novel was so called because "many of its characters were drawn from real men and women," and "many of its incidents had come within [the author's] observation." In fact neither reason is either certain or necessary, since the ordinary use of "history" as the equivalent of "story" was a sufficient explana- tion of the title-page to every eighteenth-century reader.1 But this is by the way. Certainly Mr. Cross's History of Fielding undertakes to place all the incidents of Fielding's life "in the proper social background," and, in general, to do what used to be implied in entitling a biography from the "Life and Times" of its subject; and it does this with extraordinary thoroughness, clearness, and sustained narrative energy. To those familiar with the same writer's Life of Sterne it is almost sufficient to say that he has produced a companion biography worthy of the earlier work, but even more obviously the fruit of long and affectionate research. And the Yale Press, issuing the volumes on the William McKean Brown Foundation, has added the quality of appropriately sumptuous form.
1 Compare, for instance, "The History of the two Children in the Wood," "The History of Two Modern Adventurers," "History of the Unfortunate Daughter," "The Princely History of Crispin and Crispianus," — not to go outside Fielding's own period.
Reviews and Notes 111
It would be ungracious to complain that an endowed printer made possible a too tempting liberality in space. The theme of Fielding and his art suggests "God's plenty" to one who treats of him, and the length and versatility of his career give scope for detailed study of certain aspects of his age which one is grateful to find so amply fulfilled. In particular, Mr. Cross's researches in the period of Fielding's work for the stage, and again in his period as a publicist, properly expand the biography beyond what the mere student of Fielding the novelist would anticipate. Yet it is also true that even these sections, and certainly the work as a whole, are longer than need required. In part this is due to a fondness for leisurely periphrastic synop- ses of one or another portion of Fielding's work, where the passage either might be assumed to be familiar, or might better be rehearsed in his own words. Mr. Cross seems to think it more elegant to paraphrase, somewhat in the manner of a British reporter, than to quote:
"To this picture were given, said Fielding, various interpretations. Some
readers thought the ass symbolized the author himself Again, he had
heard it suggested that the Jesuit stood for the old Chevalier But all
these resemblances to particular persons were, Fielding avowed, fanciful
He hoped that no offence would be taken at the emblem, for none was intended." (ii, 68.)
Of this the most remarkable instance is the elaborate retelling of the immortal account of Parson Adams' visit to Parson Trulliber (i, 329); any reader who was forgetful of this would be most unlikely to peruse Mr. Cross's book.
We are here concerned with a deep-seated, though no very important, matter of taste; and it may be that some light is thrown on it by a passage in Mr. Cross's Preface to the late Professor Lounsbury's work on the Life and Times of Tennyson, where the amazing statement is made that the author's "mas- tery of style" places him among the "foremost prose writers of recent times." One would have said that all scholars had agreed in admiring the acute and stimulating character of Pro- fessor Lounsbury's criticism, and at the same time in lamenting that he seemed to find it necessary to make his writings of some- thing like twice the length which the material demanded, and to indulge himself rather too freely in a kind of juvenile mannerism of ponderous triviality. To students of literary influences it may, then, be a matter of some interest to find in this History of Fielding not merely the familiar method of agreeable redun- dancy, but sometimes such a passage as the following, in the veritable Lounsbury manner:
"IScott] had reached the last chapters of Rob Roy before he saw that if Francis Osbaldistone was to be rewarded by the hand of Diana Vernon a fortune must be found for the young gentleman. As it happened, the only way to give him a fortune was to make him the heir to his uncle Sir Hildebrand. But unfortunately several strong, healthy sons of the old knight were still living.
112 Alden
There were, I think, five or six of them. The number, whatever it was , did not daunt Scott. One by one he rid his plot of them, letting them die a violent death or quietly in bed, until they were all gone and the novel could conclude." (iii, 207.)
It is also of the essence of this method to introduce conjec- ture into positive history, because of its usefulness in filling in details where the known facts provide only outlines. Mr. Cross does this with perfect candor, not confusing the known and the guessed; yet the total impression is not always such as a scholarly conscience can approve. The identifications of anonymous authorship are frequently of this character. Quot- ing from the Jacobite's Journal a sufficiently ordinary passage on the death of Thomson,2 Mr. Cross comments that "this good feeling, finely expressed," shows "the unmistakable mark of Fielding's hand." (ii, 65.) The unknown authors of various papers in the Covent-Garden Journal are guessed with a kind of intimation that there is more in the guess-work than can be proved. "It is hardly more than conjecture to say that W. W. conceals Arthur Murphy." "Again, it would be mere conjec- ture to identify Benevolus with Dr. Ranby." A review of Gibbs' translation of Osorio's History of the Portuguese "may have been prepared by the translator himself." An elegy on Prince Frederick, surely such as might have been penned by almost any versifier of the period, "appears" to show "the imagery of a Christopher Smart;" — it will be noticed how the margin of safety is subtly increased by the indefinite article. After such identifications as these, one is disarmed by the ingenuous admission, "The identity of the persons whom we have met has not been always quite determined." Again, Mr. Cross repeatedly discerns Fielding's own hand with the aid of his fondness for the antiquated third person "hath," and there- after depreciates the whole process by the cautious reminder that "Fielding was not quite alone in employing obsolescent forms of the verb." The fact is, of course, that such identifi- cations depend very greatly upon the indefinable processes of a competent reader who is saturated with the manner of the person and the period concerned; and so far as Mr. Cross in- vites us simply to trust him on that ground, few would be disposed to refuse to do so.
These are minor matters. The most important aspect of the History is the question of the total impression of Fielding's personality, both in itself and as expressed in his novels, as re- lated to current critical opinion. This is Mr. Cross's own view as to his principal achievement, and he admits that he began the work with a single prepossession, "that the author of Tom
1 "The goodness of his heart, which overflowed with benevolence, humanity, universal charity, and every amiable virtue, was best known to those who had the happiness of his acquaintance," etc.
Reviews and Notes 113
Jones could not have been the kind of man described in innumer- able books and essays." It was doubtless this aspect of the subject which led him to include a careful account of Fielding's reputation, and of the reputation of his works, from his own time to the present, — a proceeding so obviously admirable that one hopes it may hereafter be viewed as an indispensable requi- site of the biography of a man of letters. The result, in the present instance, is certainly to effect some correction of the traditional portrait. Fielding's industry, his learning, and his zeal as a publicist all appear in stronger light than has hitherto been thrown upon them, and unsupported legends of dissipation are more clearly revealed as baseless. His reputation is shown to have suffered both from the carelessness of friends and the malice of enemies, and the essential soundness of his intellectual and social character (which, however, has been underestimated in recent times rather less than Mr. Cross implies) is set forth convincingly.
On the other hand, it can hardly be denied that that "pre- possession" with which the biographer started out, coupled with the natural disposition of the scholar to emphasize his special thesis to the disparagement of that which it is intended to displace, has affected unfavorably the balance and propor- tion of the portraiture. The point of view is that of advocate, not of dispassionate investigator. In particular, the consider- able amount of contemporary testimony to the presence, in Fielding, of a certain vein of vulgarity, sensualism, and indif- ference to rakish or disreputable appearances, Mr. Cross treats with scant patience; commonly he minimizes it as the product of either malice or pharisaism. Walpole's famous letter, describing the novelist supping "with a blind man, three Irish- men, and a whore, on some cold mutton and a bone or ham, both in one dish, and the cursedest dirtiest cloth," is here re- written, with "the wit and the animus" removed (certainly the wit), into a picture of "a plain man's board around which Fielding, his wife and brother, and three casual guests drew for conversation." (ii, 228. )3 Dr. Kurd's picture of "a poor ema- ciated, worn-out rake, whose gout and infirmities have got the better even of his buffoonery," is the ignorant account, by "a divine of formal morals," of one whose constitution was breaking through "labour and disease." (ii, 310.) Fielding's journalistic quarrel with Aaron Hill is outlined in a purely one-sided fashion, with the fact not concealed, but, so to say, obfuscated, that it began with an unprovoked attack on Fielding's part; whereas his ultimate withdrawal from the contest in scurrility is found
8 Mr. Cross does not explain how he learned that the "whore" was Mrs. Henry Fielding, or how so unfavorable an interpretation could have been placed upon her character, except by hinting that she may have been "not very careful about the appearance of herself or her table."
114 Alden
to be "greatly to his honor." (ii, 392-96.) Confronted by Edward Moore's account of Fielding suffering with the gout, whereof "intemperance is the cause," Mr. Cross admits the pas- sage to be on the whole "a fair portrait of the convivial Fielding in his physical decline," but cannot resist the temptation to add the baseless imputation: "If Fielding ever spent an evening with these Pharisees, we may be sure that they outdrank him." (iii, 5.) Those who are disposed to put stress on Fielding's faults should be warned to beware lest Mr. Cross take pains to reveal themselves as no better than they should be. All the less desirable aspects of Thackeray's career are mercilessly recalled, in revenge for his not unfriendly unfairness to Mr. Cross's hero.4 Even Lady Mary Montagu's affectionate reminiscences, in which she described her merry cousin as ready to "forget every- thing when he was before a venison pasty or over a flask of champagne," are not let pass without the comment that "she trusted too much to hearsay." (iii, 110).
It will be noticed that Mr. Cross is peculiarly sensitive on the subject of Fielding as one who followed his appetites not wisely but too well, having been stirred up by such accounts as that of Thackeray, whose negligent embroidery of such themes in the lectures on the English Humourists6 is familiar to every- one, and that of Henley, who always displayed a robust and un- godly joy over any departure from the paths of virtue on the part of his literary heroes. But the refutation is rather more complex than candid; in the manner of an attorney, all possible answers are attempted. Everyone drank in Fielding's time; Fielding could not have drunk top much or he could not have worked so hard; his gout, to be sure, was due to the "indulgence of his appetites," but the stronger liquors he avoided "if he practised what he preached" (a protasis of whose security Mr. Cross seems to have no suspicions); his constitution was ruined, we learn at the beginning of the third volume, by "free indulgence of the appetites, insuf- ficient physical exercise, late hours, intense application to literature and study," but at the end of the volume all is for- gotten save the hard work, and we are told that to his zeal for social reform he sacrificed "his health and finally his life." All this fumbling with the subject could have been avoided by a single page of dispassionate analysis of the evidence. It would have shown that most recent accounts of Fielding have not erred far from the mark; that he was no debauchee, but both a hard worker and a hearty dweller in the flesh, somewhat given to self-indulgence when it injured no one but himself, not infrequently negligent of decent appearances, quick of temper
Steele.
4 Compare iii, 224, 270.
6 Compare his similar embellishment of the more frivolous aspects of
Reviews and Notes 115
and quick to conciliate and forgive, and ever disposed to rate downrightness and generosity far above the more feminine virtues such as chastity, temperance, and decorum.
It is but a step from the novelist's personality outside his writings to that within them; and here also Mr. Cross amply supplies the materials for judgment, but may be thought to give little evidence of having penetrated the real significance of the objections which have been raised to Fielding's standards of taste and morals. For the most part he appears to accept, on the matter of morality, the two widely prevalent but utterly superficial tests of realism and poetic justice: that is, Tom Jones may be defended on the one hand on the ground that it is true to human nature in general and the life of the eighteenth century in particular, and on the other hand on the ground that the story is moral because the hero is made to suffer more or less for his sins. These, as Mr. Cross very well knows, are the per- petual refuge of the apologist for the undesirable in fiction. The true tests go much deeper, into such questions as whether, in the work in question, the distinction between the admirable and the unadmirable is blurred, whether sound judgments and healthy associations of feeling are called up by the action, or author and reader are swept into a current of sympathy with the unworthy thing.6 That Fielding's work as a whole will bear these tests triumphantly, few will refuse to agree. But at cer- tain points there is at least room for debate; and the problem is not primarily, as Mr. Cross intimates, one of eighteenth-cen- tury manners.7 It is, in the first place, one of delicacy of feeling — the region where taste and morality meet. And there, as we have seen, Fielding was lacking, more or less, in that element of the ewig-weibliche which is present in both manhood and art when they are symmetrically complete. This is the germ of truth in Taine's passage on Fielding's conceiving of man as "a good buffalo," with the context on the novelist's fondness for cow-houses, taverns, and vulgar "wayside accidents" — a passage which Mr. Cross quotes only to revile its author. Leslie Stephen, on the other hand, though he parts company from Taine and is a zealous defender of Fielding's "solid homespun
6 Compare Macaulay (Essay on Hunt's Restoration Dramatists) : "Moral- ity is deeply interested in this, that what is immoral shall not be presented .... in constant connection with what is attractive."
7 Twice he makes the more than questionable statement that, if we should only exclude the Lady Bellaston episode, Tom Jones would become a classic of the fireside, for virginibus puerisque. The Lady Bellaston episode is certainly that which has given admirers of the hero of the story most difficulty in main- taining their sympathy, but it is not on that account the main point in consider- ing the ethical atmosphere of the book. To put the matter bluntly and concretely, the young male reader of our time is not likely to envy Tom his adventures with Lady Bellaston, but may very well feel otherwise toward those with Molly Seagrim and Mrs. Waters.
116 Alden
morality" in the large, does not conceal the wish "that, if such scenes were to be depicted, there might have been a clearer proof that the artist had a nose and eyes capable of feeling offence." (Hours in a Library, ii, 193.)
But the deeper matter than that of taste is the novelist's doc- trine of vice and virtue, his beliefs respecting the importance and the relationship of different aspects of morality. Like most satiric humorists, Fielding was peculiarly interested in the virtues of the disreputable and the vices of the respectable among mankind, and was disposed to find the chief and saving virtue, good nature or benevolence, prevalent among those who were frowned upon for the more good-natured vices. Converse- ly, the frowners were likely to prove hypocrites. Thus Joseph Andrews is refused aid, when naked and bleeding, by passengers whose delicacy is offended by his want of clothing, and the only one to assist him is a lad who is rebuked for swearing "a great oath" as he proves himself a Good Samaritan. Parson Adams, when out of funds, is denounced by a fellow-clergyman and re- lieved by a poor peddler. Tom's intrigue with Molly Seagrim is rebuked as in defiance of the Scriptures by the moral Square — who is presently revealed as entangled in the same sin. All these instances are duly noted by Mr. Cross, in illustration of Fielding's ironic humor; but he fails to note that they not only mark a departure from the realism which the novelist pro- fessed, but also indicate a certain distortion in the balance of his ethics. In other words, Fielding represents the moral purist as a Puritan, and his notion of puritanism — as commonly — in- volves a suggestion not merely of severity but of hypocrisy. (We have seen how Mr. Cross instinctively follows this ex- ample when, in reporting Moore's account of Fielding as a victim of convivial habits, he assumes that Moore would have outdrunk him!) The unamiable Sir John Hawkins, perceiving this tendency in the novelist's thought, and its anti-social im- plications, accused Fielding of teaching a fictitious morality, "that of Lord Shaftesbury vulgarised," which resolved virtue into good affections and made goodness of heart a "substitute for probity." One can hardly complain when Mr. Cross calls this attack (iii, 163) "the ne plus ultra of malicious criticism;" yet it would have been worth while to show on what nucleus of truth it was built up. 8 This nucleus is the same which made Thackeray, certainly no mere purist, question the moral im- plications of Fielding's presentation of his chief creation; — was Tom Jones really the excellent young man that we are evidently intended, on the whole, to think him? On this there is ample room for two opinions, as always when the more formal and
1 Especially since Mr. Cross himself elsewhere cleverly points out the fact that Fielding's presentation of Tom Jones's character may be viewed as a kind of "humorous test" of Shaftesbury's ethical system, (ii, 212.)
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the more emotional moralists meet. But it is much to be desired that the issue shall be presented clearly, and not with the impli- cation that all objections to the morality of Fielding's attitude are the result of either malice or stupidity.9
Mention has been made, in passing, of the fact that Field- ing's theory of morality, — which is closely associated, as in Ben Jonson and other satiric moralists, with his theory of humor or humors, — impairs his realism. He professed to deal with no characters either wholly good or wholly bad, but, as Mr. Cross points out (ii, 206), was led by the theme of hypocrisy to make of Blifil a pure and un-lifelike villain. Moreover, in such episodes as were cited a moment ago, in illustration of the doc- trine that virtue and respectability dwell not easily together, there is another sort of departure from realism, the incident being obviously turned, for the sake of the ironic implication, from the normal course of cause and effect. One might also note Fielding's by all means pardonable disposition to heighten the farcical element in humorous action beyond what a modern realist would count legitimate, — a temptation doubtless in- creased by his early training in popular dramatic comedy. Such matters suggest the opportunity for a somewhat more im- partial analysis of the relations of Fielding's theory and his practice than Mr. Cross provides. Yet he may be said to have summed up the essentials of the subject in observing (ii, 176) that "what Garrick was in acting, what Hogarth was in paint- ing, Fielding aimed to be in the novel." And if we except the few controversial matters that have here been emphasized as seemingly profitable for discussion, these volumes furnish a substantial and adequate account of Fielding's literary work as of his life and personality. They are, and are likely to re- main, a veritable monument to his name, which future scholar- ship may supplement but which there can hardly be any occasion to replace.
Mr. Cross's presentation of critical passages concerning Fielding is so full that it may be worth while to note an omission or two, such as Hazlitt's remark that his greatest triumph was in persuading Lamb, "after some years' difficulty, that Field- ing was better than Smollett" (On the Conversation of Authors, Works, Waller-Glover ed., vii, 36), and Thackeray's oft-quoted saying that since Tom Jones no one has dared "to depict to his utmost power a Man." Less familiar is a letter of Thackeray's to Robert Bell, which seems to have remained unpublished until a few years ago, and which contains one passage sub- stantiating the genuineness of his opinion of Tom Jones's character as expressed in the English Humourists: "Forster
• In the case of Thackeray, Mr. Cross suspects them to be due to the lecturer's desire "to win the moral approbation of one part of his audience while amusing the other." (iii, 223).
118 Hillebrand
says, 'After a scene with Blifil, the air is cleared by a laugh of Tom Jones.' Why, Tom Jones in my holding is as big a rogue as Blifil. Before God he is — I mean the man is selfish according to his nature as Blifil according to his." (London Times, Weekly Edition, July 21, 1911, p. 581.)
Mention should not be omitted of the remarkably full de- scriptive bibliography, prepared with the collaboration of Mr. Frederick Dickson. Incidentally this reveals the fact, to any not already aware of it, that the Fielding collection at the Yale Library, largely Mr. Dickson's gift, is so notable as to make New Haven a proper place of pilgrimage for all students of the novelist.
RAYMOND M. ALDEN
Stanford University
ENGLISH PAGEANTRY: AN HISTORICAL OUTLINE. Vol. 1. By Robert Withington. Harvard University Press. Cambridge, 1918.
The task of reviewing half a book is not an easy one, nor is it fair to the author. The reviewer, in his ignorance of what the unpublished volume may contain, is unable to form an idea of the whole structure, is reluctant to censure the author for omissions which may turn out to be supplied later, cannot judge of certain important duties of scholarship in the absence of bibliography and index, and in many ways is annoyingly hampered. From all these causes my estimate of Mr. With- ington's book is bound to suffer, and I beg indulgence for any faults of judgment arising from them.
English Pageantry is in many ways typical of the research by which a Doctorate of Philosophy is won at our universities, not indeed of all kinds of research, but certainly of a very popu- lar kind — the omnium-gatherum. Such works bring inevitably to my mind a saying of Henry Adams about his own students of history at Harvard: "The boys worked like rabbits, and dug holes all over the field of archaic society; no difficulty stopped them; unknown languages yielded before their attack. .... Their science had no system, and could have none, since its subject was merely antiquarian." What was true of graduate research in Adams' day was also true in mine, when Mr. With- ington and I were fellow rabbits. That he was burrowing as intensely as I was, in the same breathless anxiety lest some small piece of fact be overlooked, his published volume shows clearly. He must have had, as I did, an uncontrolled desire to make all knowledge (in the field of his thesis) his province, to gather into one vast heap all that had been written upon his subject. This, as I remember, was the instinctive desire of
Reviews and Notes 119
the group of us who were studying together for our examina- tions. It was not taught us by our professors, but at least they gave it a tacit kind of encouragement.
Such a desire would doubtless be right and fruitful in the case of a small, carefully limited subject. But with one like English pageantry, which is neither small nor limited, the results of research are staggering. Within the two hundred and fifty-odd large pages of this first volume are displayed vast stores of fact regarding folk-mumming, processions, giants, wild men, page- ant characters (Biblical, historical, romantic, allegorical, mytho- logical, symbolic), tournaments, disguisings, masques, and six hundred years of royal entries. One feels confident that, so far as it is humanly possible, not one royal entry between 1300 and 1900 has been overlooked. One is overwhelmed by the sheer weight of fact. The notes are prodigious; they keep a hubbub on every page, clambering well up toward the middle, and frequently past it; a full half of the book belongs to them. In them, as in the text above, Latin and French jostle the Eng- lish. (Why is it "unscholarly" to translate long passages from a foreign tongue?) The reader is deafened by the mingled voices of medieval chroniclers, eighteenth century antiquarians, and the hosts of Harley, Bodley, and Cotton. The burrowing has been thorough. One must admit that nowhere else have so many facts regarding English pageantry been gathered together. Unquestionably good work has been done in thus creating a use- ful book of reference. No historian of pageantry hereafter can afford to neglect it; he will be sure to find in its two compendi- ous volumes the fact which he is in search of — almost sure, I had better say, because it is the fatality of such omnibus books as this to lose facts as well as to gather them.
As a momument to unwearied diligence, then, English Page- antry has a quantity of grandeur. But as a work of scholarly art it leaves much to be desired. Mr. Withington is censured by his own subtitle, "An Historical Outline," for if there is any- thing the book lacks it is outline. That, I should say, is its chief fault. It lacks above all things what glorifies the best French theses, and. the best of our own too — the quality of structure. The architectural purpose, the sense of line and balance are wanting. One does not feel here the faculty of choice, that high- est attribute of the artist of whatever kind, because choice cannot be felt where nothing is rejected. Mr. Withington does not appreciate that what appears in print should be only a small part of what the artist in his researches has turned over. Consequently, instead of the clear line and the sufficiency of illus- tration which characterize the work of a Bedier, or a Paris, or a Manly, he amasses details which upon examination prove to be ineffective from either of two points of view. For if his desire is to collect and describe every instance of pageant mounting in
120 Hillebrand
England, he has evidently attempted the impossible, and on the other hand if his desire is to outline clearly a stage of develop- ment, he has overloaded his design. For example, in order to make clear the character of pageants used in royal entries before 1432, it surely is not necessary to summarize every recorded instance of such entry, only to report in many cases that no pageants can be found.
If Mr. Withington should reply to this criticism that his intention was not to write a thesis, but to compile a reference book, I would still insist that the task could have been done more artistically. I would point to a couple of reference books which have been much in his hands during the preparation of English Pageantry, namely Ward's English Dramatic Literature, and Chambers' Medieval Stage. Both these books rest upon deep erudition, yet both of them have the quality, which English Pageantry lacks, of being easy to read. Mr. Withington's fail- ure in this respect lies mainly in two unfortunate habits for which he is not so much to blame as his training. The first of these is the constant interruption of the straightforward ex- position by long citations, in old and modern English, in French and Latin, of illustrative passages. The art of choosing these passages is one involving judgment, a sense of what belongs to art as well as what belongs to scholarship. The values of mass, proportion and accent are lost where the text bristles with citations. The second great error lies in the handling of notes. Here again I would point to Ward and Chambers. Their example, like that of the best scholars, teaches that there should be a clear line of difference between text and notes. These notes are primarily meant to supply bibliograph- ical material accompanying the textual exposition, and they may also be sparingly used for brief discussions of matters relating to the text but not essentially part of it. They should be reduced to the minimum, so that the reader's eye will be called as little as possible from one part of the page to another. But a bad modern custom has grown up of stuffing the notes with every thing for which the writer has not made a place in the text, with the result that these two parts of the book which ought to be kept distinct, are inextricably jumbled together. English Page- antry is even exaggerated in its adherence to this custom. The notes actually exceed the text in bulk. They constitute a second volume which one must read simultaneously with the principal one, and this double reading becomes exceedingly trying. For example, perhaps the most interesting of the problems raised is the debt of pageantry to Lydgate in the matter of allegory. It should have been treated definitely in one place, yet not only is it scattered throughout the book, but some of the most impor- tant of Mr. Withington's statements on the subject are casually thrown into the footnotes. In short, the school of thesis-
Reviews and Notes 121
writing to which Mr. Withington belongs, instead of culling, rejecting, and shaping its materials, heaps them into a pile, like blocks of unhewn stone, among which the reader must climb laboriously, not without danger to his shins.
Such is the criticism I have to make against all books, and there are many published yearly besides Mr. Withington's, which are built after the omnium-gatherum method. As Henry Adams said, their science has no system, and can have none, since its subject is merely antiquarian. Let me now describe English Pageantry in more detail.
The first and only published volume (there is one more to follow) contains five lengthy chapters, on Elements of the Page- ant, Remarks on the Tournament and Early Masque, the Royal Entry 1298-1558, Elizabethan Pageants, and the Royal Entry in the Seventeenth Century. The first two chapters are hetero- geneous collections of elements, such as Folk-Mumming, Pro- cessions, Men in Armor, Minstrels, Giants, Animals, "Jack-in- the-Green," "Whiffler," Wild Men, the Tournament, the Disguising, the Masque, etc. The effect is not happy. Mr. Withington, in so arranging his materials, had a purpose in mind, which was to clear out of the way all the contributing elements of pageantry before beginning upon the history of the thing itself. Such, at least, is my understanding of the following statement, at the beginning of Chapter 1 : "Later chapters will trace the development of the pageant from the thirteenth cen- tury down to our own times ; it is the task of this to treat some of the elements that have been drawn from folk-custom, modi- fied by the Church, or borrowed from metrical romance. . . . I shall disregard chronology, partly because one must, in deal- ing with folklore material, and partly because chronology is here not a thing of great importance." Mr. Withington, then, knew what he was about. Furthermore, he perceived that his method would have the "unfortunate result" of making his opening chapter "seem chaotic." It is chaotic, and I wonder whether any method which launches a history in chaos is justifiable. Again I refer the author to his subtitle. No outline could live in the seething gulf of detail which constitutes the opening chapter. Nor is the promise contained in the sentences quoted above ful- filled, at least in this first volume. Later chapters do not "trace the development of the pageant from the thirteenth century down to our own times." They trace only the development of the pageants attending a royal entry. But if the reader is curious to know the general state of pageantry at any epoch — say during the thirteenth century or under Henry VII — he will have to go unsatisfied. Mr. Withington believes that "chronol- ogy is here not a thing of great importance." Perhaps not to him, but it may be of some importance to a clear presentation of the subject. The average reader, I feel sure, would prefer
122 Hillebrand
to be introduced more gradually into the subject of English pageantry, instead of being thrown in to flounder as best he can to standing ground.
There are evidences that Mr. Withington, besides being without a clear plan of procedure, was not sure of the bounda- ries of his subject, and consequently put in both too much and too little. From the Introduction I quote the following para- graph:
In the following pages I shall, with the exception of a chapter on pageantry in the United States, limit myself to England. There are, however, certain continental influences which cannot be ignored; these I have, so far as possible, dismissed to the footnotes. We are here more concerned with the development of pageantry in England than with international influences, which must be considered elsewhere.
With these words in mind the reviewer is puzzled to account for certain sporadic excursions to the continent which seem not to fall within the class of "continental influences which cannot be ignored." For instance, on p. 162 he finds a detailed notice, including more than a page of French, concerning the entry of Louis XII into Paris in 1498. This entertainment is introduced "as an example of a French royal-entry," and is dismissed with the comment that "it is much like English pageantry of this time." Other examples of unmotivated excursions to the conti- nent are the descriptions of the entry of Louis XII 's queen into Paris in 1513 (p. 171), of the historical pageant at Bruges in 1515 (p. 172), of the entry of Henri II into Paris in 1549 (p. 187), and of the entry of Charles IX in 1571 (p. 204). In such cases, if nowhere else, the faculty of choice should have worked, but Mr. Withington seems not to know what to reject.
If he sometimes errs on the side of too generous inclusion, he also at times errs on the opposite side. Lydgate, for example, because of his possible influence in allegorizing the pageant and because he is the first person of importance whom history can associate with pageant development, stands out as the most important figure treated in this first volume. He is discussed in several passages and referred to in many more. Yet there is nowhere a complete or systematic exposition of Lydgate's work in pageantry; the reader apparently is assumed to know all the facts about him, and to have read the pageants he wrote. Again, that industrious laborer at public pageants in the time of Elizabeth, Thomas Churchyard, who has many interesting things to say about the technique of his business, receives only passing mention. No attempt is made to ex- amine his writings and to estimate his importance.
Evidently what has interested Mr. Withington particularly has been the collection of materials illustrating the pageant processions; these are the materials in which the book is rich- est. The relations of the pageants to literature and to the life
Reviews and Notes 123
of the people he has not indeed neglected, but the treatment shows that his thinking along these lines has been without con- viction. It would not be unjust to say that the book is strong in fact and weak in thought. I have pointed out how it suffers for lack of a guiding idea. There are, to be sure, subordinate theses which spring up from time to time, but they are at best a weakly growth. For example, probably the strongest thought in this first volume is that Lydgate was particularly responsible for developing allegory in pageants. Mr. Withington evidently believes this firmly. "It looks as if this [i.e. allegory] were the great contribution of Lydgate to this form of art," he remarks in the Introduction. Later (p. 108) he declares categorically: "Lydgate brought allegory to the pageant." Yet at other times, and especially in those passages in which he comes near- est to envisaging the problem, he is uncertain. Thus he says (p. 136, note 1): "I am not sure that we shall ever know the rela- tions between allegory in the pageant, and in the morality play; I have suggested that Lydgate introduced allegory from litera- ture into the pageant. . . . It is impossible to prove this." Again (p. 141, Note 1), "The introduction of allegory seems to be due to Lydgate; though we have seen that the 'raw mate- rial' of allegory was in pageantry before." Thus at one place Mr. Withington is sure that Lydgate "brought allegory to the pageant;" at another he remembers that "the raw material of allegory was in pageantry before," and so feels sure that Lyd- gate's service was to speed the development of allegory; again he is obliged to doubt if "we shall ever know the relations be- tween allegory and the pageant." This amorphous state of mind could perhaps have gained outline if he had more system- atically analyzed the problem.
A similar fog hangs over another interesting problem — the relation of pageant, drama, and non-dramatic literature to each other in the matter of allegory. Which contributed to which? Mr. Withington would be glad to believe that the development of the moralities was inspired by the development of allegory in pageants. But remembering the York Play of the Lord's Prayer, The Castle of Perseverance, and certain figures in the Coventry Salutation and Conception, he feels that his ground is uncertain. At times he is inclined to believe that both pageant and morality drew their allegory from non-dramatic literature; at other times that "both forms of expression exerted more or less influence on each other" (p. 136, note 1). A fair idea of the uncertainty of his mind on this subject may be given by quoting a couple of paragraphs from p. 108:
Lydgate brought allegory to the pageant; and we may surmise that, being an author of allegorical poems, he did not draw upon the morality, but went straight to literary sources ....
124 Hill ebr and
It is not inconceivable that the personified 'moral abstractions' which appear in the masque and on the pageant car about 1430, and which owe their presence in these forms of dramatic expression to the monk of Bury, were not without influence on the moralities. It is, however, possible that the latter show an independent development of the same tendencies which brought allegory into pageantry and mumming.
On the other hand, perhaps the author of The Temple of Glass .... de- rived the allegory he brought to these entertainments from the morality plays. But the chances are that if the moralities did not get their allegory, at least in part, from the mumming and 'royal-entry,' both drew independently on non- dramatic literature.
In spite of all that Mr. Withington says about the problems of precedence and influence thus summarized, they are left in no clearer state than they were in when they were taken up. Yet I doubt if they would prove hopelessly insoluble under system- atic study, and they are very interesting. The trouble is that here, as elsewhere, an idea which is of use to scholarship and which might aid considerably in giving the book that outline which it so deplorably lacks, has not been subjected to a scru- tiny keen enough to be effective.
A word of praise should be said, before closing, about the excellent printing and about the illustrations, which are well chosen and well reproduced. They add materially to the pleas- ure of reading the book.
Finally, I would not have anyone suppose, from what I have said above, that I underestimate the pains which have been lavished upon the compilation of English Pageantry. They have been enormous. One can see that the book has been a labor of love. Furthermore, it has a real value, not only because it is the first thoroughgoing treatment of the subject, but because an immense amount of information is gathered into one place. What I very much regret — all the more because of. these virtues — is that the book represents no higher ideal than the collection of fact. It is devoid of art. The finest spectacle of scholarship — the mind moving among the dis- ordered materials, selecting them and composing them into a sightly structure — that spectacle is lacking in this book, as it is lacking in all books written in the same manner. The art of re- jection, which distinguishes the masters, is a hard one to learn, perhaps because it is so little taught. And no doubt few schol- ars are able to accomplish the ideal proportions and the suffi- ciency of the masters. Yet American scholarship might profit if more of us strove, to the best of our abilities, toward that ideal.
HAROLD N. HILLEBRAND University of Illinois
Reviews and Notes 125
THE GEORGIC: A CONTRIBUTION TO THE STUDY OP THE VERGILIAN TYPE OF DIDACTIC POETRY. By Marie Loretto Lilly, Ph. D. In Hesperia, Supplemen- tary Series: Studies in English Philology, no. 6. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press, 1919. Pp. viii+175.
The purposes of this work, of which the first part was pre- pared as a Johns Hopkins University dissertation, are (1) to de- fine the georgic as a literary type, with especial reference to its relation to the pastoral; (2) to sketch its historical develop- ment; and (3) to discuss English georgics dealing with agricul- ture in general, with gardens, and with field sports, with some consideration of similar poems in French and Italian. German and Spanish literature have been excluded from the inquiry.
The field seems one little cultivated before by students of literary history and the results of this study, covering twenty- eight centuries from Hesiod to the present, are of no little interest. The type was, of course, most definitely fixed by Virgil, and a synopsis of the contents of his Georgics is given as a necessary preparation for the study of later works. From his day, however, until the Renaissance, georgics appear in- frequently (hardly averaging one instance to a century, accord- ing to Dr. Lilly). Sixteenth century classical imitation revived the genre; in the seventeenth century it again declined; but in the eighteenth, in considerable measure under the influence of works like Philips's Cyder and Thomson's Seasons, it was eagerly restored and experienced manifold adaptations, making its way, in company with a renewed love of Nature and the taste for English gardens, back from England as far as Italy. This was the period of its greatest vogue; the nineteenth cen- tury witnessed another decline, and from the twentieth the author cites only the Georgiques chretiennes of Jammes. For these general results, by no means unexpected, but yet clearly expressed, we may be grateful to Dr. Lilly. Certain details of her work, however, are open to not a little criticism.
In the first place, the plan of the book, with definitions and an historical sketch, followed by a detailed treatment of in- dividual works, involves a large amount of tedious repetition.1 Again, as the author realizes, there is a good deal of inequality between the first part of the study, done under supervision and with access to adequate libraries, and the last part, dealing with works many of which were not accessible,2 criticism of which had, consequently, to be expressed at second-hand, if at
1 E. g., pp. 4 and 63; 28 and 104. Infelicities in the English of the treatise are not infrequent, e. g., p. vii: "in part fulfillment of"; pp. 7-8 (an awkward repetition); p. 104: "second century, A. D."; p. 106: "he names three .... declaring the terrestrial the more dangerous."
1 E. g., p. 2, nn. 3 and 4; p. 5; p. 6, nn. 18 and 22; p. 29, n. 25; p. 36, n. 45; p. 52, n. 6; p. 157; p. 169; et passim.
126 Pease
all.8 This dependence upon the opinions of others — though generally frankly admitted — and the evident lack of close acquaintance with the Greek works in the field,4 is somewhat disquieting; nor are the original literary judgments of the writer concerning poems which she has read always free from a certain sophomork character. The documentation is pains- taking, but the authorities employed, especially in dealing with Greek and Latin works, might be much better chosen.6
One may express doubt whether the georgic and the pastoral are still so frequently confused as Dr. Lilly (p. 20) assumes, and whether so elaborate a discussion is needed (pp. 19-50) to dis- entangle them. On the other hand, the author herself seems to extend the term 'georgic' pretty widely, especially on pp. 42-43, where she admits nautical, medicinal, and town georgics, among other species of the genus.8 In this she is doubtless following the usage of others in regard to the term 'eclogue/ but that word is colorless in meaning as compared with 'georgic,' and if the latter be too much extended there is danger that it may lose its real significance and become synonymous with 'didactic.'
Of the completeness of the work it is not easy to judge. Certainly in the Greek field the names of a number of authors might be added to those here mentioned, and though little is known of most of them, yet, from a time when the type was being established, that little might be precious.7 The unfortunate lack of a bibliography or an index makes it difficult to see at a glance just what works have been treated, but additions may
3E. g., pp. 60-63, depending on Hauvette; pp. 68-69 on Larousse; pp. 110-112 on Aubertin and Jullien; p. 117 on Jullien; pp. 121-122 on Guinguene1; pp. 153-158 and 168 on Manly; et al.
4 Cf . pp. 10-11; 141. The etymology of the word 'georgic' as given on p. 20 suffers from the author's ignorance of Greek, as does the passage on p. 138 where the 'stater' is called a 'status.' The translation of Virgil's famous line (on p. 21), "Tityrus .... meditates the woodland muse on his slender reed," leaves something yet to be desired.
6 E. g., on p. 3, instead of Glover's Studies in Virgil (1904) his later Virgil (1912), pp. 33 ff., might well have been cited; instead of Conington's 1872 edition of volume 1 of Virgil's works the revision by Haverfield (1898) should have been consulted; the 1873 English translation of Teuffel's History of Roman Literature is now completely antiquated. For a question of fact, as in p. 28, n. 22, some recent history of Latin literature, like that of Schanz, should nave been cited, rather than Addison's Essay on the Georgics, and similarly in p. 53, n. 57, in place of the work of Lodge. The translators of quoted lines are not always clearly named. In p. 9, n. 1 Varro should be cited by book and chapter, not by the pages of an English translator.
6 Onasander, Strat. 1 states that treatises on horsemanship, hunting with dogs, fishing, and georgics ( yeupyiKuv crwTaytJL&Tuv) are usually dedicated to those interested in such things. It will be noted that these form a group cor- responding to that treated by Dr. Lilly (though she does not consider the vari- ous works on horsemanship), and that 'georgics' are separated from the other species.
7 For example, Athenaeus mentions (1, p. 13) as writers of halieutica Caecilius of Argos, Numenius of Heraclea, Pancrates of Arcadia, and Posidonius of Corinth, in addition to Oppian and to two prose writers on the subject.
Reviews and Notes 127
be made to the latter part of the work from articles in the eleventh edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica on Angling (by Sheringham) and Italian Literature (by Oelser; especially p. 903). Perhaps the works of F. D. Pastorius might have been mentioned.8 One cannot escape the suspicion, particularly in a field principally cultivated by the less famous poets, that other minor georgics, perhaps in some numbers, may still lurk un- listed. The relations of the poetic georgic to more technical prose works upon the same themes, such as, in Greek, the Geo- ponica, the Cynegeticus of Xenophon (and perhaps his treatise upon horsemanship; cf. n. 6 above), the works of Cato and Varro in Latin, the treatise on hunting by Don Juan Manuel in Spanish, etc., might perhaps have received passing notice. And in her discussion of the disappearance of the georgic in the nineteenth century (pp. 37 and 175) Dr. Lilly might have sug- gested as a contributing cause, at least, the increasing use, for the expression of scientific ideas, of a technical vocabulary dis- tinctly unpoetic in character.
ARTHUR STANLEY PEASE The University of Illinois
THE ENGLISH POETS. Selections with critical introduc- tions by various writers, and a general introduction by Matthew Arnold. Edited by Thomas Humphrey Ward, M. A. Volume V. Browning to Rupert Brooke. New York: The Macmillan Company. 1918. Pp. xix, 653.
"The Fifth Volume of The English Poets," states the general editor in his brief preface, "deals with those writers who have died during the period that has elapsed since Volume IV was published in its original form — a period of nearly forty years." In respect of arrangement and critical apparatus it follows not unworthily the preceding volumes of the series, although the editor occasionally exhibits a strange arbitrariness in his choice of the minor poets of the period. Certain of the critical intro- ductions deserve high commendation. Especially noteworthy are those prefixed to the selections from William Morris, Swin- burne, George Meredith, and William Barnes, which are the work of J. W. Mackail, Edmund Gosse, J. C. Bailey, and Thomas Hardy, respectively. Long ago in one of the dozen finest biog- raphies in the language Mr. Mackail made William Morris in a special sense his own subject; and the lucid and attractive essay which he here contributes is perhaps the most notable piece of criticism in the volume. Felicitously he characterizes
8 Cf. Riverside edition of the poems of J. G. WMttier (1894), 519.
128 Lappin
the corpus of Morris's verse as a combination of "the pellucidity of Chaucer with the fluent richness of Ariosto."
Not all the introductions, however, are of such rare quality. The general editor's notice of Francis Thompson, for example, is curiously unsympathetic and, in point of length, quite inade- quate. The critical introduction to the selections from Mary E. Coleridge is almost a page and a half longer; and Mr. Hux- ley's brilliant prolegomenon to Richard Middleton, who in comparison with the author of The Hound of Heaven is a mere poetaster, occupies rather more'space than the Thompson notice. We submit that this allotment is seriously disproportionate to the merits of the poets under discussion. It may be noted at this point that it was not Mrs. Meynell, as Mr. Ward wrongly states, but her husband, Wilfrid Meynell, who edited the well- known volume of selections.
Again, Miss Coleridge's claim to be included in such a vol- ume as this is much less compelling than that of another poet- ess, Rosamund Marriott Watson, who is omitted. Room should surely have been made for some of the delicately beauti- ful work of Mrs. Watson, as well as for that of "Laurence Hope" (Mrs. Nicholson), and of those two distinguished artists in dramatic verse, Miss Bradley and Miss Cooper, who collabo- rated under the pseudonym of "Michael Field." Nor is there a single poem by Oscar Wilde. If Wilde must be omitted why include the Hon. Emily Lawless and Sir Alfred Lyall? And though the selection from Rupert Brooke is thoroughly satis- factory and is prefaced by two pages of fresh and independent criticism from the pen of Sir Henry Newbolt, the work of a hardly less eminent recent poet, James Elroy Flecker, is left entirely without mention.
In 1894, selections from Browning, Arnold, and Tennyson were added as an appendix to, and subsequently incorporated in, the fourth volume. These selections are now "for the better convenience of readers" detached and reissued in the opening pages of this book. Were the Rossetti selections which ap- peared in the original edition of Volume IV similarly trans- ferred, this fifth volume would serve admirably as a text for the usual American undergraduate course in the greater Victorian poets, for Mr. Ward provides a generous measure of Swinburne and William Morris.
HENRY A. LAPPIN
D'Youmlle College for Women, Bu/alo
Reviews and Notes 129
GUSTAV ROETHE'S 'DIE ENTSTEHUNG DES URFAUST
With the exception of the Bible, there is perhaps no work in literature which offers such fascinating problems in higher crit- icism as Goethe's Faust: the profound scope of the drama, touching the deepest questions of human destiny; its high posi- tion as a product of literary art; its unique development, extend- ing through sixty years of Goethe's life; its derivation from many historical and literary sources; the author's fitful method of spasmodic fragmentary composition in short dashes of almost daemonic improvisation — all these factors invite and demand an analysis of Goethe's intentions and psychologic development throughout the entire process of writing.
No scholar has applied the canons of criticism upon this problem more searchingly and ingeniously than Wilhelm Scherer, who united the resources of biography, psychology, literary history, and stylistic comparison in dissecting the tangled tissues of the completed, though never consistent, work.-
It is well known that Goethe's initial publication of parts of the play, under the title, "Faust. Ein Fragment.", consisted of 17 somewhat detached and very fragmentary scenes, which he sent from Italy in 1790 to be included in Volume 7 of the first edition of his collected works. Of these scenes, Wald und Hohle appears much later, relative to the others, than it did in the completed drama. The action goes no further than Mar- garet's swoon during the funeral-mass in the Cathedral.
The completed First Part (in effect, the standard form of all later editions) was not printed until 1808, when it appeared in Volume 8 of the second collection of Goethe's Works.
As a material text-basis, Scherer had use of these two sources only. A year after his death, his brilliant and over-daring con- jectures were subjected to a severe objective test by the dis- covery of the so-called Urfaust.
Erich Schmidt, the noted successor to Scherer's chair of German Literature in the University of Berlin, was invited in 1887 to Dresden, to look through a mass of papers which had belonged to Frl. v. Gb'chhausen, one of the maids-of-honor at the Court of Weimar when Goethe first arrived, in 1775. "My lot was like that of Saul, the son of Kish, who went forth to look for the she-asses of his father, and found a kingdom." Schmidt was just about to give over his survey of unimportant scraps, when a thick quarto, labeled "Extracts, Copies, etc.," left by Frl. v. Gochhausen, challenged his closer inspection. In this book he came upon a MS version of 20 scenes of Faust, copied in Frl. v. Gochhausen's hand, exhibiting countless and most striking variants from any known text. Moreover, this ma- terial included the 4 scenes which complete the First Part, so
130 Hatfield
that the still fragmentary play shows a complete dramatic development from Faust's opening soliloquy to the death of Margaret. The last of these scenes, that in the Prison, as well as the earlier group in Auerbach's Cellar, are in prose.1
It is universally agreed that this Urfaust was copied by Frl. v. Gochhausen very soon after Goethe's arrival in Weimar, and that all its matter had been brought by him from Frankfort. Schmidt was of the opinion that no part of it had been com- posed earlier than 1773.
The convincing proof which it offered as to the fallacy of some of Scherer's conjectures concerning a late origin for cer- tain of its parts had a natural, but excessive influence in dis- crediting his general method.
In the Proceedings of the Berlin Academy of Sciences, pub- lished as late as last July (Sitzungsberichte, XXXII, 642 ff.), appears an extended article by Professor Gustav Roethe of the University of Berlin, the present distinguished incumbent of the professorship occupied in turn by Scherer and Schmidt; the paper takes up anew, and with minutely searching analysis, the question as to the original composition of the Urfaust in its varied parts.
Hardly any philological investigations, says Roethe, had ever impressed him so deeply as Scherer's fine and fruitful con- jectures as to the origins of Goethe's Faust. The cheap and superficial contempt so often bestowed upon this method of re- search has filled him with shame and indignation. Scherer lacked the Urfaust, but Erich Schmidt, flushed, perhaps, by exultation at his fortunate find, leaped to the conclusion that the Urfaust represented all that Goethe had composed up to the end of 1775. "Higher Criticism" (which played the chief part in the days of Lachmann's analysis of the Nibelungenlied) seemed to have become discredited as a method just at the time of Schmidt's discovery. Roethe craves a revival of that daring sort of conjectural criticism on a heroic scale, which is not ter- rified by the possibility of falling into errors.
1 It may be permissible to mention just here that the Berliner Tageblatt recently reported a dramatic representation of the Urfaust in the Deutsches Theater, put on the stage by Reinhardt as a monument of Goethe's Storm and Stress period, which has an attractive appeal because the poet had not yet been subdued to the "resignation" of his maturer years. The stage is excessively narrow, 2 or 3 yards wide, seen through a tall, pointed Gothic window. "Every- thing is played in the elevator-shaft," comments the critic, Fritz Engel. Some scenes are very effective: Faust in his study; Valentine between the narrow, sky-scraping rows of houses; less so the carousing in Auerbach's cellar, seen through this somewhat ecclesiastical framework.
Reviews and Notes 131
The "mistakes" of Scherer drove Faust-criticism into un- fruitful fields: it has practically insisted on stopping at the Urfaust, in tracing origins.
The real Faust-riddle lies rather in the First than in the Second Part. In Part One, even in the Urfaust, very different and contradictory stages of Goethe's development are recorded; — our generation arrogantly insists on an ideal unity and har- mony, and forces them into existence where they never belonged. An interpreter who ignores the processes, situations, and di- verse times of origin, cannot possibly understand the finished work.
Goethe never attempted to recast his play into full consis- tency, and it is absurd to speak of such a thing. A consistent unifying by persistent processes of interpretation, in one assumed direction, leads astray: the most instructive example of such a perverse method being found in its forced application to the Bible.
The Urfaust shows, first, that the hero was destined to land in hell, like all the other Storm and Stress Fausts, as well as the familiar figure in the chap-books and earlier dramas (except Lessing's sketch), but our day merely projects the Faust of the Weimar and the Italian periods back to Goethe's youthful con- ception in Frankfort.
The basal idea of a constantly unsatisfied creative impulse (the tlan creatif), so fully associated with our conception of Faust at present, belongs to the late period of Goethe's close association with Schiller.
A hideous fate awaiting powerful heroes was, in general, de- manded by the Storm and Stress dramatists: Mahomet, Egmont, Prometheus; Gerstenberg's Ugolino; Leisewitz' Guido; Klinger's Otto were all doomed to tragic and necessitated destruction. So with Schiller's Fiesko and Karl Moor. The Storm and Stress geniuses had an aristocratic, proud conviction that their ebul- lient Titanism was too dynamic for conditions in the everyday world; they inevitably led to a fatal crash, amid blaring trum- petings of grandiose defiance. The Urfaust shows no signs that Goethe had as yet overcome this view. The Italian Period could first have effected such a change.
II
Roethe begins a more detailed survey with a consideration of a long passage in Faust's second interview with Mephistoph- eles (11. 1770-1833). These lines are not included in the Ur- faust. In the Fragment of 1790 this passage begins abruptly, after the midnight discourse with Wagner:
Und was der ganzen Menschheit zugetheilt ist,
Will ich in meinem innern Selbst geniessen, etc.
132 Hatfield
According to Roethe, these lines belong to a very early period, full of defiant Titanic mood — whereas the preceding lines (first printed in A, 1808) are a pessimistic wail. The tone of the passage as appearing in the Fragment of 1790 is that of stiir- mende Jugend, and it belongs to the Frankfort period. It con- tains the highly significant words,
Und so mein eigen Selbst zu ihrem Selbst erweitern, Und, wie sie selbst, am End' auch ich zerscheitern —
in other words, Faust's Titanism is to lead inevitably to Faust's Damnation. Lines 1782-1784, although printed in the Frag- ment, were added later, and are inconsistent. Lines 1830- 1833, also in the Fragment, are quite parallel to a letter written to Jacobi in 1774. Various scraps found in the Paralipomena are hard to place exactly, but also show the fragmentary method of authorship which underlies the Frankfort Faust.
"I brought my Faust to Weimar, with no corrections, a clean MS in unbound layers." In Italy Goethe said that he had "written all down without any preliminary sketches." The older man's memory was certainly confused. A well-known writer saw, in 1775, what Goethe already possessed of his Faust: "Goethe apporta un sac, rempli de petits chiffons de papier; il le vida sur la table et dit: Voila mon Faust!" This corresponds to his own account in Dichtung und Wahrheit. Whatever came to him, he set down at once, so quickly that he rarely had time to put a slanting piece of paper straight, and consequently wrote off his ideas diagonally. For these somnambulistic fragments he had an especial reverence; he produced in spots, and joined these fragments together with more or less congruity. Compare the three loosely connected scenes of his Nausikaa-ha.gm.ent. Goethe had a penchant for the operatic form, for loosely con- nected arias or scenes.
Schiller began at the beginning, and wrote systematically through from a previously prepared, logical argument. Many of the short scenes in Faust can have been done in one fit: Strasse; Alice; Am Brunnen; Zwinger; Dom, etc. In others we have internal indications that they were laboriously pieced to- gether from a mosaic of disconnected fragments. The sac rempli de petits chiffons de papier preceded a clean copy of cer- tain more or less "completed" scenes which he took to Weimar, and this clean copy is the Urfaust, which he lent to Frl. v. Gochhausen for her transcription.
Ill
The wild prose-scene "Triiber Tag" (after 4398) is especially old. Its diction is remarkably like that of his Geschichte Gott- friedens von Berlichingen of the year 1771. Here is to be found the cornerstone of all methodical chronology of the Urfaust.
Reviews and Notes 133
The verbal and thought-coincidences with the first Gottfried are unmistakable.
Scherer concluded from this scene that Goethe began his Faust in prose. He divined that the Prison Scene was origi- nally prose, a theory triumphantly substantiated by the discov- ery of the Urfaust. The power of this original scene is more gripping than in the mitigated verse into which it was recast. The weird Rabenstein-scene has always been misunderstood: It is no "Hexenzunft"; Mephistopheles lies. These figures circling about the place of execution are hovering angels, making ready to receive the soul of Gretchen. Roethe sees no connection with Burger's Lenore. There is no doubt as to Gretchen's salvation, in spite of the fact that the Urfaust has only "Sie ist gerichtet!" at the close, and not the words, "Sie ist gerettet!" Rescue of Faust out of the devil's claws is not motivated. If the play were to end as indicated in the Urfaust, he was surely the victim of the devil.
The three last scenes belong, then, to the earliest stage of 1771-1772: they are in rhythmic, measured prose. So also the daisy-plucking, the .catechizing, the cathedral-scene.
The catechizing as to "personal religion" derives, perhaps, from Friederike, the pastor's daughter of Sesenheim. The ap- parition of the Erdgeist is set down in prose with lyric inser- tions, highly characteristic of Goethe's earlier period. It should be dated about 1773, as well as "Meine Run' ist hin," "Ach neige, Du schmerzenreiche," but not Auerbach's Cellar.
The first Phase, then, of 1771-1772, contains the flower- scene, Gretchen's room, catechizing, Z winger, Dom, Truber Tag, Offen Feld, Kerker. In general it comprises the most com- pelling elements of Gretchen's tragedy. This theory is fortified by what Wagner borrowed for his Kindermb'rderin, namely by April 1775. It doubtless surprises some persons to learn that Goethe began the play from the Gretchen-tragedy, but his guilt toward Friederike still lay heavily upon his conscience. The heroine of 1771-1772 has nothing of the Lotte-type. The naive, housemotherly, genrehaft elements of the maturer Gret- chen had not yet developed from the experiences in Wetzlar. Mephisto is merely a malicious devil of the old, conventional type. There is as yet no trace of the Faust-nature, striving for the high satisfaction of creative activity. The University and scholastic motifs are also missing.
IV
The theory of the Gretchen-tragedy as starting-point has been overlooked because of the necessity of beginning with the introductory monologue,
Hab nun ach die Philosophey, etc.
134 Hatfield
Such a soliloquy at the beginning was determined by Marlowe and his successors, the Puppen- and Volksspiele.
Roethe prefers to withhold judgment as to whether Goethe was acquainted with Marlowe's Dr. Faustus as early as 1775. Nicolai had called attention to Dodsley's reprint in 1758. Goethe makes his first admission as to knowing the work in 1818, on the occasion of the publication of Wilhelm Miiller's transla- tion. However, Goethe often omitted all mention of obvious sources — as in the case of Egmont and Hermann und Dorothea. While German opinion has hitherto strongly denied any direct influence of Marlowe, Professor Otto Heller claims to have proven Goethe's obligations, and the case for Marlowe is per- haps growing stronger. Roethe was impressed by a coincidence which I noted some time ago, namely the words relating to Faust's skill as a physician (48-50) :
Are not thy billes hung up as monuments,
Whereby whole Citties have escapt the plague,
And thousand desprate maladies beene easde?
This is very much like
Als er der Seuche Ziel gesetzt (1000)
and
Dacht' ich das Ende jener Pest
Vom Herrn des Himmels zu erzwingen (1028-1029).
This motif seems not to be found expressly in the Faust-books or puppet-plays.
Of possible bearing on the question is Faust 2267, where Goethe lets Altmayer say of Mephistopheles:
Ach das sind Taschenspielersachen
as Marlowe's Knight remarks concerning Faust (1018) : Ifaith he lookcs much like a coniurer.
Very striking is the coincidence in the enumeration of the four faculties in the opening scene of Marlowe and in the Urfaust, where the exact order, Philosophy; Medicine; Law; Theology, is maintained; I have not found popular earlier plays which agree in this.
While the monologue comes from stage-tradition, Gretchen's tragedy derives from the young poet's innermost soul-expe- riences. Wilhelm Meister "jumped over four acts to make sure of the fifth." Knebel reported in 1774 that Goethe read him "one of the last scenes, and that the first scenes did not as yet exist." These facts authorize us to question the first scene as being the first part written. The introductory monologue can have been written only after Goethe's acquaintance with Hans Sachs, i. e. not before 1773, while the prose of the last scenes points to the close of 1771.
Reviews and Notes 135
The Schiilerscene is entirely in Kniittelvers, although based, to be sure, on very early Leipzig experiences. Of the three main parts, the last, referring to the medical career, is much riper than the others and abandons Kniittelvers for freer forms. It doubtless belongs to the third stage of the Urfaust.
Martha's first monologue (2865 ff.) is clearly derived from the peasant-woman in Sachs' Fahrenjler Schiller im Parodies; Mar- tha is unmistakably a figure from Hans Sachs.
Lines 1-32 of the opening monologue constitute a frag- ment by themselves; similar are Strasse (2605), the beginning of Abend (2678-2686) and Brunnenszene (3544-3586). Gretchen's last soliloquy in this scene is quite in line with the second stra- tum. The form "Gretgen" implies a relatively early composi- tion. The death of the mother is not yet hinted at, though Gretchen had already fallen. The mother's death must have followed immediately after the first night of union. The as- sumption that Gretchen at some later time made a mistake in the potion is utterly impossible; "The first love-union was blameless and necessitated; continuance and custom would drag downward and are offensive, destroying the tragic content of the motif." (In the opinion of the reviewer, this argument is among the weaker of those adduced.)
Peculiar to the second stage is the stressing of the University- milieu; the occurrence of naive monologues in KnUttelvers. Even after her fall, Gretchen is far removed from the passion and tragic power of the first stage. The time of production is to be set in 1773-1774.
The third phase, of freer verse, of exalted lyric diction, be- longs to 1775, when Goethe took up Faust vigorously.
O sahst du, voller Mondenschein
shows manifestly a solution of continuity from the preceding 32 lines. It is really a doublette, which Goethe was unwilling to throw away. The preceding lines show a confident turning to magic, the following verses are a yearning for death.
The conjuration-scene is entirely jumbled. Roethe shuffles the cards in a new fashion, to show that only one spirit was orig- inally invoked, in other words there was no differentiation between the Makrokosmos and the Erdgeist. Perhaps the exor- cism took place originally in an open field (as in the Faustbuch) ; the spirit invoked may have been Lucifer, the great fallen angel, to whom Mephistopheles was subordinate. In the final form, there is no satisfactory nexus between Mephisto and the Erd- geist. Roethe works out the Eingangsmonolog into five fac- tors, of various origin.
136 Eatfidd
The main parts of the Gretchen-drama (more elaborated and elevated than the first prose Gretchen-scenes) probably orig- inated in the order in which we find them (2687-3178). Traces of the appreciation of good household management derive from the Wetzlar-period, as well as the motherly-sisterly disposition. The lines 2783-2804, in which Margaret discovers and opens the casket, a masterpiece of native innocence, revealing itself invol- untarily, with a subtle, touching trace of the depressing atmosphere of poverty, show a height of subdued technic in characterization which is in sharpest contrast with the black- and-white lines of the second phase. The splendid technic of the double promenade in the garden shows great maturity.
The three chief characters have greatly matured in this third period, and have become immortal types. For the first time, Gretchen discloses her marvelous naive charm, her motherly kindness, her fascinating, coquettish, saucy traits. Mephisto becomes more the man-of -the- world and free-thinker; Faust is incontestably the hero, who aims to achieve the totality of existence, but is not yet a constructive builder. Faust at times shows rhetorical excess; he becomes overwrought because he feels the downward drag which is destined to make him the victim of Hell — him, not Gretchen, who was to hold on to her God and her purity of soul — thanks to Friederike.
VI
To summarize: The First Phase from the end of 1771 into 1773. Prose, with incorporated lyrics. Gretchen's tragedy, motivated directly by the sense of guilt which produced Weis- lingen and Clavigo. The tragic heroine is Gretchen. Faust is a wretched sinner, Mephisto the evil spirit of the old legend.
Second Phase: 1773-1774. Hans Sachs doggerel- verse, a mimetic, block-print manner of expression. Faust's university environment is sketched in a spirit of drastic comedy. Faust's personality is hardly deepened. Mephisto becomes a worldly- wise, maliciously witty skeptic; his relation to Faust is still un- certain. Gretchen's utter helplessness in the grip of impending fate is introduced.
Third Phase: 1775. The period of freer rhythms. Faust, titanically striving, rises to a leading importance, Mephistophe- les also develops, exhibiting a grandiose, caustic criticism and contempt for both the world and man. Margaret arrives at that quaint illumination which reveals with especial charm her simple maidenliness. Faust is not to be saved, but he wins human sympathy from which might grow a wish for his rescue, as in the case of Klopstock's Abbadonna. The first decisive indication of Faust's rescue comes in the compact (not in U or S), which, in connection with the Prologue in Heaven, assures salvation for the striving soul. It is hardly possible to indicate
x Reviews and Notes 137
the exact time when Faust's rescue was assured: Roethe holds that this took place before 1797.
The absolute and relative results of this method of criticism, so successfully inaugurated by Scherer, will always be subject to dispute except when distinct testimony enters in confirma- tion. It is the nature of the Higher Criticism that it must set too high a goal, and reduce matters too much to regularity. Chance and whim cannot be subjected to method. But the fullest conviction of these limitations cannot absolve us from the duty of following again and again the path of formal criti- cism. Even Erich Schmidt would put the brakes down upon vehicles bound for the land of All-Knowledge. That the method now and again goes beyond its goal by no means de- stroys its value. "These leaves," concludes Roethe, "I have plucked along that path. They are properly to be regarded as a thankful tribute to Scherer, and his methods of Faust-criti- cism."
JAMES TAFT HATFIELD Northwestern University
ENGLISH>GERMAN LITERARY INFLUENCES. BIB- LIOGRAPHY AND SURVEY, by Lawrence Marsden Price. University of California Publications in Modern Philology. Vol. 9, No. 1-2, pp. 1-616. 8 vo. Berkeley, 1919-1920.
When Professor Julius Goebel in the foreword to the first volume of his series, "Germanic Literature and Culture," (Oxford University Press, New York) expressed the hope that American scholarship, owing to its joint heritage of English and German culture, would develop independence and original- ity in the study of the multiple and complex relations of English and German literature, he had probably no thought of seeing within the short time of six years the publication of a work summarizing the studies of at least one side of these relations. The present book by Professor Lawrence Marsden Price will be welcomed by every student of the subject in question, not only because it is the first attempt of its kind but also on account of the painstaking research it represents. It is divided into two parts: Part I, the Bibliography, in which the author attempts to bring together a practically complete list of titles relating to English > German literary influences, which he defines in the introduction to mean "the influences of English literature upon German literature." Part II, the Survey, furnishes a digest of the Bibliography by the discussion of some representa- tive works of each trend of influence. As a result we have before us a sort of history of modern German literature, accentuating English influences exclusively. It is to be hoped that the ex-
138 Uhlendorf
tensive influence of German literature upon English letters will soon find a similarly complete representation.
The bibliography of about one thousand titles, supplemented by some eighty addenda to the Survey, is supposed to extend to January 1920 for publications in English, but only to 1913 as far as titles gathered from the Jahresberichte are concerned, except that the Shakes pear e-Jahrbuch was perused up to 1919. It is to be regretted that Professor Price evidently did not have at his disposal vol. 25 (1914) of the Jahresberichte, printed in 1916, nor the bibliographical part of vol. 26, which, though covering the year 1915, did not appear until 1919. The omis- sion of this material, or, in other words, the somewhat premature publication of this first part of the work, is to be regretted all the more since it was to be expected that in spite of the unfavor- able political conditions, the Shakespeare tercentenary celebra- tion would bring forth a great number of new investigations. In fact during the year 1915 there appeared at least twelve publications pertaining to the subject which are not listed in the present bibliography. Doubtless there were many more such publications in 1916.
As a working bibliography Prof. Price's compilation is of great value. Two indexes with relatively few errors and mis- prints, as well as good cross references are excellent guides to its use. The arrangement on the whole is good, though not always consistent. (Flagrant exceptions are [26]-[48], [92]- [99], [105]-[115] which are neither in alphabetical, nor chrono- logical, nor logical order.) Consistency, one of the bibliogra- pher's chief virtues, seems to be wanting also in other parts of the work under discussion. (1) Author's names: First names should be treated uniformly. Indiscriminate use of full names and initials is to be avoided, except where full names could not be obtained.1 Prof. Price seems to have used whichever form he found in his sources, whether it be Goedecke, Jahresberichte, Shakes pear e-Jahrbuch, or Betz's La Literature comparee, the starting point of this compilation. Thus it happens again and again that different forms are used for the same reviewer. Had the writer been familiar with the bibliographical reference works, he could also with but little trouble have found most of the author-entries, for which he gives only the last name.8
1 It is customary to use the longest form known. If not given, it can usually be found in one of the many bibliographical handbooks, of which A Catalogue of Books in the British Museum and the card catalogue of the Library of Con- gress, of which the Univ. of Cal. is doubtless a depository library, are most im- portant.
2 Of the eight last-name entries the reviewer found with no trouble at all the following: Hitzig, Julius Eduard; Oldenberg, Hermann (same as referred to as Oldenberg, H. in [907]); Sachs, Karl Ernst August; Vogeler, Adolf; Zschalig, Heinrich.
Reviews and Notes 139
The reviewer, moreover, is at a loss to understand how a bibli- ographer can commit the error of indexing all names with the German von (there are nineteen of them) under V rather than under the family name. Thus Hohenhausen, Liliencron, Treitschke are looked for in vain under H, L, and T. (2) Titles: No title abbreviations should ever be used in a bibliography of this kind. This, the reviewer ventures to say, is one of the greatest shortcomings on the technical side of the bibliography. Thus we find on the first page of Prof. Price's compilation Betz, L. P., Studien z. vgl. Lit.-gesch. d. neueren Zeit (cf. however, [197] which runs the length of six lines). If economy of material and time had to be practiced the Survey was the place to do it. In case titles are too long, they are to be dotted.3 Here again the author seems to have followed his source. (3) Imprint (i.e., place and date of publication) : This item is less important, but consistency is advisable even here. (4) Collation: a) If a pamphlet or a book, pagination must always be given. Of the first twelve entries five omit these data. This seems to be true in every case where Price drew from Betz. Whenever the entire work does not deal with the phase in question it would be extremely valuable to have the exact page reference given, i.e., [21] p. 106-110, 169-170; [149] p. 19-40; [841] p. 47-106.4 This factor is of special importance in larger works such as [559a], Kontz's Les Drames de la jeunesse de Schiller, 501p., and Ludwig's Schiller und die deutsche Nachwelt, XII, 679p., where only very little deals with Shakespeare > Schiller, in fact so little that the latter ought to be omitted from this bibli- ography. In cases where we are dealing with two or more volumes a uniform designation, for instance, 2, 3 v., (not 2 v. or II vols., or 2 Bde., or again Bd. I and II) should be chosen. When dealing with periodicals and series publications abbreviations are in place, for this information has more the character of a note. But even in notes abbreviations as W. Meister and Th. Sendung [121] should be avoided. The reviewer wonders if suggestive abbreviations, such as are used in the Readers' Guide to Periodical Literature would not have been preferable to ASNS (Herrig's Archiv, a common designation by the way), or to a GpJ, or to a VVDPh even if it should have been at the expense of a page or two of the Survey.
An excellent feature of the bibliography are the reviews cited5 and the notes on the treatises. If there had been many
8 Never is a bibliographer justified in constructing his own title as Price did in [115]. The entry should read: Das auslandische Drama . . . pt. VII, Das englische Drama, p. 319-321.
4 In some cases, cf. [261], [499], [502] t>e author did this satisfactorily.
6 The completeness of the number of reviews becomes somewhat question- able by the fact that Price is not even familiar with a review of one of his own publications, [845], viz. Lindau, H., Deutsche Litzeitg, v. 37 (1916), pp. 1878-9.
140
Uhlendorf
more of the latter with an abundance of references and critical notations such as: Influence doubted by [XXX], or not exhaustive, or largely drawn upon by [YYY], the reviewer believes, the Survey might have been dispensed with altogether, and we would have a most valuable contribution to critical bibliography, provided, of course, that certain deficiencies in technique and the surprisingly large number of inaccuracies had first been eliminated. Had this method been followed there would have been occasion briefly to characterize many more entries, if not all; for anything from one word (premature, biased, farfetched, convincing, etc.), to a page or more, as for example in the case of Bohtlingk or Gundolf, would have been enough. Had this been done the Ubersichtlichkeit of a bibliog- raphy in catalogue form would have been combined with the more critical and narrative form such as is found, e.g., in the "Critical Essay on Authorities" in Hart's American Nation series. It is to be said however, that some parts, for example, pt. Ilia (19th century general American influences), are very good in this respect. This may be said of almost all Modern Language Association titles, in which cases the compiler found the papers conveniently summed up in the programs.
There is appended to the Survey one page of corrigenda. To make the corrections complete the table would have to be enlarged to perhaps ten times its present size. The reviewer has checked a number of references to the Zeitschr. /. vgl. Litgesch. and found on the first fifty pages amongst a total of twenty-one titles, eight incorrect, one of which [b] (Betz, No. [25] ) he could not locate at all.8 In the same manner he looked into the next four pages, pt. Ila, for references to the Shakes pear e-Jahrbuch and to his regret found an even higher percentage of corrections to be made, namely, seven out of seventeen.7 And again out of sixteen references to Englische
|
[39 |
for 147 read 149 |
||
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[58 |
IV |
IX |
|
|
124 |
1897 |
1896 |
|
|
137 |
337 |
347 (incorrectly numbered in periodical) |
|
|
174 |
IV |
IX |
|
|
225 |
442 |
438 |
|
|
302 |
440 |
439 |
|
|
417 |
for Brandle |
, A. read Forster |
|
|
" delete Sumi |
nary of above |
||
|
" for 207 rea |
d 209 |
||
|
[421] |
' 271 |
' 273 |
|
|
424 |
1 123 |
' 122 |
|
|
429 |
' 350 |
' 349 |
|
|
432 |
' 349 |
' 348 |
|
|
433 |
'XXXVIII " XXVIII |
Reviews and Notes 141
Studien on p. 54-71 (pt. II b-c) six are incorrect.8 If this represents the degree of accuracy of all citations then it must be admitted that a work in which about 40% of the references need correction has no strong claim to scientific exactness.9 The reviewer wishes to suggest also that in addition to most titles which Prof. Price designates as showing no influence the following should be considered as not vital, and, therefore, ought to be omitted: [13a], no influence whatever; [26]; [82], translations from Sophocles only; [223]; [564]; [831aj; [948], part in question has not appeared. In place of these there might be added the following:
Kettner, Gustav. Zu Schillers Gedichten. Ztsch. f. d. Philol. v. 17 (1885), p. 109-114.
Pilgrim's Progress > Schiller's Der Pilgrim > Die Sehnsucht. Harris, Olive Caroline. Traces of English Sources in Schiller's Poetry. Univ. of 111. Master's thesis. 1916.
Ossian. Pilgrim's Progress. Huebner, Alfred. Das erste deutsche Schaferidyll und seine Quellen.
Konigsberg — Diss. 1910. 119 p. Menzel, Wolfgang. Die deutsche Literatur. Stuttgart, 1828. 2v. V.
I p. 21-32, 42-54-
Schlapp, Otto, Kants Lehre vom Genie und die Entstehung der 'Kritik der Urteilskraft.' Gottingen, 1901. 463 p.
Burke, Home, Hume, Adam Smith, Hutcheson, Shaftesbury, Addison, Pope, Young, Gerard.
In the second part the author surveys the bulk of publica- tions on English > German literary influences by summarizing what he considers the most important and representative works. As to order of treatment and subdivision of subject matter he
8 [444] for Gerschmann D. read H(ans) " ' XXXV read XXXVI
[534a] ' XX " XXII
[563] ' 135 " 134
[572] ' 468 " 468-469
" ' XX " XXII
* Some other errors upon which the reviewer chanced are: [21] Collignon, A, not V. [2 la] Schmid=Schmidt.
Heading following [67a] should, no doubt, precede it. [837] published hi 1905, not 1904. Index of Investigators, Baumgartner, M. D., not M. P. Other suggestions are:
117 196
804 907
Eliot.
Frau Gottsched rather than A. L. V. Gottsched.
delete last sentence. Not true !
say material supplementing ....
as well as [906j and [908] should be entered under Norton, Charles
142 Uhlendorf
follows his Bibliography, i.e., I. The Eighteenth Century and before (excluding Shakespeare), II. Shakespeare in Germany, III. The Nineteenth Century and after (excluding Shakes- peare).
Although the single chapters are often but loosely connected, Price has succeeded well in building up a rather complete struc- ture. Upon closer examination one notices, however, that the attitude of many investigators whose works are discussed, as well as that of the compiler, is somewhat biased at times, and often uncritical. Every phenomenon which has an antecedent or a mere temporal precursor in English literature is unduly dwelt upon, while every indigenous growth and inherent, self- determining, and self-quickening tendency in German literature is underestimated, sometimes to the extent of being entirely overlooked. Only too often have parallel passages, themes, and plots been quoted and requoted as criteria and proof of an existing influence.
In the introduction the writer has indeed set a great task for himself by promising a work which, if these promises were ful- filled, would furnish a most valuable piece of literary criticism. It seems, however, as if these prefatory remarks were formu- lated too late to safeguard the author in his attitude toward some trends of influence. Thus at the outset (p. 119) he says the following of the term "influence": "As to the meaning of literary influence, when applied to an individual, there is for- tunate agreement among specialists in the subject. Mere imitation is not ignored by them, but it is no longer confused with literary influence. Literary influence does not take place until an author begins to produce independently and spon- taneously after the manner of a predecessor. There is nothing servile about such a relation." Price, as may be concluded from this excerpt, treats not only of true influence, i.e., of cases where a German writer produced "independently and spon- taneously after the manner of an English predecessor," but he deals with conscious imitation as well. Suffice it here to say, that in reviewer's opinion the compiler devotes too much time and space to this sort of influence, if indeed it can be called such. Unless the new product, or, as the case may be, the numberless imitations for example of the Vicar of Wakefield or of the Sentimental Journey can be shown to be endowed with new, German characteristics, and with a new pervading spirit, or unless it can be demonstrated what caused the imitations to spring up, whether it was a dormant or long-felt want, or be- cause the original fitted into German mental and social condi- tions, imitations have little more claim to be considered here than have translations, to which, by the way, Price devotes far too much space. Price, however, continues: "It is not to be thought that an influence changes the character of any man or
Reviews and Notes 143
of any author's writings. 'Was im Menschen nicht ist, kommt auch nicht aus ihm,' Goethe lets Hermann's father truly say. A work of literature cannot create anything in a reader. It can only quicken something latently (sic) there." This pre- supposition, evidently the result of the author's investigations, deserves special mention, for in a way, it explains the totality of literary influences. A work of literature does not create anything in the reader, it only kindles dormant forces. It is nothing beyond an external stimulus which excites the creative powers to action. If the stimulus is sufficiently strong and if the hitherto inactive mental forces react to the excitation, then we most likely obtain a product created independently and spon- taneously, or in other words, we have true literary influence. If, however, there is no latent force to be stirred to productivity or if that force be insufficient to create from within, and if con- sequently a literary product comes into existence under constant reference to the original, then the resultant work is of an inferior kind: it is conscious imitation.
Professor Price admits (p. 125) that "in the economics of literature the power to lend is always present, while the power to borrow depends upon the vigor of the borrower," but he fails to state clearly wherein this vigor consists. It does not suffice to say that the creative powers of a writer are stimulated to activity by a foreign work of literature, for the borrower must be inwardly prepared and ready for the gift. This is true of individuals as well as of nations. Without a fertile soil the borrowed seed will not thrive, or as Wolfgang Menzel put it in his Deutsche Literatur (v. I, p. 47) : " Wir interessieren uns immer fur dasjenige Fremde was gerade mit unserer Bildungsstufe am meisten harmoniert." Moreover, Price frequently neglects to state that in many instances the native fruit would undoubtedly have ripened without the foreign stimulus.
In the two excerpts quoted Price spoke of literary influence, "when applied to an individual"; the following lines deal with the term when "applied to the action of one literature upon another in its totality." He expresses his doubts as to the existence of Herder's Volksseele, as well as to Lessing's assertion concerning the congeniality of the English and German people, and further on he confesses his "scepticism regarding the exis- tence of differentiating characteristics in national literature, as well as in national life." The reviewer believes that if Price had been dealing with French > German literary influences for example, he might have soon found that there exists a dissimi- larity of nations and consequently their literatures. Owing to the very fact that both the English and German nations sprang from the same Teutonic stock the literatures of both peoples show a relationship in content (Gehalt), spirit, and contempla- tion of the world which differentiates them from the literatures
144 Uhlendorf
of the Latin races. Furthermore, had the German people always been a nation politically unified and endowed with the same national egotism as the British, the effect would undoubtedly have shown itself in the character of her literature. Nor should it be forgotten that, in contrast to the self-satisfied exclusive- ness and isolation of other nations, there had developed in Germany during the 17th century a spirit of universality which manifested itself in the liberal study of foreign languages and literatures and produced a singular receptiveness to things foreign. This undeniable love for everything foreign became in fact so pronounced in the German people that we are obliged to see in it a national characteristic which, in part, explains their great susceptibility to outside literary influences. One of the first to realize this was Klopstock, as may be seen from the ode "Der Nachahmer," 1764, and "Mein Vaterland," 1768. This trait of the German mind on the one hand, and the realization of kinship on the other, are the forces which doubt- less favored English > German literary influences, a fact which in the reviewer's opinion, Mr. Price should have called atten- tion to in his introduction.
There is finally another important point which in the dis- cussion of the concept and scope of literary influences must not be disregarded. There are certain common attitudes, moods, and tendencies of mind, characteristic of certain periods and manifesting themselves simultaneously in various countries, which are frequently called the spirit of a given time (Zeitgeist), and whose appearance and disappearance cannot be accounted for entirely by 'influences.' Even if the atomistic thought of the present, a characteristic feature, by the way, of the spirit of our own time, should deny the existence of a Zeitgeist, it will not be able to explain why the individuals living at a given period are susceptible to certain influences while a subsequent genera- tion will decline to be swayed by the same moods or tendencies. In view of these facts an investigation which undertakes, as does the present work, to determine the literary indebtedness of one nation to another, should not fail to distinguish carefully between positive influences and the imponderable common psychic forces existing among several nations in every period. The disrepute, into which the mechanical juxtaposition of literary parallels and influences, often called comparative literature, has fallen among scholars, seems due in no small measure to the neglect of this most important factor. I. The Eighteenth Century and Before (Shakespeare excluded).
Chap. 1-2. Seventeenth century. Chapter 1 deals in an excellent way with the general seventeenth century influences, adding, however, very little that cannot be found in most histories of literature. The first part of Chapter 2 (p. 134-148) having Creizenach and the more recent works of Bolte, Cohn, Herz,
Reviews and Notes 145
etc., as a foundation, deals almost exclusively with the history of the English comedians and their performances in Germany, without more than merely touching upon influences. This defect is, however, counterbalanced by an excellent chart showing the wanderings of the various troupes. The remainder of the chapter deals mostly with Ayrer, who, not unlike Her- zog Julius, was doubtless influenced somewhat by the come- dians, but as Wodick and especially Gundolf have shown, is primarily a disciple of Hans Sachs. After all, then, these actors gave Germany little beyond plots and theatrical appara- tus. The people of the country where the armies of all Europe were waging war had few higher interests — they wanted diver- sion, and that was furnished in a rather crude way by the wandering troupes.
Chap. 3. The Eighteenth century in general. Price is follow- ing Prof. A. R. Hohlfeld by distinguishing three distinct groups of English authors, embodying as many different tendencies which in three succeeding periods affected the German pre- classical eighteenth century literature. While this classification is on the whole satisfactory the reviewer has tried in vain to detect in Thomson strong French affiliations, clear thinking and clear writing,10 which are considered characteristics of the first group, Addison-Pope.11 Thomson, in the reviewer's opinion, is rather related more closely to the second, the Milton- Young group, the third wave of influence being Shakespeare- Ossian-Reliques. On p. 157 Price makes the following sweeping statement: "It is true that in the attempt to follow the English models new concepts were added to the German language: friendship, religious fervor, patriotism, sentimentality, religious introspection. ..." While no one will doubt this to be true of sentimentality, nor that the patriotic German writers admired their politically more independent cousins across the channel, the attempt to trace the origin of such concepts as friendship (cf. 167), religious fervor and religious introspection to England seems almost ridiculous. Has Mr. Price forgotten Simon Dach's famous poem "Lob der Freundschaft," or is he unaware of the extraordinary influence exerted by German mystics and theos- ophists such as Sebastian Franck, Schwenkfeld, Weigel and Boehme upon the religious life in England during the seven- teenth century? Of the German writers who are treated in this chapter as having been influenced by eighteenth century England, Lichtenberg and Hagedorn are the most important. For these Mr. Price had before him the standard works of
10 Leon Morel, James Thomson, sa me et ses oeuvres, Paris 1895, arrives at conclusions quite different. Cf. pp. 412-483.
^ ' Cf. p. 236, where Price admits that Thomson submits to no strict classifi- cation as a literary influence.
146 Uhlendorf
Kleineibst and Coffman, concerning which little is said, how- ever, in the way of criticism. Next the compiler devotes several pages to mediums of international exchange, such as journals, etc., leaving the moral weeklies for a later discussion. The Chapter is concluded with several pages on each of the follow- ing: Dryden, Prior, Bunyan,12 and the satirists Defoe and Swift. The parts relating to Robinson Crusoe and Gulliver's Travels are devoted to translations and imitations only, as is also the mater- ial on Butler's Hudibras. Lastly, Price makes short mention of the American Revolution in the works of some German writers.
Chap. 4. Addison and the moral weeklies. Umbach is the main source of this review of the effect of the English moral weeklies. Only once (p. 194) does Price examine critically the material presented by this author who confesses that with regard to Haller he has reached no definite results. The assertion that the literary feud between the Zurich and Leipzig group marks the beginning of literary criticism in Germany because it was influenced by the English weeklies, must be considered a slight exaggeration, if we remember Christian Thomasius' Monatsgesprache, 1688-9, Tentzel's Unterredungen, 1689-98, and similar publications before the appearance of the English weeklies.
Chap. 5. Pope. Notwithstanding the fact that a consider- able part of the chapter is devoted to translations, it deserves our interest. There is, however, one factor, the significance of which Price failed to emphasize, viz., the gradually vanishing but still tenacious French influence, which, more than Addison and Pope, themselves disciples of French pseudo-classicism, was working for clearness and simplicity in German literature and esthetics.
Chap. 6. Thomson. Professor Price's survey of the various discussions of the influence of Thomson on Brockes are not lacking in completeness, but might easily have been boiled down considerably, in view of the author's own conclusion that "the influence of Thomson on Brockes is too slight to be measured," and that "Brockes' merit as far as Thomson is concerned, is chiefly that of a translator." The frequent translations and imitations of this survey are discussed on the subsequent pages. Influence of Thomson is suggested also in the case of Gessner, Wieland, Hagedorn, Kleist, and Schiller (Spaziergang). Much emphasis is laid on Stewart's article on Thomson and Klopstock, although it is confined to parallel themes, passages and words. If external evidence could be found to establish the fact that Klopstock was familiar with Thomson when he wrote his early odes, and if expressions like
lt Price did not mention any Bunyan > Schiller influences. Cf. supra, p. 141.
Reviews and Notes 147
"die wenigen Edlen," "ye noble few," could actually be traced back to Thomson, the assumption of influence might be justi- fied. The reviewer has great doubt also whether Schiller's Spaziergang was influenced by Thomson to the extent which Walz would have us believe.
Chap. 7. Milton's Paradise Lost. After enumerating the German translations, Price takes up the literary controversy that ensued over Milton between the two already contending literary factions in Germany. He points out that the Leipzig group was stimulated by the adverse French criticism, while Bodmer and his followers were actuated by Addison's defense of his great countryman. A new impetus was given the interest in Milton by the appearance of the first three cantoes of the Messias by Klopstock who, while still a student at Schulpforta, had expressed his intention of writing a national epic. He first thought of Henry the Fowler with whose life and history he had been familiar from early youth, as an appropriate subject for such an epic. That he relinquished this patriotic theme and chose the founder of Christianity as the hero of his epic is to be explained above all out of the prevailing religious spirit of his time. Luther's translation had made the Bible the national book of protestant Germany, and many popular German church hymns spoke of Christ as unser Held. In one of his odes (Mein Vaterland) Klopstock tells us himself what deeper motives induced him to sing of the redeemer and of heaven 'the fatherland of humanity' in preference to the hero of his native land. The influence of Milton upon the Messias must, therefore, be considered of secondary importance despite the polite statement in Klopstock's letter to his future patron, the German translator of Paradise Lost, Bodmer. E. Pizzo, upon whose work Price draws chiefly, gives without question the best estimate of Milton's influence in German litera- ture, calling attention at the same time to the change of attitude in Germany toward the English poet. Finally the last sentence of Price's chapter on Milton might be modified as follows: "Milton presented himself as the first great topic of a literary debate which helpt to establish the rights of imagination along with those of reason."
Chap. 8 on Young's Night Thoughts, is one of the best of the book, partly because the influence of the Night Thoughts had previously been made a special study by conscientious scholars, and partly because Price subjects the material thus made available for him to a critical examination. His last word concerning the Night Thoughts may be quoted in full: "On looking back upon the history of Young in Germany (Young's Night Thoughts in Germany, for his Conjectures on Original Composition are taken up afterwards, in Chap. 15) the first impression is that Young was not an influence but at most a
148 Uhlendorf
fad, and that he owed his vogue to the prevailing enthusiasm for things English, which helpful as it had been in the emancipa- tion from French influence, was now becoming itself detrimental to the natural growth of German literature." The final sentence of the chapter is essentially true of most literary influences, and therefore significant in a summary such as this: "Neither of these English poets (Young and Elizabeth Rowe) bent German literature in a new direction, but the coming of their works to Germany provided a stimulus that brought out clearly the prevalent tendencies of the time in Germany." We may even go a step farther and say that Young not only satisfied a vague desire for something as yet undefined, but that his Night Thoughts first excited a thirst and then quenched it to intoxication.
Chap. 9. Macpherson's Ossian. After a lengthy discussion of the controversy in Britain, and after several additional pages devoted to the vogue of the mysterious literary phenom- enon in Germany, Klopstock's interest in Ossian is discussed. Tombo's treaties form the basis of the survey. It is interesting to note that Klopstock, although at first a great admirer of the Gaelic bard and at times influenced by him more than any other writer, finally lost his faith in him, that Herder was a staunch believer in the genuineness of the poems, and that Gerstenberg from the very beginning thought them to be the work of Macpherson, while Goethe's enthusiasm soon spent itself to such an extent that he could call this literary curiosity a "Wolkengebilde, das als gestaltlos epidemisch and kontagios im ein schwaches Jahrhundert sich herein senkte und sich mehr als billigen Anteil erwarb." Prof. Price's note on Ossian> Schiller may be supplemented by the findings of Olive Caroline Harris13 who sees additional Ossian influences in "Elegie auf den Tod eines Jiinglings," "Erne Leichenphantasie," "Der Fluchtling," and lastly, "Die Kiinstler."
Chap. 10. Percy and the German folk-song. If the material presented here on sixteen pages were condensed by one-half, the chapter would lose little in value. After treating of the folk-song in England and Germany, Price enters upon a discus- sion of the crux of the question: Percy's influence on Burger, whose famous ballad "Leonore" was for a long time considered the classical example of his indebtedness to Percy. Since it has been shown, however, that "Burger, previous to the year 1777, nowhere displays greater familiarity with Percy's collec- tion than that which he might have obtained from Herder's essay on Ossian," which, though containing a translation of "Sweet William's Ghost," did not appear until after Burger
13 Traces of English Sources in Schiller's Poetry, 1916. Univ. of 111. Master's thesis, p. 10-19.
Reviews and Notes 149
had composed the "Leonore" (1773), Price is justified in being sceptical not only as to Percy's influence on Burger, but also to the hypothetical great effect of the Reliques upon German literature in general. Taken as a whole Percy's collection was after all a minor factor in the development of the native German folk-song movement, the true sources and meaning of which lie deeper than the superficial comparative method is permitted to penetrate.
Chap. 11. Richardson and Fielding. The first nine pages, one-third of the entire chapter, sum up the differences in the two novelists, and are followed by a detailed discussion of the opinions of Goethe, Lessing, M tiller, von Itzehoe, and Blanken- burg. These go to show, that Germany's interest in the English writers was unusually great, and that German criticism on the whole favored Fielding. Yet it is quite apparent that Richard- son was imitated more than his rival. The first and best of these imitations was Gellert's Leben der schwedischen Grafin, the first family novel in Germany. Then followed Hermes with his Miss Fanny Wilkes, which in turn was succeeded by numberless imitations. The Richardson influence had reached its height when Fielding's opposition began to make itself felt also in Germany. Musaus parodied Grandison, but neither he nor any other novelist developed into a German Fielding, for as Resewitz rightly has it, the lack of public life in Germany was not conducive to bringing forth a painter of manners and customs. The mass of interesting material which Professor Price has collected in this and the following chapter would have gained in perspective by a description of the psychological conditions of the time which made the enthusiastic reception of these authors possible in Germany.14
Chap. 12. Goldsmith and Sterne. Although these writers are not as intimately connected with each other as are Richard- son and Fielding, they have nevertheless something in common which appealed especially to the German public. The Vicar of Wakefield as well as the Sentimental Journey took root in a very fertile soil. As the country pastor had always been a favored figure in German life, we must not wonder if the reading public allowed itself to be fed on numberless imitations. Of authors of note only Herder and Goethe had more than a passing interest in Goldsmith. That there was real influence, however, is a matter not to be questioned. Sterne's Sentimental Journey, a. product of the same time which found expression in Werther, acted upon German literature in a way that was not beneficial in its development. Wieland and Jean Paul, although maintaining their poetic individuality at all times, were tem-
14 P. 286. The first German translation of Smollet's Peregrine Pickle appeared in 1753, not in 1756.
150 Uhlendorf
porarily under the spell of Sterne, not, however, to their advantage, as Bodmer and Szerny respectively, have showd Of the imitations (of which Price makes far too much) those of Jacobi, Schummel, and Hippel are the most important. Finally Goethe's borrowings are discussed. Speaking of the once alleged plagiarism from the Koran embodied in Makariens Archiv, Wundt's findings are endorsed. — Looking back upon the last two chapters which to a large extent deal with imitations attention must be called to the fact that cases of genuine influences, i.e., cases where a writer was stimulated by a kindred spirit to the consciousness of something within him that awaited development and artistic expression, were very few, and that on the other hand cases of imitation, especially of the poor kind, were frequent, in fact so frequent as to become harmful to the development of national literature.
Chap. 13. The middle-class drama. Lessing's Miss Sara Samson has always been known to go back to two sources: Lillo's Merchant of London and the comedie larmoyante. Whether the tide of plays that began with Lessing's drama received its impetus directly from England or from the first biirgerliche Trauerspiel is hard to say. Indications, however, seem to point to the fact as Eloeser has shown, that Lillo, aided by Moore's Gamester gave life to the new drama only through the instru- mentality of Miss Sara Samson. This was also suggested by Sauer in one of the chapters in his work on Brawe, from which Price quotes extensively. The compiler is fair enough in his estimate of English influences to acknowledge with others that "to a large extent, after the earliest days, the middle class drama in Germany was self-quickening." On the other hand he attempts with Robertson to rank Farquhar as a predecessor of Lessing, wherein, however, he is less successful than in sur- veying Kettner's article which demonstrates satisfactorily that Emilia Golotti sprang up from Lessing's interest in Clarissa. That there are some traits of the burgeois drama in Schiller's R&uber no one will doubt, but what is to be gained by asserting in this chapter that Karl Moor has something in common with Fielding's Tom Jones, the reviewer cannot see. Lastly Price discusses the origin of the German fate-drama. He refutes with Minor Fath's supposition and arrives at the conclusion that the Schicksalstragodie owes little specifically to Lillo's predecessor Fatal Curiosity.
Part II. Shakespeare in Germany.
Chap. 14. Dryden, Lessing, and the rationalistic critics. Prof. Price shows that he is familiar with a large amount of the material available for the survey. Without entering upon early works which have long outlived themselves he makes the reader acquainted with two often misrepresented facts, the one that
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Lessing was not the first in Germany to recognize Shakespeare's genius, the other that German interpretation did not lead the way of English appreciation of Shakespeare, but rather that the reverse was the case. Treating of Shakespeare in England he calls attention to Dryden's Essay on Dramatick Poesie which influenced Pope in the annotations of his Shakespeare edition. Then Prof. Price quotes the comments on Shakespeare up to the time when the Leipzig and Swiss groups simultaneously chanced upon the Shakespeare criticism in Addison's works. While Gottshed was influenced in his criticism by French views, Bodmer valiantly sided with the Spectator. Then follows the famous 17. Liter atur brief which to a large extent echoed Dryden, who from now on more than Voltaire guided Lessing's critical attitude toward the works of the great English drama- tist. The chapter ends with a discussion of Wieland's transla- tion which Price justly claims but very slightly influenced the writer.
Chap. 15. Young, Herder, and the "Sturm und Drang" crit- ics. This chapter deals first with the significance of the Conjec- tures on Original Composition in German esthetics. Prof. Price contrasts Kindts book on Young with that of Steinke favoring somewhat the views of the former who, like our author, affiliates himself with a school prone to overemphasize English influences. While Kind admits in advance that Germany was ripe for Young's theories, Steinke arrives at the conclusion that "the literature of Germany would not have been poorer as to content, nor would it have developed along different lines without Young's Conjectures on Original Composition." A discussion of the attitude of the Stiirmer und Dranger toward Shakespeare constitutes the crux of the chapter. The question is: who was the leader in the Strassburg group and what does each owe the other? The views of Minor, Sauer and Suphan are superseded by Diintzer's assertion that Goethe was the leading spirit. This assumption, however, again began to totter with the pub- lication of Friedrich's extensive study on Lenz' Anmerkungen iiber das Theater in which it was shown that Lenz the young "men- tor" of the group, was in the last analysis, inspired by Young's esthetics. While Lenz's relation to Shakespeare was a three- fold one, that of a commentator, translator, and imitator, the influence of the great English dramatist upon him as a play- wright was on the whole detrimental to his own poetic develop- ment.
Chap. 16. Bohtlingk's Shakespeare und unsere Klassiker.
Chap. 17. Gundolf's Shakespeare und der deutsche Geist. In the forty-three pages devoted to these two works, Prof. Price reviews Shakespeare's influence in Germany from two different aspects. Bohtlingk in his three volumes approached the sub- ject from the point of view of the parallel-hunting philologian
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of the older school, laying chief stress upon the subject matter, while Gundolf is loath to consider plundering and conscious imitation as influences, but sees the true influence in the atmos- phere pervading a work. The difference in the two studies is reflected in Price's treatment of both. His view of Bohtlingk's work is interspersed with critical remarks which echo the opinions of H. Jantzen's review in Englische Studien. But Price should either have refrained altogether from giving certain quotations (viz. p. 411-419) or he should have branded them rank falsifications or gross exaggerations. Only too often his quotations are without the comment necessary to enable the reader to separate the wheat from the chaff. Notwithstanding occasional remarks and the final paragraph the reviewer believes that Price considers Bohtlingk's studies the best there are on Shakespeare and the German classicists. — Gundolf's (Gundel- finger) masterpiece of synthetic thought, which most successfully introduces order into Shakespeare's influence upon German literature, and marks out the path of development of German intellectual life as reflected in the appreciation and interpretation of Shakespeare, is treated with a sort of pious respect. In view of Gundolf's findings it would now seem almost necessary that our author restate in a more conservative manner the true scope of the so-called influences proclaimed in preceding chapters.
Chap. 18. Shakespeare in the nineteenth century. Considering the large number of investigations into the Schlegel-Tieck translation we must not be surprised to find seven pages devoted to this classical work. Kleist and Grillparzer, Hebbel and Lud- wig, Wagner and Grabbe are discussed as to their dependence upon Shakespeare, with the result, however, that none fell permanently under his spell. Taking up Heine's relation to Shakespeare Price has occasion to illustrate the fact that each German writer sought and found in the English master what was in himself. Thus Heine found in Shakespeare examples of his own species of humor which is essentially that of romantic irony. A comparison of Nietzsche's superman with Shakespear- ean heroes concludes the chapter.
Part III. The Nineteenth Century and after (Shakespeare excluded).
Chap. 19. The nineteenth century in general. Of the eight- eenth century influences that continued into the nineteenth Price mentions that of Richardson upon Tieck (Grafin Dolores) and that of Sterne upon Jean Paul and Heine, who greatly resembled Sterne in character. This epoch marks the beginning of a world-literature which, exemplified in the Goethe-Carlyle friendship, was furthered by Mme. de Stae'l.15 On the one side
16Jaeck, E. G. Madame de Sta'el and the Spread of German Literature. New York, 1915.
Reviews and Notes 153
we have a pronounced Goethe-cult, and on the other side a love for everything English, which found expression in the works of "Young Germany" (as Whyte has shown in his excellent study), and later in Julian Schmidt's Grenzboten. Now begins the time of profuse translation; Scott, Byron, Dickens, and Bulwer- Lytton became strong factors in German literature. Price has presented the influence of these writers very well, except perhaps that he makes little too much of the Goethe-Carlyle friendship, and especially of the latter's Life of Schiller, as well as of the translations of Burns.
Chap. 20. Scott. The reviewer gladly recognizes the ex- cellent features of this chapter, though he wishes that it might have been shortened considerably, especially as regards Scott > Alexis. Moreover, he cannot at this point suppress his un- bounded admiration for the inquisitorial talent displayed by certain champions of the comparative method in unearthing the secret indebtedness of Hauff's Lichtenstein to the novels of Walter Scott. The investigation which began in 1900 as Prof. Price tells us, and was conducted for about eleven years by several scholars, proceeded on the whole quite satisfactorily, for somewhere in Scott's voluminous works a parallel for each little incident in Lichtenstein could be detected. Only the Pfeifer von Hardt, the wicked spy, was not accounted for. The inquisitors were greatly perplexed and grieved, for it seemed to them quite impossible that Hauff could have developed this character out of his historical surroundings. Finally the missing prototype was discovered in Cooper's Spy, and the case against Hauff was complete. No prospective agent of the Department of Justice or the National Security League will read the account of the Hauff case without profit and edification.
Chap. 21. Byron. This chapter for which Prof. Price had first class material at his disposal seems to the reviewer espe- cially well done, and in no need of critical comment.
Chap. 22. Dickens. The reviewer agrees with the author that, although much has been written about the influence of Dickens upon various German writers, there is as yet no work which approaches the subject from the right point of view. Here, more than anywhere else, influence shows itself in a new atmos- phere, created by the works of Dickens. Reuter, probably the only one who has succeeded in picturing life as Dickens did, has not been shown to have learned directly from the English novelist, nor does Price succeed in convincing the reader to the contrary, in spite of his lengthy discussion.
Chap. 23. America in German literature. This is on the whole a good chapter, although it treats little of literary influ- ences. It is apparent that Price did not make himself sufficiently acquainted with Faust's study on Sealsfield, or he would have avoided certain misstatements of biographical facts. Sealsfield
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did not write Austria as it is in Switzerland, but after his first stay in America upon returning to the land of his birth in 1827. As the reviewer hopes to demonstrate in his study on the great- est of German-American writers, Sealsfield not only saw a good deal of frontier life and observed much in the fifteen years of his sojourn in America, but he was also gifted with a peculiar sense for ethnic and national characteristics, which made his stay there doubly fruitful. Regarding the "extensive borrow- ing" of Sealsfield, great care must be taken not to overrate this statement. The assertion that he borrowed judiciously from Chateaubriand, Cooper and Irving must again be looked upon as a misrepresentation of facts; he neither borrowed from them nor is it likely that he was influenced by their technique. I do not know where the writer obtained the knowledge that Sealsfield published over a hundred and fifty volumes, when the total number is but twenty-eight, or fifty-eight, counting the various editions. ("Der Fluch Kishogues 1841," is not an independent work as Price seems to think, but rather one of the chapters in Das Kajiitenbuch. In place of Der Legitime und der Republikaner read D. L. u. die R.) How Price can assert that Gerstacker was less prejudiced than his predecessor, and that his works were essentially true to facts and could serve as a safe guide to emigrants the reviewer is at a loss to understand, in view of the fact that even a superficial compari- son between Mississippibilder and one of Sealsfield's border novels, or between Die Flussregulatoren and Nathan, der Squat- ter-Regulator furnishes proof conclusive to the contrary.
Chap. 24. The twentieth century. In this final chapter Prof. Price expounds his ideas concerning international literary trends, and expresses his hope for a future cosmopolitanism in literature. This hope reflects credit to the author's heart, but there is reason to fear that in view of the recent pitiful collapse of the cosmopolitan ideals so loudly proclaimed from the housetops and of the subsequent general disillusionment, only the credulous will share his hope. Moreover, there are many reasons which would make it deplorable should the distinctly national element disappear from literature. How- ever, since the truly national and truly human in the last analysis coincide, every great poet will continue to be inter- national even if temporary hatred and jealousy should deny him this honor.
On looking back upon the entire work the reviewer does not hesitate to acknowledge its excellent features. The author has spared neither time nor pains in gathering his material from the various sources available. The reviewer realizes that in making such a compilation of our present day knowledge within a certain field the difficulty lies not in stating enough, but in
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condensing a large amount of data to a few pages. In this the author was successful in some chapters, in others he was less fortunate. His method, which is statistical rather than general- izing, may account in some respects for minor shortcomings. Notwithstanding these Prof. Price's study is as valuable to every student of German literature as it is indispensable to the specialist in the field of comparative study of English-Ger- man relations. It should be incorporated into every working library in America, England, and Germany.
B. A. UHLENDORF University of Illinois
A CRITICAL SURVEY OF RECENT RESEARCH IN GERMANIC PHILOLOGY1
The new series of books edited by Professor Honn and published by the house of Perthes is sure to meet with a hearty welcome from the workers in the respective fields on both sides of the Atlantic. According to the preface by the editor and the publisher's announcement, they are designed to furnish aid in the transition period in all domains of scholarly research. They are to serve, first and foremost, the wants of advanced students and the younger generation of scholars and teachers who through active service in the army were compelled to interrupt their studies for a considerable time, especially those who find themselves without adequate library facilities. To orient themselves anew in their respective fields of work, all of these demand a reliable guide who will aid them in re-establishing the connection with, and inform them regarding the various achieve- ments of, their science during the war, and point out to them the new problems that have been opened up in the meantime. This need makes itself felt all the more urgently because the few scientific periodicals that used to report more or less systematically on the progress and results of investigation in the several branches of learning could in most cases do but scant justice to their task during the war. Finally the purpose of these books is to bridge the gulf between the research work of the universities and similar learned bodies, hitherto so entirely esoteric, and the person of general culture to whom the results of scientific investigation have so far been available but scantily, in haphazard fashion and in diluted form. The editor and publishers hope to continue their enterprise at regular intervals, probably in the form of annual reports. This is sincerely to be desired.
The claim of these guides to recognition is incontestable. On this side of the Ocean their services are needed even more pressingly. The outward obstacles that impeded the progress of
1 Deutsche Philologie bearbeitet von Georg Baesecke, Professor an der Universitat Konigsberg i. Pr. Gotha, Friedrich Andreas Perthes, 1919. (Wissen- schaftliche Forschungsberichte herausgegeben von Professor Dr. Karl Honn. Geisteswissenschaftliche Reihe 1914-1917. III.) XI+132 pp.
157
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work in our line are easily enough enumerated. The irregularity of the mail service during the first twenty months of the war was followed by a complete cessation of all connection, through the acts of the British Government, in the spring of 1916, a year before America's entry into the list of combatants. Con- nection, slow and irregular, was re-established only about a year ago. For a time the arrival of even ah isolated number of a periodical was something of an event. The destruction of Volckmar's storehouse at Leipzig in 1916, with the total annihi- lation of countless sets of magazine numbers collected for eventual export, marked a loss to our institutions in many cases wholly irretrievable: certain volumes will never again be secured, and those obtainable command prohibitive prices. Havoc has also been wrought by the height of the surtax on exports decreed by the Borsenverein der deutschen Buchhandler. (The justifia- bility of a surtax in principle I am not denying.) The outward obstacles here mentioned are surpassed in gravity by others which this is not the place to enumerate. We have, then, every reason to be thankful for the new enterprise, and to wish that it may develop into a new bond of international amity. Nor should it be amiss to express here the hope that the author of the report on German philology, which is to occupy our atten- tion in the following, may have good reason to modify eventually the harsh judgment that he pronounces, p. IX of the preface, on America's contribution to Germanics — a judgment entirely ignoring the fundamental difference in the status of Germanic studies abroad and in the land of their origin.
The series is opened by the reports on the mental sciences. The first number is devoted to French philology, by Karl Vossler, a thin fascicle of sixty odd pages, with a surprising wealth of content matter; an unusually mature work, and a work of art hard to parallel in the conquest of matter by form. In addition, there have been brought out so far the object of the present review, and the reports on Latin and Greek philology, by Wilhelm Kroll and Ernst Howald respectively. Those announced to appear in the immediate future include English philology (by Johannes Hoops), history of German literature (by Paul Merker), medieval and modern history, philosophy pedagogy, Protestant theology, and geography.
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To obviate any possible misapprehension on the scope of Baesecke's book, it will be well worth while to quote rather liberally from the introduction, p. 1 ff. :
"It is no easy task to define satisfactorily the boundaries of the field that is surveyed here. For the science of Germanic antiquities has become a German philology, and tendencies are manifest to develop out of the latter an all-embracing Deutschkunde. The boundaries, then, have repeatedly shifted. In the first stage were encompassed the mental and material traditions of the whole ancient Germanic world, language and poetry as well as state and private antiquities, mythology as well as ethnography, etc., but only in the German field proper did the scholars descend farther down into the Christian centuries. In the second stage the center is formed by the intellectual and spiritual life of the Germans so far as trans- mitted in speech, and this is, at least in principle, followed up to the present time. Deutschkunde finally would, if possible, embrace everything pertaining to Germany and things German, especially all that belongs to the history of culture and civiliza- tion, but it is made to include even German philosophy and botany.2
"In the first stage our science fulfilled its tasks with com- parative ease, considering the ways and means of the epoch: subject matter and method were in harmony. In the second the logical consistency of the structure slackened: many things no longer properly appurtenant were by convention retained, e.g., certain branches of antiquities. . . and Gothic; on the other hand, together with the modern German language, also the modern German literature was laid claim to, which was
J By the inclusion of natural sciences in this statement, Baesecke, it seems to me, overshoots the mark. There is a German philosophy, but there is no such thing as German botany. The fact that Von deutscher Art und Kunst. Eine Deutschkunde (Leipzig und Berlin 1918), edited by Walter Hofstatter, the present editor of the Zeitschrift fur Deutschkunde, contains a chapter on Pflanzen- und Tierwelt und ihre Unterwerfung does not invalidate my contention. In foreign language instruction it has for a long time past been considered appropriate to acquaint the student with such things, as part of the knowledge of Landeskunde to be transmitted. Moreover, there is a German mental attitude toward the kingdoms of nature, and no one would deny our science the privilege of inquiring into, and accounting for, its development and specific character at any given point in history.
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unconquerable by the old method. And Deutschkunde, at last, is not a science, but is education and culture, the result of many sciences. . .3
"One may read these changes also from the titles of our periodicals: the Zeitschrift fiir deutsches Altertum was in 1876 expanded to read und deutsche Liter atur; Z ackers Zeitschrift was in 1868 christened fiir deutsche Philologie. In 1874 the Beitrdge zur Geschichte der deutschen Sprache und Liter atur began to appear; Euphorion points to the emancipation of modern literature; that the whole of our domain attains its unity only in our school is shown by the Zeitschrift fiir den deutschen Unterricht."*
The author then proceeds to give his conception of the term philology. In view of some recent attempts to arrive at a neat and clean-cut definition,5 Baesecke's argument,
8 In other words, Deutschkunde is a Bildungsideal, just as Humanism was in its day, and it is as yet not a systematized body of knowledge to which uniform problems give uniform laws. But just as the originally enthusiastic Humanism, whose end and aim was not an objective knowledge of classical antiquity, developed into a learned humanism and a renaissance of philological science (cf. Wilhelm Kroll, Geschichte der klassischen Philologie, Leipzig 1909, p. 76), so may Deutschkunde develop into an organized science. There is no reason why it should not both expand and intensify what is today included under the terms of German philology and history of German literature, and there need be no apprehension that this new nationalism might throw overboard the precious heritage of classical and of international humanism.
4 In the light of the above remarks the recent change of this title to Zeit- schrift fiir Deutschkunde appears relevant.
6 1 trust I need not, in The Journal of English and Germanic Philology, controvert the opinion of those for whom the province of philology is circum- scribed within the narrow confines of historical grammar or of textual criticism. I take no little comfort from the information conveyed by Vossler, I.e., p. 9, that, more than two centuries ago, the Italian philosopher G. B. Vico (1670- 1744) recognized philology as the science che non riguarda meno le cose che le parole, and demanded that the study of words should serve the investigation of prehistoric times and the history of civilization, thereby anticipating the demands of the nineteenth century. — Hermann Paul's thorough-going presenta- tion, in his Begriff und Aufgabe der germanischen Philologie, in the first volume of the earlier editions of the Grundriss, I assume to be general intellectual property. Friedrich von der Leyen, in Das Studium der deutschen Philologiet Miinchen 1913, p. 1, defines as follows: "By German philology we mean the science that studies the mental life of the Germans, from its incipiency down to the present" — a statement far too sweeping in this generality, and, for practical purposes, subsequently reduced to the following: "German philology today
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even though it be not entirely convincing, demands careful attention. He quotes from his own pamphlet Wie studiert man Deutsch? Ratschlage fur Anf anger, Miinchen 1917, which is not at my disposal, and which might be a suitable general introduction to the volume before us. The arrangement and distribution of matter he illustrates by a sort of skeleton, as follows:
Physiologic Psychologic
Phonetik
Indo- Altengl. Mundarten j>: ^
Germ. Gotisch Sprache: Ahd., Mhd., Nhd. usw. g. o1
Altnordisch Schriftsprache, Stilistik, Verskunst, Poetik jrr. %
Mythologie Sage Volks- Literaturgeschichte * §•
Marchen dichtung Liter. Beziehungen
(germ., antike, franzosische usw.)
Volkskunde Altertumer Kulturgeschichte Kunstgeschichte Geschichte
limits itself to the study of the German language, German antiquity, German Volkstum, German literature." Even the latter definition is afterwards still further constricted, by excluding the literature of the modern period. A much more detailed analysis is given by Julius Petersen, in his Literaturgeschichte als Wissenschaft, Heidelberg 1914 (originally published in the Germanisch-Roma- nische Monatsschrift, 1913 and 1914), p. 8 (after a preliminary definition on p. 2: "the science that investigates the linguistic means of expression"), in essence developing an idea of Herder's: "Through the medium of the Volksgeist language and poetry remain connected in most ultimate mutual action and reaction. We need not on that account deny that there is a great science of general linguistics; likewise one may concede the existence of a general science of literature without any national limitation; but these two bodies touch in many places; these two realms have exactly as many provinces in common as there are civilized nations. And each one of these common provinces is called philology; there are as many philologies as there are literary languages; philology is in each case the national interlacing of linguistic and literary history." And again, p. 9: "The spiritual life of a nation is a rich melody, of which philology catches just one chord, the character of which however is determined by the surrounding tones. It is a triad, for the center between language and literature is held by Volkskunde, devoted directly to the Volksgeist as the science of all originally oral tradition in beliefs and superstitions, sagas and folk-tales, observances and customs, songs and games. Like linguistic and literary history it also has a national and a general part, the first of which is indissolubly connected with philology, while the other stands outside of this connection." (I may be permitted to refer here in passing to my article on The Scope and Method of Folklore Study, Monatshefte fur deulsche Sprache und Padagogik, XIX (1918), pp. 97-110.) The latest definition of our subject that has come to my notice is by Giulio Bertoni, in the Archivum romanicum, nuova rivista difilologia romanza, 1917 (as quoted by Vossler, I.e., p. 21) : ". . . raccogliere e interpretare le intime rispondenze fra il segno e 1'idea, fra la parola e la cosa, fra 1'intelletto e la materia."
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The stress placed in this diagram upon Sprache and Literatur- geschichte indicates sufficiently what the author explains more at length in a special paragraph: the center of the science of philology is formed neither by the physiological-grammatical nor by the historical-literary side, but by their interlacing over the works of poetry, in which the soul and spirit of a nation finds its purest expression; and the flower of art in the superior individual is more valuable than the broad foundation of the lower strata of a people and their folklore. This confinement to the center, Baesecke thinks, has been suggested by the recent development of sciences: Volkskunde, e. g., concerns itself now less about its German origins than about the development and the stupendous mass of parallels among non-Indo- Germanic peoples, and begins to range itself with ethnology and anthro- pology; the study of folk-ta'es is becoming more and more international; mythology is rapidly being assimilated by the new science of religion; antiquities of every kind are no longer treated under their purely national aspects. Hence all of these lines of study are taken up in Baesecke's book by way of appendix only, since tradition still demands it.
Of course, there must be, as Albrecht Dieterich has pointed out,6 a general science of Volkskunde, just as there is a science of linguistics and a science of literature. But just as firmly I believe with Petersen, quoted above in note 5, that in its national aspects Volkskunde must be strongly intertwined with language and literature, — more so at any rate than its position in Baesecke's diagram would indicate. To what extent the historian of literature may avail himself of its services, indeed how indispensable it is to him, has been shown irrefutably by August Sauer in his Literaturgeschichte und Volkskunde (Prag 1907). I do not believe that we should too lightly part with this portion of the great Jacob Grimm heritage. Still, as long as we look upon our science as an organic body, we may set our minds at ease — the atrophy of any one organ would soon enough make itself felt in the waning health of all the others, calling for speedy remedy. It is this general idea of organic life which makes me hesitate to suggest another scheme in
• t/ber Wesen und Ziele der Volkskunde. (Hessische Blotter fur Volkskunde, I, 3.) Reprinted, Leipzig 1902.
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place of Baesecke's. If we thought of the latter as a geographi- cal map, I, for one, should take strong exception to the distance between dialects and Volkskunde, which then would have to be close neighbors. Nor should I, in that case, remove dialect study from the main line of language work: a book like Josef Schiepek's Satzbau der Egerlander Mundart (Prag 1899-1908) — for which, to be sure, Die deutsche Volkssprache, dargestellt auf Grund der Mundart des Egerlandes would have been a more fitting title — should not be passed over by any student of German grammar or style. Physiology I should remove outside the ellipsis, so as to give over the body proper to the mental sciences exclusively. A place ought to be found for general linguistics, above phonetics, and next to psychology.7 Law, which, while not represented here, has been accorded a place in the Grundriss, might at least be tentatively accommodated in the space between mythology and Volkskunde. No special provi- sion is made for the Latin poetry of the German Middle Ages — naturally this has to be viewed as an integral part of German medieval literature, and I mention its omission only because I find no other references to it in the book; has nothing of any note been done in this line during the period in question?
On the line of demarcation that divides the field of philology in the accepted sense from that of modern literature, Baesecke agrees on the whole with Hermann Paul, although he adduces different reasons for the autonomy of the modern field: for the older periods the chief task is to illumine the little that has been preserved in its remotest recesses, to supplement what is missing with an imagination that has gone through the most rigorous training, and over and above the historical understanding to make possible the artistic appreciation; in the modern period the wealth and mass of material must be sifted, the most important things singled out, and the infinite entanglement of the thought-world of modern humanity must be unraveled and presented in its true relations. The boundary line between the two fields separates a recent conquest8 from the mother
7 It is this failure to include general linguistics that accounts for the omission, in Baesecke's report, of the excellent little volume by Kr. Sandfeld- Jensen, Die Sprachunssenschaft, Leipzig 1915. (Aus Natur und Geisteswdt 472.)
8 Since down to the time of Wilhelm Scherer and his school, modern German literature had in the German universities been taught by the historians and philosophers.
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country, but for practical purposes, on account of the demands of the secondary school, the whole realm must remain united. The history of modern literature has no method of its own, it is treated according to several, and for that reason it is well that there should always be men to keep up the connection, by working also in the modern field according to philological methods, and by representing, under self-imposed limitations of some kind, the whole history of literature.9 It was philology that provided the history of modern literature with the indispen- sable tools, the critical editions. But the centrifugal tendencies evidently proved too strong for the author's convictions: the publishers had to provide for a separate report on the modern field.
Baesecke does not, of course, intend by his scheme to break in any manner the old universitas scientiarum — a live contact with other sciences is preserved through the border territories, and closely related fields, such as Indo-Germanic philology, comparative literature, mythology, Volkskunde, etc. The old universitas still determines the inner organization, and also the trend, of our science. It was originally born of the romantic enthusiasm of highminded laymen; this romantic enthusiasm we must never decry as morbid sentimentalism — indeed we must even now reserve it some space in our mental make-up, even though, in the words of Vossler, we should seek the past not with romantic or scholastic erudition but for the sake of a deepened appreciation of the present. At any rate, our science now demands the most rigorous discipline, and in order to ward off the dangers of well-meaning dilettantism, the Deutscher Germanistenverband, organized a year or so before the war, exacts professional training for reception into its fold. Within this Germanistic republic, peace has reigned for many years,
9 Petersen, on the other hand, in the essay quoted above, demands that all of the history of literature should be separated from the other branches of German philology, and that the holder of the chair of literature should also represent the older field. The question is a vital one for the German universi- ties, and it will be worth while to watch during the next few years the ensuing controversy. The ordinarii for German philology will quite naturally defend their domain to the last ditch. Pacifist outsiders are likely to suggest a solution on the basis of comity or agreements according to the merits of each individual case, but that would be begging the question and putting expediency above principle.
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undisturbed by the stirring events of the last lustrum — indeed, Baesecke is of opinion that peace has reigned in this field almost too long: large works expanded to suicidal breadth, societarian enterprises were on a steady increase; there were altogether too many doctorate dissertations; there was beginning to be a noticeable dearth of workers for investigations on a fairly large scale demanding self-denial, and similarly of accurate, painstaking research on the boundary lines. Over-against these manifest shortcomings — their list is not complete, but it would be an invidious task to continue it — Baesecke hardly does justice to the lights in the picture, giving them only a very few hasty strokes.
The Wissenschaftliche Forschungsberichte are not meant to approach, let alone attain, completeness, such as a bibliog- raphy would aim at. Nevertheless a mere glance at the author's list, p. 128 ff., suffices to show that if this is merely a selection, there must have been in our field, during the world war, an activity as intense, or almost as intense, as in times of peace. The list comprises nine columns, and there are some fifty names to each, some of them (Bolte, Ehrismann, von Fischer, Helm, Heusler, Kauffmann, Klapper, Kluge, Leitzmann, v. d. Leyen, R. Loewe, R. M. Meyer, Moser, Miiller-Freienfels, Naumann, Neckel, Hermann Paul, Petsch, Schroeder, Singer, Streitberg, v. Unwerth, Weise, Wilhelm, Wrede) with as many as three and more entries. This would total from five to six hundred individual pieces of investigation that Baesecke reports on. A certain unevenness in the treatment could naturally not be avoided, and some portions of the book do not, because of the superabundance of material, make very enjoyable reading. Baesecke himself states in his preface that he regrets not having mastered the M. H. G. masses sufficiently; a fact pardonable in view of the limited time in which the book had to be written. Here, particularly, less would have been more; or if all the entries had to be made, could not about three fourths of them have been given in foot-notes or small print, to gain space for the more valuable ones? Again, the whole of our domain can hardly be mastered by one individual; and yet a book like the one before us, if to be brought out at all within a set time, and if to be successful, must be written by one author. The pro- fusion of books, monographs, dissertations, and papers to be
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reviewed would of itself have excluded the same lucid arrange- ment and graceful ease of presentation that delights the reader of Vossler's companion volume, which on about half the number of pages available to Baesecke deals with only about one fourth the number of individual investigations, with the result that the author's own point of view is brought out more prominently and that we feel that in almost each and every case he succeeds in extending the boundaries of our knowledge, by personal contribution or by pertinent query. But this com- parison would scarcely be fair to Baesecke: Vossler's field is considerably more limited, and the main part of his book confines itself to text editions and periodicals, language, history of literature of the Old French and the modern periods. Baesecke, on the other hand, passes in review all the branches of our science shown in his diagram, barring merely the outer- most, such as physiology, psychology, and the strictly historical and philosophical auxiliary sciences. Old Norse had to be omitted owing to the exigencies of the war, Old English natur- ally belongs to English philology, and of Indo- Germanic only the Germanic s de is discussed, as one would expect.
Reviewing a report like the one before us is, in the very nature of the case, not a highly grateful undertaking, and the reviewers' task is aggravated considerably since he makes here his first acquaintance with the great majority of books and articles reported on. I shall therefore have to ask the reader's forgiveness for certain features of my presentation.
To give a brief survey of the activities in our field during the years in question, it seems advisable to enumerate, first, those investigations that command more or less unstinted praise from the author, with an occasional epitome of his comments; this to be followed up by an account of those which he rejects wholly or in large part — this list naturally will be much shorter, since it was his privilege from the start to exclude all that he deemed entirely worthless — and we shall conclude with the special demands that he makes, and the larger movements the pulsations of which we find scattered over the pages of the book. I shall also take the liberty of making a few sparse additions of things published after 1917, so far as they have come to my notice, if they seem to me in point. The pages of Baesecke's book are enclosed in parenthesis.
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Hoops's Reallexikon der germanischen Altertumskunde (7), of which three volumes had appeared to 1917, is credited less with advancing the purely philological side of our science than with renewing, improving, and expanding its foundations, with more firmly interlocking the prehistoric and historic periods, archeol- ogy and linguistics; its illustrating the Ur-Worte with pictures of the Ur-Sachen is highly commended; and the hope is ex- pressed that the materials offered may re-establish comparative Indo-Germanic mythology on a new basis, since Baesecke evidently holds that the whilom exaggerations of the Kuhn- Max M uller school should not permanently discredit such an attempt. For the same reason Leopold von Schroeder's Arische Religion (77) receives sincere approval. In §3, Vom I ndo germanischen zum Germanischen, Kluge's Etymologisches Worterbuch™ is ranked as the center of German word study, the Zeitschrift fur deutsche Wortforschung having stopped publi- cation in 1914, and Kluge's Altdeutsches Sprachgut im Mittella- tein (Proben eines Ducangius theodiscus) is considered as a continuation of the queries arising from the list of Latin loan words in Germanic languages in the earlier editions of the Grundriss. E. A. Kock's Altgermanische Paradigmen (13), giving the Gothic, Old Norse, Old English, Old Low German, Old and Middle High German forms, is recommended as a valuable help to teacher and student. — The fourth edition of Behaghel's Geschichte der deutschen Sprache (16) brings this admirable work up to date, including countless new observa- tions and improvements in detail.11 A high tribute is paid to Naumann's Kurze historische Syntax der deutschen Sprache. Of investigations pursuing individual questions through the entire development of the German language, Baesecke mentions as noteworthy Griininger's dissertation12 on Die Betonung der
10 The ninth edition, as its author informs me, is in press, and the first half scheduled to appear soon. While printed from stereotype plates, it will contain changes and additions on almost every page. — An excellent little book, valuable also for its numerous systematic word-lists, is the handy new etymological dictionary by Ernst Wasserzieher, Woher ? 2nd ed., Berlin 1920.
11 Quelle & Meyer, Leipzig, announce a Deutsche Sprachgeschichle by Kluge, of about 300 pages, to appear early in 1921.
12 The number of doctorate theses considered by Baesecke is one of the most commendable features of his book, and one which we hope will be retained
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Mittelsilben in dreisilbigen Wortern (17), which adduces numer- ous examples from the dialects and shows many cases of tri- syllabic words with accent shift and dissyllabic ones without it (such as wahrhdftig — wdhrhaft), and Holmberg's (19) Zur Geschichte der periphrastischen Verbindung des Verbum Sub- stantivum mit dem Partizipium Prdsentis im Kontinentalger- manischen, which proves the construction not to be indigenous but emanating from Latin. Distinct contributions to knowledge and praiseworthy in workmanship are two papers on M. H. G. syntax and style: Kromer's Die Prdpositionen in der hochdeut- schen Genesis und Exodus nach den verschiedenen Vberlieferungen, (29), and Moller's Fremdworter aus dem Lateinischen im spdteren Mittelhochdeutsch und Mittelniederdeutsch (ib.), the latter especially on account of its cross sections illustrating their distribution over the various phases of life, and the degree and manner of their adaptation to the specific laws of the German language. Agathe Lasch's Mittelniederdeutsche Gram- matik (30) is rated as a fine achievement for its initiative and aggressiveness in a rather trackless field, particularly with regard to the problems of the M. L. G. literary language; and in the controversy between Miss Lasch and Frings on Tonlange Vokale im Mittelniederdeutschen (ib.) Baesecke sides on the whole with the former. Two dissertations on Early Mod. H. G. subjects introduce the section on Mod. H. G. : Demeter's Studien zur Kurmainzer Kanzleisprache (1400-1550) (31), tracing the appearance of the Mod. H. G. diphthongs in Mayence to the short administration of a Saxon prince from 1480/81, and Bottcher's Das Vordringen der hochdeutschen Sprache in den Urkunden des niederdeutschen Gebietes vom 13. bis 16. Jahrhundert (ib.), showing Thuringia and Meissen as the chief transmitters of High German which invades the North by zones since the 14th century, and the use of which is espe- cially popular with the princes and nobility, while cities and monasteries are more conservative. Borchling's Missingsch shows the further growth of this Missenisch down to the present. The standard work on Luther's language, despite numerous de- fects in detail, remains Franke's Grundziige der Schriftsprache
in the contemplated continuations. There is to my knowledge no other publica- tion where the more valuable of these primitiae are recorded so completely and so faithfully.
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Luther s in allgemeinverstcindlicher Darstellung (32), now in its second edition. The same author's Der geschichtliche Kern der Legende von Luther s Schb'pfung der neuhochdeutschen Schrift- sprache (33) is superseded by Roethe's great speech D. Martin Luthers Bedeutung fur die deutsche Literatur. Luther's much discussed relation to the printers seems now definitively settled by Haubold's Untersuchung iiber das Verhaltnis der Original-
drucke der Wittenberger Hauptdrucker Luther scher Schriften
zu Luthers Druckmanuskripten, and Giese's Untersuchungen iiber das Verhaltnis von Luthers Sprache zur Wittenberger Drucker- sprache: Luther does not take any interest in the printing of his works prior to 1525, submits to the printers' spelling down to 1527, and then imposes his will on the proof readers, insisting on that every word should always be written the same way, and that homonyms (not synonyms, as Baesecke says here) should be differentiated in spelling. Moser's diligence in the field of Early Mod. H. G. grammar is gratefully acknowledged (34) in several articles, and reviews of such, on Fischart and Spec. In syntax only Mager's Die historische Entwicklung des Artikels in Prdpositionaherbindungen im Friihneuhochdeutschen is named, as methodically neat and correct in its results (34). Hermann Paul's Deutsche Grammatik, of which two volumes have appeared so far, is called an admirable work; nor does it need here any recommendation beyond its author's name. The wish is ex- pressed that soon some one may be found to bring out the second volume of Hans Schultz's Deutsches Fremdwb'rterbuch (39), or- phaned through its author's death on the battlefield. Bliimel has furnished a number of new investigations on syntax (40), among which especially Verbindung von Ganzem und Tell re- ceives favorable comment, for its firm grasp of the subtleties of the Umgangssprache. The latter has been the subject of a two volume Wortgeographie der hochdeutschen Umgangssprache by Kretschmer (40 f .), on which Baesecke bestows the praise that at one dash it leaves the whole investigation of dialects behind, the latter lacking a similar work, and all that is wanted to get the full benefits out of Kretschmer's labor would be to present the results arranged in synopses, tables, graphs, charts, and brought into relation with political, cultural and linguistic his- tory. Of special speechforms those of the soldiers have been treated by Mausser, Deutsche Soldatensprache. Ihr Aufbau und
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Hire Probleme, and Imme, Die deutsche Soldatensprache der Gegenivart und ihr Humor (42), with sufficient fulness as to ori- gin, provenience, dissemination, that a collection of the com- plete material seems unnecessary. W. Fischer's Die deutsche Sprache von heute (45), an uncommonly sane and mature pres- entation, lays its chief stress on the linguistic development of our own days and is excellent for introducing the person of gen- eral culture into the problems of the life of language.
The study of dialects (§9, 45 ff.) has been going on with un- diminished vigor, indeed it may be called the most vigorous of all branches of linguistic work, and the one that has been most liberally financed by the states and organized most carefully. The publications of Wrede's Marburg school on dialect geog- raphy, and the Beitrdge zur Schiveizerdeutsehen Grammatik edited by Bachmann — among wlich Bohnenberger's Die Mundart der deutschen Walliser is a magnificent achievement of philological work, and Hodler's Beitrage zur Wortbildung und Wortbedeutung im Berndeutschen1* opens large perspectives on the usefulness of dialect study for word formation — the progress of the Ba- vario-Austrian dialect dictionary, the completion of the recently deceased H. v. Fischer's Swabian, and the interesting samples from the Rhenish dictionary, are the outstanding features of this section. Of individual articles Teuchert's Grundsatzliches iiber die Untersuchung von Siedlungsmundarten (51) and Was- mer's comprehensive Wortbestand der Mundart von Oberweier (53) command chief attention.14 Yiddish has been repeatedly treated, in consequence of the war and the problems of the west- ward migration of the Eastern Jews; Baesecke names two papers, Heinrich Loewe's Die judisch-deutsche Sprache der Ost- juden, and Matthias Mises's Die Entstehungsursache der judi- schen Dialekte (53), taking grave exception to certain features
11 1 presume that this belongs to the Swiss series but cannot verify my surmise from what our library offers. Baesecke fails to give either year or place of publication, although he mentions the book in two different places.
14 Anton Bergmann's Wiirzburg dissertation on Das Bildliche und Figttr- liche in der Denk- und Ausdrucksweise der ostfrankischen Mundart des Ochsen- furter Gaues (1919) is, naturally, not mentioned, but I should judge from its title that it deals with a phase of dialect work that has so far been only the prey of dilettantism, and I hope it may be the forerunner of a goodly number of similar investigations, embracing at least all the chief dialects, and thus filling a painfully felt want.
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of both articles. In phonetics (§10, 53 ff.) comparatively little has been done ; a few of the older handbooks have been re-edited, a few new ones meant for beginners added; more important are the reports of the phonogram archives, e. g. the one of Vienna, Stammerjohann's successful attempt of measuring the vowel 'ength on the phonograph by fractions of a second (Die Mundart von Burg in Dithmarschen mit besonderer Beriicksichtigung der Quantitatsverhaltnisse, 51), and Frings' Die rheinische Akzen- tuierung (54) based on experimental grounds.
In the section on general history of German literature (§11) I would single out Richard M. Meyer's posthumous Die deutsche Liter alur bis zum Beginn des IP. Jahrhunderts (57) as the one that Baesecke finds most congenial, even though he acknowl- edges certain phases of the work as the oft censured shortcom- ings of this most versatile scholar. Singer's Liter aturgeschichte der deutschen Schweiz im Mittelalter (ib.) is the only history of provincial literature of the period. Special genres of literature are dealt with by Findeis, Geschichte der deutschen Lyrik, rated as sane and serious, and Rausse, Geschichte des deutschen Romans bis 1800 (58), less accurate and more forced in the portions deal- ing with the older periods than those treating of the modern times. For Gothic literature a treatise by K. Miiller, Ulfilas Ende, confirming Vogt's date, 382 A. D., and Groeper's Unter- suchungen iiber gotische Synonyma (60) are reported on, the latter arriving at conclusions which if correct will necessitate a re-examination of the Bible texts with regard to authorship, there being considerable differences between the texts of the Old and the New Testaments. The most important publica- tion in the field of O. H. G. literature is Steinmeyer's edition of the Kleiner e althochdeutscheSprachdenkmaler, replacing Miillen- hoff-Scherer, texts alone, no commentary of any kind. Nau- mann's short Althochdeutsches Lesebuch (61) is favorably com- mented on, but twenty, instead of two, pages of notes are deemed desirable. Braune's essay on Muspilli (62) proves once for all the pagan origin of the word; the Merseburg incanta- tions have likewise been demonstrated as pagan in origin (v. d. Leyen, Der erste Merseburger Zauberspruch, 79). 18
"Ehrismann's Geschichte der deutschen Liter atur bis zum Ausgang dea Mittelalter s (1920) does not fall within the period of Baesecke's report.
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For M. H. G. a few data out of the plethora of publications given by Baesecke must suffice: the new edition of Wilmanns' Walther von der Vogelweide, brought out by Michels, unites the two works on Walther, vol. I being devoted to Leben und Dick- ten W althers von der Vogelweide, to be followed by another vol- ume with text and commentary; J. B. Kurz furnishes a reliable account of Heimat und Geschlecht Wolframs von Eschenbach (69) ; E. Schroder presents a vivid and convincing picture of the poet in his Studien zu Konrad von Wurzburg (71); and Rothlisberger constructs judiciously Die Architektur des Graltempels im jiin- geren Titurel (ib.). M. Bohme derives Das lateinische Weihnachts- spiel (74) out of the mute scene in front of the manger, discreetly tracing the slow evolution of the new scenes; Diirre follows up Die Mercatorszene im lateinisch-liturgischen, altdeutschen und altfranzosischen Drama (ib.), with more forceful arguments on its origin than on its development; Mela Escherich's suggestive discussion of Die altdeutschen Osterspiele und ihr Einfluss auf die bildende Kunst (ib.) needs some energetic corrections on the basis of v. d. Leyen's Deutsche Dichtung und bildende Kunst im Miitelalter.16 That the source of Hartmann's Der arme Hein- rich, or at least one of its nearest relatives has been found (Klap- per, Die Legende vom Armen Heinrich) is most welcome news (125).
Of the work done in mythology during our period, little beyond L. v. Schroeder's A rische Religion, quoted above, elicits Baesecke's approval. I would mention Klapper's Deutscher Volks- glaube in Schlesien in altester Zeit (80), which from the medieval Christian sources, by comparing the traditions, and by elimi- nating the ancient classical, French and theological elements, restores the foundations of the belief in Frau Holde, and also gives dates for the first appearances of the belief in witchcraft in Germany (about 900 A. D.). Maack's Kultische Volks- brduche beim Ackerbau aus dem Gebiet der Freien und Hansestadt Lubeck, aus Ost-Holstein und den N achbargebieten (83) brings only examples collected by the author himself, and, while weak on the historical side, is strong in showing the reasons for the
18 A comprehensive treatise on German medieval art, parallelling fimile Male's admirable volumes on L'Art religieux du XIII slide en France and L'Art religieux de la fin du may en- age en France, is a grand desideratum.
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disappearance of the old observances and customs as well as the arbitrariness of many usages. One of the late Axel Olrik's last investigations, Eddamythologie (84), is distinguished by the rare skill with which its author treats his subject from the viewpoint of poetic form rather than religious faith, strongly emphasizing the unity that results from this process, the great independence of the basic philosophy as well as the individual conceptions of the Eddie poems. In the realm of heroic saga, the influence of Heusler, who treats it as an object of Germanic literary history, is gaining ground more and more, and his view of the develop- ment of the epic from the lay by growth and expansion from within rather than accretion from without, as first propounded in his Lied und Epos (1905), appears likely to become the solid basis of all future work in this field (85). The new theories have been sternly tested in W. Haupt's Zur niederdeutschen Dietrich- sage and Friese's pidrekssaga und Dietrichsepos (86), the latter especially proving the superiority of the M. H. G. portrait of Dietrich over the Norse pidrek. Heusler himself distributes in Die Eeldenrollen im Bur gundenunter gang (88) the old and new participants with their deeds to the various stages of the tradi- tion, justifying the resultant transpositions, re-arrangements, and sundry other changes from the standpoint of the successive composers, and bringing out a most luminous picture of the great art of the last poet. For a first introduction to the whole subject Mogk's Deutsche Eeldensage (89), an unpretentious booklet of 48 pages, is most useful,17 especially if still greater brevity is desired than is found in Jiriczek's fine little Goeschen volume, now in its fourth edition. The war has been highly productive of new, and transformations of old, Volkssagen, which should some day be collected and treated together; it seems strange that nothing should have been attempted yet on this score. Erben's Untersberg-Studien. Ein Beitrag zur Ge- schichte der deutschen Kaiser sage (91) demonstrates that the
17 It is contained in a new series of very valuable primers, called Deutsch- kundliche Biicherei (Leipzig, Quelle & Meyer), which also comprises Deutsche Namenkunde (Kluge), Das deutsche Mdrchen (v.d.Leyen), Einfiihrung ins Mittelhochdeutsche (Bliimel), Das deutsche Volkslied (Bockel), Deutsche Lautlehre (Bremer), Hildebrandslied, Ludwigslied und Merseburger Zauberspruche (Kluge), Kleine deutsche Verslehre (Bliimel), Deutsche Altertumer im Wandel der Jahr- hunderle (Lauffer), Ortsnamenkunde (Mentz). A large number of other volumes are in preparation.
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legend of the emperor that sleeps in the hollow mountain ante- dates the time of Frederick II. Klapper's Erzahlungen des Mit- telalters (92) furnishes examples selected from medieval sermons in a few Silesian documents, and calls attention to the manifold relations opening up in this field for Volkskunde and compara- tive legend and literature. A specimen is treated by Klapper himself in Der Zauberer 'von Magdeburg. Ein Beitrag zur Erfor- schung der mittelalterlichen Wandersagen (ib.), pointing out the large share of religious orders in the dissemination of these sagas; in the case in point it traveled from the Eastern Roman Empire to Southern France and Paris, and from there with the Domini- cans to England and Germany, the comparison of motives dis- closing the respective additions of each nationality. Ranke's Sage und Erlebnis (ib.) explains how certain sagas about the wild hunt are based on real experiences of traveling epileptics, and suggests a study of legendary lore for the ascertaining of similar outgrowths of personal experiences, which, while by no means new, would seem to be a very natural demand. Bockel illus- trates how Schlachtfeldsagen (ib.) have a tendency toward re- juvenation : sagas arising in and after the Thirty Years' War are transferred to battle fields of the Seven Years' and the Napo- leonic Wars.
The study of the folk-tale has gained a sober and clearheaded guide in Aarne's Leitfaden der vergleichenden Mdrchenforschung (93), which codifies the doctrines and aims of the Finnish school. His exposition is supplemented, rather than subverted, by Lowis af Menar's Kritisches zur vergleichenden Marchenforschung (94), on the side of style and literary art. F. v. d. Leyen at- tempts to deter all sorts of dilettants, including the sexual- psychologists of Freud's school, from the Aufgaben und Wege der Marchenforschung (94), and calls for a scrutiny of the mutual influences of folk-tale, literature, and culture. In his Das deutsche Marchen and the second edition of the more general work Das Marchen (ib.) he recognizes in folk-tale not only the richest, but the most widely spread popular poetry, and also the one which alone links up the German Middle Ages with modern times. Spiess's Das deutsche Volksmarchen (95) likewise pre- sents a plastic picture of the origin, transformation, and char- acter of the folk-tale, also of its study, but considers every new act of telling a folk-tale as a new creative process, dissolving the
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authorship almost totally. J. Bolte and G. Polfvka's Anmer- kungen zu den Kinder-und Hausmarchen der Brtider Grimm (94), completed in two volumes, is characterized as a work as schol- arly, fundamental, and epochal as that of the Grimms them- selves. The technique of a well-known trait of folk-tales is taken up in A. Lehmann's Dreiheit und dreifache Wiederholung im deutschen V olksmarchen (96), proving that this trait is only European, particularly Germanic and Slavic. E. Jahn attempts to separate the respective shares of the folk-tale itself and the narrator in Die V olksmarchen der Deutschen von J. K. A . M u- sa'us (ib.).
The section on folksong (§19) is characterized by this remark found on p. 98: "And so I take heart and assert the preponder- ant mass of living folksong texts to be poetically pitiable (as in- deed it has long since been demonstrated that of our great poets infinitesimally little, but all the more of inferior ones has become popular) ; and the devotion to nonsense that shows itself in ap- paratuses of variants has for me something crushing, since it affects me like a mockery at the innermost task of philology. Its interest is here in the main limited to the curious conditions and forms of life of oral tradition (among the untutored in lit- erature), the rest is the task, and perhaps an important and in- structive one, of anthropology and ethno-psychology; a true appreciation must not indeed confine itself to the texts, but must include the music as well." Such condemnation, I sup- pose, had to be uttered sometime, and it may be very well to check thus the maudlin sentimentalism that but too often at- taches itself to discussions of the folksong. But personally I prefer not to play the part of advocatus diaboli, nor am I con- vinced that Baesecke's remarks strike the heart of the matter, which is approached by the last sentence quoted above: no study of the text, expecially one badly decomposed (zersungen)t should be made from the textual side alone. I would take my stand by the side of Gotze, Der Stil des Volksliedes, and Panzer, Das deutsche Volkslied der Gegenwart, both (98) stressing the twilight atmosphere of imagination and feeling of the singers.18 What effect the war may exert on a possible rejuvenation and
MI would also mention Eduard Wechssler's beautiful and scholarly disquisition, Begriff und Wesen des Volksliedes, Marburg 1913.
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re-invigoration of folksong, no one can foretell. That, in the period immediately preceding, folksong was slowly dying out is regrettable but undeniable. A very dismal picture of the facts is shown by Ruppert's Der Volksliederschatz eines Spessart- dorfes (99), which I can only confirm on the basis of personal ex- perience in my home village in 1910: it is the same Oberscheff- lenz in which Augusta Bender in 1893 collected the more than two hundred numbers of her book Oberschefflenzer Volkslieder und volkstumliche Gesange (Karlsruhe 1902). The oldest gen- eration was not given to singing, the second — my own — once as liederfroh as any, would sing only on very special occasions, so that it was no longer a spontaneous outburst of a living force, and the youngest generation did not seem to know a single real folksong any more. If the conditions then prevailing still ob- tain, the only way in which folksong can be expected to survive at all will be its fostering by the singing societies, for which collections are now being adapted (Volksliederbuchfur gemisch- ten Chor, 101). Children's songs and rhymes, in which the puzz- ling and senseless features of the folksong are of course still more rampant, have been painstakingly gathered and sanely commented on by Lewalter, Deutsche Kinderlieder in Hessen aus Kindermund in Wort und Weise gesammelt, mil einer wissen- schaftlichen Abhandlung von G. Schlager (102).
Of other folk-poetry, Bunker has published Volksschau- spiele aus Obersteiermark (102), and we learn what difficulties their performance meets from the opposition of the police. The proverbs and proverb collections of the Middle and Early Modern High German periods have been gone into with regard to their sources by Seller, Singer, Weinitz and Bolte (103). Several of the more comprehensive works on Volks- kunde contain chapters on folk-poetry, such as Friedli's mag- nificent work Barndutsch als Spiegel bernischen Volkstums (vol. IV, Ins, 1914), Lauffer's Niederdeutsche Volkskunde, Weise's Die deutschen Volksstamme und Landschaften (now in its sixth edi- tion), and Karl Reiterer's Altsteirisches (104).19
In the maze of material antiquities, next to Hoops's Real- lexikon mentioned above, H. v. Fischer's model summary of the
19 A Rheiniscke Volkskunde by Adam Wrede has just been brought out by Quelle & Meyer (1920).
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Grundzuge der deutschen Altertumskunde y now in its second edi- tion, is considered the most trustworthy guide (105). For pre- historic times Schwantes's Aus Deutschlands Urgeschichte, likewise now in its second edition, is serviceable as a first intro- duction, although it is somewhat juvenile intone; in comparison with Sophus M tiller's Nordische Altertumskunde it has the ad- vantage of combining prehistoric and other testimonies (106). The difficult task of separating Germanic and Celtic elements in the finds is resolutely undertaken by Schumacher's Gallische und germaniscke Stamme und Kulturen im Ober- und Mittelrhein- gebiet zur spdteren La-Tenezeit (ib.). The completest bird's eye view of the entire Indo-Germanistic question is afforded by Schrader's Die Indogermanen (second edition, 107) and the same author's Reallexikon der indogermanischen Altertumskunde (the last part of which has recently appeared after the author's death). The relations of Romans and Germans on German soil are best presented by Cramer's Romisch-germanische Stu- dien (108).
The exclusion of Scandinavian studies proved a serious handicap in the treatment of the early Germanic characters. Little on this question has been lately attempted in Germany, only Petsch's interpretation of the moot passage in Tacitus's Germania — relative to the use of runes for prophesying, in Uber Zeichenrunen und Verivandtes — receiving Baesecke's approval (109).
In stylistics the absence of any book taking up the whole question historically is very deplorable, nor have there ever been many monographs of great significance. Of the work done in the period reported on, Miss Jacobsohn's Die Farben in der mittelhochdeutschen Dichtung der Blutezeit meets with com- mendation, especially for establishing the more frequent appli- cation of light-effects by the side of a rather poorly developed color-scale. On the problem of foreign words, of which more below, Tappolet's Die alemannischen Lehnworter in den Mund- arten der franzb'sischen Schweiz (in two volumes, comprising a historical introduction, and the dictionary of such words), seems destined to throw new light, on the basis of conditions in bilingual regions, both Baesecke (115) and Vossler uniting in unqualified praise. The question is also broached very sen- sibly and lucidly by Seiler's Lehnubersetzungen und Verwandtes
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(115), and K. O. Erdmann's Der besondere Sinn der Fremd- worter und ihre Enibehrlichkeit (116).
Metrical investigations have been numerous enough, but only a very few find acceptance — conditional at that — with Baesecke. E. g., Heims's Der germanische Alliterationsvers und seine Vorgeschichte. Mil einem Exkurs iiber den Saturnier (118). Of Heusler's Deutscher und antiker Vers (122) he thinks that it gives to the theory of the German hexameter the foundation that it never had before, but this book falls in the domain of modern metrics; we may assume that Merker will treat it in the companion volume on modern German literature.
The last section deals with poetics. It would take us too far afield to follow up the numerous entries under this head as fully as we have done hitherto in this paper, and this should be left to the discussion of literature proper rather than philology. Rosenhagen's Beitrage zur Charakteristik Hartmanns von Aue, show that Hartmann's art embraces first the entirety of his foreign source, and that therefore a comparison line by line with his originals is of little use. I would also mention Wiegand's Die Entwicklung der Erzahlungskunst (125) for its evident superiority of method, which aims not at furnishing his- torical results, but at showing how such results may be gained, leading to the understanding, judgment and enjoyment of works of art. WalzeFs Wechselseitige Erhellung der Kiinste, ein Bei- trag zur Wilrdigung kunstgeschichtlicher Begriffe (126) needs no remark on its object beyond the naming of the title.20 Flem- ming's Epos und Drama (127) asserts that the different types of poetry, epic, lyric, dramatic, are anticipated in the poetic con- stitution through the preponderance of certain aspects of the linguistic expression and the value of words.
Before naming the books and papers that Baesecke rejects it is but fair to mention one that owing to his double position as author and reviewer he can only give some facts about: his Einfiihrung in das Althochdeutsche. Be it said that so far as I have been able to examine the book it is a valuable piece of
* I am convinced that there are rich lodes of the most precious metal, ready to be mined and coined, for the literary historian, in a book like Scheff- ler's Der Geist der Gotik (Leipzig 1919).
Recent Research in Germanic Philology 179
work, for advanced students, the title being a bad mis- nomer.21
Kauffmann's attempt at solving Das Problem der hochdeut- schen Lautverschiebung (10, 27, etc.) is rejected practically al- together, even though it is granted that there are many fine observations in detail matters. The same author's Deutsche Grammatik (7th ed.) likewise comes in for severe censure, being termed obscure and contradictory in places (16). Kriiger's Deutsches Literatur-Lexikon is predicated as superficial, faulty, and antiquated, and the desire is expressed that the skeleton might be preserved for a complete working over (59). Singer's thesis that Wolfram's Stil und der Stojf des Parzival (70) assign the greatest of medieval German poets a place in French rather than German literature — his style not being Wolfram's property but borrowed, starting with the difficult similes of the very be- ginning, from Kiot's proud dark style, the trobar clus — is char- acterized as far overshooting the mark. Pestalozzi's under- taking of ranging Die Nibelungias (72), the medieval Latin epic inferred from the Klage, anew in the pedigree of the Nibelunge N6t, meets with no favor. Sartori's way of treating Das Dach im Volksglauben (82) is characterized as contradictory by quot- ing from two neighboring paragraphs such statements as "the spirits love to have a roof over themselves" and "the roof holds them in bounds, they turn their efforts against it." Plischke's Die Sage vom wilden Heere im deutschen Volke (83) offers noth- ing intrinsically new, despite its breadth of execution. Singer's treatment of the Briinhildsaga (86) is an example of how the old method of interpretation has broken down. Bruinier's Die germanische Eeldensage (89) is altogether too confusing, espe- cially in its presentation of the evolution of the Nibelung saga. Berendsohn's effort to reconstruct the Altgermanische Helden- dichtung (90) out of the lament over the dead is unacceptable because of the absence here of the tragic conflict, its chief char-
11 Why not simply call such a book what it is, AUhochdcutschc Laut- und Formenlekre? The beginner who wants an Einftihrung and takes up this work will soon lay it aside, sadly disappointed. I am not of opinion that Elemcntar- biicher are not desirable in our line of work, or that pedagogical considerations simply mean substituting pleasure for honest toil. But I agree with the second part of the criticism that was leveled against the Streitberg series: "If they are primers we do not want them, and if they are not, why call them primers?"
180 Roedder
acteristic trait, nor does Baesecke believe in any of its other theses, while agreeing with Berendsohn in the demand for re- search into the style of the sagas, particularly their folk-tale elements. Halbedel's Frtinkische Studien, Kleine Beitrage zur Geschichte und Sage des deutschen Alter turns (ib.) is set aside as utterly worthless. K. v. d. Steinen's equation Orpheus, der Mond und Swinegel (95) is discarded with a smile as a piece of the justly discredited lunar mythology. Bockel's Eandbuch des deutschen Volksliedes (1908, antedating our period) elicits sharp censure from Baesecke, owing to its all too roseate hue. Bruin- ier's Das deutsche Volkslied (5th ed., 100) comes in for similar criticism, although it is acknowledged to be more critical on the whole. Kauffmann's Deutsche Altertumskunde (105) is open to the same objections from the philological viewpoint to which it has been subjected from other quarters. Brodfiihrer's Untersuchungen uber die Entwicklung des Begriffes guot in Ver- bindung mit Personenbezeichnungen irn Minnesange (unter be- sonderer Berilcksichtigung des alteren Minnesanges) is styled mechanical and exceptionable in matters of detail. Weise's Asthetik der deutschen Sprache (4th ed.), dealt with at greater length than anything else in the whole book (112-114), is very strongly attacked for its general tenor, its unhistorical attitude, its naive classicism, as well as for a number of individual points, such as Weise's opinions about beauty of sound, appropriate- ness of regular change between stressed and unstressed syllables, use of foreign words, "monsters" of sentence structure, etc. Baesecke's remarks here are all pertinent and well deserved criticism, and present very much worth while reading. As Baesecke regards the use of foreign words chiefly as a question of style, he naturally uses the heaviest bludgeons against E. Engel's Sprich deutsch\ (114).22 In metrics the theories of Sie- vers and Rutz are thrown aside, particularly Sievers' Neues zu den Rutzschen Reaktionen (117). Boer's Studien over de metriek van het alliteratievers (119) finds still less favor; and Plenio's gener- ously imparted informations Uber deutsche Strophik (120) are condemned for their arrogant tone. The method of Kreiner's dissertation Zur Asthetik des sprachlichen Rhythmus (122), in-
B I expect soon to take up this entire question for a more comprehensive treatment, and confine myself here to the statement that in the main I agree with Baesecke's views, especially as set forth on p. 44 of his book.
Recent Research in Germanic Philology 181
quiring into the rhythmic character of Schleiermacher's Mono- logen, which the writer produced purposely, and finding that Schleiermacher did not scan these rhythms correctly, is named preposterous beyond belief. Messleny's Die erzdhlende Dick- tung und ihre Gattungen (127) is judged apt to efface boundaries which had at last been fixed, and therefore productive or more evil than good.
Of more weighty productions coming in for less severe criti- cism I would name Wustmann's Sprackdummheiten (7th ed.), now committed to the care of Bliimel who is likely to divest the book of some of its extravagant statements and its unhistorical character (37); Polak's Untersuchungen iiber die Sage vom Bur- gundenuntergang II (87); Holz's Der Sagenkreis der Nibelunge (89); and Getzuhn's Untersuchungen zum Sprachgebrauch und Wortscahtz der Klage (110).
Over and above such demands and wishes as are apparent from the foregoing, Baesecke thinks the time is ripe for a new Grundriss der d euts c hen Philologie, confining itself to more narrow limits and more practical needs. With the present method of chronicling the new publications he finds serious fault: the J ahresberickte iiber die Erscheinungen auf dem Gebiete der germanischen Philologie, and still more the Jahresberichte fiir neuere deutsche Literaturgeschichfe are antiquated before their very appearance; moreover, those for philology contain a good deal that the average worker in the field of German philology has no use for — a division into smaller, independent fascicles is suggested. For speedy information, the Literaturblatt fiir ger- manische und romanische Philologie, which at present is issued every two months, is accorded well merited praise. A valuable suggestion is thrown out on p. 105: the study of the Volksgeist and especially of Volksdichtung has hitherto confined itself too much to the rustic population, but this is only a part of the whole nation, even though it be the most valuable and the one from which the conditions of earlier times are best recognized. What is wanted is also a Volkskunde des Proletariertums, which might be of so much practical benefit. In this connection I would quote from F. v. d. Leyen's Das Studium der germani- schen Philologie, p. 38: "Nowadays the Volksbiicher have been replaced by the so-called Hinlertreppenromane, and these are a much more instructive testimony to the literary taste and the
182 Roedder
beliefs and superstitions still living among the people than is known to those who combat them for moral and hygienic rea- sons." To revert to Baesecke's demand, "it is still more as- tonishing," he continues, 1. c., "that the educated middle classes arouse so little interest. Aside from its prac- tical usefulness and the scholarly labor stored up in it, a book like Biichmanri's Geflugelte Worte (now in its 26th ed.) is for the study of the atmosphere in which a large part of our ethic and intellectual achievements, also of our poetry, has its birth, more valuable and lovable to me than the rhymes in obituary notices and the like."
Whether the great war has produced any specific movements of research of considerable magnitude, beyond giving higher color and firmer shape to the more elusive problems of what above was called Deutschkunde, is scarcely discernible from Baesecke's book. Aside from a — probably ephemeral — interest in Judisckdeutsch, mentioned before, soldiers' speech, songs and superstitions, and collections of railway car inscriptions by the soldiers, offering interesting parallels to house inscriptions, all of them things of rather subordinate value, we might adduce the decidedly enhanced attention bestowed upon names, such as proper names of persons,23 places, fields (Flurnamen) , streets in cities, and new creations arising out of the war. For dialect research the war should present a sharp stimulus, on account of the undeniable ravages it must have wrought as well as on ac- count of the principles underlying the various changes. On the future of German dialects I do not feel so pessimistic as Bae- secke does (p. 43 f.) — as long as there is a German language there will be dialect problems, even though the present day problems may and will in course of time shift enormously. To be sure, there is danger in delay if certain phases of dialect life are to be recorded at all, and an accelerated pace in registering them would be advisable, especially in establishing the boundary lines of present dialects, with their maze of isophones, isomorphs,
83 To the origin of the name of the Germans Birt has devoted an entire book (Die Germanen. Eine Erklarung der Uberlieferung iiber Bedeutungund Herkunftdas Volkernamens, 20). He clings to Germanus=genuine. Kluge argues for derivation from Germ.*ermenaz (cf. Erminonen), with reasons that tome appear conclusive and convincing (Deutsche Sprachgeschichte, p. 106ff.; Hilde- brandslied, p. 17f).
Recent Research in Germanic Philology 183
isolexes, and isotaxes, i. e., lines connecting places of identical or nearly identical sounds, forms, words, and syntactical pe- culiarities.24 An ideal map of German Volkskunde would in some fashion link up the most important of these speech-form lines with lines defining the occurrence of customs and usages. I regard the map appended to Lauffer's Niederdeutsche Volks- kunde, on which both the boundary line between Low and High German and the area of the Saxon peasant house are entered, as an excellent example of what can be done in this regard. The finding and fixing of the isolectic lines is a task of word geography, and this in turn belongs to onomasiology, which re- cently has been pressing to the fore in linguistic research. By onomasiology — a term which I take from Vossler, 1. c., p. 42 ff. — we mean that part of word study that asks "What is this thing called?" rather than "What does this word mean?" the latter being the province of semasiology. Kretschmer's Wortgeogra- phie der hochdeutschen Umgangssprache, quoted above, is an onomasiological investigation. A similar venture for the dia- lects, which however would have to be on a* much grander scale, is a great desideratum.
An issue to be taken up irrespective of time, place, and gen- eral conditions, is the artistic valuation of our medieval litera- ture, an issue which Baesecke, p. 6, calls einfachgross, but which in reality should be fascinating on account of its wonderful complexity. For it is a question of revaluation, on the basis of a widened and deepened examination of medieval thought, not only of what is called literature in the narrower sense of the term, but of all that pertains to the Weltanschauung of the epoch, particularly the theological works. On the general aspects of the question a liberal quotation from Vossler, p. 16, may be in point: "This is not, of course, meant to encourage a neglect of the literature on literature. No one is justified in this in science, least of all the original investigator. On the contrary, the work of his precursors must for him become more than a mere aid and practical tool, namely, a critical evolutional his-
M The problem of German dialects in America differs of course essentially from that of German dialects on their native soil. If any record is to be saved of them — why, e.g., has the speech of the Frankendorfer in Michigan never been treated? — then this is the eleventh hour. They have been almost completely undone by the war, and, if it must be said, by nation-wide prohibition.
184 Roedder
tory of his own investigation. Literary history is to this day so often trammeled by dilettantism and avails itself of insecure and arbitrary methods above all for this reason that in so many points we are still lacking a critical history of the history of literature. What does, e. g., a new appreciation of Corneille's art mean to us, no matter how "original" it may be, if it is not built up and based on an evolutional history of the appreciation of Corneille attained before, as the necessary, logically and phil- ologically cogent continuation of which it must show itself. If it can not do that, it remains an amateurish confession of per- sonal taste, which leads us nowhere."
In conclusion I desire to name what I deem the consumma- tion most devoutly to be wished for in our field of work. It is a project of rather extraordinary proportions, and apt to arouse something akin to despair, considering the fact that the large Rechtsivorterbuch, now under way (39), bids fair to assume even more gigantic size than the Grimm dictionary, and that the latter is now appealing for financial support in this country, for fear that its continuance may have to be suspended temporarily for lack of funds. But I ask permission to lay before a larger audience this idea, which I have, for about two decades, laid before one generation of students after the other. It is a the- saurus of German from the oldest times to the present on the order of Roget's, in the absence of something better, chronicling every word and phrase according to its first as well as last ap- pearances, by centuries or other comparatively longer divisions of time for the earlier periods, and shortening the distances more and more as the present era is approached. By typographical devices and easily remembered even if arbitrary signs for indi- vidual writers or groups of such, each category and subdivision could afford a clear and succinct picture of the gradual evolution of the various ideas and their linguistic expression, and it would be especially interesting to watch the first vague gropings for the utterance of a new thought or designation of a new object. Similarly the waning and dying out of certain phenomena might be traced step by step . The problem of the use of for- eign words would be seen in its intrinsic relations to the general development of the language. Horizontal and vertical sections through any particular part of the treasure-house would greatly enlarge and strengthen our vision of the past. The history of
Recent Research in Germanic Philology 185
words has been declared to be the history of things, and in its last analysis the history of a language is the history of the ethnic mind whose vehicle it is. The execution of the plan propounded, it would seem to me, would show, as nothing else could, the gradual and steady unfolding of the German mind from infancy to maturity. And this should be the ultimate goal, or if it be unattainable, the fixed and constant ideal of German philology, whatever limits we assign to this term.
EDWIN C. ROEDDER University of Wisconsin
NATURE IN MIDDLE ENGLISH
The allegorical figure Nature has played no inconsiderable part in English literature since about 1350. At times its rdle was especially conspicuous, as in the allegorical works derived from Chaucer and the Old French. On the whole, it came mostly from French sources, but occasionally from the older Latin tradition and thus ultimately from the philosophies of Aristotle and Plato and their successors. A survey of these origins I have given in other articles.1
In Middle English, the personification Nature was used sporadically except for four lines of tradition which I shall trace shortly. It was employed to include the common offices: creation, teaching, and the like.2 Instead of Nature appeared now and then the indigenous term Kind. The most important instances of the appearance of Nature fall into lines of influence that can be traced in a diagram. The four chief courses are headed by Chaucer, Reson and Sensuality, Piers the Plowman, and The Mirrour of the World.
Latin encyclopedias Image du Monde
Chaucer (Parlemcnl oj Panics)
Lcs £checs Am
Alan of Lille (Latin),.
I" / \ >*
I / \ ^^^^^Roman de la Rose
wurmx fx"^
1 / V Piers the Plowman
Lydgate (Rcson and Sensuality) \ ^
; Death and Life
Nature
Pastime of Pleasure
'emenls Wit and Science
Marriage of Wil and Science Example of Virtue
1 "Nature in Earlier Periods," Jour. Eng. and Germ. Philol., XIX, ii; "Nature in Old French," Modern Philology, "Nature in Early Italian," Modern Lang. Notes.
1 Cf. Cursor Mundi, ed. R. Morris, II (E.E.T.S.), 1876, 1.9430 (not personi- fication); The Fire of Love, Richard Rolle, ed. Misyn, (E.E.T.S.) 1896, p. 41, 1.8; The Pearl, ed. C. G. Osgood, Boston, 1906, 269-70. No reference appears in Anglo-Saxon. Moreover, the earliest citation may probably be that in the New Oxford Dictionary, from Chaucer. Cf. John Gower, Complete Works, ed. G. C. Macaulay, Oxford, 1899-1902, Confessio Amantis, Latin heading to Bk. I; III, 170ff.; V, 2594, 5961; VIII, 63, 2224ff., 2327ff.: his Latin works, Vox Clamantis, I, 109, 1092; V, 845; Viciorum Pestilencia, 217: in French, Mirour de Vomme, 940, 6692, 8145, 17341, 17353.
186
Nature in Middle English 187
Chaucer occasionally used the figure of Nature as a creator in general3 and as a creator of beautiful women in particular.4 But his influence arose especially through the allegorical Parlement of Foules (about 1381-2), wherein the goddess took a consider- able part in the action. The poem gave great impetus to the bird-allegory. Whether it embodied references to Richard II and Anne of Bohemia or to other noble lovers seems undeter- mined.6 W. D. Farnham6 has shown that the basis for the plot is the folk-lore tale of conflicting lovers, in which several men in high station strive for a lady's hand and submit their diffi- culty to somebody for decision, but at the end of which we do not know whom the lady is to marry. He has not yet found the tale told of birds (except one where the lady appears as a bird by enchantment), but in general mediaeval literature he finds hints for Chaucer's combination of the two elements in a poem in which birds act as the contending lovers. Possibly he belittles7 the influence of Alan of Lille, whom Chaucer expressly acknowledges as his source for the description of Nature (11. 316 ff.), and who, besides giving the traits of many birds more or less humorously,8 uses the phrase "concilium animalium." Furthermore, until we have additional evidence, we cannot dis- miss any reasonable possibility. At present we have enough for understanding the inception of the plot. Yet if we desire another suggestion for making bird-lovers contend before a
» Prologue to the Canterbury Tales, 11. 9-11.
*Boke of the Duchesse, 871ff.; Anelida and Pals Arcite, 80; Troilus and Criseyde, I, 100-5; Phisicien's Tale, 9ff.; the relation of this tale to the Roman de la Rose is well known.
6 See objections of J. Manly, "Festschrift f iir Lorenz Morsbach, " Studien zur Englischen Philologie, Leipsic, 1913, pp. 279ff ., and articles by O. F. Emerson in reply. Also W. D. Farnham below.
•"The Sources of Chaucer's Parlement of Foules," P.M.L.A.A., XXV, pp. 492-518; cf. "The Fowls in Chaucer's Parlement," University of Wisconsin Studies, II, 340ff. Cf. his dissertation, Harvard University, 1917.
7 W. O. Sypherd, Studies in Chaucer's House of Fame, Chaucer Society, 1907, (39), p. 25, does not agree with Skeat, Complete Works of Chaucer, Oxford, 1897, that the main idea of The Parlement is taken from Alan's De PlanctM Naturae.
8 Other encyclopedic accounts of birds before and after the time of Alan have this characteristic.
188 Knowlton
judge in a poem in which the final outcome remains unsettled at the close of the argument, we have but to turn to the sort of creature-debate represented by The Owl and the Nightingale9 and substitute the theme of rivalry in love for that of the relative merits of two modes of life. If a poet — Chaucer or an unknown predecessor — were to give the crowning touch to such a tale of conflicting bird-lovers, he could scarcely do better than select for judge Nature herself, so gloriously and famously described by Alan.
In the Parlement of Foules the poet comes upon Nature in a garden, which has halls and bowers wrought of branches. In her presence all the birds have assembled, for it is St. Valentine's day and each one before her judgment seat must choose his mate. Nature, who, the poet says, corresponds to Alan's description of her, bids the birds take their places according to station. On her hand, the vicar of the almighty Lord, the controller of heat and cold, bears a fonnel eagle. First the tercel eagle prefers his suit, and declares that he would have the fonnel. She is greatly confused at the proposal and requires Nature's comfort. Then another tercel speaks for her and yet another. Meanwhile the other birds wax so impatient and noisy on account of the delay -that Nature has to quiet them. She does so by an ingenious device, — asking them to select representatives to express their opinions as to who should win the lady. But this more popular procedure brings the solution no nearer, and in fact Nature has to halt the discussions. She decides then, not with- out hinting most strongly for the royal tercel, that the fonnel shall choose for herself. The lady, however, asks for a respite of a year and gets it. Nature bids the other birds choose mates, and admonishes the noble candidates for the formel to behave well during their term. The birds conclude the poem with a song to Nature.
Though it may be impossible to prove how far The Parle- ment of Foules is a poem intended to compliment the English court, the next poem I group in the series of bird-poems is acknowledged to be distinctly for the enjoyment of members of a noble house. Possessing something of the pretty fancy of Chaucer's work, it is most appropriate to an assembly in which ladies have a conspicuous position.
The Buke of the Howlat10 was written about 1450 by Richard Holland for the pleasure of the Douglas family. The conception
• For the type in general, see the edition by J. E. Wells, Boston, 1909, Introduction, pp. liii-lxiv, a brief treatment
10 Scottish Alliterative Poems, ed. F. J. Amours, (S. T. S.) Edinburgh, 1891-2. Other use of Nature, 1.32. The poem is referred to in Schir William Wallace, Henry the Minstrel, ed. J. Moir, (S.T.S.) 1885-89, X, 130-8.
Nature in Middle English 189
might well have been inspired by Chaucer's humorous Parlement. The owl had long had trouble in defending himself, in English literature most notably in The Owl and the Nightingale, and offered an entertaining subject. The main idea is from folk-lore or fable, already adapted to a large audience.
When the owl would blame Nature for his hideous state, the peacock, who is Pope, declares that to do so would be perilous, but he says that he will sum- mon a council of the church birds. So a great many kinds of birds assemble in the robes of bishops, cardinals, monks, vicars, and other church orders and ranks. Since they are to appeal to Nature, they decide to consult the political or temporal powers, and the bird emperor comes with all his nobles. The solemn gathering beseeches Nature to descend as their sovereign, for the purpose of reforming the owl's figure. She does so, and is received reverently as goddess and guide. She announces that they need to explain nothing, she will change the owl as they wish. Each fowl is to take a feather from his own plumage and give it to the owl, and she will cause it to grow to him. Hastily they present their gifts, and she attaches the feathers, so that he becomes the fairest of birds. Unfortunately, however, he loses his poise, and in his arrogance classes himself with the Pope, patriarchs, and princes. As a result, the birds reassemble and complain to Nature.
"My first making," says she, "was unamendable,
Thocht I alterit, as ye all askit in ane;
Yit sail I preif yow to pleiss, sen it is possible."
The "Princes" rebukes the howlat and restores the feathers to their original possessors. She then withdraws to heaven.
The moral of the fable is that though a person complain of his personal appearance or of his station or fortune in the world, his condition had best not be changed. Were he out of it, he would soon return; even the very people who had helped to change his state would find him ungrateful and insupportable in his new place. There are many old animal stories embodying this lesson but The Buke of the Howlat is one of the best of those using birds, and contrasting the secular and spiritual empires. On the whole, the treatment of the story is light as be- fits its character. Nature has the same certainty of power that she has in the tradition, and also the same aloofness and acces- sibility. Her withdrawal to Heaven is typical of her office.
To the same Chaucerian group belongs Dunbar's The Thistle and the Rose11 (written 1503).
Birds were singing in the garden,
"Haill May, haill Flora, haill Aurora schene, Haill princes Nature, haill Venus luvis quene."
11 The Poems of William Dunbar, J. Schipper, Vienna, 1891-3, pp. 92ff.; also The Poems of W. D., J. Small, (S.T.S.) 1893, 3 vols. Cf. slight uses in
190 Knowlton
Dame Nature gaif ane inhibitioun thair To ferss Neptunus, and Eolus the bawld, Nocht to perturb the wattir nor the air.
Scho bad eik Juno, goddes of the sky,
That scho the hevin suld keip amene and dry.
Scho ordand eik that every bird and beist
Befoir hir Hienes suld annone compeir
And every flour of vertew, . . .
... be feild fer and neir,
As thay had wont in may, fro yeir to yeir,
To hir thair makar to make obediens,
Full law inclynand with all dew reverens.
She sent the swiftest messengers, the roe, swallow, and yarrow, to bring in the creatures. At once they were present before the Queen. As she lifted the lion on her knee, crowned him, and enjoined him to duty, the beasts cried out in approval. Similarly she raised the eagle and the thistle. Then she bade the Thistle hold in highest honor the Rose, whom she crowned Queen of flowers. At this point, the noise of the birds singing to the King and Queen woke the author.
The poem is a short, pretty allegory complimenting James IV and Margaret Tudor. The symbolisms of the lion, eagle, and thistle all refer to James of Scotland; he is given a warning about methods of government. The rose refers to Margaret, the heir of the Houses of Lancaster and York. The narrative is less in- teresting than that of either of the two preceding allegorical poems, but the conceit is ingenious and is daintily handled. A particular merit is the poet's repetition of the main theme by the device of causing animals and plants as well as birds to play appropriate parts. In accordance with the tradition, Nature controls the weather, assembles the creatures, and instructs them.
II
Dunbar affords examples of a briefer and more general use of Nature, which I may call the French-Chaucerian kind. He
Small, II, 31, The Twa Maryit Wemen and the Wedy, 11.31-2; Sch. No. 20, Sm. II, 246, To a Lady, 1.45; Battat in praise of Our 1.18. Also in a poem formerly attributed to him, Ballate agains Evill Women, 11.15-19 (Sch. No. 97; Sm. II, pp. 266-8). Sm. II, 175-6, In May as that Aurora did Upswing, 11.22, 39, 52; Sm. II, 214, Complaint to the King, 1.58; Sm. II, 274, Gladethe Thorn Queyne of Scotte's Region, 1.17.
Nature in Middle English 191
refers to her in another bird-poem, wherein love is naturally an element, The Merle and the Nightingale (1514) :12
To luve eik Natur gaif thame inclynning;
And He, of Natur that wirker wes and king ....
Here she occupies a position subordinate to God, but carries out his wishes. Moreover, she shares little in the debate over the relative values of earthly and religious love.
Likewise, her part is unimportant in The Golden Targe;19 she is introduced merely to ornament a passage in the poem. The poet has a dream-vision in which there comes to land a boat bearing many ladies, among them Nature, "dame Venus quene," May, and Flora. After Nature presents a gown to May, she receives the salutation of the birds. Having per- formed a principal characteristic action, the creation of the spring landscape, she is no longer important in the further course of the allegory. Of course, in medieval poetry, birds frequently salute the Creator or sing his praises; their roundel to Nature ends Chaucer's poem.
Of a very different sort is the reference to Nature in Dun- bar's Meditation in Wyntir,1* because the poet complains that the goddess lacks her usual sympathy:
In to thir dirk and drublie dayis, Quhcn f abill all the Hevin arrayis, With mystic vapouris, cluddis and skyis, Nature all curage me denyis Off sangis, ballatis, and of playis.
Other followers of Chaucer besides Dunbar employed the personification of the goddess fairly often. James in the Kingis Quair1* used it in such a familiar situation as this:
In vere that full of vertu is and gude Quhen Nature first begynneth hir enprise.*
A new turn is given to the poetic exaggeration of praise in describing a beautiful lady, a pretty turn of fancy:
A! swete, are ye a warldly creature, Or hevinly thing in liknesse of nature
u Schipper, pp. 345ff. a Small, II, pp. Iff. 14 Small, H, p. 233.
u Ed. A. Lawson, London, 1910. Cf. passages: stanza xiv, l;xvi, 2; rri, 7; xlv, 6; xlviii, 7; cxviii, 3. 18 Cf. EC, 1-2.
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Or ar ye god Cupidis princesse, And cummyn are to louse me out of band Or are ye verray Nature, the goddesse, That haue depaynted with your hevinly hand This gardyn full of flouris, as they stand?17
The force of the device of mistaking the lady even thus fanci- fully for Nature, the very creator of beauty, who, according to the tradition from Alan of Lille, is superlatively beautiful her- self, can be estimated by comparison with another passage in James where he employed the commonplace phrasing:
The fair facture that nature, for maistrye, In hir visage wroght had full lufingly.18
Henryson did not employ the personification often. About the only passage is the following, which indicates that Nature is subordinate to God:
This difference in forme and qualitie Almachtie God hes causit dame Nature To prent and set in euerilk creature.1'
Ill
The chief author who employed Nature as a personification and as an allegorical figure in the French-Chaucerian manner was John Lydgate. His originality of conception is, however, negligible. His significance lies in the fact that some of his works provided the basis for a line of treatment which lasted fully a century. His chief examples are both redactions taken directly from the Old French, The Pilgrimage of the Life of Man (1426)20 from Guillaume de Guilleville's Pelerinage de la Vie Humaine (1330 and 1355), and Reson and Sensuality*1 from Les fichecs Amour eux. So far as Nature goes, the former
17 xlii, 6-7, -xliii.
18 xlvi, 6-7.
19 The Poems of Robert Henryson, ed. G. Smith, (S.T.S.) II, 2830; cf. Test of Cres.', cf. Henry the Minstrel, spring scene, Bk. IX, 10, work cited. No particular interest attaches to the uses in Douglas: The Poetical Works of Gavin Douglas, J. Small, 4 vols., Edinburgh, 1874: vol. I, Prol. to the Palace of Honour, 11. 15ff., address to Nature Quene and May: Part I, p. 8, 1.16; King Hart, p. 103, 1.18, Nature giving; vol. IV, Prologue to Bk. 12 of the Aeneid, p. 83, 1.14. Nature's tapestries; p. 87, 1.32, dame Natur.
80 Ed. F. J. Furnival (E.E.T.S.), 1899-1901: at length. 11.3304ff., 5522ff. « Ed. E. Sieper (E.E.T.S.), 1901.
Nature in Middle English 193
poem of Lydgate's exerted little influence. I have discussed22 the position of Nature in connection with the Pelerinage itself, where she holds a position below Grace Dieu and Sapience. The other poem, Reson and Sensuality, is an incomplete, extended translation of a French poem of the fourteenth cen- tury. Though I have explained elsewhere23 the bearing of the work on the figure of Nature, I must give a summary of the situation so that Lydgate's influence may be plain.
One morning in spring, as the poet lies awake hearkening to the birds, a lovely lady enters with divine aroma, the Queen of Kind, Nature, who under God is the chief goddess. She rules the earth, planets, stars, firmaments, spheres, and elements, and repairs the old and forges the new. In person she is youthful and beyond description lovely. Her mantle, made of the four ele- ments, pictures all Creation, and even the ideas in God's mind. Among the many figures on the mantle is man. The planets revolve in her crown. Nature reproves the author for lying abed so late; he should, she asserts, go about the world to see its beauty. He then should praise God, who has made for man everything — beast, fish, and plant. Since man is the lesser world, like the great world and like God, he should be virtuous and godlike in conduct. He can be so if he will choose the path of her sister Reason, not that of Sensual- ity. If he does not so, however, Genius, her priest, will judge against him.
« See "Nature in Old French."
18 See "Nature in Old French." — Other references to the character in gen- eral, but not presenting her as in immediate action are 11.5714 ff., 6134 ff., 6634. — My list of cases in other works of Lydgate's (mostly about the making of the natural form) includes: Troy Book (E.E.T.S.) 1906-8, ed. H. Bergen, I, 1304, 1588, 2614, 3372 ff., 5379; Temple of Glas, (E.E.T.S.) 1891, ed. J. Schick, 267 ff.; The Assembly of Gods, (E.E.T.S.) 1896, ed. O. L. Triggs, 452 ff., (see note on 1268, 1325 ff., 1380 ff.); The Complaint of the Black Knight 51, 491 ff., in C. W. of Chaucer, Skeat, work cited, VII; in Minor Poems of L., H. N. MacCracken, (E. E.T.S.) 1911, in Testament, 301-3; in A Selection from the Minor Poems ofJ. L., J. O. Halliwell, (Percy Soc., II), London, 1840, are Forked Head Dresses, (Horns Away), p. 47, with a reference to Alan of Lille's description of Nature with a garment of flowers, and on her head a "perche of Valence," and The Entry of Henry the Sixth . . . (Pur. le Roy), wherein, pp. 6-8, Nature, Grace, and Fortune greet him, and give him gifts respectively: strength, fairness to be loved and feared by everybody (physical); science and cunning (mental); prosperity and wealth (external circumstance). In Political, Religious and Love Poems, ed. Furnivall, (E.E.T.S.) 1903, Envoy: Don't Despise Your Neighbor, (to Horse, Goose, and Sheep), pp. 39-41, 11.577, 583, 648; Ballad on Presenting an Eagle to the King and Queen, p. 216 (after Chaucer's Parlemenl). I might associate with these Lydgate and Burgh's Secrees of Old Philoso/res, (E.E.T.S.) 1894, ed. R. Steele, 11.1506-8 (Burgh's part), a version of Secreta Secretorum. Sieper, work cited, vol. II, p. 81, has a partial list. Another is in Notes on the Sources of Medwall's "Nature," Edith Macauley, Mod. Lang. Notes, XXXII, 184-5.
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After her warning, dame Nature departs, and the author sets out on his adven- tures with the purpose of viewing her works.
His first experience is to perform the judgment of Paris over again, with the result that Venus comes to thank him and promise him a reward. After having affirmed allegiance to her, he tells her how he wants to obey the "chief princess of Kynde" and to avoid sensuality. She replies that she is in accord with Nature, acting obediently as a chambermaid indispensable at her forge. Accordingly she wins him over with the promise of the fairest maid. Then she directs him on his journey. So he meets Diana, who, when he declares that Nature had bidden him view the beauty of her works, denies that Nature had ordered him to follow Venus, because Nature, on account of God's provi- dence and wisdom, never commits error in her works. But Diana fails to persuade him. He proceeds, and meeting Cupid, is told to play chess with a pretty maiden. (The version closes.)
The subject of the poem is a man's struggle with sensuality. In this difficulty he is to be aided by Reason. An analysis of the interrelation among the personifications and other characters shows that Nature may be viewed from two different stand- points: she may be considered intellectual and moral or else physical, sensuous, unmoral, and even immoral. For allegorical representation of these two sides of her, these conceptions of her, appear Reason, who by old tradition separates right from wrong, and Sensuality, who overlooks the distinction or avowedly favors evil for the sake of any pleasure it may give for the time being. Furthermore, Reason and Sensuality stand for conflicting forces in man. The closeness of such a theme to the interests of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries accounts for the extension of Lydgate's influence.
A plot which portrays man in the course of life as treading now the path of Reason, now that of Sensuality, unites the two parts of the morality Nature?* written by Medwall some time between 1486 and 1500. In a sense, the title is misleading because it implies that Nature is a character who acts during the entire production, whereas she appears merely at the beginning.
There, in an address to Man, Reason, Innocence, Mundus, and Worldly Affection, she defines her office as minister of God the Creator. She reviews part of her works, — the heavens, the habits of birds, and the control of tides — but declares that the whole tale would be too long, and advises the curious to read Aristotle. Her present business is to direct all creatures to honor their
M Quellen des Weltlichen Dramas in England -DOT Shakespeare, A. Brandfl, (Quetten und Forschungen, LXXX) Strassburg, 1898, pp. 73-158.
Nature in Middle English 195
Maker, and to commit Man to the care of Reason and Innocence. Against even the protest of Sensuality, Nature bids Man obey Reason rather than Sensuality. Then she leaves him to his own devices, and does not reappear dur- ing the action, despite the fact that Sensuality and the Seven Deadly Sins at times conquer Man and overcome Reason.
Accordingly, another title would indicate more accurately the nature of the morality, as, for instance, the very title of its presumable source, Reson and Sensuality. ,25 On the other hand, Nature may be for dramatic purposes subdivided into aspects or elements of herself, here the intellectual and the physical equipment of every man. The effect is stronger than in a narrative poem, because the means employed for convey- ing the conception brings out the lesson more sharply than does that of the source. The point of the play is that, though both elements are needed in Man, and are given him by Nature, he must let Reason rule all his sensual appetites.
The parallels26 with Reson and Sensuality are plain. Nature addresses a man about to go out into life, and warns him to follow Reason rather than Sensuality. In both cases, he fails at times to obey Reason. Again, in both cases, after Nature has given him her injunctions, she leaves him to proceed on his journey or course of experience. Hence the ideal which man should pursue and his actual conduct are the same in the two works. The variances are equally obvious, in that the method of describing Nature is different: Reson and Sensuality is more poetic, Nature more matter-of-fact, including material not in the former; similarly in the former there is largely a symbolical, personal description of Nature as the author sees her, and in the
tt Brandl refers, pp. xliii and xliv, to Les £checs Amourcux and Reason and Sensuality for parallels, and asks comparison with Lydgate's Assembly of Gods, ll.Sff., 1345ff. Cf. E. Macauley, work cited, and her remarks on W. R. Mac- kenzie, A Source for M edwall's "Nature," P.M.L.A. A., XXDC, pp. 188-199. She speaks of an unpublished poem (at Caius, Cambridge, Ms. 117, fol. 1-2), Disputatio inter Morbum et Naturam. To her illustrations might be added many other citations that I have made of works Medwall well may have been ac- quainted with. For allegorical relations in moralities may be consulted Mac- kenzie's The English Moralities from the Point of View of Allegory, Boston, 1914; also R. L. Ramsay's introduction, pp. cliii-cxcvii, to Skelton's Magnifi- cence, E.E.T.S.
» A full list is given by Mackenzie, A Source for Medwatt's "Nature'' work mentioned.
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latter, there is an expository description which Nature gives herself by one of the simplest of dramatic devices.
The Interlude of the Four Elements27 by John Rastell, which is dated about 1517, resembles Nature in theme and treatment.
It opens with a prologue to the effect that man should have the fundamental knowledge of visible things before he aspires to knowledge of things higher and invisible. (This view of God and Nature is in harmony with tradition.) When in the action proper, Natura Naturata (who really seems to behave more as Natura Naturans) speaks to Humanity and Studious Desire, she declares herself to be minister of God over generation and corruption, a supervisor of the elements. To humble Humanity, she gives reasons for thinking the earth round, but she leaves the continuance of the lesson to Studious Desire, — a good case of symbolism, since curiosity is common to men. For a time the Desire holds the attention of Humanity, but finally Sensual Appetite wins him away. Other characters like Experience and Ignorance deal with him, so that he re- forms and relapses twice. After the second fall, Nature comes to rebuke him. The interlude closes with the compromise upon which Humanity insists: now and then he must yield to Sensual Appetite.
In the introduction to his edition, Fischer decided that the Four Elements was strongly influenced28 by Nature, but was not a direct imitation of it.29 The resemblance lies in the fact that Nature leaves Studious Desire to instruct Humanity — an intellectual office entrusted much more generally to Reason in Nature; that Sensual Appetite hinders Humanity just as Sen- suality degrades Man; that Studious Desire is finally trium- phant, but, like Reason, has to be content with a compromise, an admission that Humanity must occasionally indulge animal appetites. The difference lies in the inclusion of the Seven Deadly Sins in Nature and in the strictly encyclopedic aim of Natura Naturata in Four Elements*0
" Dodley's Old English Plays, W. C. Hazlitt, London, 1874, I, pp. 5-50; also J. Fischer, Marburg, 1903. The play is cut short and has an internal gap. Its purpose is to instruct, not to bore, Fischer, p. 39; to give philosophic informa- tion in the English tongue, pp. 40-41. The summary in the Cambridge History of English Literature, V, p. 57, is inaccurate.
28 Fischer here takes issue with Carpenter, Mod. Lang. Notes, XIV, p. 271.
19 He opposes Manly, Jour. Ger. Philol., II, pp. 425-6.
80 Two other moralities are related to these: The Play of Wit and Science (1541-1547) by John Redford, Shakespeare Soc. Pub., 1848, ed. Halliwell, and The Marriage of Wit and Science, Dodsley's Old Plays, II, pp. 32 Iff. The latter begins with the decision of Wit, the son of Nature, to marry Science, the daughter of Reason and Experience. Nature approves his purpose, but warns
Nature in Middle English 197
IV
Piers the Plowman,31 though contemporary with Chaucer, presents novel instances outside the specific line of tradition which I have been following from the Latin and Old French. Among the many allegorical figures of the poem is Kinde, who, as I have pointed out, if in general meaning the equivalent of Nature. One influential passage begins the tenth book in the A version, and is largely the same in the B and C versions.
'Sire Dowel dwelleth,' quod Wit, 'not a day hennes, In a castel, of Kuynde i-mad of foure kunne thinges, Of erthe and eir hit is mad i-medelet to-gedere, With wynt and with watur ful wittiliche i-meint. Cuynde hath closet ther-in craf tiliche with-alle, A loueli lemmon lyk to him-self , Anima heo hette; to hire hath envye A proud prikere of Fraunce princeps huius mundi, And wolde wynnen hire a-wei with wiles yif he mihte. Bote Kuynde knoweth hit wel and kepeth hire the betere, And hath i-don hire to sire Dowel duke of these marches . . . To kepe this wommon this wyse men ben charget, Til that Kuynde come or sende and kepe hire himseluen.' 'What calle ye the castel,' quod I, 'that Kuynde hath I-maket, And what cunnes32 thing is Kuynde con ye me telle?' 'Kuynde,' quath he, 'is creatour of alle kunne beestes Fader and foomere, the furste of alle thing; That is the great god that bigynnyng hedde neuere, The lord of lyf and of liht of lisse and of peyne. Angeles and alle thing arn at his wille, Bote mon is him most lyk of marke and of schap; For with word that he warp woxen forth beestes, And alle thing at his wille was wrought with a speche, Dixit et facta sunt;
him that time and work only can help him win the maid. For servant and companion she gives him Will.- Bishop Bale's The Comedy Concerning Three Laws (1538), The Dramatic Writings of John Bale, ed. J. S. Farmer, London, 1907) might be included. The Laws are those of God, Christ, and Nature. In the first scene Naturae Lex is to teach Man to know God and His ways. In the second, it is opposed by Infidelitas, Sodomismus, and Adolotria, and becomes leprous. — Another play, Horestes (printed 1567) by John Pickering, has the character of Nature; D.O.P., II, 491ff.
11 Piers the Plowman, W. W. Skeat, Oxford, 1886, 2 vols.
K The lines beginning "And what cunnes" and ending "his lynage after" are 14 in number in A, 22 in B, and 8 in C; the lines following them in C are quite different.
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Saue mon that he made ymage to him-seluen, Yaf him goost of his godhede and grauntede him blisse, Lyf that euer schal lasten and al his lynage aftur. That is the castel that Kuynde made Caro hit hette, And is as muche to mene as mon with a soule, That he wrouhte with werk and with word bothe; Thorw miht of his maieste mon was i-maket,
Faciamus hominem ad ymaginem et simililudinem nostrum.
In the mind of the alliterative poet, Nature, or Kuynde, is not a feminine power subordinate to God, but is God Himself, in accordance with a definition to which some of the early Church Fathers objected, a definition like the Stoic equations.33 The presentation is more in harmony with Biblical or Christian in- fluence unchanged by classical imagery, — God interested in the welfare of the human soul. The connection of Nature with theological powers and the appropriate domain of the soul is here apparent. By metonomy, Kind is substituted for the God of Kind.
Kuynde occurs in another passage not in A, but substan- tially the same in B and C.34
Conscience supposes that Kuynde will assist man against spiritual foes. But rather Kuynde afflicts him with fearful or painful bodily diseases, and approaches with Elde and Deth. Again Conscience urges Kuynde to help, and succeeds in winning a friend for man. Fortune and Lecherye, limbs of Satan, fight against Conscience; then Couetise comes to the attack. Lyf, proud and confident, is pursued by Elde. By this time Kuynde counsels man to love, but is asked how one can get wealth thus. He tells him not to worry over that problem. Man, in obedience, passes through Contrition and Confession till he reaches Unity.
In the present case, Kuynde is closer to the traditional view of Nature, with the physical apparatus of decay, — disease, age, and death. But Kuynde is still really God bidding man to love in the theological sense. God, it would appear, has afflicted man with disease in punishment for lecherous conduct and other infringements of natural law. God is here opposed to Fortune and also of course to Covetousness, as Nature had been in some passages in other literatures.
The relation of the first passage cited from Piers the Plow- man to some of the ideas in the alliterative poem Death and
38 See Nature in Earlier Periods, article cited. « C 76ff.
Nature in Middle English 199
Life*5 was pointed out by Skeat,86 who related Lady Anima to Dame Life. When we examine the plot of the poem, however, we find that something greater than anima was in the mind of this alliterative poet, something that has a sovereignty more nearly approaching God's or Natura's as we have found it.
In a dream the poet sees from a mountain a crowd of nobles to the South, and to the East a lady of extraordinary personal beauty, "laughing for love." The plants, beasts,87 and nobles, all acknowledge her reverently. Her suite is formed of knights such as Sir Comfort, Sir Hope, Sir Love, and Sir Honor, and ladies like Dame Mirth, Dame Meekness, and Dame Mercy. The poet inquires of Sir Comfort as to the lady, and learns that she is Dame Life. He enjoys the new company till mid-afternoon, when a horrible38 woman comes from the North and causes him to swoon. Sir Comfort tells him that the woman is Death. In her suite follow Pride, Envy, Wrath, and Sickness. Before her the plants, animals, and people lose life. To prevent further destruction, Dame Life calls upon God, who sends down Countenance to stop Death. In joy at the deliver- ance, Life kisses him, and rebukes Death for opposing God's commandment of generation. But Death replies that man himself is responsible for the loss of life because of his disobedience in Paradise. An interchange of reproaches causes her to boast even of Jesus' death. Life retorts effectively, however, that Jesus rose from the dead, and freed from Hell many of those there. With this triumphant note of life everlasting, she raises those just slain by Death and departs.
The admirable balance of the characters and events and the climactic procedure of the plot are evident from the abstract. The East from which Life comes and the arrival of Death toward the end of day are clear and representative points of minor symbolism.
Several analyses for the sources of the poem have been made; J. H. Hanford was the first to derive Life directly from Natura.39 Nevertheless, though he brings out the principle that Life includes the eternal life, he does not emphasize sufficiently
36 Dunbar Anthology, ed. E. Arbers, London, 1901, pp. 126-141; also Bishop Percy's Folio Manuscript, Hales and Furnivall, London, 1868, LII, pp. 49-75.
M See introduction to version in H. and F.
37 Cf. my former accounts of Bernard Silvester's De Universitate Mundi and Alan of Lille's De Planctu Naturae.
38 Cf . a similar grisly appearance in another alliterative poem, The Awnturs of Arthur (S.T.S.), collection cited under The Howlat.
39 An excellent article, "Dame Nature and Lady Life," Mod. Philol., XV, 5, pp. 121-4. It is supplemented by the later edition of the poem, ed. J. H. Hanford and J. M. Steadman, Studies in Philology, University of North Caro- lina, XV, 1918.
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the novelty of the view, — the addition to our previous con- ception that the works of Nature are merely mortal, subject to decay and death. If the view is not an addition to our familiar notion of Nature, it is a chief point of distinction between Life and Nature. This fact was not recognized by Miss Scammon,40 though she dealt with material for such an idea. She said,
"Life is a beautiful woman, a medieval queen. Her description in its various details resembles closely that of other women in the literature of the Middle Ages, — Dame Nature, Lady Anima, Idleness, Helen, the Virgin Mary of the religious lyrics, and Venus and Flora of the Court of Love debates and Dunbar. Her countenance 'brighter than the bright sun,' 'her rudd redder than the rose,' her light-hearted joyousness and mirth, her relation to Nature, are appropriate to her character as Queen of Life. The effect of her approach upon the flowers and branches . . .is especially symbolic."
That the relation between Life and Nature is direct was established by Hanford in the following manner. After admit- ting that a suggestion came from Piers the Plowman, he showed that the poet depended for details upon De Planctu Naturae. There is a great similarity in such points as treat of the general impression of divinity, the heavenly diadem, her neck and breasts; the emphasis on love; her sympathetic reception by the flowers, fish, and natural objects; the failure of the poet to recognize her; and her mysterious robe. The last item he used to prove that Miss Scammon's argument for the dating of Death and Life after 1503 cannot hold, because he found that the descriptions in The Golden Targe, 93 ff., and The Thistle and the Rose, 73 ff. were not original with Dunbar, but were derived from the same source, De Planctu Naturae.
Still, there is an addition to the tradition of Nature or a modification of it, the belief in immortality.
A more encyclopedic use of Nature is the basis of this sec- tion, since Hawes, despite an obvious relation to Chaucer and his successors, was distinctly of an informative temper. The
40 Radcliffe College Monographs, No. 15, Studies in English and Comparative Literature, Edith Scammon, "The Alliterative Poem: Death and Life," pp. 95ff. She followed Skeat.
Nature in Middle English 201
proof would appear from a comparison of parts of his Pastime of Pleasure with part of The Mirrour of the World.*1 In 1480-1 Caxton published a translation of the very popular L'Image du Monde under the title, Mirrour of the World. In chapter 13, begins a long discussion of Nature:
"... I shall reherce to you here after of the accidents and of the faites of natiire; and that shal be short. Ffor God created nature altherfirst, and tofore he created ony other things that apperteyned to the world. . . . Ffor the firmament torneth and meueth by nature, and in like wise doo alle the thinges that haue meuyng. Nature meueth the sterres and maketh them to shyne and grewe, and also may anoye and greue as moch as she wille."
In chapter 14, the writer says that he will explain nature and her manner of working:
"Oure Lord God created alther first nature, ffor she is thethyngeby whiche alle creatures and other werkes haue dured and lyue, what someuer they bee ordeyned of God under the heuen. Without nature may nothinge growe, and by her haue alle thinges created lyf. And therfor behoueth nature to be firte, ffor she noryssheth and entertieneth alle creatures, and habandonneth her self where it pleseth the creator or maker. Nature werketh in lyke wyse, whan she is employed, as doth the axe of a carpenter when he employeth it in his werke; ffor the axe doeth nothynge but cutte. . . . Where as mater lacketh, she leueth to werke; and alleway somoche there is more of mater, somoche more she werketh; as men see of somme beestis, of whiche somme haue two heedes and vi feet. . . . Such is the vertus of Nature, where plente of clerkes haue som- tyme sette their entendement and cure. . . . And first of alle saith Plato, whiche was a man of grete renommee, that nature is an ouer puissance or might in thinges that she maketh to grow lyke by lyke after that euerych may bee. . . . And lo this is that that the wise Platon saith whiche was a grete clerke. . . . After hym saith Aristotle, that this was a yef te comen fro the hye prynce, whan he gaf vertu to the firmament and to the sterres for to meue and to be, and that without God suche power ne myght not be gyuen, as the thynges that haue power to remeue, to bee and to meue. Aristotle that saith this studyed in many a book treatyng of nature. Many other philosophies ther were that said nature preceded of vertues of hete whiche cause th alle thinges to growe and nourisshe. . . . The philosophies ensieweth better Plato than Aristo- tle. ... "«
Nature in the exposition acts as the created agent of God, the
« Cotton's Mirrour of the World, ed. O. H. Prior (E.E.T.S.), 1913. See my article on Nature in Old French.
0 It will be noted that Hawes in Pastime of Pleasure omitted reference to Aristotle, possibly because of the conclusion here reached in regard to the value of Plato.
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Creator, following His will, even according to the homely figure of the axe in the hands of the carpenter.
This material was employed by Stephen Hawes in a poem written early in the sixteenth century, The Pastime of Pleasure** It is another in the long series of allegorical poems dealing with the elements of liberal education that derived from Martianus Capella's De Nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii. At the same time, it is patterned after both love-allegories and chivalrous romances. I take up these encyclopedic and literary employ- ments of Nature in order.
Actually she takes no part, but her functions and her law occupy a fair portion of the poem. In chapter XXII "Of Dame Astronomy," is given an account of the creation by God, the "hye astronomier," in six days and His rest on the seventh. The next chapter is "Of the direct Operation of Nature."44
And forasmuche that he made nature
Fyrst of all to have domynacyon,
The power of her I shall anone dyscure,
How that she taketh her operacyon,
And whereupon is her fundacyon,
In symple and rude, opprest with neclygence,
Shall discrye the myght of her preemynence.
For though that aungell be invysyble, Inpalpable, and also celestiall, Wythouten substance as insencyble, Yet have they nature whych is angelycall: For nature naturynge nature made all, Heven and earth and the bodyes above, By cours of nature for to werke and move.
On man or beest, wythouten ony mys, She werketh directly after the aspecte Of the mater, be it more or lesse, ywys, And doth thereof the hole fourme dyrecte, After the qualyte it doth take effecte; Yf there be more than may one suffyse, A bye membre she wyll than more devyse.
48 Percy Society, vol. XVIII, London, 1846. See V. B. Rhodenizer, Studies in Stephen Hawes' "Pastime of Pleasure" Harvard dissertation, 1918, and also H. Natter, Untersuchung der Quellen von Stephen Hawes' Allegorischem Gedichte, "Pastime of Pleasure," Passau, 1911.
44 Pp. 106ff. Hawes did not understand his source.
Nature in Middle English 203
After dwelling on the superfluity of material, the author treats, in a similar way, missing members, — the whole idea plainly developed from the Mirrour. Thus we get a conception of the agency of Nature in the creative process after the original cos- mogony and in the celestial operations. The extent to which the poet lingers on the freaks made necessary because of the apparent miscalculations as to how much dough was needed to make a certain pastry seems to-day ridiculously disproportion- ate.
He then passes to an exposition of the five senses, but realizes that he can hardly show extensive knowledge thereof, and accordingly refers to Plato.45
Plauto, the connynge and famous clerke, That well expert was in phylosophy, Doth right reherse upon natures werke, How that she werketh upon all wonderly, Bothe for to minysshe and to multeply, In sondry wyse by great dyreccyon After the maner with all the hole affecyon.
In my natyf language I wyl not opres, More of her werke, for it is obscure; Who wyl thereof knowe all the perfeytnes In phylosophy he shall fynde it ryght sure, Whyche all the trouth can to hym discure.
Then in the allegorical narrative proper, La Belle Amoure declares that his love, La Bell Pucell, was created in beauty by Dame Nature.46 In his complaint to Venus, he describes her at length, and includes this item familiar in French poems:
Nothing she lacketh as I do suppose, That is longing to fayre dame Nature.47
In answer to his complaint, Venus, in more harmony with Nature than in De Planctu Naturae, says that she will have Sapience write a letter and Cupid bear it to the lady. She addresses her thus,48 urging Natura's doctrine in De Planctu and Genius's in Jean de Meun's part of the Roman de la Rose.
48 P. 111.
« Pp. 144, 185.
47 P. 147.
48 Pp. 150-1.
204 Knowlton
What was the cause of your creacion, But man to love, the world to multeply? As to sowe the sede of generation, Wyth fervent love so well conveniently, The cause of love engendreth perfytely, Upon an entent of dame Nature, Which you have made so fayre a creature.
Than of dame Nature what is the entent But to accomplish her fayre sede to sow?. . .
In a later passage, there is a curious brag of Time, reminding the reader of other contentions for superiority, such as that of Lydgate's Pilgrimage and that of the four ladies in The Example of Virtue: «
Withouten tyme is no earthly thynge, Nature, fortune, or yet dame Sapience, . . . Do not I Tyme, cause nature to augment? Do not I, Tyme, cause nature to decay?*0
Hawes indicates the relation of God to Nature in a passage on the Virgin birth:
To the God of nature nothynge truely Impossyble is, for he made of nought Nature fyrst; whyche naturynge hath tought Naturately right naturate to make; Why may not he then the pure nature take By his Godheed of the vyrgin Mary.*1
Hawes employed Nature in another didactic allegory, The Example of Virtue (1503-4), wherein the character is less philosophic and is brought into opposition with other members of the medieval pantheon who are much concerned with man's career. The poem is one of the few in English which allows Nature an active part throughout the allegorical pattern. At the same time, this fact shows that the treatment of the figure is more literary in interest than in The Pastime of Pleasure. The description of Nature is most meagre though favorable. Her fair surroundings, which indeed are briefly described if
"Dunbar Anthology, work cited, pp. 217-296. MP. 215. « P. 216.
Nature in Middle English 205
we compare the passage in Anticlaudianus™ symbolize weakly the beauty of her heavenly and other creations; but the details of the palace are incongruous with a true realization of her nature, whatever one may take the cloth of arras and the windows to stand for. The artifice is unusually false, in that indoor sensations are not consistent with open Nature. The image of death, which reminds the reader of Death in Death and Life, is the strongest point in the description, yet it is not resumed later. Nature here explains, as elsewhere and in De Planctu Naturae, her own powers83 under God, and emphasizes for the present didactic purpose her regard for man.
The Example of Virtue begins with the poet's dream that Morpheus led him in a garden country to the Lady Discretion. They took a voyage to an island, which was ruled over, as he learned upon inquiry, by four ladies. The oldest was Dame Nature,
That daily formeth, after her intent
Every beast and living creature,
Both foul and fair, and also pure.
All that depending in her ordinance
Where that she favoureth, there is great pleatance.
The other three ladies were Fortune, Hardiness, and Wisdom. After they passed the porter Humility, they came to Fortune at her wheel and amid a throng of the nine worthies. They saw also Hardiness and nine queens; Sapience, with Prudence, giving much advice; and Reason.
69. Discretion further forth me led Unto the solemn and royal mansion Of Dame Nature in human stead. Right pleasant was her habitation, Of marvelous work and situation; And she herself held her Estate
In a glorious Chamber without checkmate.
70. Her Tower was gilded full of sunbeams, And within hanged with Cloth of Arras.
MHawes may have known the poem; these two are the descriptions of Nature's castle. Chaucer's outdoor residence is more appropriate.
M There is nothing new to the tradition in her statement of these or in her character. Whatever novelty there is lies in the plot; her relations with Fortune are discussed in my paper on Nature in Old French.
206 Knowlton
The roof was painted with golden streams, And like crystal depured was. Every window about of glass; Where that she sat as a fair Goddess, All things creating by her business.
71. Me thought, she was of marvelous beauty. Till that Discretion led me behind; Where that I saw all the privity
Of her work and human kind;
And, at her back, I then did find . ,
Of cruel Death a doleful image,
That all her beauty did persuage.
72. Full wondrous was her operation In every kind eke and right degree, Withouten rest of recreation.
I will not meddle with her secret, For it nothing 'longeth to my faculty: But somewhat, after, I will express Of her great power and worthiness.
Next, Morpheus and the poet went on to Dame Justice. Thither came also the four ladies to plead at her bar as to who was most profitable to man, and who should have preeminence. Hardiness spoke of the brave heroes Hercules, Hector, David, Julius Caesar, Arthur, and Charlemagne. Then Sapience took her turn, with her seven arts, and claimed Caesar as her own. Followed Fortune, who had assisted these heroes. Finally Nature spoke at length (p. 252) :
. . . That Nature giveth, by her power, Wisdom nor Hardiness may not defeat! For I to Man am the chief doer, During his life, without retreat. Also Dame Fortune may not well let Me of my course, though she it thought In sundry wise; my deeds are so wrought.
Her power over man and animal54 was given her by God. Through her the world had life.
Wherefore, Dame Justice, be you now indifferent! Consider, that I am most dear and lief Unto every man, that is eliquilent,
M She refers those who are curious to Bartholomew's book.
Nature in Middle English 207
And above all medicines to him most chief; And by my strength unto him relief In his disease; whcrfore, as think [eth] me, I ought of reason to have the sovereignty!
Despite the plea, Justice bade them all be co-partners with man.55
VI
I have traced the use of the allegorical figure Nature in Middle English from about 1350 to shortly after 1500. Even as at the beginning in Chaucer, the instances showed a strong influence from Old French and a more remote one from twelfth century Latin, so the same influences still operate at the end in Hawes and Dunbar. The most influential native authors were Chaucer and Lydgate, though the latter's work in this field discovered no originality. The association of Nature with birds and the outer world was more characteristic of the English than of the French, and may be considered one of their contributions to the tradition.56 The introduction by Death and Life of the idea of immortality seems likewise novel. The equation of God with Nature, or Kind, as in Piers the Plowman, is not to be found in other English or French literature of the period. On the other hand, Middle English lacked poems, typical of Old French, in which Nature appeared instructing a poet in his art or lamenting his death. Though the English wrote court allegories in which Nature took part, they did not in this time employ her in political allegory like that of Des- champs. On the whole, nevertheless, the same sorts of moral and educative allegories appeared in both tongues.
E. C. KNOWLTON
" Another reference is made to Nature, that when a man reached the age of sixty, she ceased her strength (p. 285).
* It may be recalled that tradition would have it that Alan of Lille and Jean de Hauteville, distinguished for interest in nature, spent part of their lives in England. Nothing substantial can be made of the point, however.
THE CAUSE OF LONG VOWEL CHANGES IN ENGLISH
1. In Modern Philology for June, 1920, p. 53, Professor Prokosch quotes two passages, one from Schuchardt and the other from Vendryes, which, he says, express his own philologi- cal platform more clearly and forcibly than he himself could do. They also express my view, and I should like to place them as a motto at the beginning of this paper. They are, in English translation, as follows:
What meaning have all the thousands of sound laws, as long as they remain isolated, as long as they are not brought together under higher prin ciples? ... In the single phenomenon we must leam to find the general law- and consequently, the recognition of a fact which controls the whole life of a; language is of greater importance than the recognition of any single phenome- non.
(Schuchardt, Vber die Lautgesetze, 536)
Every phonetic change may be considered as due to the action of profound and mysterious forces, to which may well be given the name tendencies. It is these tendencies that constantly modify the structure of the language, and the evolution of every idiom results, in its ultimate analysis, from the perpetual play of tendencies. . . The idea of a phonetic tendency is more exact in theory and more fecund in practice than that of a phonetic law. It alone enables us to determine accurately the cause of phonetic changes and to interpret scientifi- cally even those which seem the most unyielding to scientific discipline. (Vendryes, Mel. ling., p. 116)
2. The most important sound-changes that have occurred in the development of Old English to Modern English are those of the long vowels, d>d,d>u,ce and e>i,ti>au,i> ai; examples : OE stdn, MnE stdne; OE fod, MnE food; OE d&d, MnE deed; OEfet, MnE feet; OE hus, MnE house; OE tid, MnE tide. To state the changes in terms of phonetics, the low back vowel a has become the mid back vowel 5; the mid vowels e, 5, have become the high vowels i, u; and the high vowels *, «, have become the diphthongs ai, au. That is, the low and the mid vowels have become narrower, and the narrow vowels have dipthongized. It has generally been admitted that we do not know why such changes occurred. But the uniformity of these changes is very striking, so much so, that one is forced to the conviction that they must all be the result of some one tendency.
208
Long Vowel Changes in English 209
3. Scholars are now of the opinion that each language is characterized by a certain linguistic tendency, that the general type of articulation of any given territory is a very stubborn and persistent habit, a phenomenon of long standing; hence we are justified in assuming that our Germanic and Anglo- Saxon ancestors pronounced their words very much as we do to-day. What is the chief tendency of English and whence does it come? At a very early period in Germanic speech the accent became fixed on the first, or root, syllable of the word, and we can observe from that time on a steady tendency toward concentrating the stress more and more on this syllable, to the gradual neglect of following syllables. The natural continuation of this tendency would result in a further con- centrating of the accent on the first part of the vowel, to the neglect of its latter part. Is not this the actual state of affairs in modern English? The diphthongal pronunciation of long vowels is the most characteristic feature of English speech; and diphthongal pronunciation means merely that we stress the beginning, but not the end, of the vowel. How long have we been pronouncing in this way? The history of vowel devel- opment would lead us to infer that this manner of pronouncing has obtained for some centuries, because such a speech habit would naturally bring about just exactly those sound-changes which have actually occurred since Anglo-Saxon times. This statement will be more easily understood if we first recall a few facts concerning the nature of vowel formation and of accent.
4. Differences in vowels depend upon differences in the shape of the mouth, which is determined by the elevation of the tongue, the width of the angle of the jaw, and the shape of the lips; thus, to form u the tongue is raised higher in the back of the mouth than for o; similarly * represents higher front eleva- tion than e; that is, the passage between the tongue and the roof of the mouth is narrower for * and u than for e and o, and is widest for a. The widening and narrowing of the mouth passage is accomplished by two sets of muscles, those of the tongue and those of the jaw. Ordinarily scholars attach too little importance to the angle of the jaw in vowel formation. Of course the vowels can be formed by the tongue alone, as can be tested by holding a pencil between the teeth, thus insuring no change in the angle of the jaw; but in actual practice the
210 Lotspeich
average speaker widens the jaw more for a than for o, more for o than for M, more for e than for *.
What are the respective functions of the tongue and the jaw muscles? In my opinion, the tongue muscles are the primary factor in giving the mouth cavity the desired vowel- shape, and the jaw muscles come into play for stressing, to enlarge the resonance chamber and thus to increase the sonority and volume of the sound; in unstressed positions the jaw muscles remain practically inactive, and the mouth is more nearly closed. When a stressed vowel becomes unstressed, it passes over into the next higher vowel; cf. such pairs as exit (eksit) and exist (igzist, New Eng. Diet.)- The reason for this is that, while the tongue takes the position of the sound e which is in the consciousness of the speaker, the jaw muscles are relaxed, leaving the mouth nearly closed, and this closed position of the jaw brings the tongue nearer to the roof of the mouth, that is, into the position for i rather than for e.
5. Bearing in mind now the two points made in the pre- ceding sections, namely, (1) that English speech exhibits a tendency to condense the accent, first onto one syllable and then in ever-increasing degree onto the first part of the vowel, and (2) that in unstressed positions the jaw muscles relax and give the tongue a higher elevation, let us see if we cannot find a satisfactory explanation of the changes which the long accented vowels of English have undergone during the last thousand years. If we pronounce the long vowel sound e, as in mate, in the normal English manner, we stress only the first part of the vowel by contracting the jaw muscles and opening the mouth; on the latter part of the vowel we relax the tension of the jaw muscles, and the mouth partially closes; this partial closing of the mouth on the last part of the e-sound narrows the space between the tongue and the palate just about up to the i-position; that is, the acoustic effect of the latter part of the vowel is that of an i rather than of a pure e. Gradually this unstressed latter part of the vowel encroaches more and more on the stressed first part, until its quality predominates and becomes for the ear the characteristic element of the whole sound, without the vowel's losing any of its traditional length. Thus, slowly, imperceptibly, the long vowel e passes over into the long vowel I. In this way, then, it seems to me,
Long Vowel Changes in English 211
the Anglo-Saxon fet became the Modern English feet. In exactly the same manner have 5>u (fod>food), and a>d (stdn> stone) . What shall we say now of the diphthongizing of i and u to ai and au? I believe that these changes also occurred as the result of the same tendency, namely, the tendency to limit the accent more and more to the very begin- ning of the vowels, to attack suddenly and to release the stress quickly. In the case of the two high vowels I and u the tongue has to be raised so high above the normal low position of rest, that the sudden initial stress-attack catches the tongue while on its way up to this high position and produces first the diphthongs ei and 6u respectively. The further advance of this tendency results in the still earlier attack, while the tongue is just starting up to the * or u position, giving the diphthongs ai, au; the stress is all expended on this first part of the move- ment, although the tongue goes on up weakly to the position originally aimed at.
So much for the development of the long vowels since AS times. Let us now consider the pre-AS development of the PG diphthongs ai and au to a and ea respectively. I believe that these changes also are due to this same English tendency to stress only the first part of the sound. I should say first, however, that the a of the diphthong ai is a back a, while the a of au is front or mixed; that is, if the second element of the diphthong represents high front tongue elevation, as in ai, then the first element a is produced by a slight back elevation, and vice versa, in au the first element is produced by a slight front elevation. This is in accordance with the principle of antagonistic muscular reaction. But to return to the develop- ment of ai, and au; as the first part of the diphthong is stressed more and more, to the neglect of the second part, this latter part ceases .to represent even a slight antagonistic contraction, that is, ceases to be a tongue elevation opposite to that of the first element, and becomes merely the same sort of diphthongal narrowing that we have described above in connection with the long vowels; in other words, the sounds become English long vowels and continue to develop as such.
If all this be true, then we have in English a scale of vowels and diphthongs steadily running, through the centuries, a sort
212 Lotspeich
of double reverse curve, now up in the direction of the front vowels, now up in the direction of the back vowels, thus:
& e I ai a o ft au #, etc.
6. Just a few words, now, in conclusion, concerning the older conception of phonetic laws and the newer one of language tendency. It was formerly maintained that a phonetic law is merely a statement of a historic occurrence, a statement that such and such a sound-change occurred at a certain time and within a given territory, and then ceased. But an example or two from the history of English will make it plain that one and the same change has occurred at different times, and will render more plausible the theory that all of these major vowel- changes are the result of a steady tendency which has existed from very early times, and not the result of some mysterious force that has appeared at one time and then disappeared from the language. Thus the AS <z>e (in 16th-17th centuries) and then in modern English (1750-r-)>* (dad > deed), whereas AS I reached the f stage in 16th-17th centuries; AS la plus pal. spir (lage)>ME »>MnE ai; and again, the & which arose later from an older A (as in AS bacan, wadan, MnE bake, wade) did not get such an early start in developing toward *, and has advanced only to the 2-stage. Can we not predict that some day bake may become beek; that, in fact, all the vowel changes which have occurred since AS times may be repeated? They will, unless the counteracting forces of conservatism, which increase with general education, prove to be stronger than our natural speech-tendency.
C. M. LOTSPEICH University of Cincinnati
THE MUSICAL FOUNDATIONS OF VERSE
Miss Amy Lowell's paper on "The Rhythms of Free Verse"1 is particularly important for the attention it calls to the concept of a time unit in certain types of verse as distinct from the met- ric unit determined by syllabic structure alone or by syllabic structure dominated by stress. To quote Miss Lowell: "For years I had been searching the unit of vcrs libre, the ultimate particle to which the rhythm of this form could be reduced. As the 'foot' is the unit of 'regular verse,' so there must be a unit in vers libre. I thought I had found it. The unit was a meas- urement of time. The syllables were unimportant, in the sense that there might be many or few to the time interval." This passage was all the more pleasing to me in that I found confir- mation in it of a feeling that had gradually and strongly come to be borne in on me in the reading of certain types of free verse, the feeling that in some of the more artistic products of the imagist school, for instance, there was present a tendency to a rhythm of time pulses that operated independently, more or less, of the number of syllables. A line of verse, for instance, that had considerable length to the eye might quite readily, I conceived, be looked upon as the exact prosodic equivalent of a line of perhaps but half of its length, if the rates of articulation of the two lines differed sufficiently to make their total time- spans identical or approximately so. Hence the metrical "irreg- ularity" of one type of free verse might be and, in at least some cases, as I felt convinced, was consciously or unconsciously meant to be, interpreted as a merely optical but not fundamen- tally auditory irregularity. This, in musical terminology, would be no more than saying that two equivalent measures (metric units) may, and frequently are, of utterly different constitution both as regards the number of tones (syllables) in the melodic line (flow of words) and the distribution of stresses. What is true, as regards prosodic equivalence, of lines of un- equal length may, of course, also be true of syllabically unequal portions of lines.
A very crude, but striking, exemplification of the unitary value of such time pulses is afforded by a series of orders de-
1 The Dial, Jan. 17, 1918.
213
214 Sapir
livered by a drill sergeant at intervals, we will say, of exactly two seconds:
March!
Right face!
Right about face!
Halt!
The ordinary prosodic analysis resolves this into :
an irregular bit of "verse" involving in its four humble lines no less than three metric patterns. Of course, the truth of the matter is something like:
J .J Sft J-r
a perfectly humdrum and regular type of rhythmic movement. The metric unit of the drill-sergeant's "poem" is not properly - or - - or - - « , but a two second time-span. To lend va- riety to the contour of the* discourse, he might, quite in the manner of some of the more realistic free verse of the day, sub- stitute a rapid nine-syllabled oath for a military order without breaking the time-metrical framework of the whole. Such an oath might be analyzed, let us say, as:
but it would be the precise time-metrical equivalent of the "March!" of the first line.
That in much free verse relatively long lines or sections are meant (sometimes, perhaps, only subconsciously) to have the same time value as short lines or sections of the same stanza seems very likely to me. The first stanza of Richard Alding- ton's beautiful little poem "Amalfi" reads:
We will come down to you,
O very deep sea,
And drift upon your pale green waves
Like scattered petals.
The Musical Foundations of Verse 215
The orthodox scansion: - — ' (or ._ )
may be a correct or approximately correct stress-analysis of the stanza, but it does not, if my own feeling in the matter is to be taken as a guide, bring out the really significant form units. If the four lines are read at the same speed, an effect but little re- moved from that of rhythmical prose is produced. If the speeds are so manipulated as to make the lines all of equal, or approxi- mately equal, length, a beautiful quasi-musical effect is produced, the retarded hovering movement of the second and fourth lines contrasting in a very striking manner with the more rapid movement of the first and third. I should go so far as to sug- gest that the time-units in this particular stanza are more im- portant metrical determinants than the distribution of stresses. The last five lines of the poem are clearly intended to move along at a markedly slow rate:
We will come down, O Thalassa, And drift upon Your pale green waves Like petals.
The repetition of the earlier
And drift upon your pale green waves
as
And drift upon
Your pale green waves
is no doubt an attempt to express to the eye the difference in speed intuitively felt by the poet. The splitting of the line in two must not be dismissed as a vagary. Whether the current methods of printing poetry are capable of doing justice to the subtler intentions of free-verse writers is doubtful. I shall re- vert to this point later on.
It would be manifestly incorrect to say that all writers of free verse feel with equal intensity, or feel at all, the unitary value of time pulses. Not all that looks alike to the eye is psychologi-
216 Sapir
cally comparable. In ordinary metrical verse the stress unit or foot tends to have a unitary time value as well. The pro- longed coincidence of stress units and time units, however, leads often to an unpleasantly monotonous effect. To avoid this, as is well known, retardations and accelerations of speed are introduced that give the movement of the verse greater fluidity or swing. This process of disturbing the coincidence of time and stress units is the obverse of the unification by means of time units of the irregular stress groupings of free verse. Both "unitary verse," to use Dr. Patterson's and Miss Lowell's not altogether happy term, and time-disturbed metrical verse are "irregular" or "free" in the sense that two unit streams of different nature fail to coincide. It is by no means a foregone conclusion that the latter type of verse, ordinarily accepted without question as unfree, is more "regular" in all cases and to all ears than the former. Much depends on the sensitiveness of the reader or hearer to the apperception of time pulses.
It would be a mistake to suppose that the feeling for time units in regular verse manifests itself only in connection with the foot or with equivalent groupings of feet. The time unit is by no means always congruous to the metric unit or sequence of such units, but may make itself felt more or less independently of the metrical flow, may, in extreme cases, so blur this flow as to well nigh efface it altogether. Thus, a heavy syllable, with following pause, may stand out as the time equivalent of the rest of the syllables in the same line, though metrically of only a fraction of their weight. An interesting example of such a conflict of two prosodic principles seems to me to be the lines:
Us, in the looking glass, Footsteps in the street,
of Walter de la Mare's "The Barber's," one of the delightful rhymes of "Peacock Pie." The metrical structure of the poem, as exemplified by the immediately preceding
Straight above the clear eyes, Rounded round the ears, Snip-snap and snick-a-snick, Clash the barber's shears.
is clearly reducible to the formula:
-or- or
The Musical Foundations of Verse 217
The strict application, however, of this formula to the two lines first quoted results in a lifeless interpretation of their movement and in a meaningless emphasis of the "in" in each case. The reading
J NT
JV. I
is intolerable. It seems clear that "us" (one foot) is the time equivalent, or approximately so, of "in the looking glass" (three feet), ."footstep" (one foot) of "in the street" (two feet). In the. first line, "us" and the first syllable of "looking" are strongly stressed, "glass" weakly, "in" not at all; in the second, the first syllable of "footsteps" and "street" are strongly accented, "in" weakly, if at all. In other words, the proper four-foot and three- foot structure is resolved, under the influence-of a conflicting time analysis, into a primarily two-pulse movement:
.
which may be interpreted, in prosodic symbols, as:
J. /» \ wvXwJ. X »/ / » \ w w JL >
the (A) representing a silent or syncopated secondary stress. To speak of a "caesura" does not help much unless a reference to time units is explicitly connoted by the term. Needless to say, the sequence •t(v)ww ("us, in the") differs completely, to an alert ear, from the true dactyl •*•*"-. These lines of De la Mare's are a good example of the cross-rhythmic effect sometimes produced in English verse by the clash of stress units and time units. They differ psychologically from true "unitary verse" in that the metrical pattern established for the ear by the rest of the poem peeps silently through, as it were. This silent metrical base is an important point to bear in mind in the analysis of much English verse. The various types of dimly, but none the less effectively, felt rhythmic conflicts that result have not a little to do with the more baffling subtleties of verse movement. Meanwhile it is highly instructive to note here a formal transition between normal verse and "free verse." The line of demarcation between the two is, indeed, a purely illusory one.
218 Sapir
The normal foot of English verse is ideally determined in three ways — by a single stress, a definite syllabic sequence, and a time unit. These three elements are, in practice, interwoven to form more or less complex and varied patterns, for foot, line, or stanza. As is well known, the syllabic structure and time pulses of normal verse are particularly liable to variation, but stresses also are handled more freely than is generally supposed, particularly if we go back of the ostensible metrical scheme that stares coldly at us on the printed page to the actual rhythms of the living word. Generally these prosodic determinants are functions of each other. In other words, the streams of stress- units, syllabic groups, and time pulses are not completely inde- pendent factors but tend to be concomitants or multiples of each other. They are synchronous phenomena. It is only by some effort of analysis that we learn to convince ourselves that each determinant, more or less regardless of the other two, may form the basis of aesthetically satisfying rhythmic sequences. In English metrical verse, stress is the main determinant; in "unitary" free verse, it is the time pulse; in normal French verse, the syllabic group. Where these noticeably fail to coin- cide, we may speak of intercrossing rhythms or non-synchron- ous verse patterns. "Unitary verse" illustrates one type of non-synchronous verse pattern, but others are to be found here and there within the precincts of traditional metrical verse.
Stress-verse, time-verse, and syllable-Verse, if we may coin these convenient terms, have or may have, however, this in common, that they are periodic forms, that their ground pat- terns recur with a high degree of regularity. The unit of perio- dicity is marked by the line alone or by regular, though often complex, alternations of lines, conventionally grouped in stan- zas. The determinants of periodic structure are, besides stress, time, and syllabic sequence, the use of perceptible pauses (one of the most important, if explicitly little recognized, rhythm- definers) and the rising and falling (also strengthening and weakening) of the voice. The periodic nature of some of the free types of verse is often obscured to many by their failure to evaluate rightly the factprs of time, pause, and voice inflexion.
Alliteration, rhyme, assonance, and simple repetition of words or phrases are, in modern English verse, generally of a decora- tive or rhetorical rather than primarily metrical significance.
The Musical Foundations of Verse 219
The fact that they are recurrent features, however, gives them, particularly in the case of rhyme, a period-forming or metrical function at the same time. The metrical value may even out- weigh the decorative or rhetorical, as in the case of the older Ger- manic alliterative verse and the typical rhymed verse of French; in the latter, sectioning into syllable-periods would be somewhat difficult without the aid of rhyme because of the lack of stress guidance and because of the intolerably mechanical effect that would result from the use of regularly recurrent pauses. It is highly interesting to observe that the sectioning power of rhyme, independently of either stress, syllabic, or time patterns, has been seized upon by some of our modern poets as a means of attaining a comparatively novel and, if skilfully handled, often- times delightful type of movement. Robert Frost is especially clever in this technique. Take, for instance, the following lines from "After Apple-Picking":
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking; I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
For all
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap
As of no worth.
The sectioning here is mainly the result of the irregularly dis- tributed rhymes. It forms a rhythmic flow that intercrosses with the simultaneous iambic stress-rhythm of the poem. We made the acquaintance a little while ago of time-stress inter- crossing; here we have a related, but very distinct rhythmic prin- ciple— rhyme-stress intercrossing. The lines of irregular length are, in my opinion, only superficially analogous to those of "uni- tary" free verse. It would be highly artificial to assign to such a line as "For all" a time value equivalent to that of "For I have had too much." There is no retardation of tempo in the short lines analogous to that of the only deceptively similar lines from Aldington. The tempo in Frost's poem is, to all intents and purposes, as even as that of normal blank verse; barring the rhymes, its movement may, indeed, not inaptly be described
220 Sapir
as that of non-periodic blank verse. The iambic foot is the only stress-time-syllabic unit; the unmeasured rhyming line is the only higher periodic unit.
In this example of Frost's, rhyme-sectioning is clearly indi- cated to the eye. Rhyme-sectioning may, however, be subor- dinated to another periodic principle of greater psychologic importance and therefore be deprived of external representa- tion. The sporadic interior rhyming in ordinary metrical verse is an example of such subordinate sectioning that is at the same time synchronous, not intercrossing, with the metrical period. Various types of subordinate rhyme-intercrossing are possible. An interesting example is furnished by the third "stanza" of Carl Sandburg's "Cool Tombs":
Pocahontas' body, lovely as a poplar, sweet as a red haw in November or a paw-paw in May, did she wonder? does she remember? ... in the dust, in the cool tombs?
This is written as a connected whole probably because the re- frain, "in the dust, in the cool tombs," which occurs at the end of the other three stanzas as well, is the determinant of a periodic structure that dwarfs the sub-sectioning. Nevertheless the stanza that I have quoted may be readily analyzed into time units of the "unitary verse" type:
Pocahontas' body, lovely as a poplar,
Sweet as a red haw in November or a paw-paw in May,
Did she wonder?
Does she remember?
In the dust, in the cool tombs?
The rhyme-couplets (haw — paw-paw, November — remember) produce an inter-crossing sectioning that is distinctly subor- dinate, but none the less appreciable. It would be as mislead- ing, psychologically speaking, to print the stanza in the manner of Frost's "After Apple-Picking," thus emphasizing the rhyme sections at the expense of the time sections, as to print the latter as blank verse, ignoring the rhyme-sectioning.
The term "periodic structure" is most conveniently used when the formula of recurrence is capable of expression in simple mathematical terms, generally on the basis of an ideal time measurement. "Sectioning" is a wider term that includes the former, implying merely a division into appreciable psycho-
The Musical Foundations of Verse 221
logical pulses, short or long and of regular or irregular relations. So long as the sectioning is clearly apprehended by the mind, some sort of rhythmic contour results. This contour may be aesthetically significant even if there is no definite prosodic system, as ordinarily understood, at the basis of the sectioning. A single strong stress or an unusually long pause at the end may be enough to mark off a section. A poem may be periodic in reference to one of its units of length, non-periodic in reference to another. Thus, the foot may be a periodic unit, while the line and stanza are not; the rhyme-sectioning may be strictly periodic in form, while the metric system is not; the stanza may be perfectly "free," presenting no clearly defined periodic fea- tures, yet may itself serve as a rigid pattern for periodic treat- ment; and so on through all manners of complications and intercrossings. As an example of stanza-periodicity in free verse I may quote the following:
TO DEBUSSY
"La Cathtdrale Engloutie" Like a faint mist, murkily illumined,
That rises imperceptibly, floating its way nowhence, nowhither, Now curling into some momentary shape, now seeming poised in space — Like a faint mist that rises and fills before me And passes;
Like a vague dream, fitfully illumined,
That wanders irresponsibly, flowing unbid nowhence, nowhither,
Now flashing into a lurid flame-lit scene, now seeming lost in haze —
Like a vague dream that lights up and drifts within me
And passes;
So passes through my ear the memory of the misty strain, So passes through my mind the memory of the dreamy strain.
The first two stanzas, it will be observed, follow a perfectly periodic scheme with reference to each other (precise recurrence of rhythms and word repetition), but show no rigid periodic features as such. This form is most easily of service where there is a natural parallelism of thought or feeling.
The preceding unsystematic observations on the structure of verse, if developed to their logical outcome, lead to the con- viction that the possible types of verse are very numerous — more so than assumed even by the vers libristes, i: would seem —
222 Sapir
that they are nowhere sharply delimited from each other, and that, in particular, it is impossible to say where metrical verse ends and "free verse" begins. The rhythmic contour or con- tours of any type of verse result from the manner of sectioning employed in it. "Rhythmic contour" includes here not merely the flow of foot on foot or of syllable group on syllable group but, equally, of stanza on stanza or of free-verse time pulse on time pulse. A strictly analytic classification of the possible prosodic varieties would have to consider:
1. Whether the primary unit of sectioning is determined by stress, time, number of syllables, alliteration, rhyme, assonance, repetition, or other element.
2. Whether the primary sectioning is in short or long units; in the latter case we might speak of a long-breathed rhythmic contour.
3. To what extent, if at all, the smaller section units are built up into large ones.
4. Which, if any, of the orders of sectioning are of a periodic nature.
5. Whether, if there is more than one rhythmic contour, these are synchronous or intercrossing.
Anyone who takes the trouble to think out to some extent the implications of such an approach to the problems of verse structure will soon be led to conclude that only a very small number of possible forms have been at all frequently employed. Considerable rhythmic discipline would be needed to learn to assimilate readily some of the more long-breathed types of structure and the subtler types of intercrossing. There is no reason to doubt that our ears will grow more sensitive to the less conventional developments of the rhythmic impulse as genuine artists give us more and more convincing examples on which to feed this impulse. One does not spontaneously assim- ilate and enjoy the cross-rhythms of a Scriabine or the irregular thematic repetitions of a Debussy, but one gradually learns to do so and, in so doing, one rises to a more and more subtle con- sciousness of the infinite possibilities of rhythmic appreciation. I have advisedly said nothing of the satisfactory or unsatis- factory nature of the cadence or swing of verse not formally regulated by stress. This is an important but difficult matter to reduce to analysis. No doubt there are frequently brought into
The Musical Foundations of Verse 223
play intercrossing relations of various rhythmic factors, so ad- justed as to give a sense of hidden periodicity under an appar- ently irregular contour. I have, further, purposely avoided any necessary reference, in the five criteria of verse classification, to a specific rhythmic determinant, say stress. The feeling for sectioning of some kind is, I believe, the basic factor in the psychology of verse appreciation. The how of the sectioning is an exceedingly important detail, but still only a detail in a fundamental theory of prosody.
It is now time to ask what relation verse bears to prose. If sectioning, whether into short or long units, is to be accepted as the fundamental criterion of verse, it is clear at the outset that it would be just as vain to look for a hard and fast line of forma' demarcation between prose and verse as between metric verse and free verse. If we could substitute "periodicity" for "sectioning," we would be better off, and, indeed, it will be found in practice that comparatively little of even free verse is totally lacking in some form of periodicity. Nevertheless we have not the right to narrow our definition of verse in such a way as to exclude any type of rhythmically articulated dis- course, however irregular the contours yielded by analysis. Since it is obvious that all prose, even such as is not carefully modulated in pleasing cadences, is capable of being sectioned off into shorter and longer units, whether of stress or time or pause-marked syllable groups, it would almost seem that we have allowed ourselves to be driven into the paradox that all prose is verse. This would be improving on M. Jourdain's in- teresting discovery. Have we been talking verse all our lives without knowing it?
Were we to depend entirely on an external and purely mechan- ical analysis of the phenomena of sectioning, we should indeed have to despair of ascertaining any completely valid differentia of verse. A rhythmic contour of some kind is as inseparable from the notion of prose as from that of verse. Fortunately we possess an extremely simple criterion to guide us, so simple that we need not wonder that it has been consistently over- looked. It is the psychological principle of attention, of rhythmic self-consciousness. Of two passages that are per- fectly homologous in rhythmical respects, so long as a merely formal analysis is made of their stresses, time phrases, and
224 Sapir
syllables, one may be verse because the rhythmic contour is easily apperceived as such, demands some share of the reader's or hearer's attention, the other prose because, for some reason or other, the same rhythmic contour, while necessarily making a vague impress on the fringe of consciousness, has not succeeded in clearly obtruding itself on the attention. In the former case the rhythmic construction of the passage is present, as an an- alyzable factor, both phonetically and aesthetically; in the latter, phonetically but not aesthetically. As far as art is con- cerned, rhythm simply does not exist in the latter case. (An immediate corollary of these considerations, should they be accepted as valid, is the necessary limitation of machine methods in the investigation of prosodic problems. If the evaluation of rhythm did not unavoidably involve the subjective factor of fixation of attention, it might be possible to arrive at completely satisfactory results with the aid of such methods alone. As it is, it is doubtful if it will ever be possible to dispense wholly with introspective analysis, welcome as are the data yielded by rigorously objective methods). Verse, to put the whole matter in a nutshell, is rhythmically self-conscious speech or discourse.
If anyone doubts that verse and prose may be perfectly homologous from the rhythmic standpoint, he can readily con- vince himself by simple experiments with both prose and verse. He may so read a prose passage as to make all its rhythmic characteristics stand out in over-clear relief. In spite of him- self an effect of nervous, irregular verse will be produced; not infrequently he will find himself reading blank verse. The con- trast between the sharpness of the rhythmic contour and the inappropriately prosaic character of the diction or thought may make the reading painfully stilted, but he will be reading verse none the less. If he succeeds in substituting words of poetic content, without changing the rhythmic pattern, he will be reading poetry as well. The book that lies nearest to hand at the moment is "America through the Spectacles of an Oriental Diplomat," by Wu Ting Fang, LL.D. Opening it at random, the first sentence that strikes my eye is: "Uniforms and badges promote brotherhood." I am convinced that this is meant to be prose. Nevertheless, when I read it many times, with ever- increasing emphasis on its rhythmic contour and with less and
The Musical Foundations of Verse 225
less attention to its content, I gradually find myself lulled in the lap of verse:
Had Wu Ting Fang chosen to clothe his rhythmic pattern in words of poetic connotation, say:
Thunderbolts come crashing in mad turbulence,
the effect of verse latent in all prose would have risen to the sur- face far more rapidly.
Conversely, one may take a passage of undoubted verse and turn it into prose, subjectively speaking, by the simple process of reading it with diffused rhythmic attention. It requires some practice to do this convincingly, though I have heard more than one lecturer, when quoting poetry for illustrative purposes, succeed with little apparent effort in producing this effect. Free verse, even the most strikingly rhythmical free verse, may very easily thus lapse into prose. If prosaic diction is substituted, without destroying the rhythmic pattern, even the most pal- pable metric movement may be made to seep away into an un- articulated prose. The first four lines of "H. D." 's "Oread" run:
Whirl up, sea —
Whirl your pointed pines,
Splash your great pines
On our rocks.
These lines, though not based on a metric scheme, are in the highest degree rhythmical. The following approximate verse- homologue :
I say, Bill!
Come, you silly boob,
Fetch your old pate
Back to town
introduces itself with every apology but believes it proves its point. The verse pattern set by the original poem is so clear- cut in its rhythmic outline that even this travesty is not wholly devoid of rhythmic effect and is, to that extent, verse. Never- theless it is undeniable that a casual reading of the lines suggests a far weaker degree of rhythmic self-consciousness. In short, it is not enough for a rhythm to be discoverable ; it must disclose
226 Sapir
itself with alacrity. Verse rhythms come, or should come, to us; we go to the rhythms of prose.
All this means, if it means anything at all, that there is not only no sharp dividing-line between prose and verse, as has been so often pointed out, but that the same passage is both prose and verse according to the rhythmic receptivity of the reader or hearer or according to his waning or increasing atten- tion. The very lack of sympathy that is so often accorded the freer forms of verse frequently brings with it an unavoidable transmutation of the verse into prose. A and B are quite right in calling the "same poem" prose and verse respectively. They are talking about different things. Poetry does not exist in its symbolic visual form; like music, it addresses itself solely to the inner ear.
There are, naturally, several factors that tend to excite the rhythmic apperception of a series of words, to deepen prose into verse. The isolation and discussion of these factors would be one of the most important tasks of a psychologically sound theory of prosody. Foremost among them is perhaps the choice of words, the diction. Whatever be our favorite theory of the nature of diction in poetry, it must be granted unreservedly that any lexical, grammatical, or stylistic peculiarity that is not cur- rent in prose helps to accentuate the rhythmic contour if only because the attention is more or less forcibly drawn to it. "Wherefore art thou come?" is necessarily more rhythmical than its prose equivalent "What made you come?" not so much because of inherent metrical differences as of the practical im- possibility of reading the former sentence with the carelessness, the diffused rhythmic attention, so inevitable in the reading of the latter. It does not in the least follow that convention- ally "poetic" diction is necessarily justified in poetry. Poetry has to follow more masters than rhythm alone. Any striking or individual intuition, such as we have a right to look for in poetry, is bound to clothe itself in correspondingly striking ex- pression, in some not altogether commonplace choice of words. That is enough for that heightening of attention which is so es- sential for the adequate appreciation of rhythmic effects. Curiously enough, we are here brought to a realization of the .fact that, however justifiable in general theory the separation of the formal aspect of poetry (verse) from its distinctive con-
The Musical Foundations of Verse 227
tent, in practical analysis this separation can hardly be enforced. Prosody divorced from poetic intuition is very much of an ab- straction.
We must, further, freely grant that periodicity in sectioning is a particularly powerful stimulus for the awakening of rhyth- mic consciousness. This is inevitable because of the rapidly cumulative effect on the attention of repetition of any kind . Even sectioning is more easily seized upon than uneven sectioning. Hence it lends itself more readily to utilization in verse. It is no more rhythmical per se than a rhythmically well ap- perceived passage with uneven sectioning; it merely helps solve the problem of attention by so much. Should we, for the sake of avoiding the appearance of hairsplitting, grant to per- iodicity as such an intrinsically prosodic character, we should have to conclude that the gamut of forms that connects normal prose with strophic verse is twofold: a gamut depending on a progressive application of the principle of periodicity (the shorter and more numerous the periodic units, the more verse- like the form) and a gamut depending on the degree of apper- ception of the rhythmic contour (the more self-conscious the contour, the more verse-like the form). Only we must be care- ful not to identify the principle of periodicity with the particular applications of it that are familiar to us in metrical verse. The- oretically speaking, any particular form of discourse will be best thought of, not as flatly verse or prose, but as embodying the verse principle in greater or less degree. With those who prefer impersonal abstractions to subjective realities there is no need to argue.
The inestimable advantages of the art of writing, in poetry as in music, have been purchased at a price. Impressions orig- inally meant for the ear have been transcribed into visual sym- bols that give at best but a schematized version of the richly nuanced original. Symbolization tends to rigid standardiza- tion, to a somewhat undue emphasis on selected features at the expense of others. We have become so accustomed to taking in poetry through the eye that I seriously doubt if the purely auditory intentions are as clear to all as is light-heartedly as- sumed. Is it easy to grant that an eye-minded critic (and more people tend to eye-mindedness than ear-mindedness) who has silently read an immensely greater volume of poetry than he
)
228 Sapir
has heard is always competent to discuss free verse or any verse? One wonders sometimes what a dispassionate psychological in- vestigation would disclose. To a far greater extent than is generally imagined I believe that the pleasurable responses evoked by metrical verse are largely conditional on visual ex- periences. The influence of visual stanza-patterns in metrical verse, on the one hand, and the somewhat disturbing effect of uneven lines in free verse, on the other, are not to be too lightly dismissed. Much of the misunderstanding 01 the freer forms may well be due to sheer inability to think, or rather image, in purely auditory terms. Had poetry remained a purely oral art, unhampered by the necessity of expressing itself through visual symbols, it might, perhaps, have had a more rapid and varied formal development. At any rate, there is little doubt that the modern developments in poetic form would be more rapidly assimilated by the poetry-loving public.
Most people who have thought seriously of the matter at all would admit that our poetic notation is far from giving a just notion of the artist's intention. As long as metric patterns are conventionally accepted as the groundwork of poetry in its for- mal aspect, it may be that no great harm results. It is when subtler and less habitual prosodic features need to be given expression that difficulties arise. Free verse undoubtedly suffers from this imperfection of the written medium. Retar- dations and accelerations of tempo, pauses, and time units are merely implied. It is far from unthinkable that verse may ultimately be driven to introduce new notational features, par- ticularly such as relate to time. It is a pity, for instance, that empty time units, in other words pauses, which sometimes have a genuine metrical significance, cannot be directly indicated. In Frost's lines:
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
is not the last line to be scanned
["]*t"*"l*[v<M?
The silent syllables are enclosed in brackets. What would music be without its "rests," or mathematics without a zero? Ottawa, Ontario EDWARD SAPIR
REVIEWS AND NOTES
PURITY, A MIDDLE ENGLISH POEM. Edited with
Introduction and Notes by Robert J. Menner. Yale
Studies in English LXI. Yale University Press, 1920. LXII+230.
Scoleres skelten f>eratte f>e skyl for to fynde
The difficulties of this and other works of our poet seem to warrant the above line from the poem as a motto for any treatment, and no one can yet undertake the r61e of a modern Daniel in clearing up all the cruxes. All will be grateful, however, for this new edition of the Middle English Clannesse — Purity as it was called by Osgood (Pearl, 1906) and is now called by Menner — as of prime importance for study of the Pearl poet. Except for selections in various places, this is the first editing of the poem since that of Morris in 1864, revised by him in 1869. The text of the poem has been reread from a rotograph copy. There is provided a new Introduction, a text with much needed revision of the punctuation, fifty pages of valuable notes, and a glossary giving, besides etymolo- gies, references to all places in which the more important words are used. The work shows care, generally good judgment, wide reading in Middle English as well as in books and articles bearing upon the subject. All this should be kept in mind when reading the further suggestions of this paper. If possible, I wish to make this review some slight contribution to our knowledge of this most interesting poet.
The Introduction has divisions upon Manuscript, Works of the Author, The Alliterative School, Date of the Poems, Sources, Literary Art, Metre and Alliteration, Dialect and Language. Under the first should have been mentioned the accents upon final e in some twenty-five different words, accord- ing to the edition of Morris. In the main these are Old French words ending in e, for example semble (126), pite (232), and the similarly derived proper names Sare (623 and always), Gomorre (722) but not in 690, 911 where the first syllable bears the stress and alliterates. Other Old French words are contrare (4, 266) and tyrauntyre (187), the former representing OF. contrarie with Anglo-French monophthonging of -ie, as in see (of a bishop), fee of hold in fee, the fees of Cl. 960. Tyrauntyre, too, may represent OF. *tirantrie, tyrannerie, in spite of the NED ; compare teraunlrie of Prompt. Parv. cited by Stratmann, and Wycl. tyrantry (3 Ki. 16, 20). Significant also are three English words so accented in the text of Morris, as \>rette (317), fyfte (442), angre (1035), the last of Scandinavian origin. In
229
230 Emerson
these the e represents an OE. -ig or its ME. equivalent -y. Confirmation or otherwise of Morris's text in this respect should have been made.
The remaining parts of the Introduction show close reading of what had been written before, with independent conclusions which agree now with one, now with another critic. The discussion of Dialect and Language is generally accurate, but might well have included further variations in the written forms as bearing upon the interpretation of the poem. Some of these I have already used in a forthcoming paper on Pearl. Slight inaccuracies regarding language are the confining of the -et ending of weak verbs to the preterit (p. Ix), since it also occurs in past participles, as dresset (1477), justyfyet (PI. 700). The statement that the plural genitive "often ends in -en" is too strong for the few examples. The omission of "final -d" in pasts and past participles might better have been "dental consonant," in order to include the probable -t from -d in some cases, as $ark (652), ask (1098). This peculiarity, recently noted by Miss Mabel Day without adequate explanation (Mod. Lang. Rev. XIV, 413), should have been referred to as a Northern characteristic; see Murray (Dial, of Sth. Counties of Scotland, pp. 53, 121); G. G. Smith (Selections from Mid. Scots, §12, 22), Wright (Eng. Dial. Gram. §295, 307). This Northern characteristic, whether original or of scribal relation, must now be recognized in making emendations such as Menner's jark[ed] (652), chaunge[d] (713), and others suggested at various times.
From the rereading of the text some important corrections have been made to Morris's revised edition, as of couhous (629), confirming Gollancz's reading, and towched (1393), removing two difficulties among others. The footnotes also explain more fully than is usually done the appearance of the MS. in many doubtful words. In printing, distinction has rightly been made between the two ME. ?'s, and z printed when the sign indicates a voiced s, as in the NED. and Kluge's Mittelenglisches Lesebuch. Unfortunately, as I think, the MS. divisions are kept even when there is no possible break, as in case of V and IX. The first separates a speech from its introducing words, and the second that which is spoken openly to Abraham from that addressed as an aside to the angels. Incidentally, should not segg (681) be segges, since there are two angels in attendance? Since Dr. Bradley's conclusive paper on Old English MS. divisions (Proceedings of the British Academy, 1915-16), there should be no hesitancy in disregarding Old and Middle English breaks that are clearly artificial, as they sometimes are in Clannesse and Patience. Editorial independence has been shown, however, in dividing the long sections of the poem, and
Reviews and Notes 231
in paragraphing the whole as we do more modern unrimed verse.
Again, the punctuation of the poem has been greatly bettered in many particulars. This is a far more important matter than with many Middle English writers, since the author more frequently used a broken sentence structure of one kind or another, or a sentence in which the parts are not supplied with the usual connectives. Menner has frequently indicated this broken sentence structure by the dash, as I think might rightly be done in some other places, for example at the end of lines 11 and 20. Owing to the broken sentence it is also easy to miss the relation of individual lines, as I believe Menner has done in following Morris's semicolon after 115, and comma after 116, instead of the reverse. The next two lines also belong together, as it seems to me, and I shall return to that later. Here may be ventured the general principle, that the poet seldom used a single line sentence, usually carrying the thought through two or more lines. So common is this practice that cases of doubt regarding a single line may often be settled on this principle.
In one respect Menner's text differs from the usual reading of the MS. Following a suggestion of Professor A. S. Cook regarding the Pearl (Mod. Phil. VI, 199), Menner has usually expanded the curl over o as r instead of ur — see his footnote to p. x. Such inference as this should depend only on a most thorough examination of all the poems in the same scribal hand, especially Sir Gawain and the Grene Knight, which is alone twice as long as Pearl and longer than Clannesse and Patience together. For instance bor 'bower' and tor 'tower,' which Professor Cook thought proved his point in Pearl, Menner prints bour, tour in all cases because so expanded once each, as indeed the former is twice in Gawain and the latter at least once (towre, 795). Moreover, in Old French words the expansion bears upon the dialectal form used by the poet. Finally, and most of all in explaining the peculiarities of the MS., we have to do with an extremely careless copyist, as evidenced by many kinds of errors.
Menner has been fairly conservative in emendations, too conservative in cases of clear error. For instance there is no advantage in retaining, except in a footnote, the scribe's confusion of be 'be' and by(i) 'by', as in 104, 212, 356, 819, 1330, 1610, all but 819 accepted by all editors. Nor can I think it wise to keep such a form as deystyne (400) when in at least four other places the correct destyne(ies) is found, while baytayled (1183) is properly emended to batayled. Especially tto be commended are Menner's emendations of sower (69) to so wer; walle-heved (364) to welle-heved; synne to dedes (520); wepande (778) to mornande, improving on Schumacher's mourninge; tyt
232 Emerson
(935) to tayt; ho kyllen (1267) to he kyllen. I naturally think him right in several in which he had independently arrived at conclusions like those I printed in Publ. of Mod. Lang. Ass'n XXXIV, 494-522. Good examples of these are feme for tonne (655), bekyr ande bolle for bekyrande be bolde (1474), although only part of the latter has been given in the footnote and that incorrectly referred to Bateson.
Menner has also suggested some compounds not usually recognized, as halle-dore (44, 1397 in which I had proposed it); lake-ryftes (536) ; luf-lowe (707) ; bunder-brast (952) ; and he has independently agreed with my proposals of brere-fiour (791), schroude-hous (W76),umbebor (1384). It is difficult to see why he did not adopt my suggestions of clenelaik (1053, used by Orm), moder-chylde (1303, and cf. Brad-Strat.), campe-hores (1695). I would now propose also forbwyth 'before' (304,421); apple-garnade (1044), parallel to and partly translating pom- garnade (1466) ; daryoun-crak (1210); fyr-fryth 'fir-forest' (1860) For the latter, fyr can scarcely be the adj. 'far' which would have the same form as the adv./er in the same line and regularly. Besides, for the northern poet fir-forest would be natural and more realistic, if not biblical. Forbwyth prep, in Cursor Mundi is explained by the NED. as for forwith, but with these two new examples I see no reason vfhyforbwyth may not be a prepo- sition as well as an adverb. In 304 the compound clearly translates coram of the Vulgate. I am inclined also to agree with Bateson in assuming god man (341) as a compound, and adding the examples in 677, 849, as well as good man (611). In none of these cases is the weak form of the adjective used, as it usually is in these poems after the demonstrative; cf. on this point Hupe, Cursor Studien (EETS. 110, p. 179*). Perhaps hy$e kyng (50) is a retention of OE. heah-cyning in the Anglian form; cf. hy$e kyng of PI. 596, where it translates Domine of Ps. 61, 12 (Vulg.).
To return to the emendations of Menner and those he has adopted from others. In line Zforering may be based on Scand. forr (OE.forfi) and not require the change toforbering suggested • by Bateson. For per (304), which is supposed by Gollancz and Menner to support it, is really an adv. 'further' in my reading. I would translate the latter line "has fallen before my face, and further I think," the hit not being required by Modern English. It is a grim expression of how completely all flesh has displeased the Creator. Menner 's change of Bo be to Lobe (16) has missed the point, .it seems to me. The passage means that if priests are unclean they are not only sinful themselves, but the sacra- mental elements (God) and everything pertaining to the mass (gere) will be altogether defiled (sulped altogether).
Nor can I think the emendations in 49-50 at all necessary, the first, of worplych to wordlych, suggested by a note of Morris,
Reviews and Notes 233
the second of her even to heven. The first change is unnecessary because the relation of the story to mundane conditions has been made sufficiently evident, worlpych prynce being the same as urply hapel (35,) and prynce itself in sufficient contrast with hy^e kyng (50). Besides, worlde never loses / in these poems, and there are forty examples of the word in Pearl, Clannesse, and Patience alone. Menner's change of her even to heven involves a misunderstanding of what may be readily explained. Even is a noun 'nature, ability, opportunity,' and is found in all dialects of Middle English in similar construction, in her even 'according to their nature or opportunity.' The two lines mean: If he (the man in soiled clothing) was unwelcome to a worthy prince, to him (possibly hem 'them' by a common confusion in these poems) is the Creator harder according to their ability (opportunity). The misunderstanding is easy because of the abrupt change from the singular of the first clause to the plural in the second in order to make the reference general, but this is a not uncommon peculiarity of the poet's style. It occurs in PI. 450-51, 686-8; Cl. 167-8, 303-5, 379; Gaw. 54; while the opposite change is found in PI. 447-8; Cl. 89-92, 1129-30. Line 50 is thus based on Ps. 62, 13, used by the poet in PI. 596.
In plate to place (72) and pat demed to pat is demed (110) Menner follows Morris's suggestions as opposed to my retention of the MS. readings. In favor of pat demed as a simple apposi- tive, compare the following abrupt introduction of explanatory words or phrases, among others: pe raykande wawez (382); Sare pe madde (654); he loutez hem to, Loth (798); pe heven upon lofte (808); pat God pay for$eten (1528). So the addition of to before neje (143) seems to me unnecessary, since the infinitive without to is not uncommon. The MS. reading wylnesful (231) may be for OE willednes + ful, through wildnesful, or a com- pound of Scand. vijlr 'wild, bewildering, erring' as in wil-drem (Pat. 473), and therefore not require Gollancz's change to wylfulnes. Hit wern (379) may be an abrupt change from singu- lar to plural with general reference and therefore need no emendation. The same may be said of kyste. . .wern (449), with the possibility in this and similar cases that we have a careless scribe's omission of the plural sign of the noun, or an unchanged plural in accordance with Northern usage. In 476 Morris's a longe is read by Menner alonge, requiring him to assume that an adv. is here used as an adj., instead of the simpler and usual construction.
Menner's per for pen (926) seems unnecessary, since pen is several times used as a conjunction in a rather peculiar way, as at 178. One of the most remarkable of Menner's emendations is of Colde (1231) to Calde, Calde in the same line being read calde 'called.' Colde 'cold' in the sense of 'powerless/ or as the NED. puts it 'without power to move or influence' is not
234 Emerson
uncommon in Middle English, as of the heart in OE. Horn. p. 97: pet er wes cold purh flescliche lustes. The poet says in effect, if Zedekiah had not trespassed against God, too powerless (colde) would have been all Chaldea and the other nations to injure him and his people. Tene of the next line is used in its ordinary sense of 'vexation, injury,' not 'pains, trouble' as Menner puts it. It seems too bad to deprive the poet of this fine use of cold in a figurative sense, when the text may be so readily explained as it stands.
Morris suggested inserting pat before swypped (1253) and Menner adopts, also following Morris in giving the meaning 'escape' to swypped. The latter, from OE. swipian, should mean 'scourged, beat,' not 'escaped,' and this is possible if we assume that the copula is to be supplied from the preceding line, with which this one is connected. The line then means, And all not destroyed (unswoljed) by the keen sword were scourged. In 1491 I had myself proposed inserting per before sopefast as Menner does, but a later reading of the poem makes me think lines 1491-2 are but another example of broken sentence struc- ture. With a dash after stonde (1490), no insertion is necessary. To keep MS. readings whenever possible, uus (1507) should be retained as the infinitive of use, the scribe perhaps having confused the form with uus 'us' as found in Pearl and Patience.
Some brief notes on other MS. readings retained when emendations seem reasonable may perhaps be ventured. For example, in spite of Skeat's elaborate explanation, I believe the solution of the puzzling totez (41) is to assume toez (perhaps toz) 'toes,' as Morris partly suggested; cf. tos (1691) and the frequent interchange of final s-z. The second t is perhaps a dittograph, the scribe confusing to-te as he often does o-e. Sade (210) might properly have been changed to sayde, since the ay form is the prevailing one in both present and past tenses, occurring in the latter 35 times in Pearl and Clannesse, beside three examples of sade. In Pearl it was so altered by Osgood in 532, but not in 784 the only other example in that poem. There should be no hesitancy in altering hem (915) to hym to agree with his in the same line, both referring to the Creator. In 966, lance is not, I think, a present indicative to levez, but a past participle with omitted or absorbed d, and an adjective modifier of levez. This makes unnecessary giving to the verb lanse (see glossary) the unusual meaning 'spring forth,' the idea of which is fully expressed in lepes of the same line.
The MS. reading Nabigo de Nozar eight times as compared with N abigodenozar twice, supported as it is by Nabigo twice and the usual alliteration on the second element of the assumed compound, suggests keeping the Frenchified form of the name as the one actually in the poet's mind. Should not gomes (1315) be regarded as an error for gemes — gemmes 'gems,' owing to
, Reviews and Notes 235
frequent scribal confusion of e-o? Gomes 'men' could hardly have been trussed ... in his tresorye (1317) even by Nebuchad- nezzar. Moreover gemmes and jueles (1441) are distinctly mentioned as having been taken by Belshazzar from the same treasury, implied by coferes (1428), tresor 'treasurer' (1437), and kystes (1438).
Menner's notes make a valuable addition to the few in Morris, and the scattered ones elsewhere. Objection may be made to his long note on soerly (117) that, even if the word were Scand. saurligr, the line would not be adequately ex- plained. What is the meaning of 'And ever a man unclean seemed by their clothes,' especially when the passage specifically mentions the numerous men (ledez inogh) below the high dais. Menner tries to help his interpretation by assuming ay a as 'every/ but I do not find such use and meaning recorded elsewhere than in his glossary. Besides, while Scand. au may appear as ME. o, we have here an oe, to which it never corre- sponds so far as I have found. Soerly still seems to me a scribal error, perhaps for soberly as Morris thought, or for serly 'sever- ally' as I had proposed. The confusion of o-e is so common that the scribe may have intended seerly= serly, have corrected his o by writing e after it, or have written such a curious oe for e (ee) as in trowoe for trowe (Gaw. 813). Compare also hardee (Cl. 543), swypee (Cl. 1211), and some other words. However the word is explained, ay 'ever' and her wedez of this line, to- gether with ledez of 116, imply a plural in a segge if it can be made out. To assume as segges, with final s's assorbed by the following initial s's is in keeping with some indisputable examples, as in a[s] stremande (PI. 115), swere[s] sweftel[y] of Gaw. 1825, not unlikely in usle[s] so (Cl. 747). Nor was it necessary for Menner, either in support of his conclusion here or otherwise, to assume Scand. sauerligr in PI. 226, where sauerly = saverly makes such excellent sense. The idea there is, not that anyone would say an impure thing about the wondrous pearl, but that no one could adequately describe it.
The note on 167 makes needless difficulty. A semicolon at least belongs after 166, I think. Then the poet expresses the hypothetical 'if you approach' by the transposed verb and subject, (cf. Pat. 391), abruptly breaking off the natural con- clusion of the hypothesis for a direct statement regarding the Prynce. For Mararach (447), in addition to Carle ton Brown's note, it should be said that the Mandeville MS. before the poet probably had nom ararach, rather than noun ararach. Only so, or by misunderstanding of final n, could Ararach have acquired its initial M . The note on hot (473) is not convincing, since blysse may be an appositive of bot in its ordinary meaning of 'remedy, redress, assistance.' For skylly skyvalde (529), I suggest a compound of Scand. skelli- 'noisy,' as in Icl. skelli-
236 Emerson
hlautr 'roaring (noisy) laughter,' and an -aid formation of a Scand. root in gradation relation with that appearing in Somer- set scaffle 'scramble, scuffle,' the last first proposed by F. J. Child; cf. Icl. sky/a 'shove.' Skylly-skyvalde 'noisy scrambling, shoving' would admirably suit the place, though diametrically opposed to Morris's 'design manifested.' The animals hardly left the ark in a sedate and dignified procession. Under 1189, teveled, it should be noted that the second edition of Morris gave the correct form, long before Mrs. Wright printed her illuminating note. Menner's footnote to the text gives both the Morris readings.
Menner translates the line 1385, 'The palace that covered the ground enclosed within.' To this he seems to have been led by mistaken connection of pursaunt here and poursent in PL 1035. The latter is rightly regarded as OF. purceint, with monophthonging and doubless shortening to e in the unstressed syllable, but OF. ei could not become au in any ordinary way. In spite of the NED., pursaunt is more likely, as Morris sug- gested, a variant of OF. pursuivant in the older sense of 'royal or state messenger' (see NED. pursuivant). This derivation makes it possible to give ply, not such an exceptional meaning as 'cover,' but the usual one of 'busy one's self, move to and fro,' OF. aplier. The poet is describing Babylon itself, called bor$ in 1377, and here place, not palace as Menner; see the later note on palayce. This royal city is described as the place under the king's jurisdiction, 'that the royal messenger (pursaunt) plied within' in carrying out the king's commands.
A note seems to be necessary on lers (1542) and probably an emendation, for I can not see how Belshazzar or anyone else could ''display his features' by platting his hands. Morris (Notes) suggested fers 'fears,' not mentioned by Menner but a wise emendation. Again, I think plattyng must here be from ME. platten, a variant of plaiten 'interweave, intertwine, interlace' perhaps 'wringing (of the hands),' a more natural movement than 'striking.' The long note on romyes (1543), with assumption of an unrecorded OF. form, is at variance with the conservative Bjorkman (Scand. Loan-Words, p. 252) who proposes OWScand. roma 'talk loudly.' In 1687 Menner accepts Miss Weston's translation of thyje as a plural, but adds difficulty by concluding it is a verb. This requires making many pik not only a substantive use of the adjective, but plural as well, a less simple explanation it seems to me than I have given. So also of mony clyvy in 1692.
A note on 1716 would have been helpful, to account for Menner's accepting Morris's pede as 'brewer's strainer,' the qualus 'wicker basket' of Prompt Parv. As I see it, it would not have been sacrilegious for Belshazzar to serve wine in this way, but simply ridiculous. Moreover, the assumption that such a
Reviews and Notes 237
word could apply to the sacred vessels of the temple is quite too far fetched, unless supported by some proof. The passage is an arraignment of Belshazzar by Daniel, not simply for using the sacred vessayles. . .in vanyte unclene (1713), but a second sacrilege such as would naturally occur to a medieval mind, although not in the biblical source. Belshazzar has brought out among the people (in J?ede) beverage . . . pat blypely were fyrst blest wyth bischopes hondes, and allowed this to be drunk by himself and his followers in praise of heathen gods. Thus the wine was the God of line 16, the consecrated and transformed element of the sacrament, so that for a layman to drink it was far more sacrilegious to a fourteenth century churchman than to use the sacred vessels, the gere of the same line 16. The order of words in 1717-18, dependent as it is on the alliteration, would not have misled a fourteenth century reader or hearer.
Credit has already been given for what is in most respects a painstaking and excellent glossary, one which will be helpful to every student of the poem. May I call attention, however, to certain general deficiences, in the interest of more thorough appreciation of English in the Middle period. For example, in case of such a clearly Anglian poem, it would seem better to cite Anglian forms first in giving the etymology, West Saxon forms second, rather than the reverse. Among Anglian forms the late lengthening of a, as in aid, bald, fdldan, is rightly given to account for old, bold, folde, but similar long forms are not cited for words with e and i, as OE. feld 'field,' heldan 'incline, heel,' geldan 'yield,' weldan 'wield,' wild 'wild' wind 'wind,' windan 'wind.' As in Osgood's glossary of Pearl, OF. words in final e are given without accent, so that they can not be distinguished from words with OF. weak e. This is the practice of the Cent. Diet., but not otherwise common, and especially unfortunate for ME. texts since likely to cause confusion.
Nouns are frequently given in forms which have been wrongly inferred from an oblique case or plural. The practical difficulty that some such words appear with or without final e may be overcome by printing the e in parenthesis, as Menner does in reward(e) but not in such as bench, breth. When, however, the normal Middle English nominative is without final e, the latter appearing in a dative or plural, the form without final e should have been used in the glossary. Thus anker should have been given instead of ankre; ayr 'air,' not ayre; bek, not beke; and similarly bland, bo$, bok, bol, bon 'bone,' bord, bras, brer, brand. I take examples from the first two letters of the alphabet, in agreement with the Bradley-Stratmann Dictionary and, so far as they occur, with Skeat's excellent glossary to Chaucer. In no cases are they words which regularly assumed ME. final e by analogy of oblique cases or plurals. The forms with e are in dative phrases or in -ez(z) plurals. From such plurals as chekkes
238 Emerson
(123$),flokkes(z)m&3'J, 1767, the inferred singulars should not have been ckekke, flokke, but chek, flok, the former appearing twice in Sir Gaivain, the latter once in Pearl.
In the case of monosyllabic adjectives there is the same confusion. Here again some Old English monosyllabic adjec- tives have assumed an unhistorical final e, and some others vary between forms with or without that ending. But final e in monosyllables was also sometimes preserved in a dative singular, while it usually indicated a plural or a weak declensional form. The singular should therefore have been cited, and clear plurals as well as weak singulars indicated by examples. Thus blake should be blak, a strong singular at 1017, blake being a weak form at 1009, 1449, and plural at 221. The strong form appears as blake in the predicate at 747, as final e appears in many other predicate examples; or if usle = usles (see above), blake is the regular plural. Similarly the glossarial forms should be ban 'good/ brod, brob, to take only those adjectives appearing in the first two letters of the alphabet. Only under the mono- syllabic adjective al 'all,' does Menner recognize a plural alle, but not weak alle, although it seems to occur regularly, even in the order alle pe, alle his (260, 323, 339, 355, 396).
I emphasize these matters as important to a more thorough understanding of our language during the Middle English period. We ought to be far beyond the glossaries which cite any form of a Middle English word which happens to appear in the text, with no explanation of its fundamental relations. Fortunately Menner's glossary gives special attention to verbal forms. He has followed Osgood's Pearl in not usually including the meaning of words which now appear in the same form, as age, alone, any, ask. This misled Holthausen in his review of Pearl (Archiv fiir neueren Sprache CXXIII, 240), and saves so little space as to seem undesirable.
Some notes may be added on glossarial content. Alonge has been considered in discussing line 476. Aparaunt is adj., not noun, as Matzner gave it, with the meaning of 'like'; cf. OF. aparaunte 'like.' Askez is from Scand. aska, not OE. asce. For banne 'fortify, strengthen' I am inclined to suggest bame 'balm, comfort,' with nn for m as in conne (703), nnorsel (Gaw. 1690). This would clear up a difficult passage, and the verb has been recognized as early as the Chester Plays, only a little later than this poem. Blyken should be blykne, the n suffix becoming en when final. Blykke is from Scand. blikka, not OE. blican. Brobely adv. seems to have the meaning 'quickly' rather than 'violently, basely' in 1256, as also in Pat. 474, and perhaps Gaw. 2377. Under burnyst 'lustrous, brilliant' should be added. For captyvide the OF. captivite should not be starred; cf. Gode- froy's Supplement. The OE. base of chysly is *cys (as). Clos (12, 1070, 1569) belongs under the participial adj. rather than
Reviews and Notes 239
the verb. Under daunger the phrase wyth daunger should have the meaning 'with reserve, resistance,' not quite 'refusal.' Delyoer adj. is, I believe, the past participle with absorbed d in both 1084 and in Metr. Horn. 168, another Northern work, and the only examples in Matzner and Brad-Strat. for the meaning 'delivered (of a child).' Under devel, the expression develez prote should be glossed 'hell,' in accordance with well- known medieval usage. The source of dowrie is AF. dowarie f., as given by the NED. For dusch a reference to ME. daschen would have been better than "echoic."
The etymon of fryth is doubtless OE. fyrhfi, recorded as gefryhSe in Birch, and connected with furh 'fir.' Ful (364) is adv., not adjective, and fulle below is the adj. in its dative form used substantively. Graunt mercy is equivalent to our 'many thanks.' Under hendelaik might well have been added, Cf. Scand. hentleikr. The meaning and suggested etymology of joyst do not seem to agree with the note on 434, in which Menner accepts my connection of the word with ME. joissen, aphetic form of rejoissen, OF. rejoir. For lei the source is AF. leal, OF. leial, not OF. leel. Under both lanse and lance is given the word in 957. Is not lodly (1093) an adj. used as a noun, rather than adv.? For meschef the OF. form should be meschief. I suggest that noble (1226) may be OF. noblei 'nobility,' with monophthonging of the diphthong. For odde the Scand. form is oddi, not odda-. To account for olipraunce, dissimilation of OF. orpraunce (Brad-Strat., appendix) seems sufficient.
Palays, defined as 'palace' only, is 'enclosure, royal com- pound' in 1389, the NED's palace 3, although only Gaw. 769 is used as the illustrative example. As the NED. notes, there is possible confusion between OF. paleis (palis) 'palsaded or walled enclosure' and OF. palais 'palace.' The two meanings are clear from Mandeville's Travels, Ch. XX, in which the fulle gret palays is within walls two miles in circumference, and itself fulle of other palays 'palaces,' the whole being within the capital city of the Chane of Chatay. That palayce in Clannesse means 'enclosure' is clear from its being walle[d] al aboute (1390), and having hc^e houses wythinne (1391); with the latter compare heah-sele (Beow. 647) for Hrothgar's palace. From this palayce (1389) is to be distinguished the palace proper, or palays pryn- cipal(e) of 1531, 1781. Probably pe halle to hit med 'the hall in its midst' (1391) also refers to the palace proper. The poet may have had Mandeville in mind here (see above and also Ch. V), but the Babylon within high walls seven miles on a side (1387) goes back to Herodotus and Ctesias. Skeat dis- cussed these two words in Phil. Soc. Trans. (1891-4, p. 366) but not these interesting examples from Mandeville and Clannesse.
240 Emerson
If my suggestion about pursaunt (1385) is correct, plyed of that line must be referred to OF. aplier 'apply,' not to OF. plier 'bend, incline.' Polment is from OF. polment, not Lat. pulmentum. Rape may be safely put down as Scand., as do Skeat and NED. Sare 'Sarah' is from the same OF. form, the natural development of Lat. Sarai. For save NF. saf should be given, and for save vb., savement, Savior, savete, NF. forms with a, not au. JScripture is directly from OF. escripture. Sete (59) is Scand. scete adj., cognate with OE. swete 'sweet,' and used as a noun in the phrase as Menner suggests in his note. As applied to food it has the meaning 'palatable' in Icl. and in Gaw. 889; for the syntax cf. in swete (Gaw. 2518). The NED. follows a note of Skeat in Wars of Alex., connecting the word with sit, but that is impossible. Seye (seyed 353) can scarcely be from OE. slgan str., but may be from sagan wk. used intransi- tively with the somewhat modified meaning of 'pass away.'
Solie has every mark of an OF. word, which may be safely assumed as its etymon, rather than Lat. solium. In sonet of the poem are to be distinguished two OF. words, sonet 'little song, music' and sonette 'bell, musical instrument.' For the latter cf. Galpin, Old Eng. Instr. of Music, Ch. XIV, and "ces cy in- hales et ces sonnettes" cited by Littre from Boileau. The meaning of sprawlyng (408) is 'struggle convulsively.' Stayred (1396) can not be phonologically connected with stare 'gaze, look,' even if the meaning would fit. If the poet had in mind Ch. XX of Mandeville's Travels, as seems probable from the preceding lines, lines 1395-6 may refer to the mountour, or raised platform upon which was the throne, the steps to which were of precious stones. Sweve (222) is not from Scand. sveifa directly, but from an unrecorded OE. cognate *sw(zfan. Syboym is 'Zeboim' of Deut. 29, 23, not 'Sidon,' a curious mistake because Menner cites the Vulg. Seboim, though he places beside it OF. Sidoyne a different word.
It seems reasonable to derive tevel from OE. tizflian or the cognate Scand. tefla 'play (at tables), argue,' strengthened to 'strive, struggle.' Toun should have the meaning 'estate, farm' for 64, since it is equivalent to borj (63) properly glossed 'estate.' Tramountayne, originally 'pole-star,' means 'north' in 211. For tytf (889) I suggest 'accuse,' OE. tihtan. Under tykle I presume the meaning 'uncertain' is an unintentional error, as the phrase seems to translate Vulg. voluptati. The meaning 'reprove' seems to me better for brete (1728). pro (590), which Menner has rescued from Morris's reading ]>re, is the noun 'throe, pang, anger' as in 754, rather than the adv. Unhole seems to me adj., rather than adv. in 1682. Unsavere (MS. unfavere 822) is from ME. ww-and OF. savorie, with monophthonging of ie to e as in perre (PI. 730, 1028, Cl. 1117), contrare (Cl. 4, 266), Armene (Cl. 447), fole (Gaw. 1545),
Reviews and Notes 241
surquidre (Gaw. 2457). Untwyne (757) is 'disentangle (from difficulty),' so 'save.' Usle should have 'spark, cinder,' as well as 'ash,' especially for 1010.
War-pen (444) is inf. and should appear in the heading of the article. Wappe means 'strike, beat' as Brad-Strat. gives it. For wond the meanings 'turn from, shrink' should at least precede 'fear.' Wrake, OE. wracu, and wfache, OE. wrac, should be separately glossed. Wroth, see wyrke, should rather be see wrype, of which it is the past tense in the sense of 'twisted, turned'; cf. Gaw. 1200. The form of wych corresponds to OE. wicce f., the ME. word having both masc. and fern, meaning 'wizard, witch.' Later wizard took its place in the masculine sense. $ederly is rather 'quickly' than 'entirely.' geje can not be phonologically ON. geyja, but implies a cognate OE. *g<zian with similar meaning. So gerne must spring from OAng. ge-ernan, not WS. ge-iernan, and jornen is pi., not sg.
The following misprints have been noticed. In footnote to p. 52, 1385 should be 1384, and K. should precede Fi. before touched. A comma appears for the period at end of line 176. In line 1712 blasfayme occurs for blasfamye, the correct form being found in Menner's glossary. B. should be E. in footnote to line 1472. In note to line 1189 Miss E. M. Wright should be Mrs., that is the wife of Professor Joseph Wright of Oxford, although apparently not proposing to shine by reflected light. The second line of note to 1357 should have sacrilege, not sacrifice. In the same line of note to 1459 the reference should read 1903-6 (359). In the glossary, under covacle read OF. covercle not covescle. Dere 'worthy' is from OE. deore, not deor. Fat is adj., not n. Under fer the reference to ferre should be adv., not adj. The etymon of fyn is OF., not OE. fin. Under halde the meaning keep out is printed cut. Heyned should be heyred. OE. JefeS under Japheth should read Iafe<5. Under lanse, the reference to 957 does not agree with the text. lovyes under love should be lovyes. In the etymon of nede OF. appears for OE. Meken should be mekne, as shown by mekned (1328). Under norture read OF. noriture (noreture). The meaning of parmorej, which should be glossed paramor, is 'lover,' not 'love.' Peni is from OE., not OF. pening, penig. Under pryde read OE. pryte, pryde, not pryto, prydo. The meaning of were is misprinted uear. Under wrake read OE. wrsec, not wraec.
Again let me commend Menner's edition as a valuable contribution to our knowledge of the poem and its author. If, too, this review shall seem at times somewhat dogmatic, let that be considered wholly the result of trying to be concise in an article which has grown beyond my first thought. It seemed an opportunity to add, from frequent reading of the poem through many years, some notes which might be useful to others. OLIVER FARRAR EMERSON
Western Reserve University
242 Wocke
FRttHNEUHOCHDEUTSCHES GLOSS AR VON ALFRED GOTZE. Zweite, stark vermehrte Auflage. Bonn, A. Mar- cus und E. Webers Verlag, 1920; p. XII, 240. Preisgeb. 20M.
Das jetzt in neuer Auflage vorliegende Worterbuch des Freiburger Gelehrten behauptet seit einer Reihe von Jahren unter den sprachwissenschaf tlichen Handbiichern einen festen Platz. Nicht blosz dem philologischen Anfanger, auch dem Gescbichtsforscher, dem Theologen, dem historisch arbeitenden Juristen, Mediziner und Naturforscher mochte es ein Hilfsmit- tel sein, das ihm den reichen hochdeutschen Wortschatz vom Ende des 15. bis etwa zur Mitte des 17. Jahrhunderts zuver- lassig erschlieszt.
Gotzes Glossar ist organisch geworden, d. h. es stiitzt sich auf jahrzehntelange eigene Lektiire der friihneuhochdeutschen Texte und schopft unmittelbar aus den Quellen. Wir alle wachsen an unseren Werken, und so ist es nicht erstaunlich, dasz das Buch in der zweiten Auflage uberall die nachpriifende und bessernde Hand erkennen laszt; fast um das Doppelte ist es an Umfang gewachsen; es enthalt jetzt rund 21000 Artikel.
Nur /focMeutsches Wortgut ist in das Glossar aufgenom- men; den niederdeutschen Teil des Sprachgebietes behandelt auch fiir unseren Zeitraum ausreichend Lubben-Walthers Mittelniederdeutsches Handworterbuch. Was die lautliche Wiedergabe anlangt, so ist die neuhochdeutsche Diphthon- gierung der mhd. 1 u iu zu ei au eu in der Schreibung durchge- fiihrt. Brants, Geilers, Murners, Vadians, Zwinglis byten (z. B. Murner, Narrenbeschworung 87, 16); schinvogel; dusz, juff, bruloft, schluraff; riisz, hurling, schiihelich, driisch(il) musz man also unter beiten; scheinfogel; dausz, jauf, brautlauf, schlauraff; reuse, heurling, scheuhelich, dreusche (treisch) suchen; Stein- howels bilttz. B. (Lesebuch 71, 77) unter beute; Fischer, SchwS- bisches Wb. I 981 fiihrt die genannte Stelle an; hier=iible, aber wohlverdiente Belohnung"; AG1 18b und AG* 31»: "auch Lohn."1 Bei der Verbreiterung der alten geschlossenen Diph- thonge ei ou 6u zu ai au eu und der Monophthongisierung von altem ie uo ue zu i u u konnte nicht einheitlich vorgegangen werden. Dariiber sowie iiber die Schreibung, in der sich das Glossar auf die neuhochdeutsche Seite stellt, spricht Gotze ausf uhrlich in der Einleitung S. x.
In den Bedeutungsansatzen ruht der Schwerpunkt der Arbeit. Es gait, jedes nicht mehr verstandliche friihneuhoch- deutsche Wort "allseitig zutreffend, knapp, sprachlich gut und moglichst auch im Gefiihlston des alten Wortes zu um- schreiben." Im Grunde ist diese Aufgabe unlosbar; denn nicht
1 Wir verwenden folgende Abkiirzungen: AG1=G6tzes Frxihnhd. Glossar in erster, AG2= Gotzes Glossar in zweiter Auflage; L=Friihneuhochdeutsche8 Lesebuch von Gotze (G6ttingen 1920).
Reviews and Notes 243
fiir jeden alten Ausdruck gibt es heute ein Wort, das sich mit jenem vollig deckte, und aus einer reichen Bedeutungsent- wickelung mtissen bisweilen die Glieder herausgegriffen werden, die sich friihnhd. wirklich belegen lassen. Aber noch in anderer Hinsicht muszte Gotze Entsagung iiben: in jedem tiichtigen Philologen steckt ein Stuck Pedant — das Wort im besten Sinne genommen — , und wir freuen uns, wenn zahlreiche Belegstellen zu Gebote stehen, die den allmahlichen Bedeu- tungswandel und f einere Schattierungen erkennen lassen. Sollte aber das vorliegende Glossar seinen Zweck erfiillen und einen gewissen auszeren Umfang nicht iiberschreiten, so muszte von vornherein auf Mitteilung von Belegen verzichtet werden.
Die Arbeit, die in dem Worterbuch geleistet ist, kann nur der richtig wiirdigen, der in jahrelangem vertrauten Verkehr mit den alten Schriftstellern lebt. In einer ganzen Reihe von Artikeln findet man eigene Gedanken und Entwickelungen verwertet; anzukniipfen ist da an Gotzes Beitrage zu Kluges Zeitschrift fiir deutsche Wortforschung und an seine Mitarbeit am DWb, fiir das er bisher die Abschnitte "web" bis "weigern" geliefert hat. Genannt seien hier: abfeimen, pfendlich, blosz, produkt; bei briisz (rotw.) = Aussatziger, eig. Preusze aus der Lepragegend hat A. Gotze die beiden hauptsachlichsten Er- klarungen gewissermaszen zusammengefaszt. Paul Horn, Die deutsche Soldatensprache, 2. Aufl. (Gieszen 1905), S. 27, Anm. 14 verweist — unter Berufung auf Dr. F. Schwally — auf arabisch barac = aussatzig. Diese Deutung zog (nach frdl. Mitteilung von Prof. Dr. L. Giinther in Gieszen) Schwally spater zuriick; er vermutete in "Bruss" eine Verkiirzung von "leprosus," namlich (le)pros(us), so dasz also Vor- und Endsil- be weggef alien waren. Fischer faszt im Schwabischen Wb 1, 1478 "Briiss" als "Preusze" auf, versieht diese Etymologie jedoch mit einem Fragezeichen. Belegt ist das Wort zuerst im Liber Vagatorum, dann z. B. in P. Gengenbachs Bettlerorden (Goedekes Ausgabe S. 367), bei Moscherosch (Bobertags Ausg. S. 286 u. 290), in der Rotw. Gram, von 1755 usw; den neueren Sammlungen ist es unbekannt. Wir erwahnen ferner torknecht, einblasen (dazu Gotze in der Ztschr. f.d. Wortf. 11, 249 ff. und Gotze, Wege des Geistes in der Sprache S. 18),2 frisch, gabeltre- ger, geud (bei "schnelle geud=" "Durchfall" wird an "schnelle Katharine" erinnert; dieser Ausdruck ist belegt im Simplicis- simus [Neudrucke] S. 117), groppe, herrenfasnacht, kreter, notre- gen, werhan; dazu A. Gotze in der Ztschr. f.d. Wortf. 13, 168; ferner Friedrich Kluge, Unser Deutsch (Leipzig 19 194) S. 68;
* In meiner Anzeige in Behaghels Literaturblatt XI (1919), Sp. 353 f. wies ich u.a. auf die Darstellung der Gesch. des Adj. "braun" bin; vgl. dazu K. Borin- ski, Braun als Trauerfarbe (Miinchen 1918) und Nochmals die Farbe Braun. Nachtrage. (Miinchen 1920); beide Arbeiten in den Sitzungsberichten der bayr. Akad. d. Wiss., philos.-philol. u. hist. Kl.
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auch Heintze, Die deutschen Familiennamen (Halle a. S. 19144) S. 287* nimmt Zusammenziehung aus "Wetterhahn" an. Das Wort kommt im Rotwelsch nicht blosz fur "Hut," sondern auch fiir "Hure" vor, wahrscheinlich infolge eines Druckfehlers der Rotwelschen Grammatik, der andere nach- schrieben; deshalb ist es auch von L. Giinther in dem Auf- satz "Die Bezeichnungen fiir die Freudenmadehen im Rotwelsch und in den verwandten Geheimsprachen," Anthropophyteia 9 (1912) S. 70 S. behandelt. Die Belege dort erheben keinen Anspruch auf Vollstandigkeit.
Nicht beriicksichtigt hat Gotze, und zwar mit Recht, die &7ra£ teyoneva in bekannteren Werken, die heute gut erlautert vorliegen; erinnert sei hier an Brants Narrenschiff in Friedrich Zarnckes bahnbrechender Ausgabe (Nachtrage geben Bolte, Zeitschr. d. Vereins fiir Volkskunde (1910) S. 193 ff. und A. Gotze, Fruhneuhochdeutsches Lesebuch S. 27 Anna. 12), an Murners Narrenbeschworung, hg. von M. Spanier, an Murners Groszen Lutherischen Narren, hg. von P. Merker (dazu Victor Michels, Anzeiger f. deutsches Altertum XXXIX (1920) S. 139-148; M. Spanier, Beitrage 44(1920) S. 507-509 und v. Grol- man, Behaghels Literaturblatt 41(1920) Nr. 7/8), an die Zim- mersche Chronik, an Schades Satiren (3 Bande3) und Clemens Flugschriften. Uber dem "Kuchen" darf — um an Rudolf Hildebrands bekannten Ausspruch zu erinnern — in einem Worterbuche das "tagliche Brot" nicht vergessen werden; andererseits aber konnte bei Gotze das gar zu Alltagliche getrost fortbleiben.
Die alten Texte bieten oft Schwierigkeiten, die ein Glossar nicht losen kann; eins musz jedoch betont werden: fiir das Verstandnis des Friihneuhochdeutschen ist die Kenntnis der mhd. Sprache und Grammatik durchaus notwendig. Um aber dem Anfanger eine gewisse Hilfe zu bieten, sind Artikel der folgenden Art aufgenommen, und zwar in der 1. Auflage 39, in der zweiten sogar 101: gan (fehlt AG1, AG295) = 1. 3. sg. praes. ind., 2. sg. imp. gonne, gonnt, gonne; z. B. E. Alberus, Fabeln (hg. von W. Braune) 32, 14: Dann ich euch warlich all guts gann; gebollen (fehlt AG1, AG296b)=gebellt; dazu Fischart (hg. von A. Hauffen) 3, 69, 2 f.: Nun laszt sehen, wer den andern am billichsten hat angebollen; hecht (AG'67b und AG2 117b)=3. sg. praes. ind. er hangt; z. B. H. Sachs, Fastnachtspiel 11, 259: Schaw zu, wie hecht der Narr den Kopff ; miszverstanden hat diese Form der nicht genannte Herausgeber des 46. Bandchens der Inselbiicherei; er versieht sie mit einem Fragezeichen und stellt sie zu hechen, keuchen, hachen, sich wie ein "hache" ge- barden, wahrend Wackernagels Lesung "hengt" ihn auf die richtige Deutung hatte bringen konnen; in der zweibandigen,
8 Vgl. dazu Reinhold Kohlers Bemerkungen in der Zeitschrift "Die deutschen Mundarten" 6, 60-76.
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von P. Merker u. R. Buchwald herausgegebenen H. Sachs- Ausgabe des Inselverlages wird das Wort nicht erklart; zu spielt=ich, er spaltete vgl. "schielt," praet. zu schalten = f ort- stoszen; z. B. H. Sachs, Fabeln und Schw. Bd. 3 Nr. 17, 11 f. Auf das den ayerkuchen sie pehielten, Den pawren darfon schiltten; Wan er fras almal vil; ferner "wielt" praet. zu walten; dariiber DWb XIII 1371; rich (fehlt A.G.1, AG2 177b)=2. sg. imper. rache; L 3, 41: Straiffe vn rich den bose gewalt; wend (AG1 129*, AG2 227a) = plur. praes. zu wollen, L 50, 22 u. 27: Dan das sond ier finden das wir niitt anders wend hanndlen .... und: Doch wend wier gehorsamm sin.
Die einzelnen Artikel des Glossars sind gern so gefaszt, dasz "ein denkender Benutzer daraus wort-und bedeutungsge- schichtliche Aufschliisse gewinnen kann"; vgl. z.B. altfetelisch = geschwatzig wie ein altes Weib (vetula); amplazer = HenkeT, der die Gefangenen mit Strangen (mlat. amblacium) fesselt; brem = Verbramung, Rand; Drolinger= Tiroler (Wein) ; engelot = Engels- taler, Goldmiinze mit dem Bilde des Erzengels Michael (franz. engl. angelot. Kaufmann von Ven. 2, 7); /a/fo/=fallendes Ubel, Epilepsie; gallenleute pi. = Gesindel, das alljahrlich am Gallus- tag aus Augsburg ausgewiesen wurde; rasch = leichtes Wollge- webe, urspriinglich aus Arras; spotfeler = der iiber die Fehler anderer spottet; diese Deutung ist einfacher als die bei Schmel- ler II 691, der zum Vergleiche heranzieht alts, felgian, antun: felgian firin=spraca, firinuuord, imponere alicui convitia; auf Schmeller verweist DWb 10 I 2702.
Auch bekanntere Sprichworter sind in das Glossar auf- genommen, obwohl es ein Sprichwb'rterbuch nicht sein will noch kann. Gotze verweist im Vorwort S. VII auf die Biicher von Borchardt-Wustmann, Die sprichwortlichen Redensarten im deutschen Volksmund, 5. Aufl. (Leipzig 1895) und Ernst Thiele, Luthers Sprichwb'rtersammlung (Weimar 1900) und die bei beiden genannte Literatur. Zu erwahnen waren da noch die sehr wichtigen Arbeiten Friedrich Seilers, dessen "Deutsches Sprichwort" (Straszburg 1918) ein Vorlaufer seines demnachst erscheinenden groszen Werkes "Deutsche Sprichworterkunde" ist: Deutsche Sprichworter in mittelalterlicher lateinischer Fassung, ZfdPh 45 (1913) S. 236-291, ferner: Die kleineren deutschen Sprichwbrtersammlungen der vorreformatorischen Zeit und ihre Quellen, ZfdPh 47, 241-256, 47, 380-390 u. 48, 81- 95; dazu: Der lederfressende Hund, Ilbergs N. Jb. XXII (1919) I 435-440. Die Sprichworter und Redensarten bei Th. Murner behandelt A. Risse in dem auch in Gotzes Lesebuch S. 27, Anm. 12 genannten Aufsatz, Ztschr. f. d. deutschen Un- terricht 31(1917) S. 215 ff.; iiber Sprichworter und sprich- wortliche Redensarten bei H. Sachs vgl. Ch. Schweitzers Darlegungen in den Hans Sachs-Forschungen, Ntirnberger Festschrift (Niirnberg 1894) S. 353-381. In AG1 114a und
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AG2 200b findet sich der Artikel die seuglock leuten, mit dem seukarnfaren= Zoten reiszen; dazu E. Alberus, Fabeln S. 20, 6: "vnd fuhr nicht mit dem Sewkarn," u. Nr. 18, 17 f.: "Pflegt nicht wie etlich tolle Narrn, Zufaren mit dem Sawkarn"; Chr. Weise, Erznarren (hg. v. W. Braune) S. 4: "Hier lege ich dem Kerlen mit der Sauglocke was anders vor" und S. 174: "Allein wer mit seinen abgeschmackten Pickelherings-Possen uberall auffgezogen kommt, und die Sau-glocke brav darzu lauten last." . . . Bedeutend erweitert in AG2 129b ist die Wendung mit dem judenspiesz rennen usw; dazu jetzt Konrad Burdach, Der Longinus-Speer in eschatologischem Lichte, Sitzungsberichte der Preusz. Akad. d. Wissensch., philosoph.-hist. Kl. 1920, S. 294 ff. und die S. 294 erwahnten Aufsatze von Albert Leitz- mann u. Konrad Burdach in Ilbergs N. Jb. Nur bei H. Sachs belegt ist die in AG2 53 b verzeichnete Redensart einen drappen schieszen; Fastnachtspiel 75, 495. "Die weil ich hab ain trappen geschossen" u. in der (auch in Boners Edelstein aufge- nommenen) Erzahlung vom Pfarrer mit dem Esel, Fabeln u. Schw. Bd. 3, Nr. 13, 21: "Der pfarer wiirt verdrossen Der schwinden gab Vnd drabet ab, Het ein drappen geschossen." Zu der strebkatz ziehen AG2 210b vgl. L. 91, 348 u. die dort in Anm. 7 gegebene weitere Literatur. Nicht ins Glossar aufge- nommen sind die L. 75, Anm. 13 u. L. 129, Anm. 26 erlauterten Redensarten; zur ersten vgl. E. Alberus, Fabeln S. 114, Morale: "Rem tibi quam noscis aptam, dimittere noli, Fronte capillata post haec occasio calua," zur zweiten Grimmelshausen, Simpli- cissimus (Neudrucke) S. 159: "Eine schelmische Diebs-Kunst, einander die Schuh auszutreten." Die Wendung jmd. einen roten Hahn aufs Dach setzen, stecken — wir betreten damit das Gebiet des Rotwelsch — hat Gotze wohl absichtlich nicht aufge- nommen, weil sie noch heute,auch in der Gemeinsprache, fort- lebt. Friedrich Kluge bringt sie mit den Gaunerzeichen oder Zinken in Zusammenhang. "Der rote Hahn," sagt er in "Unser Deutsch" 4. Auflage (Leipzig 1919) S. 68, "deutet wohl auf den Rotel hin,womit die Gaunerzinken gern an Kirchen und Straszen- ecken oder einsamen Kreuzen angebracht wurden." Das DWb VIII 1298 Nr. 3 c bringt unter "rot" einen Beleg aus Fischart; weitere Belege DWb 4 II 161; bei H. Sachs nicht blosz Fastnachtspiel 21, 236, sondern auch Fabeln u. Schw. Bd. 2, Nr. 316, 88 fL: "Der edelmann schwiier im pey got, Er wolt sein stadt im zunden on, Drauff seczen im ain rotten hon"; ferner Briider Grimm KHM (hg. v. F. v. d. Leyen) II 261: "Da sprachen die drei, er sollte ihnen viel Geld geben, sonst lieszen sie ihm den roten Hahn ubers Dach fliegen"; der jiingste Beleg bei H. Stehr, Heiligenhof (Berlin 1918) I 253: "Dasz er herkame, um liber den Hof den roten Hahn zu blasen"; zum Vorkommen der Redensart in der Gaunersprache vgl. Kluge, Rotwelsch 1, 198 u. 318. In AG1 68» findet sich nur das adj.
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"henfen" =aus Hanf , dagegen verzeichnet AG2 119berfreulicher- weise auch die nicht seltenen Wendungen in eim h. weir er- trinken und auf eim h. pferd reiten = am Galgen sterben. Zu den Belegen im DWb 4 II 434 sei hinzugefiigt H. Sachs, Werke 13, 58, 7 £f. : "Sich, du unflat, wolst du mausen, So must du nun am galgen hausen, Dich auffeim henffen gaul verdreen Und traben, wenn der windt thut wehen." Dazu H. Sachs, Fastnachtspiel 15, 39 f.: "War mein anherr nach meim peduncken, 1st in eim hannfen weyr ertruncken." Von rot- welschen Wortern begegnen u. a. dippen=geben, dolman - Galgen, doul=~Pienmg, gallach, ga//e=Geistlicher, Hans von Keller = Schwarzbrot, Hans Walter =Laus, lefranz=Priestei, lefrenzin=~Konk\ibme eines Geistlichen, lehem=Erot, meng = Kesselfiicker, menklen=essen, muszplur. =Geld, schrenz=St\ibe. Im Rotwelsch treten folgende Formen dieses Wortes auf: schrantz, schren(t)z (schon im liber vagatorum), Screnz, Schrende u. Schrande; vgl. auch noch Strentz=Stube, in der pfalzischen Handlersprache. Beliebt ist schrende im Rotwel- schen besonders in der Redensart, "Schrende fegen"=eine Stube ausplundern; dazu "Schrendefeger" u. (neuer) "Schrendeschie- ber"; Naheres bei L. Giinther in Grosz' Archiv 54 (1913) S. 165 f. Auch bei den rotwelschen Ausdriicken bedauert man es, dasz Etymologien im allgemeinen iiber den Rahmen von A. Gotzes Glossar hinausgehen wiirden; ein rotwelsches Wb'rter- buch besitzen wir leider noch nicht; in Aussicht stellt es uns aber der verdiente Gieszener Gelehrte L. Giinther in der Ein- leitung seines jiingsten Buches "Die deutsche Gaunersprache" (Leipzig 1919), zu dem man — wegen der wertvollen neuen Deutungsversuche — A. Landaus Darlegungen in der Freien jiidischen Lehrerstimme IX (1920) Nr. 1-3 vergleichen moge.
Auf das Lied vom Tannhauser, das als Urbild eines Gassen- hauers gait, kommt A. Gotze im Lesebuch S. 77 Anm. 2 zu sprechen; der Gassenhauer ist auch A.G.1 und AG2 erwahnt: da«Aewser = Gassenhauer; neu aufgenommen ist der Benzenauer, den E. Alberus 8, 79 in der kostlichen Erweiterung der Fabel von der Stadt- und Feldmaus nennt: "Zu singen hub die stadt- mausz an, Den Bentzenawer zu Latein"; dazu W. Braunes Anm. S. LIX. Von Tanzen werden z. B. der Kochersberger und der Zeuner, Zeiner genannt; zu ersterem vgl. DWb V 1561, zu letzterem Weise, Erznarren S. 160: "Denn solche leichtfertige Tantze, wie der Zeuner Tantz biszweilen gehalten wird . . . , die soil man mit Prugeln und Staupbesen von einander treiben." Auch Spiele beriicksichtigt A. Gotze mehrfach; in AG1 finden sich z.B. Karnojfel, mumen, rauschen; in AG2 sind u.a. neu: buzen, les(e), losen, stick und bild, untreue. Als wichtige Belege vgl. man H. Sachs, Fastnachtspiel 81, 27; Fabeln u. Schw. Bd.l Nr. 18 u. Nr. 161, 55 f.; Bd. 6 Nr. 870 mit der dort verzeich- neten Literatur; ferner Rachels Satiren (hg. von Drescher)
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2,100 u. 8, 6. tibergangen sei nicht das beriihmte Kapitel bei Fischart; dazu Heinrich A. Rausch, Das Spiel verzeichnis im 25. Kapitel von Fischarts Geschichtklitterung, Diss. (Strasz- burg 1908) ; ferner Joh. Bolte, Zeugnisse zur Geschichte unserer Kinderspiele, Zeitschrift des Vereins fiir Volkskunde in Berlin 1909, S. 381-414, und Georg Schlagers Anmerkungen zu Johann Lewalter, Deutsches Kinderlied und Kinderspiel (Kassel 1911) Nr. 927 £f. Die L. 133 u. 134 erklarten Krauternamen sind z. T. in das Glossar aufgenommen; ahnliche Zusammenstellungen von Krautern bei H. Sachs, Fastnachtspiel 49, 193 und Fabeln u. Schw. Bd. 2 Nr. 332, 56 ff. Die Vorliebe an solchen Auf- zahlungen haben das 15. und 16. Jahrh. vom Mittelalter geerbt. Man denke etwa an die Gedichte vom Hausrat (dazu L. 17 ff.) oder bei Hans Sachs an das Verzeichnis der romischen Kaiser von Julius Caser bis auf Karl V., an die hundert und zehn flieszenden Wasser Deutschlands,4 an den Spruch von den hundert Tierlein mit ihrer Art und Natur, an "Die hundert unnd vier und zweintzig fisch und meerwunder mit irer art" oder an "Das regiment der anderhalb hundert vogel"; gerade bei dem letzten Gedicht leistet AG2 wertvolle Dienste.
Die Eigennamen konnten in dem Glossar nur nebenbei beriicksichtigt werden. Aber manches Wort, dem man heute nur in Familiennamen begegnet, war damals noch Appellati- vum; so beck, bock = Becker; />/a/(w)er = Harnischmacher; tow- wer = Schiffsmann; drechsel (bair.-schwab.), dm'er = Drechsler; eibenschutz = Eogensch\itz (eigentl. mit Armbrust von Eiben- holz); eisenmenger = Eisenha,nd\er (vgl. dazu "haumenger" = Heuhandler, "habermenger" = Haferhandler) ; Kistler, Kist(e)- «er = Tischler usw. Wir fassen uns hier kurz, weil wir auf Alfred Gotzes "Familiennamen im badischen Oberland" (Hei- delberg 1918)5 und auf seinen Aufsatz "Familiennamen und friihneuhochdeutscher Wortschatz" in der Festschrift "Hundert Jahre A. Marcus u. E. Webers Verlag 1818-1918" S. 124-131 verweisen konnen. Manches schone alte Wort ist heute in Vergessenheit geraten, etwa: besenden = kommen lassen, ver- sammeln; postrenner = Eilb'bte; vorbad = Vorspiel; frtimchen, jromlein = Scheinheiliger; Karenbiichs = Kanone; lebherz = einer, dessen Herz lebhaft schlagt und froh sein will. Von dem ge- sunden Humor unserer Vorf ahren legen Zeugnis ab: pfisterlein = Fluszuferlaufer (wegen des weiszen Unterkorpers) ; bieramsel =
4 Dazu H. Zimmerer, Hans Sachs und sein Gedicht von den 1 10 Fliissen des deutschen Landes. Mit einer zeitgenossischen Landkarte herausgegeben. Miinchen 1896. (Programm des Konigl. Maximiliansgymnasiums f.d. Schul- jahr 1895-96.)
6 Dazu: Zeitschr. f.d. deutschen Unterricht 32 (1918) S. 375 f. (Weise); Zeitschr. des A.D. Sprachvereins 34 (1919) Sp. 150 f. (Paul Cascorbi); Litera- turbl. fiir germ. u. rom. Philologie 1919 Sp 285 f. (Behaghel); Anzeiger fiir deutsches Altertum 39 (1920) S. 171 f. (E. Schroeder).
Reviews and Notes 249
Zechbruder; fersenritter = Fl\ichtlmg; frauengemut (schweiz.) = Pendel der Uhr; henslein im Keller = ungeborenes Kind; runk(e)s = Riipel; suchen-trunk = Stammgast; zungenreiter = Schwa tzer.
Besonders war Gotze darauf bedacht, solche Worte auf- zunehmen, die der heutige Leser leicht miszverstehen kann. In der ersten Auflage begegnen schon torpedo = Zitterrochen und stetig = st6Trisch, bes. vom Pferde. Zu "torpedo" vgl. Gotze, Nomina ante res S. 24 f. und Gotze, Wege der Geistes in der Sprache S. 24. Das im DWb noch ausstehende "stetig" ist z. B. bei Fischart 3, 230, 14 belegt: "Das ist stattig, das schlagt vnd beiszt." Erst in die 2. Auflage sind von solchen "gefahr- lichen Ausdriicken" u.a. aufgenommen: a£/e/% = abtrunnig; andacht = Meinung, (religioser) Eifer; bewegung — Regung, Be- wegrund, Erwagung; briej e/2cA = handschriftlich; eintonig = det nur einen Ton kennt, eigensinnig; entgegen m'« = anwesend sein; vergnugt = zufrieden; verstand=Smn, Bedeutung; verwb'nen = jmd. einen Wahn beibringen; sick verwusten = sich schmutzig machen; forchtsam = a.\ich furchterregend, schrecklich; geriim- pd = Tumult ; haupstat-Richtsta.tte ; leichtsinnig = leichten Sinnes, froh; mangel haben a» = nicht zufrieden sein mit; ofenror = Blasebalg; iibers jar = das Jahr iiber, ungeferlich = absichtslos, etwa; wizig = verstandig. Auch Kirchenworte, die sonst nicht in Worterbuchern verzeichnet sind, werden erklart. Bisweilen greift Gotze zum Fremdwort, wenn dieses die Bedeutung des alten Ausdruckes am besten wiedergibt. Dabei tritt "die deutsche Fiille der alten Sprache" in helles Licht, ja sogar zu guten Verdeutschungen werden da gelegentlich Anregungen gegeben; vgl. aufzuglich = di\a,toTisch; 6e//ar/ = Bittgang, Pro- zession; 6/a/«er = Tonsurtrager; bucherhaus = Eiblioih.ek; buch- staber= Pedant (iiber Verdeutschungen von "Pedant" vgl. E. Engel, Entwelschung S. 397); /aMwe//nm/k = Narkotikum; tor- knecht = Portier, Bote eines geistlichen Fiirsten (nach portarius 2 Kon. 7, 11); eisengraber = Gra.veur', gewandhuter=Garderobiei; klopfader = Sch\aga.der, Puls; fezW««g = Passivitat; schaugro- schen = Medaille (Engel, Entwelschung S. 328 schlagt fur "Me- daille" u. a. "Schaumiinze" vor); schmachlied Spottdichtung, Pamphlet; sonderhaus = Isolierbaracke ; widerreder = Opponent; zwigabel = Dilemma. Neu sind u.a. in der zweiten Auflage: anziehen =nennen, zur Sprache bringen, zitieren; bornfart=Ausftug nach Quelle und Wald, Picknick; nachmeister = Epigone; spreng- ; wurzlad en = Krautergewolbe, Drogerie.
Der Fortschritt der zweiten gegeniiber der ersten Auflage zeigt sich vor allem in der Berichtigung und Erweiterung ein- zelner Artikel, und Belege mogen die Notwendigkeit einer Anderung begriinden. Zu abfal z. B. sind AG2 2« noch die Be- deutungen "Wasserfall, Wirbel" hinzugetreten; vgl. Sachs,
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Werke 2, 196, 19 ff.: "Die wellen schlugen gen einander, Hoch wie die berg mit lautem schal, Mit schrb'cklich brausendem abfal." In AG2 30b ist auch sich betragen = "sein Auskommen haben, sich begniigen mit, sich vertragen "verzeicb.net; H. Sachs, Fabeln u. Schw. Bd. 1 Nr. 160, 156 f.: "So wollen wir nun forthin gar Nimer mehr nach keim lanczknecht fragen, Sunder wir wollen vns petragen Der spiller, goczlestrer, wein- zecher. ..." Die nachbessernde Hand zeigt sich deutlich bei dank in AG2 46b; zu der in AG1 27b fehlenden Bedeutung "Preis" vgl. H. Sachs, Werke 2, 347, 20 ff.: "Den dantz Melt man mit groszem brenck, An dem man auszgab die vier denck Den bestn thurnierern in die vier land. Auch gab man ausz die denck allsand Den besten rennern und den stechern." Wohl mit Riicksicht auf Luthers Lied "Ein feste Burg" ist neu aufge- nommen die oft falsch verstandene Wendung sol keinen dank dazu haben = ob er will oder nicht; vgl. O. Brenners Abhandlung in den "Lutherstudien zur 4. Jahrhundertfeier der Reforma- tion," veroffentlicht von den Mitarbeitern der Weimarer Lutherausgabe (Weimar 1917) und dazu K. Drescher in der Unterhaltungsbeilage der TgL Rundschau vom 1. XI. 1917. Lecht, das jetzt AG2 148a mit "vielleicht, etwa, wohl" erklart, ist z.B. belegt bei H. Sachs, Fabeln u. Schw. Bd. 1, Nr. 16, 90: "Hab die nacht lecht sechs stund zu schlaffen." In AG1 63b war goz = Tropf als rheinisch bezeichnet worden; die Bemerkung ist mit Recht in AG2 fortgelassen; das Wort findet sich z.B. bei Hans Sachs, Fastnachtspiel 8, 16f.: "Heb dich hinausz ins Ritt nam heint Mit deinem gran, du alter G6tz!"
Aber auch von den neu aufgenommenen Artikeln seien einige gennant: angelwind='Wind von einem der vier Enden der Welt; H. Sachs 2, 161, 18 f.: "Im augenblick fielen geschwind Inn das meer die vier angel- wind"; auskeren n. = Abrechnung; Sachs, Fastnachtspiel 4, 259 f.: "So find es sich inn dem ausz- keren, Das jr baid seyd geleich an ehren"; buttenmesser = Ba.nd- messer des Bottchers, Kiifers; Sachs, Fastnachtspiel 12, 59»: "Der kellner greuft an sein puetenmesser"; darschlagen = einem die Hand bieten auf etwas; Sachs, Fabeln u. Schw. Bd. 1. Nr. 26, 78 ff.: "Es rewt mich noch zu heuting tagen, Das jchs jm nicht hab dar geschlagen; So ddrfft jch in dem Pflug nit ziehen"; verriechen = den Duft verlieren; Sachs, Fabeln u. Schw. Bd. 1 Nr. 21, 79 f.: "Man spricht: Der armen hoffart, gwalt Und kelber koth verriechen palt"; gazer = Stotterer; Sachs, Fast- nachtspiel 4, 348: "Du gatzer, stazer . . . ";gruszbar = hoflich; Sachs, Werke 4, 106, 11 ff.: "Auch solt du gruszbar sein all stund, Wie mit dem schwantz sich liebt der hund;" kandelbrelt=Kuchemega,l; "als besonders seltene Abbildung eines- Gegenstandes, der sich auch kaum in einem Original erhalten haben diirfte," sei verwiesen auf die Wiedergabe des Kandelbretts im 2. Felde des Einblattdruckes, den Hampe,
Reviews and Notes 251
Gedichte vom Hausrat aus dem XV und XVI Jahrhundert zwischen S. 16 u. 17 bringt; merklen = geheime Kaufe schlieszen; Sachs, Fastnachtspiel 12, 167: "Sie kawft vnd merckelt, wie sie wil"; nachhengen = na,chsetzen; Sachs, Werke 5, 96, If.: "Und auff die lincken hand sich, richt Dem armen wolff su hen- gen nach"; ««r(/) = nur, (jetzt) erst; Sachs, Fastnachtspiel 12, 90: "So ziecht nurt hin! Last vns den pachen!"; umschwank = Umweg; Sachs, Fastnachtspiel 37, 26 f.: "Ich hab mir ein vmbschwanck genomen, Bin vbern zaun gestign beim Stadel"; wizMMg-Witzigung, Lehre, Warnung; Fabeln u. Schw. Bd. 1 Nr. 166, 63 f.: " . . . Sol mir ein wyczung sein, Das ich kain lanczknecht las herein." Eine Menge erst in AG2 begegnender Ausdriicke laszt sich aus einem einzigen Gedichte des Hans Sachs, der "Armen klagenden Roszhaut" belegen (Fabeln u. Schw. Bd 1 Nr. 67): lakaiisch v. 8; geritig v. 30; pollern v. 59; pfrengen v. 60 (mhd. pf rengen = pressen, drangen, bedrucken); augstel v. 86; engerling v. 110; abfirmen v. 155; noppen v. 260.
In innigster Beziehung steht das Glossar zu Gotzes Friihneu- hochdeutschem Lesebuch,6 als dessen lexikalisches Hilf smittel es
8 Zu meiner Besprechung in Ilbergs Neuen Jahrbiichern 1920, S. 302 f. sei hier einiges nachgetragen. Bei den Literaturnachweisen S. IV wiirde ich Konrad Burdachs Arbeiten nicht iibergehen; vgl. jetzt am besten K. Burdach, Bericht iiber die Forschungen zur nhd. Sprach-und Bildungsgeschichte, Sit- zungsber, der Preusz. Akademie der Wiss. 1920, IV, S. 71-86. Zu S. 1: Boner, Der Edelstein, Lichtdrucknachbildung der undatierten Ausgabe im Besitze der Konigl. Bibl. zu Berlin. Hg. von Paul Kristeller (Berlin 1908)=Graphische Gesellschaft, 1. AuszerordentJiche Veroffentlichung. Auch in seiner gegen Alois Bernt gerichteten Streitschrift "Der Ackermann aus Bohmen, das alteste mit Bildern ausgestattete und mit beweglichen Lettern gedruckte deutsche Buch u. seine Stellung in der tJberlieferung der Dichtung" (Mainz 1918) S. 15 ff. spricht G. Zedler dariiber, dasz der Wolfenbuttler Boner alter ist als der Berliner; dazu wieder A. G8tzes Anzeige in der Hist. Zeitschr. 122 (1920) S. 166 f . Zu Nr 9a vgl Tunnicius, hg. von Hoffmann von Fallersleben (Berlin 1870). Zu S. 34: Brunschwig, Buch der Cirurgia, Begleittext von G. Klein, 272 u. XXXVIII S. mit Abbildgn u. 16 Tafeln (Miinchen 1911=Alte Meister der Medizin ... in Facsimile=Ausg. u. Neudrucken Bd 3). Zu S. 82: Nach- bildung des Titelholzschnittes der "Disputation" auch in der H. Sachs-Ausgabe des Insel-Verlages 2, 277 (in der Prachtausgabe koloriert) u. bei E. Mummen- hoff, Hans Sachs (Niiraberg 1894) S. 29. Zu Kohlers Ausgabe der Dialoge, die reiche sprachliche Anmerkungen bringt, vgl. Germania IV 97-106 (E. L. Rochholz) und IV 117-123 (FedorBech). ZuS. 106: R. Pfeiffer, Die Meister- singerschule in Augsburg und der Homer ubersetzer Spreng (Miinchen 1919= Schwabische Geschichtsquellen und Forschungen 2) ; besprochen von Georg Witkowski im Beiblatt der Zeitschrift fur B ucherf reunde 1920, Heft 4, Sp. 169. Briefe vpnFischart sind kiirzlich in die der Handschrif ten=Abteilung der Berliner Staatsbiblio'thek angegliederten Autographensammlung Darmstadter zur Ge- schichte d. Wiss. und der Technik gekommen; vgl. Euphorion XXII (1920) S. 661. Hoffentlich verwertet sie schon A. Hauffen in seiner Fischartbiographie. Vgl. ferner: Virgil Moser, Die Strasburger Druckersprache zur Zeit Fischarts (1570-1590), Grundlegung zu einer Fischart-Grammatik, Miinchen 1920. An Fischart klingt ofters die Sprache der bekannten Dichterin Handel-Mazzetti an; vgl. Zeitschr. des Allg. Deutschen Sprachvereins 36(1921) Sp. 52.
252 Wocke
gedacht ist, und so verdient es auch noch in dieser Hinsicht ge- wiirdigt zu werden. Von Worten, die in AG1 und AG2 verzeich- net stehen, — nur um wenige Beispiele kann es sich auch hier handeln — lassen sich durch das Lesebuch belegen: abscheid 23, 74; aufenthaltung 5, 51; aufnemen 9, 13; behalter 21, 11 und 22, 53;birgisch 109, 87;geding 13, 48; gewachst 17, 50 (mhd. gewahst, gewehste); gezung 7, 49; hartmonat 3, 29; schleisze 19, 56; Tri- ackersSf^'jUrstendll^S-jWiderwerligSjtf; zwelfbot9, 37; dazu die dialektischen Formen/ewwer 50, 37 und nutziitz 50, 23. Von erweiterten Artikeln kommen u. a. einzelne den Texten des Lese- buches zugute, bezw. sind mit Riicksicht auf diese erganzt wor- den. Fiir belangen bringt AG1 15a nur die Bedeutung anlan- gen"; AG2 26a fugt hinzu: "(alem.) Sehnsucht haben"; dazu L. 24, 1 (hier = verlangen, geliisten); weitere Belege bei Charles Schmidt, Historisches Wb. der elsassischen Mundart S. 27b. Bei gereusch steht erst in AG2 103a auch "Eingeweide des Schlacht- viehs"; Beleg. L 121, 189; vgl. Fischer, Schwab. Wb. Ill 405. Schaffen = vermachen vermiszt man in AG1, dazu L 9, 19; dagegen fehlt auch in AG2 fur geschejft die Bedeutung "Testa- ment," die durch L 9, 17 und 10, 50 gesichert ist. Weiterhin werden manche Ausdrlicke, auf die der Benutzer des Lese- buches stoszt, erst in AG2 erlautert, so aberelle 50, 33 und 53, 125; dazu Fischer, Schwab. Wb. I 299: abril, abrel, awrela; Abrell; Aberelle; bemasen 109,89 (mhd. bemasen) ; beulepfennig 137, 38; dechsen (plur.) 107, 42; elmesz 119, 133; Fischer, Schwab. WC II 696: Maszstab mit dem Masz einer Elle und ihrer Teile; on ende 13, 43; garbei 56, 54; gegenwertikeit 23, 76; gehenk 121, 189; Fischer III 211: "das was hangt; Lunge, Leber, Herz und Netz der Tiere"; geschrot (lat. scrotum) 46, 46; gestrepel 109, 113; Fischer III 561: "Larm"; gesund m. 11, 82; keub 60, 175; Fischer IV 147; o/enlich 10, 63; reitung 136, 19; mhd. reitunge Lexer II 399; triickne 5, 32; urn 107, 15 (mhd, urn-ein Fliissig- keitsmasz, bes. fiir Wein, lat. urna); ziger59, 158; dazu Kretsch- mer, Wortgeographie der hd. Umgangssprache S. 563 f.; zugleichen 5, 46.
Andererseits findet man im Lesebuche auch Ausdriicke, iiber die das Glossar keine Auskunft gibt; und da musz man sich die Ziele vor Augen halten, die Gotze vorgeschwebt haben. Man- che sprachlich schwierigen Worte werden in den Anmerkungen des Lesebuches erklart, bei einigen begniigt er sich mit dem Hinweis auf dieses oder jenes Nachschlagewerk, bei anderen Ausdrucken widerum soil der Benutzer zur eigenen Arbeit angeregt werden. Naheres findet er zumeist in unseren groszen Worterbiichern, bei Grimm,7 Lexer, im Schweizerischen Idioti-
7 Vgl. W. L. van Helten, Funfzig Bemerkungen zum Grimmschen Worter- buche (Rotterdam und Leipzig 1874); A. Miihlhausen, Geschichte des Grimm- schen Worterbuchs (Hamburg 1888,=Sammlung gemeinverstandlicher wissen- schaftlicher Vortrage, hg. von R. Virchow und Fr. v. Holtzendorff. N.F. ,3. Serie,
Reviews and Notes 253
kon,8 bei Fischer, Schmeller, Charles Schmidt u. in Schopfs Tirolischem Idiotikon; auch auf Hans Schulz, von dessen Fremdworterbuch infolge des Todes des Verfassers leider nur der 1. Bd. vorliegt, auf Stalder und Wurm verweist Gotze. Von solchen Worten, f iir die sich der Leser in groszeren Werken Rats holen musz, seien genannt: anstehen 137, 48; Fischer I 267: "um et was anstehen = " bitten; aufbehalten 137, 44; Fischer I 364 = aufbewahren; deck 109, 112; Fischer II 125f. = Decke, Deckel; verwilligen 22, 50; mhd. verwilligen = zu etwas willig sein einwilligen; Hemstab 137, 32; Fischer III 1419=Visierrute; hinausbringen 136, 14; Fischer III 1612 "durchbringen, die Existenz fristen"; Kartegk 38, 60; DWb II 608 = ein seidenes Gewirk; sich niderrichten 136, 18; fehlt bei Fischer; DWb VII 784 bringt fur niederrichten nur einen Beleg in der Be- deutung "zur Ruhe bringen"; "sich niderrichten" also=sich niederlassen; lassitz 38, 55; DWb VI 241 =eine Wieselart und das Pelzwerk davon; letze 39, 105; Schmeller I 1545=Saum; panel
38, 57; DWb I 1118=Kappe aus Fell, frz. bonnet; rauchwerk
39, 81; DWb VIII 254: (fur Rauhwerk) Pelzwerk; schlag 123, 21; Fischer, Bd 5, Sp. 869 ff.: hier=Ast; thamb 72, 91;'Schmeller I 506=Larm, Getose. Bisher unbelegt sind faberei^L 40, 114 zu lat. faber; Dutschin L 45, 43 (gemeint ist wegen des folgenden Vergleiches mit einem Schwein wohl ein Delphin, der nach DWb VI 1859 sonst "Meerschwein" heiszt); ferner vnderbunst L63, 95; zu ahd. unnan --gonnen gehorig, also = Miszgunst.
Die bedeutendsten Schriftsteller^der fruhneuhochdeutschen Zeit aus eigener Lektiire lexikalisch zu erschopf en oder nur unsere wichtigsten Worterbiicher liickenlos auszunutzen, iiber- steigt — wie Gotze selbst zugibt — die Kraft eines einzelnen. So mogen einige Nachtrage und Erganzungen folgen, zu denen den Schreiber dieser Zeilen Gotzes Glossar angeregt hat; es sollte ihn freuen, wenn sie bei einer neuen Auflage Beriicksichti- gung fanden. Die Belege stammen — wie schon oben — samt- lich aus Hans Sachs. Erzahlen darf ich wohl hier — und hier zum ersten Male offentlich — dasz ich mit der Abfassung eines Hans Sachs-Worterbuches beschaftigt bin, bis zu dessen Abschlusz freilich noch geraume Zeit vergehen wird. Aber dasz es auch der Wortforschung Friichte tragen wird,9 zeigen
Heft 55); ferner Alfr. Gotze, Das Deutsche Worterbuch der B ruder Grimm, Wiss. Beihefte zur Zeitschr d. A.D. Sprachvereins IV. Reihe Heft 23-24 S. 86 ff. und Georg Schoppe, Das Deutsche Worterbuch, Katholisches Schulblatt (Breslau, Heinr. Handel) 63. Jahrg. (1917) S. 2-9, 37-42 und 70-75.
8 Vgl. dazu Friedr. Kluges Aufsatz in den"Bunten Blattern" (Freib. i. B. 19102) S. 165-174 und Meinrad Lienert, Die Stimme der Heimat (Basel 1918= Volksbiicher des Deutschschweizerischen Sprachvereins, H. 6).
9 Wie wichtig es ware, wenn wir f iir unsere bedeutendsten Schrif tsteller Sonderworterbucher besazen, mag ein Beispiel beweisen. Das Wort loh kann das DWb VI 1128 erst aus dem 18. Jahrh. belegen. Auf dessen Angaben stiitzt sich Dora Nichtenhauser in ihrer schonen Dissertation "Riickbildungen im Neu-
254 Wocke
vielleicht schon die folgenden Zeilen. abreden; Werke 8, 437, 15 f.: "Thet er untrewer arglist walten, Redt die botschafft mit liigen ab (bewog sie . . . zur Riickkehr) ; sick anrichten, sich anziehen; Werke 6, 25, 38: "Stund auff und mich anricht;" aufrupfen nicht blosz alem., wie AG2 15b bemerkt; Werke 7, 238, 1 f.: "Er sprach: Mein feind thut mich hart schelten Und auffrupfft mir all meine laster;" aufsizen auch "an Bord gehen"; Werke 4, 244, 15 ff.: "Da traumet mir so eygentleich, Wie ich inn Portugal, dem reich, Der stat Lisabona auff-sas, Da denn die kongklich schiffung was"; ausmachen fertig ma- chen, vollenden,vollmachen; Werke 6, 37, 20 f.: "Ich forcht, er kom mit bosen sachen, Das ungliick mir gar ausz zu machen"; dazu DWb I 914; bestand auch "Bestand, Dauer," Werke 6, 238, 2 f : " Volkommen also gut und gantz, So ausz vestem grund und bestantz"; besten stand halten, standhaft bleiben; Werke 1, 43, 2 ff.: "Die anfechtung wart streng und hart, Darmit denn uberwund die schlang. Der mann wer noch bestanden lang, Het nit glaubt der schlangen betrug"; doppel auch ,,Wiirfel- spiel"; Werke 8, 428, llf.: "Erfullt die statt Constanti- nopel Mit ehbruch, junckfraw-schwechen, dopel"; vgl. auch Schmeller I 528; entnucken nicht blosz schweizerisch, wie AG2 65* bemerkt; Werke 7, 203, 15 ff.: "Ich legt mich zu dem briinlein nider In den gedancken tieff entzucket, gleich sam in einem traum entnucket"; erstrecken auch niederstrecken; Werke 8, 364, 17 ff.: "Sonder bedenck mittel und endt, Das arg zu gutem werdt gewendt Und schandt mit ehren werdt verdecket Und schad mit nutz auch werdt erstrecket"; ein Irrtum hat sich unter esch(e) aus AG1 in AG2 70b hiniibergeschlichen; Fraxinus ist der Baum Esche; der Fisch Aesche heiszt salmo thymallus; verlau/en den Weg versperren, im Sturm anlaufen; Fischer II 1212; Werke 10, 160, 36 f.— 161, 2: "Blasz und beriiff mit lauter stim, Das sie Midiam ziehen entgegen, Sie schlagen und ernider legen, Verlauffens wasser und den Jordan"; verlegen an den unrechten Ort legen, verlegen; Fabeln u. Schw. Bd. 1 Nr. 40, 69 f.: "Gantz schubel wercks sie mir versteckt, Ver- zwierte spindel sie verlegt"; verosen verwiisten, vernichten; Werke, 6, 82, 13: "Viel stett zerstoret undverost"; verrennen durch rinnende Fliissigkeit verstopfen, DWb XII 1008; Werke 8, 696, 38: "Solch mawr verrennet war mit bech"; versehen abwenden, verhuten; Werke 1, 124, 11: "Also thetst du dein
hochdeutschen" (Freiburg i. B. 1920); sie verzeichnet S. 30 loh als Riickbil- dung aus lichterloh. Das Wort begegnet aber schon bei H. Sachs, Werke 3, 471, 22 L: "Dorffer unnd kleyne weyler, Die brunnen hoch und lo." Hier haben wir ein neues Beispiel f iir das, was Alfred Gotze in den Wiss. Beiheften zur Ztschr. des A.D. Sprachvereins, 5. Reihe, Heft 32, S. 46 ff . "Lexikalische Span: nung" nennt: erstes Vorkommen des Wortes bei H. Sachs, erste Buchung bei Campe (1807).
Reviews and Notes 255
tod versehen"; verweisen vorhalten; Werke 6, 362, 33 ff.: "Wenn du schenckst ein gab angenem Deim gutem freund oder gselen, So du dich doch darnach thust stellen, Als rew es dich, ver- weiszt im das, Gerst von im auch etwas"; verwenden auch "um- wenden"; Werke 8, 477, 10 ff.: "Also vor langer zeyt auch wur Verwendt der konigkliche standt, Das er kam in der fiirsten handt"; verzeten fallen lassen, verlieren (auch bildlich); Werke 7, 29, 16 ff.: "Ich hilff offt halten in der hecken, Den kauffleuten ir gelt ab-schrecken, Darob ich offt den Kopff verzet"; geschirr auch "Geschlechtsteile"; Fabeln u. Schw. Bd. 1. Nr. 101, 37: "Der maler sprach: Das pild wer fein, Wer im verdeckt sein gschirr allein; Es ist ein schant vor erbern frawen, Leich mirs peyhel! Las michs rab ha wen!"; dazu DWb 4 I 2, 3892; hausen sich niederlassen, seinen Weg nehmen; Werke 6, 60, 36 ff.: "Wir wollen auszschreiben, das man Im birg einnem die engen klausen, Dadurch der feindt zu uns mocht hausen"; zu hend vgl. Werke 6, 267, 16: "Der fluch gieng in die hend auch eben" (ging in Erfiillung); zu Kolbe vgl. Fabeln u. Schw. Bd. 1 Nr. 17, 78: "Narren musz man mit kolben lausen"; niderschlagen auch "beugen, erniedrigen"; Werke 7, 357, 27 ff.: "Und ander dergleich unglucks mehr, Dermit Gott die welt teglich plag, In seinem zoren niederschlag, Hinden und vorn an alien enden"; dazu DWb VII 789; rant Anschlag, Streich (Schmeller II, 125); Fastnachtspiele 12, 167ff.: "Sie kawft und merckelt, wie sie wil, So schaw ich zu, vnd schweig stockstil Vnd las ir iren muet und rant"; das in AG1 fehlende rupe wird in AG2 18 lb als fern, bezeichnet, ebenso DWb VIII 1533; dagegen Sachs, Werke 7, 461, 31: "Der rupp in lauterm wasser gat"; stechen mit dem Schwert verjagen; Werke 6, 78, 22 ff.: "So mocht ir in ordnung machziehen, Sie schlagen und euch an in rechen Und bisz ausz ewer grentzen stechen"; stempfel (ebenso wie Morser) in ob- szonem Sinne in Fabeln u. Schw. Bd 1 Nr 80, 55: "Sag deinem pfaffen gleich, mein morser ich im nimer leich. Der dewffel im sein stempfel hoi"; stol(e}, in AG2 209b als fern, bezeichnet, ebenso Schmeller II 751; bei H. Sachs dagegen masc.; Fast- nachtspiel 34, 233»: "Der Pfaff wirfft jhm den stol an hals"; Fastnachtspiel 51, 306»: "Der Pfaff kumbt, hat den stol am halsz"; trum auch "Stuck"; Fabeln u. Schw. Bd., Nr. 16, 102 ff.: "Die Fraw sprach: Das ist warlich schad, Das du nicht inn das wildpad sitzt, Das dir dein vnzucht basz ausz schwitzt, Der jch dir zaygen kundt ein drum"; zelen a) halten, betrachten als; Werke 8, 510, 3 ff.: "Sein volck in selig und heilig zelt, Weil er gar sinnreich hett erdacht, Die griechsen buchstabn net auff- bracht"; b) erklaren fiir, ernennen; Werke 8, 640, 29 f.: "Und wurt auch zukiinfftig gezelt Bischoff zu Magdenburg erwelt"; ziehen rudern; Werke 3, 312, 4f.: "Ich keret umb unnd zoch Zu land mit alien krefften." Weitere Belege bei Rudolf Hilde- brand, Ges. Aufsatze und Vortrage S. 113 f.; diese Bedeutung
256 Van Home
hat das Wort auch an einer, von Schiller miszverstandenen Stelle Tschudis; fur seine "Quellen zu Schillers Wilhelm Tell" (Bonn 1912) hat Albert Leitzmann Hildebrands Ausfiihrungen leider nicht verwertet.
In den Lieferungen des DWb, die in den letzten Jahren erschienen sind, wird Alfred Gotzes Arbeit stets beriicksichtigt. Diese Tatsache spricht besser als andere Zeugnisse fur die Be- deutung des Glossars. In der neuen, erganzten und erweiterten Auflage heiszen wir es doppelt willkommen.
HELMUT WOCKE
METHODS AND MATERIALS OF LITERARY CRITI- CISM. LYRIC, EPIC, AND ALLIED FORMS OF POETRY. By Charles Mills Gayley, Litt. D., LL.D. and Benjamin Putnam Kurtz, Ph.D. Ginn and Co., Boston, etc. 1920,, pp. XI+ 911.
"This book is the second of a series entitled Methods and Materials of Literary Criticism, the volumes of which, though contributory to a common aim, are severally independent. The first volume (Gayley and Scott, 1899) was an introduction to the bases in aesthetics and poetics, theoretical and historical. The present volume applies the methods there developed to the comparative study of the lyric, the epic, and some allied forms of poetry. A third volume, approaching completion, will present tragedy, comedy, and cognate forms."
These are the first words of Professor Gayley's preface. He proceeds to state that, despite its length, the work does not pretend to exhaustiveness, but is intended to open up investi- gations. References, he says, are nowhere complete, nor are the summaries of periods and movements complete. Professor Gayley explains that each literary type or species is considered in a twofold aspect, theoretical and historical. "In each of these subdivisions the first section presents an analysis of the subject under discussion and a statement of the problems involved, with indication of the authorities most necessary to be consulted; the second section consists of a bibliography, alphabetically arranged and accompanied by annotations which aim to give the student or the prospective buyer some idea of the content and value of the work in its bearing upon the subject; and the third section supplies in outline the theory, or history, as the case may be, of the type or form under consid- eration as developed in various national literatures, and cites specific authorities for periods, movements, and germinative influences in poetry and criticism."
The first half of the book is devoted to the lyric. In accord- ance with the plan just quoted from the preface, there are two chapters dealing with the lyric, of which the first discusses
Reviews and Notes 257
theory, and the second historical development. Each chapter has three sections, devoted respectively to the statement of problems, bibliography, and an outline of development by nationalities. Section 1 is concerned with definitions of the lyric, the nature of the lyric, its technique, special forms (song, hymn, ode, etc.), classification, function, comparison with other kinds of poetry, and the conditions of society favorable to the lyric. Professors Gayley and Kurtz are not inclined to dictate the solution of problems. They wish to suggest problems that await solution. Their method of stating problems may be illustrated. On page 10, the following suggestions are made as to the Essential Character of the Lyric: "(a) The poet's own impulse or desire? (b) The 'attempt to justify passion by idealizing its object'? (c) A 'movement of the fancy by which the individual spirit seeks to obtain broader freedom'? (d) Some objective condition aroused by an external stimulus? (e) The 'identification of the poet with the object described'? (f) Is it the 'inner music of the feelings'? (g) Is it some special ordering of the inspired imagination, such as the association by the imagination of images and ideas independent of a controlling reference to an objective model? Compare Mendelssohn and Engel; see also J. M. Baldwin, (h) Can the lyric be said to 'imitate' the invisible emotion? (i) Is onomato- poetic illusion characteristic of the lyric? See Lange. (j) On the 'inner image' as affording the lyric subject, and on its varieties as determined by its relations to subjective conditions and objective controls, see above, etc."
This citation might be paralleled from almost any page of section 1. It should be noticed that frequently the authors supply references for specific questions. The student has the advantage of noting topics for research and of learning some useful bibliographical tools with which to approach these topics, but he is left to do independent thinking. The authors do not by any means entirely avoid comment. For instance, they point out that, in general, ancient criticism of the lyric was formalistic, romantic criticism was subjective, while modern criticism tries to combine the two conceptions. Well established general truths are frankly stated. But there is no attempt to answer with finality any reasonably doubtful questions.
Section 2 of Chapter I is a bibliography of works dealing with the general theory of the lyric. The contents of many, but not all the books are summarized.
Section 3 deals with theories of the lyric developed by critics of different nationalities or periods. Ancient Greece and Rome, the Dark Ages, Italy, France, England and Germany are discussed. Holland and Spain receive six lines of comment. After pointing out the scarcity of lyrical criticism in the ancient world and in the Dark Ages, the authors show that, even in the
258 Van Home
modern nations, it has been difficult to criticize a type so com- plex as the lyric. Renaissance criticism in all countries was formal and interested in the imitation of some model such as Pindar, Horace, or Petrarch. A more intelligent criticism arose with modern philosophical thought. Hegel and others laid emphasis on the subjectivity of the lyric. However, even in criticism of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, although narrow rule giving has been abandoned, and many efforts have been made to study completely the environment of lyric poets in order fully to understand them, despite many brilliant dis- coveries, there is still a noticeable lack of well founded generali- zations in lyrical theory. Probably the lyric must always be more vague, more baffling to discussion than other recognized literary genres. Throughout Section 3, as elsewhere, there are abundant references to authorities, so that the student can easily get in touch with the literature of any particular subject that he may wish to investigate.
In the second chapter on the lyric, the authors treat its historical development. They remark that the subject has been surprisingly neglected, perhaps because the lyric has been thought too capricious for analysis. In Chapter 2 there are also three sections. Section 4 states problems, section 5 furnishes a bibliography, and section 6 is concerned with the historical study of the lyric by nationalities. The statement of problems is brief, but suggestive. It offers these main possibilities for speculation, — the beginnings of the lyric; primitive dance and music; work-songs; the chronology of the lyric with respect to the epic; the process of composition; the evolution of types; the evolution from the point where music is more important than words to the stage where the subject matter is the most vital thing; international influences; general national tendencies; the different kinds of lyric, and so on. The authors refrain from dogmatic statements, but everywhere supply references.
The bibliography in section 5 is not wholly different from that in section 2 of the first chapter. Necessarily the two lists overlap. We are warned not to look for books that aim to cover the whole history of the lyric. The subject is too complex for a modern scholar. Quadrio's Delia storia e della ragione d'ogni poesia, mentioned as an example of an effort at a general history of poetry, was written in the eighteenth century when scholar- ship was more naive.
The sixth and last section dealing with the lyric is very long (240 pages). Concerned as it is with historical development by nationalities, it suggests numerous lines of investigation. There is some reference to the following kinds of lyric: Greek, Roman, Byzantine, medieval and renaissance Greek and Latin, French (including Provencal), Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, English, Celtic, German, Dutch, Scandinavian, Finnish (including the
Reviews and Notes 259
lyric of Lapland), Russian, other Slavic, Magyar, Turkish, Afghan, Syriac arid Armenian, Arabian, Persian, Indian, Sumerian and Babylonian, Egyptian, Ancient Hebrew, Chinese, Japanese and the lyric of lower races. Naturally there is nothing like a detailed historical sketch of most of these divisions. In the majority of cases, except for an occasional general comment, there is merely an indication of works of reference with which an investigator can begin his studies of the lyric poetry of the nation that he chooses. In the case of Greek, Roman, medieval Christian, French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, English, German, Dutch, and Scandinavian poetry there is some attempt at a detailed historical sketch.
The student will find in section 6 a veritable mine of sugges- tions for research. If he wants to investigate the different stages of the Greek or Roman lyric, medieval imitation of the classics, the influence of the troubadours, the significance of the PUiade, imitation of Petrarch, formal frigidity in the Italian Renaissance, mannerism, Italian influence in Spain, Portu- guese pastoral verse, Puritan verse in England, Luther's hymns, English influence on Germany, romanticism — for all these subjects and for many more, he will find a clear statement of problems and mention of books to be consulted.
The treatment of lyric poetry concludes with a discussion of special forms hard to classify — the elegy, the ubiquitous epigram, the ode, and the sonnet. He who wishes to delve into the complex questions raised by the history of these forms or by attempts rigidly to define them, will find in these pages many starting points for investigation.
The second half of the book deals with the epic. Again there are two chapters, each with three sections. The first chapter (chapter 3 of the book) deals with theory, and the second (chapter 4 of the book) with the historical development of the epic. Sections 7, 8, and 9, belonging to chapter 3, deal respec- tively with the general statement of problems, bibliography and theory by nationalities. The method followed parallels very closely what has been noticed in the treatment of the lyric. In section 7 are stated problems encountered in definition of the epic, the nature of the epic, subjects, technique, varieties of the epic, functions, other special characteristics, hero-sagas, gests, chansons, ballads, mock-heroic epics and ballads, metrical tales, metrical romances, allegories, parables and fables, idyls, pastorals, metrical satires, burlesque romances, etc. An example from the technique of the epic will give an idea of the authors' thoroughness in suggesting questions. First as regards the action they discuss whether it must be past, what part memory plays, whether "dimness" and "distance" are favorable, the contemplative element, unity of action, greatness, dignity, compass, simplicity, multiplicity of action, and so on. Next, as
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to the characters, we are led to wonder whether they are typical or individual, how far they are affected by the absence of histrionic interpretation, how far they are heroic, primitive or simple, whether psychological analysis is proper, whether the hero must be virtuous, whether the element of the ridiculous is allowable, to what extent newly created characters not in the historical tradition are permissible, whether abstractions are available as characters, etc. Finally the authors proceed with similar suggestions about the plot and form of the epic. It is well to remark that wherever possible references are provided.
Section 8 contains an excellent general bibliography of epical theory. Section 9 outlines theories of the epic in Greece, Rome, the Dark Ages, among the Greek Church Fathers, in Italy, France, England, Germany, Holland, Spain, and India. Most space is given to England and France, while a considerable amount is devoted to Germany and Italy. The wealth of criti- cism in the Italian Renaissance, the debased taste of the seventeenth century in Italy, the formal criticism in France from Sealiger to Boileau and Le Bossu, Dryden's discourses, the quarrel between Gottsched and the Swiss School, and the Homeric question are among the numerous topics presented.
The fourth and last chapter of the book discusses the historical development of the epic, as usual in three sections, 10, 11, and 12. Section 10 states general problems about the origin of the epic, primitive emotions, the folk epic, the evolu- tion of the epic, the origin, distribution and transformation of epical stories, stages of development, the period in national civilization best suited to the epic, the art epic, classification, and numerous other subjects. The method pursued (i. e. statement of problems, with intelligent comment but without dogmatic solutions and with copious references) is familiar.
In the bibliography in section 11, it is pointed out that general histories of the epic are rare. There is discussion of the works of distinguished critics such as Bedier, Comparetti, Foulet, Gautier, Hegel, Herder, Jebb, Lang, Meyer, Murray, Paris, Paul, Rajna, Steinthal, Vico, Wackernagel, Wilamowitz- Moellendorff, Wolf and many others.
Section 12 introduces the reader to the historical study of the epic in Greece, Rome, the Middle Ages, France, Italy, Spain, Portugal, England, regions of Gaelic speech, Germany, Holland, the Scandinavian countries, Finland, Russia, Poland, Persia, India, Babylonia and some scattered localities. Con- siderable discussion is devoted to Greece, Rome, the Middle Ages, France, Italy, England, and Germany, and there is some systematic comment on the epic in Spain, Portugal, Holland, Scandinavia, Persia, and India. Elsewhere there is little more than an indication of sources.
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It is not easy to classify this book by Professors Gayley and Kurtz. In a general way it may be called a reference book for those interested in investigation of the lyric and the epic, and as such it will be great aid to all who wish to gain a clear idea of problems in those fields, and of sources and authorities to use in the solution. In the course of this review attention has been called more than once to the attitude of the authors in refraining from dogmatic statements. They endeavor, generally with success, to explain what has really been done in criticism in the past, but not to force any particular opinion upon the reader. Although lists of authorities obviously cannot be complete on every point, there is a great amount of indispensable bibliog- raphy. Moreover, the authors are not satisfied merely to list books in one place, but whenever a reference is useful to clear up some special point under discussion, they give it at that point, even though the same reference work may be cited in a general list. In order to avoid too much repetition the titles of the most general reference works and learned periodicals are collected in an appendix.
In a work of such compass, no two readers or critics would agree on points of detail. Along with the general excellence of the book there can hardly fail to be some minor blemishes. Although it is a graceless task to point out unimportant faults in a work of such excellence and of such wide scope, the sug- gestions even of a reviewer who feels at home only in certain aspects of the Italian and Spanish parts of the book, may throw a little light upon the work as a whole. In a book written in English, primarily for English speaking students, it is hard, and perhaps unwise, to avoid emphasis on English achievements in literature and on critical works written in English. To the reviewer there seems to be overemphasis of English accomplish- ments in the theory and historical study of the lyric and in bibliographical lists. For instance, references to the lyric are listed from long works in English dealing with some other subject, or short articles from periodicals in English are given where similar periodicals in other languages are passed un- noticed. However, there is absolutely no intention of omitting important works in foreign tongues. There are copious refer- ences to scholarly criticisms in German, French, and (for the epic) Italian, and occasional references to authorities in other languages.
Both the lyric and the epic in classical Latin literature appear to be treated in unduly brief fashion. On the other hand, there are comparatively long and very interesting sections dealing with medieval Latin works. On page 688, in discussion of Latin Christian Narrative Poetry, the authors admit that their notes have been expanded out of proportion to the other divisions of the section, because the literature of the period
262 Schoepperle
is relatively unfamiliar, and because it is important historically. But other relatively unfamiliar literatures, whether historically important or not, are not so disproportionately emphasized. References to minor literatures are usually brief and intended merely to suggest general avenues of approach, sometimes through an obvious source such as the Encyclopedia Britannica. The reviewer does not understand the almost total neglect of American literature, whether written in English, German, Portuguese, or Spanish. Modern European poetry in these languages is discussed.
The outline of critical theory by nationalities causes some difficulty. The fact that there is the same general tendency in critical growth — from formal to subjective criticism — in all the leading countries, causes repetition of ideas in the treatment accorded to each country. Perhaps one general discussion of the development of critical theory in Europe would be simpler, even though it would injure the balanced arrangement of the book as described in the preface.
We miss reference to Italian lyrical theory in the ages of Dante and Petrarch. The treatment of the renaissance epic in Spain (page 734), mentioning as it does only one poem, gives no idea of the extent of the epic in Spain at that time. There are occasional unimportant misprints, those noticed being chiefly in Italian and Spanish names and titles of books. Here and there, specialists in different fields would add certain titles to the bibliographies in their specialties.
Such faults as appear in the book by Professors Gayley and Kurtz are overshadowed by its good qualities. The diligent collection of authorities, the masterly presentation of essential critical problems, and the sympathetic and intelligent attitude toward criticism, will be helpful to many students.
JOHN VAN HORNE University of Illinois
ETUDE SUR LE LANCELOT EN PROSE, par Ferdinand Lot, Bibliotheque de PEcole des Hautes Etudes, No. 226, Paris. (Edouard Champion), 1918.
In the critical expressions concerning the English Morte Arthur, Malory is sometimes praised as "author," sometimes alluded to disdainfully as a "mere" compiler, even when there is no difference of opinion as to what Malory actually did. Sommer, in his study of the sources of the Morte Arthur,1 alludes to him as a "compiler." Strachey, while accepting all ol Sommer's conclusions, nevertheless insists that Malory is an "author," and adds, scornfully, "I ask, as Carlyle once asked
1 Le Morte Darthur, III, 294.
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me, "Who built St. Paul's?" Was it Wren, or the hodman who carried up the bricks?"2 Pollard speaks of "the skill, approach- ing original genius,"3 with which Malory used the bricks which his predecessors put at his service. Miss Vida Scudder takes a similar view, and on the ground of selection, arrangement, and style, pronounces him an author of great individual genius: "The outstanding fact is that ... he has effected a complete change of emphasis."4
The monstrous French Prose Romance known as the Vulgate Lancelot, which is the chief source of Malory, had modified its originals far more profoundly in the thirteenth century. And this Lancelot-Graal has also been regarded as an agglomerate due to various more or less unintelligent "compilers."5 It has been recently edited,6 for the first time; and M. Ferdinand Lot, in a book which is probably the most significant criticism of mediaeval literature written in the past five years,7 has now un- dertaken to prove that it should be looked on as the work of an "author" of distinct originality, whose literary purpose is clearly and consistently discernible. To prove this M. Lot examines the work in far greater detail than any critic has attempted to examine Malory.
The Lancelot-Graal is the biography of the hero Lancelot, whose exploits, related in the Lancelot proper, make him the first knight of the Table Round. He seems therefore destined to achieve the mysterious quest of the Holy Grail, the history of which, from the time that Jesus Christ partook from it of the last supper, is related in the first part, the Estoire. But his sin with Guinevere, Arthur's queen, unfits him forever to be the winner of the sacred vessel. That glory is reserved for Galahad, his son by the daughter of the Fisher king. The Quite relates this high adventure. The Mart d' Arthur shows the punishment for the sin of Lancelot and the queen, falling not on them alone, but on their king and all his realm. Lancelot avenges Arthur upon Modred and dies in the odor of sanctity. Malory has abridged the story in his Morte d' Arthur, but shifts the center of interest to Arthur and introduces large portions of the Tristan romance.
By a close examination of the adventures of Lancelot recounted in the three volumes which form the Lancelot proper (as distinguished from the Estoire del Graal, the Quite, and the
* Le Morte d' Arthur, 1909, xiii-xiv. » Le Morte d' Arthur, 1908, vii.
*Le Morte Darthur of Sir Thomas Malory, N. Y., London, 1917, p. 370. •E.g., J.D. Bruce, Romanic Review, IX, 243 ff.
•H. O. Sommer, Vulgate Version of the Arthurian Romances, Washington, D. C., 1909-13. 7 vols. in 4°.
*• It was awarded the Grand Prix Gobert in 1919.
264 Schoepperle
Morte d' Arthur which form the first and last volumes of the Lancelot-Graal), M. Lot discovers that they are composed with a shrewd attempt to pass as history. They are elaborately interwrought, but the chronological threads are never lost. For example we read that Lancelot was eighteen when he was dubbed knight, and that the ceremony took place on the Feast of St. John on a Sunday. By consulting the chronological tables of the fifth century M. Lot ascertains that the only year in the first half of it in which the Feast of St. John fell on a Sunday was 428. In another part of the romance it is mentioned that Lancelot falls ill of the poisoned water just ten years after he has been made knight, and that Galahad is born in the year following. This would fix the date of Galahad's birth at 439. Now, in the Quete it is mentioned that Galahad arrived at Camaaloth at Pentecost in 454, and that he was at that time just fifteen years of age. A chronology so meticulously consistent would certainly require very exceptional concentra- tion, and is hardly to be accounted for as the work of "a series of assembleurs." Having presented in some fifty pages the evidence for the unity of the Lancelot proper, M. Lot proceeds more rapidly to point out a similar singleness of design and homogeneity of spirit throughout the whole Lancelot-Graal.
Of the whole corpus he shows that there is only one branch which is not demonstrably a sequel to the Estoire, premeditated and prepared for, namely, the first volume of the Lancelot proper. Here only is there no certain reminiscence of the Estoire; of this alone the Estoire affords no premonition. On the contrary, in this portion of the work Perceval is mentioned as the pre- destined hero of the Quest, and Pelles, the future grandfather of Galahad, is already dead. M. Lot accounts for this incon- gruity as follows. When the author wrote the first volume of the Lancelot proper he had not worked out all the details of his scheme. The Estoire he had in his head, but not in writing. He had decided to bring Joseph of Arimathea to Britain, but had not yet conceived Josephe. He had invented Pelles, and counted on doing something with him, but he was still under the influence of Robert de Borron, hesitant in his attitude to Perceval and not yet ready to distinguish the Fisher king from the Maimed King. In these ambiguities and contradictions, according to M. Lot, we surprise our author in the first essays of his monumental enterprise. Redactors and revisers would have effaced these blemishes.
Certain critics have considered the difference of temper between the Estoire and the Quete on the one hand and the Lancelot and the Mort d' Arthur on the other, as pointing to a diversity of authorship. M. Lot devotes a chapter, which he might have expanded by innumerable extracts from medieval literature, to combating this argument. That the worship of
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Venus coexisted in many medieval minds beside the worship of the Virgin is a phenomenon familiar enough. The recon- ciliation of I 'amour courtois with even a genuine mysticism was accomplished too frequently in fact to be declared impossible. "Zwei Seelen wohnen, ach! in meiner Brust," has been felt by others than Faust. Verhaeren's Les Flamands and Les Moines present the same contradiction: the one instinct with violent and animal spirits, the other with strange unreasoning mysti- cism.
Of the Lancelot-Graal as a whole M. Lot's praise is carefully guarded. "Not the most perfect work of the Middle Ages in France, nor the most poetic, nor the most moving," but merely "the most characteristic and the most powerful," he says of this romance which wrought the woe of Paolo and Francesca and against which, even as late as 1542, French and Spanish moralists stormed in vain. The popularity and influence of the Lancelot-Graal in the Middle Ages is sufficient proof of its power. It might be objected to M. Lot's claim that this romance is the most characteristic product of medieval French literature, that it lacks the esprit gaulois of Jean de Meung's share of the Roman de la Rose. But so does the Rose lack the mysticism also inherent in the medieval temper.
M. Lot claims for the Lancelot-Graal, as M. Foulet claims for the Roman de Renard, that it be studied and judged as a "production tres personnelle d'artiste tres conscient." But he has not shirked the task of analyzing the work of adaptation which the romance represents. Kis study of the Sources et elaboration de I'oeume is a marvel of patience, perspicacity, and erudition. He unravels the stubborn tangles of minor incon- sistencies with which the work bristles, and the purpose that determines them. We retrace with him the labor of composition as if it were our own. Attribute it to "an author" or to "authors" to "a compiler" or "compilers" as you will; if they were many they were much of a piece, steeped in the same traditions and conventions, and dominated by the same pur- pose. This being so, it is illuminating to consider the composi- tion as one. In reading M. Lot's book, we follow this typical medieval French romancer through all his years of labor. We know his library and his wastebasket; we know his timidities and his assiduity; we know his flights of imagination and his plodding pedestrianism. We pitch with him from horn to horn of his various dilemmas, and approve him; for, beholding him between the relentless pressure of purpose and tradition, we recognize that inconsistencies in detail were inevitable. On the one hand there was the old story, which his readers clung to, the story of the once heathen vessel and of Perceval and his quest; and on the other there was his Idea, the new Grail hero, the guileless Galahad, who was to snatch the glory of
266 Gudde
achievement at long last from Lancelot, that fascinating but undeveloped hero whom Chretien had set in the midst of Arthur's court. His attempt to reconcile his sources with his new idea, the idea of making the perfect earthly lover the father of the perfect spiritual knight, involved him in diffi- culties which required much resourcefulness to solve.
GERTRUDE SCHOEPPERLE
(Mrs. Roger Sherman Loomis, Vassar College.}
DIE DEUTSCH-AMERIKANISCHE PATRIOTISCHE LYRIK DER ACHTUNDVIERZIGER UND IHRE HISTORISCHE GRUNDLAGE. Gottlieb Betz. Ameri- cana Germanica Number 22. University of Pennsylvania, 1916.
Die deutschen Liberalen der vormarzlichen Periode batten keine Gelegenheit, ihren Wiinschen nach einem geeinigten, freien Deutschland Ausdruck zu verleihen. Das Versprechen der Fursten, die Opferwilligkeit des Volkes wahrend der Befreiungskriege durch Einflihrung von Verfassungen zu belohnen, war nur in einigen siiddeutschen Staaten erfiillt worden, das Recht der Versammlung und die Redefreiheit waren beschamenden Einschrankungen unterworfen, Zeit- schriften und Biicher unterlagen einer strengen Zensur. Kein Wunder, dass das fortschrittliche Element zu dem alten, echt deutschen Mittel griff, seine Hoffnungen und Forderungen in der Poesie zum Ausdruck zu bringen. Die Mehrzahl der Dichter horte auf, von Freundschaft und Liebe, Blumenduft und Vogelsang zu schwarmen und ihre Feder wurde eine starke Waffe im Kampfe gegen den Riickschritt.
Sonettchen an Amanda, So leiern wir nicht mehr; Es ward zur Propaganda Das deutsche Dichterheer
sang Friedrich von Sallet; und selbst ein Dichter wie Hebbel verteidigte die politische Lyrik; "Man konnte in Deutschland nicht langer Veilchen begiessen oder sich in den farbigen Schmelz des Schmetterlingsflugels vertiefen, wahrend man in Frankreich und England den Gesellschaftsvertrag untersuchte und an alien Fundamenten des Staates und der Kirche riittelte." Aber den Herolden deutscher Freiheit und Einheit, die so viel dazu beitrugen, die blutige Auseinandersetzung zwischen Staat und Volk im Jahre 1848 heraufzubeschworen, war es nicht vergonnt, einem siegenden Volke den Lorbeerkranz auf die Stirne zu driicken. Ehe die Revolution die Friichte ihrer ersten Erfolge einernten konnte, hatten sich die reaktionaren
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Elemente geniigend erholt, um die Bewegung zu Boden zu schmettern.
In dichten Scharen kamen die Freiheitskampfer nach Amerika, um hier das zu suchen, wof iir sie in der alten Heimat vergebens gekampft batten oder auch, um die Zeit zu erwarten, bis eine neue Erhebung sie zuriick rufen wiirde. Ihre literari- schen Traditionen begleiteten sie iibers Meer. Die Dichter unter ihnen klagten iiber die Niederlage des Volkes und sangen hoffnungsvoll von der Stunde, die ihnen die Riickkehr zur Heimat ermoglichen wiirde; oder sie priesen ihr neues Vater- land und stellten ihre Feder dem Kampf gegen einen engher- zigen Nativismus zur Verfugung, bis es ihnen vergonnt war, die gegen die Sudstaaten ins Feld ziehenden Landsleute mit ihrem Gesang zu begleiten und liber den Sieg ihrer Sache zu jubeln.
Eine eingehende Untersuchung dieser, zwar nicht geradeliter- arisch, wohl aber geschichtlich wertvollen deutsch-amerikanisch- en Lyrik wiirde zweifellos von grossem Interesse sein. Wer aber glaubt, etwas derartiges in dem vorliegendem Buche mit dem vielversprechenden Titel zu finden, wird sehr enttauscht werden.
Der Titel des Werkes ist eine Vorspiegelung falscher Tatsachen, denn der Inhalt hat nichts mit der Lyrik zu tun. Wir finden nicht das Geringste iiber die Entstehung oder die Verbreitung, iiber den agitatorischen oder kiinstlerischen Wert der Dichtung der Achtundvierziger. Der Verfasser war sich dieser Tatsache sehr wohl bewusst, denn er sagt in dem Vor- wort: "Anfangs war beabsichtigt worden, die patriotischen Dichtungen der Achtundvierziger zum Mittelpunkt der Be- trachtung zu machen. Es stellt ( !) sich aber bald heraus, dass es viel zweckmassiger, vielleicht auch lehrreicher sei, den historischen Faden, der die Gedichte verbindet, hervorzuheben, um dann die Gedichte an geeigneter Stelle gleichsam als lyrische Intermezzos mit der Geschichte zu verflechten." Trotzdem hielt er es nicht fiir notig, den Titel entsprechend zu andern. Aber auch abgesehen davon, miissen wir seinen Versuch, uns einreden zu wollen, dass es sich um eine Darstel- lung der historischen Grundlage handelt, zuriickweisen, denn zwischen dem Text und den Gedichten besteht kein organischer Zusammenhang. Der Titel miisste lauten: "Geschichte der Achtundvierziger in Amerika." Als solche ist es eine hochst ungeschickte Zusammenstelhmg von Zeitungsartikeln, Gedich- ten, Zitaten aus Vortragen, politischen Programmen usw. Diese Geschichte ist schon ofters besser dargestellt worden, z.B. von Faust in "German Element in the United States," ein vorziigliches Werk, das Betz anscheinend vollig unbekannt ist. tiber die Halfte der abgedruckten Gedichte bezieht sich auf den Biirgerkrieg, aber Betz schliesst seine Darstellung mit
268 Gudde
der Wahl von 1860 und erwahnt den Krieg nur in acht Zeilen. Andrerseits finden wir sechzehn Seiten iiber die Beteiligung der Achtundvierziger am offentlichen Leben, aber das ganze Kapitel wird nur durch ein einziges Gedicht illustriert. Endlich bleibt uns der Verfasser eine Erklarung dariiber schuldig, warum er, abgesehen von den Gedichten im Text, ("lyrische Intermezzos" nennt er sie geschmackvoll), im Anhang sechsundzwanzig Gedichte mitteilt. Zum Teil hat er sie aus vergessenen Zeit- schriften herausgegraben, zum grossen Teil sind sie aber gedruckten Sammlungen entnommen. Da er uns nicht eine vollstandige Sammlung von den Liedern der Achtundvierziger geben will, ist es schwer einzusehen, warum er uns diese Auslese gibt, die doch mit dem Text nur in sehr losem Zusammenhang steht. Dass historische Tatsachen, die jedem halbwegs Ge- bildeten gelaufig sind, mit einer Miene vorgetragen werden, als handele es sich um das Resultat gewissenhafter Forschungen, dass der Sti] ausserst unbeholfen ist und die Grammatik mehr als genug zu wiinschen iibrig lasst, wollen wir nur nebenbei erwahnen. Etwas ausf iihrlicher ist dagegen auf die historischen, methodischen und logischen Fehler einzugehen.
In der Vorgeschichte der patriotischen Lyrik der Achtund- vierziger geht Betz bis auf die Reformation zuriick und sagt dariiber: "Und es mag immerhin der Zweifel berechtigt sein, ob der Samen, den die Reformation ausgestreut hat, nicht im Keime erstickt ware, wenn nicht zwei Geistesstromungen das gliickliche Gedeihen der Aussaat begiinstigt hatten. Die eine ist der Pietismus, die andereder Rationalismus." Uber die eigen- artige geschichtliche Konstruktion, die Betz daran knupft, mag der Leser auf Seite 10 des Buches selbst nachlesen. Eine ahnliche geschichtliche Vergewaltigung finden wir auf Seite 15: "Nicht blosser Zufall war es, dass der erste Anstoss (zur Burschenschaftsbewegung) von einer sachsischen Universitat ausging. War doch Sachsen die Wiege der Reformation!"
Die Achtundvierziger waren nach Betz Atheisten, die "Priester und Pastor mit gradezu giftigem Hass" verfolgten. Als Beweis hierf iir zitiert er einen Absatz aus den "Prinzipiellen Beschliissen" des Nordamerikanischen Turnerbundes vom 26. Mai 1878 (sic!), worin weiter nichts gesagt wird, als dass Religion Privatsache sei (Seite 31). Ein ahnlicher sehr komi- scher Fehler passiert ihm auf Seite 25, wo er ein Zitat aus Karl Marx, in dem dieser die Agitation der achtundvierziger Fliicht- linge im Auslande unbarmherzig verhohnt, falsch auffasst und dann behauptet, es bewiese zur Geniige, dass diese Agitation auch "ernstere Formen annehmen konnte."
Auf Seite 20 ist Franz Sigel als einer der "leitenden Geister der Radikalen" in der Periode vor dem Tode Friedrich Wilhelms III. (1840) erwahnt, zu einer Zeit also, wo der spatere Biirger- kriegsgeneral hochstens 15 Jahre zahlen konnte. Die Tatsache,
Reviews and Notes 269
dass der Aufstand vom 18. Marz in Berlin erfolgreich war, ist dem Verfasser unbekannt, denn er sagt wortlich auf Seite 20: "Da brach plotzlich in Jahre 1848 die Februar-Revolution in Paris los. Und bald darauf kam es in Berlin zu einem blutigen Strassenkampfe. Der Kb'nig wurde mit Petitionen bestiirmt, dem Volke den berechtigten Anteil an der Regierung zu gewah- ren. Aber selbst der Anblick von Biirgern (man denke!) konnte den starren Sinn des Herrschers nicht erweichen. Er beharrte bei seiner friiheren Erklarung." Betz hatte aus jedem Geschichtsbuche die Kenntnis erwerben konnen, dass der Konig nicht nur alles bewilligte, sondern sogar in hb'chst unkoniglicher Weise vor dem Volke zu Kreuze kroch. Diese ganze Revolution von 1848/49, die doch die unmittelbare Ursache der Ubersiedlung der Achtundvierziger nach Amerika war, wird von Betz mit einer halben Seite abgetan und die wichtigen Jahre von 1840 bis 1848 werden gar nur in zwei Satzen behandelt.
Dann ein paar Beispiele um die methodischen Mangel des Buches zu illustrieren. Ein bekanntes Zitat aus Goethes "Epimenides Erwachen" wird einer Doktordissertation entnom- men (Seite 14) und das bekannte Wort Friedrich Wilhelms IV.: "Ich werde nun und nimmer zugeben, dass sich zwischen unsern Herr Gott im Himmel und dieses Land ein beschriebenes Blatt drange," das auch in jedem historischen Werk iiber jene Periode zu nnden ist, wird in korrumpierter Form aus Schurz' "Erinnerungen" angefiihrt. Eine Methode in der Quellenan- gabe ist nicht zu entdecken. An einer Stelle findet man sie in einer Fussnote, an einer andern in Klammern; oder bei manchen Werken wird der voile Titel sogar zweimal angegeben, bei andern nur der Name des Verfassers. Konsequenz ist iiber- haupt Betz' schwache Seite. So gibt er z.B. Seite 22ff zwei Gedichte, die den Geist der Achtundvierziger kennzeichnen sollen, obgleich sie aus den Jahren 1829 bezw. 1843 stammen; Seite 52 bespricht der Verfasser die politische Situation um 1855, setzt dann ganz unvermittelt ein Kriegslied aus dem Jahre 1862 dazwischen und fahrt gemiitlich mit seiner vorher angef angenen Schilderung fort. Aus einer englischen Rede von Schurz wird Seite 63, wie es sich gehort, in der Ursprache zitiert, auf Seite 8 If aber aus einer andern englischen Rede von Schurz, in deutscher Ubersetzung. Warum gerade Rattermann (Seite 26) und Esselen (Seite 35) das Pradikat Herr erhalten, ist unverstandlich. Ebenso gibt uns Betz keine Erklarung dafiir, warum er ein halbes Dutzend deutsch-amerikanischer Zeitungen und Zeitschriften, die zwischen 1854 und 1860 erschienen, untersucht hat, aber keine aus den wichtigen Jahren unmittelbar vor-und nachher.
Eine grlindliche Arbeit iiber diesen Gegenstand ware wirklich sehr zu begriissen. Dazu gehort aber etwas mehr, als
270 Patterson
cine mehr oder weniger zusammenhangslose Aneinanderreihung von Zitaten und Gedichten. Es ist bedauerlich, dass die vielen Mangel der Dissertation durch keinerlei wertvolle Beitrage zur Geschichte dieser interessanten Periode aufgewogen werden.
ERWIN G. GUDDE University of California
A REGISTER OF MIDDLE ENGLISH RELIGIOUS AND DIDACTIC VERSE by Carleton Brown. Part I. List of Manuscripts, 1916; Part II. Index of First Lines and Index of Subjects and Titles, 1920. Oxford, Printed for the Bibliographical Society at the University Press.
In the second volume of the Register recently published Professor Brown completes his invaluable index of Middle English Religious and Didactic Verse begun several years ago at the suggestion of that great initiator of many large works of English scholarship, Dr. Furnivall.
The titles of the two volumes are sufficiently explanatory to indicate the plan of the study. In Volume I, beginning with the manuscripts in the Bodleian Library, the author has attempted to index all religious and didactic pieces in verse, giving the manuscript number, the folio, the usually accepted date of the manuscript, and the first line of the piece. Often there are remarks to indicate the nature of the poem, its stanzaic structure, and length. Volume II gives a carefully worked out index, cross references showing copied, related and similar tests, and records the place where each item, if published, may be found.
Scholars will not be slow to find the uses to which Professor Brown's carefully arranged and comprehensive study can be put. Hitherto historians of Middle English literature have been obliged to depend too largely upon printed texts without much idea of manuscript sources. All the manuscript copies of any religious piece can now be easily ascertained, and consul- tation of texts either personally or by photographs, is rendered possible for the research scholar.
The Register adds to and confirms our conceptions of the Middle Ages more than one would expect from an index of first lines. An instance of this occurs in the discovery of a Christmas carol in MS. Bodley 26. Scholars interested in the popular nature of the carol could not ask for a better quotation than the refrain of this song:
Hound by hound we schulle ous take & ioye & blisse schulle we make.
Reviews and Notes 271
The religious scraps with which medieval manuscripts abound are listed and often printed entire. Indeed our knowl- edge of these homely but pithy epigrams — for they are no less — is considerably increased by their frequent appearance in toto in the Register.
The grouping of like poems for purposes of study and com- parison will be found to be greatly facilitated by the Register. The debates will be found indexed in the Register. The Planctus Mariae, the Chanson d'aventure, the Christmas carols — all the various types of medieval religious verse are recorded, awaiting the attack of the young research student and the mature scholar alike.
The reviewer feels that Professor Brown has been unfor- tunate in setting the year 1500 as the time limit. The date is too early and too definite; for many thoroughly medieval pieces which should appear in the Register fall just this side the line and are thus excluded. As an illustration, it would be hard to find a song more typically medieval than that in MS. Addl. 4900:
What harte can thincke or tonge express The harme yat groweth of Idleness!
Yet this song does not appear in the Register, for our oldest text was apparently written a few years after 1500. A more flexible boundary line, such as the middle of the sixteenth century, or the coming of Renaissance influence; or a division of the later pre-Elizabethan pieces frankly according to content, would have been more adequate. One cannot but feel that in handling the later pieces, especially the lyrics, the author of the Register has somewhat evaded his responsibility.
In so great an undertaking it is inevitable that there should be omissions and errors. The following have been noted:
1. MS. Laud Misc. 416
Fol. 60 [2 seven-line stanzas against marriage. Possibly a portion of the unprinted second part of Peter Idle's Instructions. See Register, vol. II. p. 144.]
I can fynd no man now that wille enquere. [Printed Rel. Ant. II. 29.]
2. MS. Laud Misc. 581
Last fly leaf [A single couplet]
Amongest all other take hede of one thynge [Printed EETS. 38. viii]
3. MS. Laud Misc. 656 Fly leaf [Five lines.]
Etc, drynke, slepe lasse. Fol. 115. [A single couplet.]
He that In Yowght no vertu wyll vse
In age all honwr wyll hem refuse. [Repeated at the end of MS.]
272 Patterson
4. MS. Digby 86 (Sum. Cat. no. 1687)
Fol. 126b Ubi sount qui ante nos fuerount [10 six-line stanzas.] Uuere be}> }?ey biforen vs weren. [Printed by Furnivall in EETS. 117, 761-762]
5. MS. Rawl. poet. 32 [Six lines in-les]
A yong man a rewler recheles [Printed Rel. Ant. I. 316]
6. MS. Douce 15
[Six lines.] Pees maketh plente [Printed in Rel. Ant. I. 315.]
7. MS. Camb. Un. Ee. 1, 12.
Fol. la [A Christmas carol with the heading, 'Synge we now both
all and sum, Christus redemlor omnium.]
In bethelem that fayre city Fol. Ib [A poem in 14 four-line stanzas on the Hours.]
I hard a mayden wepe.
[Both items omitted in Vol. I.]
8. MS. Camb. Un. Gg. 4. 32
[Three couplets.] Be the lef other be thi loth [Printed in Rel. Ant. 1. 160.]
9. MS. Camb. Un. LI. 5. 10.
Fol. 26a [A macaronic prayer to the Trinity. 12 eight-line stanzas] 0 Immensa trinitas father & sone, maker of all.
10. Vol. 11. p. 303, No. 2024. Instead of 'Camb. Un. Kk 1. 65' read 'Camb.
Un. Kk. 1. 5.'
11. MS. Emanuel College 27 Camb. Fol. 162b [Three couplets.]
Boe ware goe ih boe.
12. MS. Magdalene Coll. Camb. 13 Fol. 27b tSix lines.]
God be in my hedde and in my vnderstawdyng. Fol. 28a [Eleven lines.]
Jhesu crystei beseche the for the clennes of thy» Incarnackm.
13. MS. Trinity Coll. 323 (B. 14. 39) Fol. 27b [Ten lines.]
Penawnce is in herte reusiwge Fol. 83b Jm J>ad madist alle frinc
[For 'eight lines' read 'fourteen lines.']
14. MS. Trinity Coll. 1359 (0.7.31)
Fly" leaf [Carol of 6 four-line stanzas with the burden: Be mery all with one accorde And be ye fowolers of crystes word.] Then all your doyngs shold here in earthe.
15. MS. Trinity Coll. 1450 (0.9. 38.)
Fol. 47a [Macaronic poem of eight lines on death.] O mors mordens aespere Yn gyle J»u haste noo pere.
16. MS. FitzWilliam Museum, Camb. 56
[A series of short prayers. Cf . MS. Trinity 601.] Fol. 123a O Lord omnipotent fader of our creatione Fol. 123b I the beseche wyth soule humble and meke Fol. 125a And as thy seyde sone whan he shulde nedes dye Fol. 126b Now by thy passyon the churche clensyd is Fol. 127a By water of baptem bothe we and all cure kynne Fol. 127b Preserue from synne conseruere of myne helthe
Reviews and Notes
273
Fol. 128a The erthe is thyn, the worlde thow dpste embrace
Fol. 128b The kyng of glorye stroyer of portes infernall
Fol. 129b Ryght as thy pepul chosen of thy hye grace
Fol. 130a And stable my selfe by vertuous conuersacione
Fol. 132a The churche here halowed and consecrate with thy blode
Fol. 132b That thay my wylle my herte nor my consciens breke
Fol. 133b Thow art oure lyght illumynyng conscience clere
Fol. 134a Now gentyl lorde, benygne eke and liberalle
Fol. 135b Thy martyrs cryeth with hert deuoute and meke
Fol. 136a Suche is thyre gwerdone for trouble in peace to sytte
Fol. 137a Stedefast in credence exorteth thys psalme presente
Fol. 132b With mynde deuoute to obysh alle sacrifyse
Fol. 138a Eke as thy childerne in templys of thy lawe
Fol. 140b Oure feith beleueth confessyone of thy name
Fol. 141a And with this psalme my yefte of meditacyone
Fol. 141b Now to conclude theffecte of my prayere
Fol. 142a Thy wille to sue alle vices for to fle
Fol. 142b Thow hast me wasche with water of thy passyone
17. MS. Harley 629
[Six lines.]
Pees maketh plente.
[Cf. No. 6 above.]
18. MS. Harley 665
Fol. 296b Regina celi lelare. Alleluia
[A macaronic lyric, based on the Latin hymn,
Regina celi lelare. 4 four-line stanzas.]
Quene of hevew make Jm myrth. Fol. 300b De natiuitate
[A macaronic poem of eight lines]
Chn'stus pretor salis
Christus natus esto
To geff pees to men of good wyll
19. MS. Harley667
Fol. lOOb [A lyric of 3 four-line stanzas, aaaa.]
Seint marie magdalene lady ffair and brithg.
20. MS. Harley 2316
Fol. 25a [Four lines, obviously on death.] Riche mannis riflour [Printed Rel. Ant. II. 121]
21. MS. Harley 2942
Fol. 4a [A macaronic Christmas Carol of 3 four-line stanzas]
'Now let vs be mery bpthe all and some.' Fol. 122a [A poem of thirteen lines addressed to the B. V. M.J
Such a lady seke I neuer non
Sicut tu maria.
22. MS. Harley 4294
Fol 81b [6 four-line stanzas with the heading:
'he hathe myne hart euery dele
that cane love true and kepe yt wele,' and the refraid:
'What so euer ye thynk a vyse ye wele.' Incomplete, breaking off in the first line of the seventh stanza.]
Amonges the knyghtes alle [Printed, Rel. Ant. 1. 252.] [A single couplet]
Man, remember thy end and thou shalt never be shend [Printed Rel. Ant. 1. 316.]
23. MS. Harley 7322
Fol. 172a [Three lines]
Of vr vife wittes a wel witiynge.
274 Patterson
Fol. 181a [A couplet]
f>at ylke day be out of Mwinde Fol. 181a [A couplet, the words of the Saved]
For foule lustes I witstod. Fol. 182a [A couplet, the words of the Lost.]
Alas worldes yissing me haueth scehent. Fol. 182a [A couplet, the words of the Saved]
In hevene blisse I am in helle Fol. 183a [A couplet, the words of the Lost.]
Alas helle me hath in holt in ruyde. Fol. 183b [A couplet describing Matthew's feast.]
Matheu hat mad a grete gestinyg.
[A couplet.]
For }?ou were meke an laftuste pruyde. Fol. 184a [A couplet.]
Lord, I bidde bo)>e day and nyth. Fol. 184b [Several couplets.]
jif hit queme mi lord je ky[n]g.
[All printed in EETS. 15, pp. 249 ff.]
24. MS. Harley 7578
Fol. 86b [A macaronic lyric to the B.V.M. 28 lines.]
aue domyna sancta maryia moost myghtfull myrrore of hy magnyfycens.
25. MS. Lansdowne 210 Fol. 70a [Seven lines.]
Justyce loke thu stedfast be
25. MS. Lansdowne 762
Fol. 5a [The second line of the poem is given in Vol. I instead of the first:
Read: As I me walked ouer feldis wide.]
26. MS. Sloane775
Fol. 55b [Four lines]
In whom is trauthe pettee fredome and hardyness.
27. MS. Sloane 1360
Fol. 232a [For 'five lines' read 'seven lines.' The first
two lines have been omitted.] Pray not to God wyth thy lyppes only But wyth thy heart fervently.
28. MS. Sloane 3534
Fol. 3b [Four lines. Omitted in Vol. I.]
Witte hath wondir that resoun ne telle kan.
29. MS. Addit. 5901.
Fol. 329b God that all myghtes may
In heuen and erthe thi wUle is doo. [List as second text in Vol. lip. 99. No. 606]
30. MS. St. Paul's Cath. Lit. 9. D. XIX
Fol. 37a [one stanza of eight lines]
Wanne the hillus smoken Fol. 76a [Five lines]
To the chyld makyng Fol. 270b [one stanza of four lines]
Prayes to god sorofully to forgyff jow jowr syn Fol. 27lb [One stanza of four lines]
I schalle pray for hys sowle that God gyff hym rest [All printed in Rel. Ant. I 166. Indexed in Vol. JI, but omitted in VoL I.]
31. MS. Advocates 18. 7. 21 Fol. lOa [Four lines]
Nu is vp, non is doun Nou is frend, fo nou
Reviews and Notes 275
Nou is out, nou is nout
Nou is al ago. Fol. 19b [Two couplets]
In to sor wo and care turned is oure pley
J?e ioyje of oure herte went it is awey
f>e garlowd of cure heued fallen it is to gronde
f>at we euere senwoden alias £at iche stounde Fol. 2 la [Two couplets]
Loke £at Jm for no frend be
Fo to horn £at louet £e
jef fm wile dow godes lore
jeld harm for harm neuermore
32. MS. Univ. of Edinburgh. Laing. 149
Fol. 200b [For 'In 7-line stanzas aaabccb' read 'In irregular stanzas usually of six lines.]
33. MS. Phillipps 8336 [Two couplets]
Also the lanterne in the wynd that sone is aqueynt. [Printed Rel. Ant. II. p. 229]
34. MS. Phillipps 8299
[One stanza of eight lines] xj ml virgyns he that wille honour [Printed, Rel. Ant. II. 224]
35. MS. Naples O. 4. N. 6.— 1 2 A. 47
[Two couplets.]
He that lovyth welle to fare
[Printed Rel. Ant. II. 67]
[One stanza of eight lines]
O ye wymmen which been enclyned
[Printed Rel. Ant. II. 70]
36. Add to No. 2626 (Vol. 11, p. 290), 'who-so bim bi £ou jte inwardlich & oftc:
1. Inscription on the tomb of Richard Colwell in Faversham church, Kent. Printed by Thomas F. Ravenshaw. Ancient Epitaphs (from A.D. 1250 to A.D. 1800) . . . London, 1878, and by Zupitza in Archiv 94, p. 452 in a review of Sir John Lubbock's The Uses of Life.
2. MS. Erfurt. 0 .58. Printed by Schum, Exempla codicum amploniano- num, p. 14.
37. A poem printed by John Fry, Pieces of Ancient Poetry from Unpublished Manuscripts and Scarce Books, Bristol, 1814. From manuscript sources now unknown. Fry says that the poem occurs "in a very early handy on the fly leaves of "a rare old tract, printed in the fifteenth century, entitled Tractatus Sancti Bonaventure doctoris . . . de quatuor exerciciis."
[10 eight-line stanzas with refrain, Mistrust j?e neuer man for )ri mysdede.] Confide fili fri synnys but for jeue.
F. A. PATTERSON Columbia University
276 Northup
THE CLASSICAL INFLUENCE IN ENGLISH LITERA- TURE IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY AND OTHER ESSAYS AND NOTES. By William Chislett, Jr., Ph.D. Boston. The Stratford Company. 1918. 8vo, pp. xviii, 150. Price, $1.50 net.
The reviewer has been trying to figure out for himself just what Dr. Chislett has aimed to do in this collection of interesting but often scrappy essays and notes. If he planned anything like a comprehensive or adequate treatment of the topic which gives the book its title, then we must say that the book comes very far short of success. It is really getting nowhere to dispose of the classical element in Newman in four lines, Arnold in eleven, Pater in six, Tennyson in eight, and the whole century in forty-seven pages. What we really have in the title-essay is a collection of notes which will perhaps serve as guides to a larger study of the subject. If Dr. Chislett had held them back for ten years, meditating on them, rework- ing his material, enlarging each small group into a chapter, he might have produced a monumental work. For certainly the history of classical influence on our nineteenth century literature is yet to be written. We have already a few articles and monographs; for example, Collins on Tennyson, which Chislett does not list, and Mustard, which he does, and Dr. Chislett's own monograph on Landor (Stanford A.M. thesis, 1912), and Texte's essay on "Keats et le Neo-Hellenisme" in his Etudes de Litterature Europeenne; but the number needs to be greatly extended, and then at the proper time some synthesizing mind should bring the results of all these together in compact and usable form. As yet the surface of this fascinating field of study has scarcely been scratched — even by the author of these admittedly comprehensive notes.
In the second part of the book are fourteen essays, averaging seven pages each, some reprinted, though from what publica- tions is not clear. The first is on "The Platonic Love of Walter Pater." Dr. Chislett indeed "quibbles," as he admits, when he asserts that Pater, having both genius and taste, "in himself combined the masculine and the feminine," and that his "wholeness of nature circumscribed his activity as an artist." In his essay on style Pater talks about "the scholarly con- science— the male conscience in this matter, as we must think it, under a system of education which still to so large an extent limits real scholarship to men." But can it be maintained that genius and taste are respectively masculine and feminine, or that there is a distinctively male conscience? The simplest way to put it seems to be that Pater has taste, genius, con- science; but that in him the feminine predominated. Are not the prevailing characteristics of Pater's genius those of the
Reviews and Notes 277
highly refined, level-headed women of whom De Quincey speaks — "that class who combine more of intelligence, cultiva- tion, and of thoughtfulness than any other in Europe?" If this be true, it was not the wholeness but the onesidedness of his nature that circumscribed his artistic activity.
Other essays and notes are concerned with Blake, Yeats, Moody, Wilde, Bridges, Sterne, Landor, Symons, and Hardy, often with reference to classical or romantic tendencies and traits. If brief, they are full of thought and altogether readable. Misprints are far too numerous, and there should have been an index.
CLARK S. NORTHUP Cornell University
LISTER- OCH LISTERBY-STENARNA I BLEKINGE. Af Otto von Friesen. Uppsala, 1916, pp. 67+map and 14, plates. [Uppsala Universitets Arsskrift, 1916. Prog. 21.
The so-called Lister inscriptions in southwestern Blekinge Sweden, are undoubtedly among the most difficult of all those carved in the older runic series. In the following pages I pur- pose to review briefly other recent studies on mainly one of these stones that of Stentofta, together with von Friesen's work on the subject.
A transcription of the runes into classical Old Icelandic, to- gether with a translation into German according to the revised Bugge reading of the inscriptions in question (see below) , may be found in the third edition of Noreen's Altislandische und altnorwegische Grammatik, 3d ed., 1903. The pages and the datings as there given is as follows: Govnmor (now corrected to Gummarp), p. 337, 7th century; Istaby, p. 338, 7th c; Stentofta, p. 343, 7th c; Solvesborg, p. 344, 8th c; Bjorketorp, p. 335, 8th century. The greatest doubt exists with regard to the reading of the Stentofta stone. But it was long ago recognized that there is some connection between the Bjorketorp stone and that of Stentofta: they evidently have the same conclusion, and there are several more or less similar rune-complexes in the body of the inscription.1
The literature of the Stentofta stone is extensive. The completest bibliography is given on page 35 of von Friesen's study.2 To this is, however, to be added: P. A. Munch, Ann- aler for nordisk Oldkyndighed, 1848, pages 281-282; Conrad Hofmann, Sitzungsberichte der ko'nigl. Baierischen Akademie der
1S. Bugge: Nordisk Tidsskrift for F/7o/ogt,'1866-7,p.323;seealsoWimmer: Aarb.f.n.O., 1867, pp. 58-59. G. Stephens, too, notes the similarity, but offers an utterly erroneous transcription, Run. Man., I, p. 172.
2 Abbreviated here LLS.
278 Flom
Wissenschaften, 1866, E. Jessen, Aarbtfger for Nordisk Oldkyn- dighed, 1867, pp. 274-282 (mainly on other inscriptions and against some of Bugge's views) and the following that have ap- peared since von Friesen's work: H. Lindroth, "Till den urnor- diska inskriften pa Stentoften-stenen" in Studier tillegn. Esaias Tegner, Lund, 1918; and Axel Kock, "Till tolkningen av urnor- diska runinskrifter," Arkiv f. n. Filologi, XXXVII, pages 1-26, (1920), the Stentofta stone to p. 22.
There is an excellent illustration of the stentof ta stone in von Friesen's LLS, plates 12 and 13; it is by far the best there is. J. A. Worsaae made a lithographic copy for his Blekingske Mindes- mcerker fra Hedenold, which is reproduced in G. Stephens' Old Northern Runic Monuments, Vol. I, p. 169, Stephens adding an independent copy, p. 170. The studies of Bugge, Wimmer and later writers are generally based upon the Worsaae-Stephens plates, ordinarily the latter, but sometimes fortified with per- sonal examination. Von Friesen studied the stone itself in 1903 and again in 1914. The very photographs themselves in LLS are a distinct and important contribution; if it must be said that the reading is far from clear yet, the question as to the order in which most of the lines must be read has for all time been definitely settled. This point may be briefly considered here.
The inscription consists of six vertical lines and three hori- zontal lines on the front of the stone and two vertical slightly curved lines on the side. Counting from left to right I shall designate the vertical lines as VI, V2, etc., and the horizontal ones as HI, etc., beginning with the lower. Of those on the side I shall refer to the long line as SI and the short one as S2. It was Worsaae who first suggested that HI, H2, and H3 are continuations of V4, V5, and V6 respectively, and that SI is a continuation of H2; others had read the six vertical lines first; so also Bugge. Bugge seemed to be willing to leave Worsaae's suggestion in abeyance, contenting himself with saying that about the only thing that was fairly certain was that the inscrip- tion begins with VI. It cannot be said that the Worsaae- Stephens copies indicate in any way that H2 is to be read after V5, nor even that H3 follows V6. But the side view does em- phasize the runemaster's intention with reference to SI:3 it clearly is a continuation of H2. But that is all. Now the il- lustration in LLS, with the accompanying discussion of the form of the runes, shows that H3 is a continuation of V6, the curve is practically continuous. It is not quite so clear that S2 is a further continuation of H3, but it seems likely. The one thing that the figure does not show, however, is the proper order of H 1-2. The defective runes at the top of V5 curve toward
* Stephens' copy does not show this.
Reviews and Notes 279
and seem to approach within ca. one rune-space of the £/-rune of HI, which would require the reading of H2 after HI. The photographs leave upon me the impression that the following is the order intended: VI, V2, V3, V4, V5, [HI, H2, SI, V6, H3, S2.] If H2 were the continuation of V5 it is not clear why V5 should bend leftward so abruptly and why the smooth space between it and H2 should have been left unused. The E-rune of H2 is set vertically; on the other hand the £/-rune of HI slants slightly toward V5.
Already in 1848 P. A. Munch had found the names HAj?U- WOLAFR and HARIWO LAFR in lines V3 and V4 respectively; he further also read GAF immediately after the name in V3. The first rune in VI was originally read as A: and it so appears in both Worsaae's and Stephens' plates. However, Hofmann held it to be rather N,4 a change which Bugge later adopted. The basis was laid for all later study of the inscription by the transcription then made by Bugge in 1866-75 in the Nord- isk Tidsskrift for Filologi, 323-347, so that it read: NIU- HABORUMR NIUHAGESTUMR. HAbUWOLAFR GAF
HARIWOLAFRMA HIDEERUNGNO HERAM ALA-
SARARAGEUWM, USNUH EKAHED DUNIUGO ERAGI- NORONOR ABARIUTIJ). Bugge made some suggestions and he compared the rune-groups with those of the other Blekinge inscriptions, but he attached no importance to his own conjec- tures; he called them "mere conjectures," Ifise indfald.6 Specif- ically the horizontal lines were to him meaningless, and of the verticals he says : Da Bredsidens vertikale indskrift saaledes efter min Formodning er en vilkaarlig Blanding af Ordfra andre og ind- byrdes forskjelligartede Indskrr. af cddre og yngre Sprogformer, saa trorjeg, at det ml vare forgjaves at s0ge efter dens Meningidet hele. But he suggests for the first four verticals: Til ni Sinner, til ni Gjaster. Haaduh gav (Stenen?), Herjuh (ristede?). In Norges Indskrifter med de celdre Runer, pp. 23-24, he believes, however, that the inscription contains a connected account, reads V47: hAriwolAfR magiu, and translates the four lines: Nyt til Sinner, nyt til Gjcester, Hathuvolf gav, Harivolf til Dreng, d. e. Dette nyopffirte Mindesmarke viede Hathuvolf til sine d<j>de Sinner og Gjcester, Harivolf til sin d0de S0n. Of other comments on the stone I shall note that HI and H2 are read snuhekA = sny ek.* Following in the main Bugge 's revised reading Magnus Olsen offers the following translation in the Bergens Museums
* See reference above.
6 Reference above (abbr. NTfF).
« Bugge suggested that RUNGNO be read RUNONO. Otherwise ARA- GEWM is read ARAGEWE and DUNIUGO as DUDSA.
7 In small lettering except runes for A and R as distinguished from those for a and r .
8 I.e. p. 247.
280 Flom
Aarbok, 1911,p.30:Nyt (gravmaele) til sinner, nyt (gravmaele) til "gjester" gav Hathuwolf . Hariwolf (g^av det) til sin s0n. Jeg snor her haederrunernes ramme baand [ginoronoR h(A)ideRunono], uskadt [h(A)erAmalA(u)sAR](snor jeg ramme) troldoms (baand) [ArAgeu]. Til raenkefuld [wel-] d0d hjemfalder den som bryter (gravmselet)." The order followed is therefore V4, HI, H2, SI, V5, V6, H3, S2. See also v. Grienberger, Zfd. Philologie, XXXIX, p. 95, with motivation of a somewhat dif- erent rendering, pp. 80-85 (V6 = ein unschuldiger an der Verfluchung) .
Von Friesen deals first fully with the Bjorketorp inscription, whose reading then furnishes him with the key to the corre- sponding, but apparently abbreviated, forms of the Stenofta stone. In the latter he too, as Bugge, takes Niuja as = niuja, but it is a fern name Niuja, a 'shortname' of names of the type Borgny, etc. In the jara-rune in V3 he finds the ON dr, year, good year, 'tiring'; V4 ma . . are amplified to maht; in V 5 the in- distinct runes are read as fal, of which reading there seems little doubt. The fragment of a rune at the end of V6 suggested an / the close of this line and H3 gives him weladudsA (as welAdA- ude in the Bjorketorp inscription). With Magnus Olsen he renders ginnrunor as "kraftrunor," the runes are runes of magic, but unlike earlier writers he takes the first five runes of V5 to be (as the corresponding hAidR of the Bjorketorp stone) to be not ON heidr, but to be the demonstrative hi — (Gothic him- ma daga, OHG hiu tagu). His translation is then: RUNONO.
Nya (gjorde varden) at sina soner.
Nya (gjorde varden) at hirdman.
Half gaf (sitt folk) aring,
Harjulf (gaf sitt folk) sin (seger-) kraft.
Detta ar runornas hemlighet: jag dolde har kraftrunor,
obekymrad om arg trolldom, Den, som forstor
denna vard, skall do for magisk konst.
Especially difficult are ha of line VI and the runes ma of V4. Von Friesen's is the fullest examination of the inscription that we have, and he has added materially to its understanding. But it does not seem to me that he has removed all doubt upon these two points, nor fully established his reading in some other respects. It is hard to harmonize the form niuha with the required niuja, so as to get out of it Nyt (mindesmarke) or Nya as above. It is difficult to accept the explanation that ha rep- resents an unsuccessful effort at archaic writing. It sounds very strange to have an inscription begin: "A new (monument) to," etc. The designation of the stone as a new monument is unnecessary (perhaps because there had been another monu- ment erected before?). One would expect rather "This (monu- ment)," etc. And so von Friesen, who felt this difficulty no
Reviews and Notes 281
doubt, finds in the first five runes the name of the one who had the monument erected, Nya. It would be more satisfactory if ha could be explained so as to leave the runes niu = the numeral niu, 'nine.' And this is what Axel Kock has tried to do in the most recent contribution on the inscription ; see the bibliography above. Kock refers ha in the rune-complex, niuhA to OIc OSw hdr, 'pinne, artull,' and cites from Schlyters dictionary of the early Swedish laws the definition of its transferred use: "sa
kalldes i Ostergotland och Helsingland, likasom i
Uppland ar (eg. ara], ett af de distrikter, hvari kustlandet var in- deladt, och hvilka skulle i krigstider skaffa hvart sin roddare," and he cites an abundance of other substantiating facts. There is no reason to believe that this use was not just as current in the coast region of ancient Listerland. Kock reads the two lines Vl-2: niu ha-borumR niu ha-gestumR and translates: "at nio habonder (dvs. artulls-bonder, bonder i batsmanshall; jmf. det fda. hafna-bondcE, 'hamne-bonde'), at nio ha-gaster." I can- not help but feel that here we have at last the right explanation of these two lines.
Not less difficult is the incompleted word ma in V4, Bugge here read magiu (the u from line HI), and this after three different examinations of the inscription. But he added: "men Runerne gi er yderst utydelige, navnligg," Norges Indskr. 1. c.,p. 23 (year 1891) and also p. 275, published some eight years later. This has, down to von Friesen, been generally accepted. But the reading is not convincing for in the first place it makes the dedication a very unusual one, with this third dedication after the twofold one in the first two lines. Also the reading of gi is, by Bugge's own statement, problematical, and Worsaae's plate leaves the space vacant. Von Friesen found in 1914 some uncertain depressions, which might be the remnants of runes, "men hvilka dessa runor i sa fall varit, kan icke bestammas," LLS, p. 42. Von Friesen amplifies ma . . u to mahtu and the three next letters of HI snu to sinnu. And, as indicated above, the jara-rune at the close of V3 is read as dr, 'arsvaxt,' good crops, i. e., as an abbreviation of its name. The latter is tempt- ing, and the reading mahtu is not open to the same objection as magiu. But a new very serious difficulty is introduced: it leaves us an inscription with a dedication to nine sons and nine 'guests'; these guests who thus reap the distinction of a monu- ment in common with the sons must have fought for this family and been slain in the same battle with them; and yet the in- scription is silent about the valor or other qualities of either sons or guests. Instead of this it records the fame of a Hadwolf 'for good crops' and a Hariwolf 'for the ability to inspire courage in battle,' presumably two of the sons. To be sure, it is not re- quired that a dedication should contain some words of encomium for those to whom the stone is dedicated. But in an inscription
282 Flom
such as this we should either expect that, or, since we have here an inscription with magic runes and a curse, we should expect, as the other alternative, an assertion regarding the runic skill and the magic power of the runemaster himself, this as a warn- ing of the efficacy of his curse to those who should attempt to violate the grave or the monument. I find it therefore difficult to follow this part of Von Friesen's interpretation. Nor does the suggestion made by Kock, Arkiv,f. n. FiL, XXXIII, p. 19, seem to me a likely solution, namely that the jar a-rune is an abbreviation for jabnt. He motivates this form in the loss of unstressed a in wulfaR, which is wulfR on the Stentofta stone; hence likewise ebnaR had become iabnR, iafint. Kock would render the line then: "H. gav (dem jamnt (dvs. fullt ut deras sold)" i. e. "Hadwolf gave them fairly, or full reward for their service." He considers, however, the possibility that J may stand for iak<eka, pers, pron., where the breaking is also to be assumed. Of these two suggestions the latter seems to me much the better. But there is here the difficulty that the yara-rune is assumed to have survived in one of its variant forms, with its old value at a time when it is found to have changed in regular use to a rune of a very different form, the .4 -rune, and has assumed the value of A by reason of the change of the pro- nunciation of the name^ara to dr(a). But when this change was complete, since the consonantal sound j had been taken over by the rune I in addition to the latter's quality, the word jak should have been written iak. Now the vertical lines of the inscription give the impression of having been planned to be of equal length, as nearly as might be. If the word that the /-rune stood for were jak', hence belonging with the follow- ing name, it seems likely that it would have been written as the first word of line V4; the lines V3-4 would then have been per- fect parallels, "Haduwolf gave, I Hariwolf . . . (assuming a verb here)." But if it be the jara-rune we have in V3 its value must be^'. I cannot see how it can be A, an assumption which furthermore would give us three runes for a and A on the Stentofta stone.
However, I can conceive that the rune / had survived in a definite function with the earlier value after its successor the 5ra-rune had established itself with a different value. And the new function I can imagine for it is that of a symbol of abbre- viation for some common word beginning with jt possibly the pronoun jak; or else possibly the conjunction jah, which latter is precisely what Brate assumes, Arkivf. n. Fil., XXXI, 190. Kock's objection to Brate's assumption is well taken in so far as Brate's suggestion, very briefly stated, seems to assume a pro unciation jah, whereas this word must have been pronoun- cedn h (later a). However, it seems to me possible that the rune for/ could have survived as a sign of abbreviation ioijah, even
Reviews and Notes 283
though no inscriptions with jah abbreviated J have actually been found. Neveitheless, I do not believe that / stands for jah. As Bugge long ago showed the whole inscription seems written in verse form, Norges Indskr., p. 24. We should assur- edly not expect a conjunction at all; the poetic style would dis- pense with it in such a position. It seems, then, that / is the rune-master's sign of abbreviation tor jak.
I have considered the alternative that the rune in question may be the rune for ng. There are several of the older inscrip- tions where it has been difficult to say as far as the form is con- cerned whether a certain rune stands for J or ng, and scholars have differed in their reading. I shall note Grienberger's read- ing of the rune in question as / in the Skaang inscription, the Vimose comb, the Vimose buckle, and the T0rvik inscription, Arkiv f. n. Fit., XIV, p. 115-116, where Bugge reads ng; see Norges Indskr., 1095-1913, p. 19. Also the Thorsbjaerg ferrule, where Wimmer reads ng, Die Runenschrift, p. 104, so Bugge, 1. c. 19, but Grienberger as/, Arkiv, f.n.Fil., XXXII p. 289, as also Noreen Altn. und altisl. Gr., p. 345.9 But the rune ng which at best would give us ing, suggests nothing that could find a fitting place here. (Ing?)
Von Friesen, and so also Kock evidently, regards the first two lines as complete in themselves, as shown by the position of the verb in line 3. I shall refer here to Brate's remarks upon this point and the exceptions to the rule of inverted order that he quotes, 1. c. page 189. My own feeling in the reading of the first four lines requires supplying the unexpressed object after gaf, i.e., that the first two lines are a unit.
That the close of our inscription is an abbreviated writing of the same curse with which the B jorketorp inscription concludes was, of course, long since recognized* That the word herama- lasaR further contains the contraction laus to las is also gen- erally accepted. I think furthermore that h'dc-Rrunono is to be identified with ON heidr+runar (as Bugge and others after him), which, therefore shows a further contraction: heidr to hidr The Bj. stone here has hAidRrunoronu. Von Friesen un- doubtedly correctly reads fal for the three indistinct runes at the end of V5; hence the rune-complex fAlAhAkhAdrAginArunAR appears as fal ekAhederAginoronoR in the Stentofta stone. To me the Bjorketorp inscription seems to be one of magic runes and a curse of the following content: "A warning of harm. Holy runes I have fashioned here, potent runes, by magic myself unharmed. Treacherous death shall visit him who destroys it (i. e. the monument)." Now the St. stone contains a dedication, which the former lacks and it contains the names Haduwolf and Hariwolf in the two lines following the dedi-
9 Further cases Norges Indskr. l.c.
284 Flom
cation and in a way that apparently connects the former with the monument and the latter with the runes and the curse.
Haduwolf is mentioned on the Gummarp inscription, where it is said that he 'set (these) three staves,' that is cut these three runes.10 On the Istaby inscription the three names occur followed by the verb warAitrunAR, "(Haudwolf) wrote the runes." Whatever the connection of these persons be, the parallelism of form suggests for ma . . hi Stentof ta V4 a word for 'made, painted, cut, fashioned.' The formula which recites in solemn words how the runes were applied seems to begin with usnuhe which is therefore a verbal variant of faleka. In so doing we follow von Friesen's order in the reading of the horizontal lines.
But here we are face to face with another serious difficulty. Bugge's reading of the runes snuh in HI and ekA in H2 offered little trouble and indeed seemed to necessitate the reading of H2 after HI. But von Friesen has discovered a new rune E at the end of Line HI. and he further finds some indistinct strokes of an h -like form between the H and the E. However, he regards these strokes as an E begun and abandoned after which the intended E was cut, the present last rune in line HI. But may not the strokes between H and E actually be a rune that has been badly weathered. Furthermore when von Friesen reads snu of line HI as the possessive sinu&itermahtu, the H . . E are unaccounted for; there is no place for them. He is forced to assume, therefore, that the writer began here the word which actually appears at the beginning of line V5: hideRrunono. By a similar procedure, but eliminating one rune in place of two, we could imagine that the writer, having finished line HI, proceeds to H2 but overlooks that he has already cut the E of eka.n I have noted above that line V5 curves very noticably to lowest horizontal line; von Friesen points out that the runes at the close of V5 are very unclear after the F:"darefter annu svagare och osakrare ett par verti- kala stafvar med spar af bistafvar."12 In this very uncertain complex of strokes one would be tempted to read falk; but this would necessitate reading line H as the negative of the past prtc. of sntia, plural usnuina. But the h is not, thereby, accounted for unless we fall back upon Bugge's explanation of the h of his form snuhekA, as a mark of separation between two vowels. Bugge finds such an h in the Odemotland inscrip- tion, Norges Indskr. p. 247, in the word uha, written for ua (which is thereby shown to be the two vowels and not the con- sonant + the vowel = wa). An h with similar graphic purpose
w See LLS, pp. 26-27; the reading: "set this staff (pole)" is suggested also, p. 27.
11 And hence still retain Bugge's reading.
12 I.e. p. 42.
Reviews and Notes 285
he also finds in the form snu hekA of the ST.st. and in one or two other inscriptions. In this case the final E of line HI would only be explained as a miswriting and the required in to be found in the second vertical stave of the H and indistinct strokes after it. But this is doing considerable violence to our text. Furthermore the three first runes ekA of line H2; can only be read as the suffixed pronoun of fal or of snuh, it is evidently the former. The order of lines seems then, clearly to be V4, HI, V5, H2; I see no other way. Hence the runes snuhe represents an unintentionally incompeted writing for snuhek.
In the Bj. st. the word ArAgew follows ginArunAR ('runes of might,' or 'potent runes'); the word HAerAmAlausR follows next. The somewhat redundant reading 'mightrunes of magic potency' is avoided by taking ArAgew with the following HAeRAmAlausR.13 However this be regarded, the latter is the wording of the St. st. — heRAmAlAsArARAgewe. Here Grienberger and von Friesen read: I, guiltless of the evil results of the magic, "obekymrad om arg trolldom, ZfDPh. XXXIX, pp. 82-83,14 LLS, p. 15-17. But there is a difficulty about this rendering of the compound hermalauss. In the first place it is only formally paralleled by such compounds as ON audnidauss, 'luckless/ OE fyrena leas, 'free from sins,' and OE womma leas, 'spotless' ; hermalauss is not semantically a parallel, for this we require the meaning 'free from harm,' i.e., 'not suffering harm.' It does not seem to me that it can mean 'innocent of harm to others,' 'guiltless of the evil results that may follow.' And the comparison with the Huglen inscription discovered, 1910, in Stord, S0ndhordland, Norway (ekgudinga- ungandiR, 'I, Gudings, unharmed by magic," or who cannot be harmed by magic,16 would not bear out that reading. It would seem as if the first vowel were a miswriting for A (cp. Bj. st. hader- for heder-) However, it is strange in that case that the Bj. st. should have hAerma-, which, if not also an irregular writing, must be vowel a? (or e). Cp. also Hariwolafr with the form haeruwulafiR of the Istaby stone, and von Friesen's discussion of the latter, LLS, p. 32. While I cannot help feeling, therefore, that the reading required is: 'myself unharmed (by the magic),' as the word stands on the two inscriptions where it occurs, it must be left open whether we must not read: 'my self guiltless of the harm (that may follow).'
I will close by a translation into English of the apparent meaning of the Stentofta inscription, — with reading of V4 and HI as above: I render by 'oar-tax peasants,' the peasants
15 As does von Friesen.
14 sine noxa, innocens, ein schuldloser.
16 Bergens Museums Avrbog, 1911, pp. 3-36. gudinga is also read: gudija, hence: 'I, the priest, etc.'
286 Pease
of a district which furnished the rowing crew of one ship in time of war:
To nine oar-tax peasants, To nine oar-tax guests. Hadwolf gave (the monument) ; I Harwolf made (the inscription). I applied the famed runes, I cut here the mighty runes, myself unharmed by the magic, (or guiltless of the evil of the magic). Treacherous death to him who destroys it (i.e., the monument) !
As regards the alternative of line seven, the runemaster would himself be guiltless for he intends harm to no one; his wish is merely that the grave of the heroic slain buried there and the monument erected in their honor may forever remain inviolate. He who nevertheless violates it thereby brings death upon himself.
GEORGE T. FLOM Urbana, Jan. 25, 1921
THE MEDIAEVAL ATTITUDE TOWARD ASTROLOGY, PARTICULARLY IN ENGLAND. By Theodore Otto Wedel. Yale Studies in English, Ix, 1920. Pp. viii+168.
This careful and informing work is a contribution of im- portance to the history of mediaeval astrology, a comprehensive treatment of which, as the author in his preface complains, is still to be written.
Mr. Wedel begins with a review of ancient astrology — very properly based upon Bouche'-Leclercq's monumental L'Astrolo- gie grecque — , and in the fourth chapter makes a digression to describe the new stream of astrological learning which reached the western world through the Arabs. The remainder of the study is an orderly account of the changes in attitude toward astrology from the rise of Christianity to the Renaissance. Condemned as a diabolicial art, astroligical practice was very nearly extinct in Europe during the Dark Ages. In Old English literature little reference to it is to be found, aside from allusions to lucky and unlucky days. With the spread of Greek and Arabic science, however, from the twelfth century on, astrology was gradually introduced into northern and western Europe, in company with the Aristotelian cosmology of which, from the time of Ptolemy, it had become an inseparable part. The fatalistic elements of astrological theory were reconciled with apparently contradictory ecclesiastical doctrines of freedom of the will, most notably by Thomas Aquinas, according to whose view those men who are ruled by physical passions are subject to the influence of the stars, while, on the contrary, the
Reviews and Notes 287
sapiens homo (i. e., the man ruled by incorporeal intellect and will) dominabitur astris. Again, the introduction from the Arabs of the theory of electiones, with its determination merely of moments propitious for action, left still further room for human freedom. Astrology became gradually accepted as a science, and the author traces not a little of the opposition to it — for example, on the part of Petrarch — to indifference or hostility towards science in general. England was less exposed than southern Europe to the influence of Moorish thought, and hence little reference to astrology appears in its vernacular literature before 1350. Professional astrologers seldom appear there before the end of the fifteenth century. In romances, however, translated from the Latin and the French, astrology, which easily lent itself to literary treatment, was more and more frequently introduced. Middle English literature reveals a diversity of opinion regarding it, such scholars as Roger Bacon favoring, while Wyclif and others opposed. Mr. Wedel's last chapter deals with astrology in Gower and Chaucer, of whom the former usually accepts it, but the latter, though freely employing it for artistic ends, yet in his Treatise on the Astrolabe expresses no little condemnation. In the fifteenth century astrological embellishments became a conventional literary artifice, and in the sixteenth and seventeenth the art had descended to the realm of the almanac-makers.
A few details of this interesting and well-balanced work lie open to criticism. The attack on astrology appearing in Cicero's De Divinatione (2, 87-99) is not derived, as Wedel states (pp. 6; 20-21), from Carneades, but from the Stoic Panaetius; cf. De Div. 2, 97. The view of Boll (described on p. 153) that Cicero opposed astrology because of his New Academic scepticism towards all science is by no means the complete truth, and Boll's original statement is more qualifiedly expressed than one might here gather. The dependence of Bernard Silvestris upon Firmicus Maternus may be a fact, but the parallel cited on p. 33 as evidence — namely, the superi- ority of man over the brutes, on account of his erect carriage and upward glance — is not convincing, since this is a philo- sophical commonplace from the time of Xenophon and Plato to that of the Christian writers (cf. the instances cited by Mayor on Cic. N. D. 2, 140; also Plat. CratyL p. 399c). On p. 6 the"Noctes Ambrosianae" of Aulus Gellius is a curious slip. Lactantius should be cited (p. 17, n. 1) by the edition of Brandt in the Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum rather than by that in Migne's Patrologia. The discussion of Dante and astrology by Vitanza (Athenaeum (Studi periodici di Letter a- tura e Storia) for April and July, 1919) was probably not acces- sible in time to be noted on pp. 80-82. Possibly at some point, for example, in a footnote, a short discussion of the extent to
288 Zeitlin
which astrological terminology has passed over into non- astrological usage (e.g., jovial, mercurial, saturnine, ascendant, influence, etc.) might have been both apposite and illuminating. But these are small blemishes. The work is conveniently provided with a bibliography and an index.
ARTHUR STANLEY PEASE The University of Illinois
TEE PEARL: AN INTERPRETATION. By Robert Max Garrett. University of Washington Publications in English iv.l. Seattle, Wash. Published by the University. 1918. 8vo, pp. 45.
In this volume Professor Garrett has made a notable con- tribution to the study and interpretation of The Pearl. He begins by reminding us of the tremendous importance in the Middle Ages of the Eucharist — a fact which it is very easy for non-Catholic students to lose sight of. For the Eucharist, both in theory and in practice, is well nigh meaningless unless it be understood in the Catholic sense : that the true believer therein actually receives the true body and blood of the Savior, to his own healing and purification. The belief is a logical survival of the savage theory of the sacrifice. The Communion of Saints is the community of those who have by participation in the Eucharist entered into the mystic, eternal fellowship of the saints.
The connection between the Eucharist and the pearl seems to have been first suggested by the whiteness and roundness of the Host. It is not strange, then, that before the eighth century the word meris, "a particle of the consecrated Bread," is found also, in the Byzantine Liturgy, in the sense of "pearl." From this, Rabanus Maurus, for example, went on to identify the pearl with one of the spiritual sacraments (not the Eucharist alone, as Garrett, p. 19, implies). But more common is the linking of the pearl with the Savior as the Pearl of Great Price. And if Christ is the Great Pearl, then those who have received Him unto themselves become members of His Body — lesser pearls. One of these is the subject of the poem.
In The Pearl, then, a great anonymous poet-priest writes an In Memoriam to the memory of his lost two-year old Mar- garet or Pearl. She is either his little sister or his daughter; in the latter case, since he is probably now vowed to celibacy, we may think of him as speaking dramatically. Proof that his point of view is that of a real mourner and not that of one who is primarily exalting a symbolical pearl seems to be afforded by the wealth of imagery which the poet lavishes on the dear lost one. She is a pearl that rolled away from him through the
Reviews and Notes 289
grass into the ground; a rose that bloomed and faded naturally; a lovely flower; a special spice; a seemly seed.
Professor Garrett's view of the poem is inconsistent neither with this view nor with the one which regards The Pearl as wholly impersonal (as the late Professor Schofield held); and we believe he has amply demonstrated the correctness of his •statement: that "within the frame of a great pearl, the poet sees his lost Pearl in the presence of the Lamb of God, a very member incorporate in the mystical body of Christ; and she teaches him that through the grace of God as granted in the Eucharist it is given him to become a member of this body, thus to be forever united with his Pearl as parts of the great pearl, the mystical body of Christ."
CLARK S. NORTHUP Cornell University
STUDIES IN THE SYNTAX OF THE LINDISFARNE GOSPELS. By Morgan Callaway, Jr. Baltimore. The Johns Hopkins Press.
Persons who are interested in Anglo-Saxon syntax are well acquainted with the qualities which characterize the special studies of Dr. Morgan Callaway in that field. They are aware that these studies have been excelled by none in painstaking thoroughness and accuracy and that they have been made to yield all the results of which the material was capable. It goes without saying that any new study by Dr. Callaway will be greeted with the confidence that another substantial contri- bution has been made to our knowledge of the subject. The present work does not fall below its predecessors in laborious research, methodical classification, minuteness of analysis, and completeness of tabulation. If there is any disappointment felt by a reader it is that the ground covered by Dr. Callaway runs so entirely parallel to what he has previously been over, that in the very nature of things there can be no new results. Having in former dissertations exhaustively analyzed the constructions of the Absolute Participle, Appositive Participle, and the Infinitive as they occur in West-Saxon literature, Dr. Callaway has here addressed himself to examining the same constructions in the Lindisfarne Gospels of the Northumbrian dialect. It was a cause of gratification to him, though it should not have been a cause of surprise, that his statistical con- clusions in all cases showed the closest correspondence to those he had previously arrived at. The Lindisfarne Gospels, being an interlinear gloss, show rather more of the influence of Latin syntax than tjie West-Saxon translations, and occasionally have combinations which occur nowhere else in Anglo-Saxon,
290 Zeitlin
though some of these, such as the use of a subject nominative with participle in absolute constructions, are apparently due to a temporary confusion of the glossator and are perhaps treated with too great respect by Dr. Callaway. Dr. Callaway further reinforces the strength of his conclusions by bringing into play all the studies of these points made for the various Ger- manic languages since his own last published discussion of the material. His volume carries down to date all that has been said on the constructions in question and concludes with a long bibliography supplementary to those in the earlier volumes.
JACOB ZEITLIN University of Illinois
THE NIBELUNGEN LEGEND AND ITS HISTORICAL
BASIS1
The Legend of the Nibelungen, dealing with the heroic age of that group of nations called Teutonic, Germanic, or Gothonic, is to these races what the Homeric poems are to the Greeks. Though less perfect than they in structure, still the legend is the most venerable common treasure of ancient Germanic poetry.
If we include the latest additions to the compact Nibel- ungen block, the legend contains elements from about 350 A.D. to about 1000 A. D. The first great epic climax is reached in 436 with the defeat and death of the Burgundian king Gunther in the battle against the Huns, before the close of the Roman epoch, and before the culmination of the great migration age. The second and more dramatic climax is reached in 575, when the Franconian king Sigbert was slain by the brother of king Gunthram of Burgundy, a murder later attributed to Queen Brunhild. As a postlude, in 630 comes the defeat of king Dagbert by king Same's heathen Slavs.
Sung for ages, the legend finally died out on the lips of the people. When the German composer Wagner revived it in the 19th Century, young Sigfrid of the Nibelungen legend became a sort of modern German national hero, and the original history of the legend became the subject of animated dis- cussions among German scholars.
No one denies that the chief persons in the second act of the drama are historical; that was well known even in the earlier part of the Middle Ages. Godfred di Viterbo in the 12th century says: "It is not true that Dietrich von Bern and Ermanic and Attila were contemporaries, as it is related." It was rather the overture and the first act which caused the
1 The ingeniously elaborated theory concerning the historical basis of the Nibelungenlegend which Dr. Schiitte presents in this paper was suggested first by Gottsched (De temporibus Teutonicorum vatum mythicis 1752, p. x) and again advanced in the 19th century by A. Giesebrecht (von der Hagen's Ger- mania, 1837; II, 237 ff.) without receiving, however, the general approval of scholars. A careful perusal of the passages quoted from Gregory of Tours' Historia Francorum and from Fredegar's Chronicle will enable the reader to judge for himself whether the author's interpretations and deductions are warranted and the coincidence of certain names and situations is more than merely accidental. — Editor.
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dispute. They seemed totally obscure and mere fancy. The hoard-guarding fire-dragon, the Valkyrie Brynhild wakened from magic sleep by the hero of divine origin, the visitation of the curse of the hoard upon him, — these were matters of debate.
The first explorers of the Nibelungen story could see nothing historical in all this. To them, Sigfrid was a sun-hero awaken- ing the sleeping day (Brynhild), and at sunset he was overcome by the Nibelungs, the demons of mist and night. (German Nebel = mist.) This was largely supported by the success of Wagner's Nibelungen-Ring, for the whole construction fitted in well with the tendency toward reviving the ancient Gothonic mythology as a sort of modern German national religion.* Kroll even went so far as to attempt to establish in real earnest "Wodanism," the cult of Wodan.
Certainly some elements of the Nibelungen legend have assumed a more or less mythical form, especially in the northern countries where heathendom survived much longer than in Germany; and where mythical metaphors became forever a predominating feature of the poetical language. Such elements are, for example, the "king of the dwarfs," Alberich (cf. the old Celtic god, Mars Albiorix) and the tale of the young hero who awakens a sleeping princess. This latter is preserved in Germany as a separate fairy tale, the famous story of Dor ti- ro schen.
Again, an entire stratum of mythical figures is represented by the ancestors of the same young hero, the family of Volsungs in the Scandinavian version. The original ancestor, Sigi, is obvi- ously a hypostasis of Odin, who was known also as Sigfadir and Sigtyr, the god of victory, and whose principal sanctuary in Sweden, according to the Snorra Edda, was Sigtuna, "the town of Sig." Sigi's grandson Sigmund, according to Norwegian folk-lore, is the leader of the Asgaardrei.3
In the Norwegian catalogue of heroes fighting at Bravellir, Sigmund is localised at the Odinic sanctuary, Sigtuna. His sister and wife, Signy, marries Siggeir, the slayer of Sigmund's
*Dr. Schiitte here overrates the influence of Wagner's music-drama. What kept the mythological interpretation of the legend really alive was the predominance of the Lachmann-Miillenhoff school of philologians with whom it had become a fixed dogma. — Editor.
* See Ross, Norsk Ordbog, art. Sigmund.
The Nibelungen Legend 293
father, and takes revenge upon him, devoting herself finally to a ritual suttee. She seems to symbolize the Odinic priestess Frigg, who appears in the myths of Odin as his and his rival's wife alternately.4
We do not deny then the existence of mythical elements in the legend. However, such elements do not sufficiently account for all names, characters, and actions in the drama, and we must search for a more satisfactory explanation of numerous points still remaining obscure. August Giesebrecht, a German scholar, was the first who dared to identify the so-called myth- ical pair Sigfrid and Brynhild with the historical correspondence, King Sigbert and Queen Brunhild from the 6th Century.1 We have advocated the same view elsewhere,6 and it will be the aim of this essay to illustrate the chronological layers of the Nibelung legend, pointing out how important historical epochs are accompanied by corresponding chapters in the epic.
The Nibelungen legend is a gigantic mass of strata built up from the fourth to the eleventh century. The single layers are sometimes preserved in their historical order, but equally often they are found thrown pell-mell. The main features of this epical succession, however, are as follows:
HISTORY LEGEND (OVERTURE AND FIRST ACT)
436 1. Gunther of Burgundy sue- Helm-Gunnar of God-thiod is killed cumbs to A(g)etius. by Agnar before the magic sleep of
Brynhild. (Edda)
c. 370 2. Gibica of Burgundy is the Gibeche of Burgundy is the father or predecessor of Godomar, Gunthar, remote kinsman of Gunther, Giselher, Gislahar. Gottormr. (German legend, Edda.)
507-509 3a. The Gothic king Alaric The king of dwarfs, Alberich, vainly
loses most of his Gallic dominion to tries to defend the Nibelungen hoard
the Franconian conqueror Chlod- against the Franconian prince Sig-
wig, Sigbert's ancestor. f rid. (Nibelungenlied.)
4Cf. Ynglinga Saga, ch. 3; also Saxo's account of Othinus and Mith- Othinus, I, 43. Cf. also the corresponding rdle of Prey's priestess (wife) in the tale of Gunnar Helming's adventures, Flateyjarbdk, II, 337. See also our article Gudedraebning in the Swedish periodical Samlaren, 1915, p. 30; and in the Danish TUskueren, 1916, p. 329.
1 Von der Hagen's Germania, 1837.
9Arkivfor nordisk Jttologi, 1907, p. l,ff.; with compendious literary refer- ences.
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Schiitte
b. The Goths are forced to pay a 'wergeld' by covering a Franconian horseman with gold up to the tip of his lance.
509 4. Farro and Ragnahar are skin in punishment for their bestial voracity.
c. 516. 5. Sigismund's second wife causes the death of her stepson Sigeric during a feast.
523 6. Sigismund is killed before the birth of Sigbert II.
c. 565 7. Sigbert II, king of Rhenish Franconia, repels an attack of Danes and Saxons. Gunthram of Burgundy is passive.
436 8a. Gunthar of Burgundy is conquered by the Huns. Attila remains passive.
566. b. Sigbert proposes to Brunhild of Ispania, daughter of Athanagild, a king of the Baldung dynasty, and wins her. Gunthram's brother marries Brunhild's sister.
567 9. Brunhild's sister is repudi- ated in favor of a rival. A violent conflict breaks out between Brun- hild and her sister's rival.
10. Brunhild plots against Sigbert (according to the calumnies of her foes.)
572 1 la. The Hagan of the Huns, (i.e., the Chakan or prince of the Avares) conquers Sigbert.
575 lib. King Hagan of Tournay (or Doornik) murders Sigbert about ten years after the marriage of the latter.
The Gods are forced to pay a wergeld by covering an otter-skin, pkced up- right, with gold, including the tip of its whiskers.
Fafnir shows avarice and voracity, and he and his equally covetous brother Regin are slain in punish- ment. (Edda)
Sigmund's second wife murders her stepson Sinfiotle during a feast. (Edda)
Sigmund is killed before the birth of Sigurd. (V'olsungasaga)
Sigfrid, king of Rhenish Franconia, repels an attack of Danes and Saxons. Gunther of Burgundy is passive. (Nibelungenlied, Nornagests Thattr)
Gunther of Burgundy is conquered by the Huns. Attila remains passive. (Rosengarten, Biterolf)
Sigfrid-Sigurd proposes to Brynhild of Isenland, daughter of Atle, a king of the Budlung dynasty, and wins her for Gunther-Gunnar. Sigfrid-Sigurd marries Gunther-Gunnar's sister.
(Nibelungenlied, Edda) Brynhild is forgotten by Sigurd, who marries another princess. (Edda) A violent conflict breaks out between Brynhild and her rival.
a
Brynhild plots against the life of Sigfrid-Sigurd. (Nibelungenlied, Edda)
Among the Huns lives in his child- hood as hostage, the prince, Hagen of Tronje (or Troneck). He murders Sigfrid ten years after the marriage of the latter. (Nibelungenlied') Si-
The Nibelungen Legend
295
575 lie. Sigbert II is murdered in gurd is murdered in parliament his camp. (Edda)
509 lid. Sigbert I is murdered while hunting east of the Rhine, before Sigismund's death.
523 lie. Sigbert ITs uncle is killed by the Burgundian king Godomar.
509-575 12. The murderer seizes Sig- bert's treasures.
587 13. Gunthram of Burgundy es- tablishes a general reconciliation three years after the husband of Brunhild's rival has been mur- dered.
613 14. Calumniators charge Brun- hild with the murder of Sigbert and numerous other men. She is bound to a horse and dragged to death.
HISTORY
447 15a. The heathen king Attila proposes to the Christian Roman princess Honoria.
493 15b. The heathen king Chlod- wig proposes to the Christian Bur- gundian princess Chrodhild and marries her.
493 16. et. sqq. Chrodhild plots against her relations, the Burgun- dian princes, who are charged with having murdered some of her family. She stirs up her sons.
436-437 17. Gunthar of Burgundy is attacked by the Huns, without the co-operation of Attila. (cf. 1 above.)
445 18a. Attila kills his brother Bleda.
Sigfrid is murdered while hunting east
of the Rhine, before Sigmund's death.
(Sigfridslied, one version of Nibelun-
genlied.)
Sigfrid is killed by the Burgundian
prince Gottormr. (Edda)
The murderer seizes Sigfrid's trea- sures. (Nibelungenlied)
Gunther of Burgundy establishes a general reconciliation three and a half years after the husband of Brynhild's rival has been murdered.
(Nibelungenlied)
A witch charges Brynhild with the murder of Sigurd and the ruin of numerous other men. Brynhild rides to the infernal regions on a grave- horse. (Edda)
LEGEND (SECOND ACT)
The heathen lung Attila proposes to the Christian Burgundian princess Kriemhild, and marries her. (Nibel- ungenlied)
Kriemhild plots against her relations, the Burgundian princes, because they have murdered her husband. (NibdungenHed)
She stirs up her sons. (Thidrekssaga) Gunther of Burgundy is attacked by the Huns, without the co-operation of Attila. (Nibelungenlied)
Attila's queen unintentionally causes the death of Duke Bloedelin. Dank- wart kills Duke Bloedelin and numer-
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SchiiUe
630 18b. Dagbert slaughters a flock of fugitive "Huns" (Bulgares) near the frontier of Bavaria.
454 19. Attila's sons succumb to revolted Gothonic tribes near the Danube, (cf. 16 and 25 above.)
530 20. Ruin of the Gothic king Theoderic's ally, Irminfrid, king of the Thuringians, a tribe probably once subject to Attila.
512 21. Ruin of Theodric's ally, Hrodwulf (in Austria) king of the Erulian state which had been sub- ject to Attila. h,t
451 22. Attila and Theodmer, father of Theodric, fight in Gaul against A(g)etius and the Burgundians. Chronicon Paschale says, near Dan- ube.
532 23. Burgundy is ruined by the sons of the revengeful Burgundian woman Chrodhild.
553 24. The successors of Theoderic the great are ruined.
630 25. Dagbert, long ot Franconia and" Burgundy, is totally defeated in eastern Germany by Samo, the great king of the heathen Slavs. Dagbert's successor is Sigbert.
453 26a. Attila dies by hemorrhage in his bed beside his young bride, Hildico. (According to later sour- ces, murdered by her.)
26b. Gothonic tribes near the Danube revolt against his sons, kill Ellak and eject Ernak. (cf. 16 and 19 above.)
927-63 47a. Gero, Margrave of Sax- ony.
ous other Huns near the frontier of Bavaria. (Nibelungenlied)
Attila's son is killed by Hagen. (Nibelungenlied)
Ruin of Irnfrid, a Thuringian hero, vassal of Attila. (Nibelungenlied)
Ruin of Dietrich's friend Rttdiger, margrave of Pochlarn in Austria, vassal of Attila. (Nibelungenlied) (Margrave Rodingeir of Bakalar in Thidrekssaga; ibid, also called Rodolf of Bakalar.)
Attila's men and Dietmar's son, Dietrich fight near the Danube against Hagen and the Burgundians.
(Nibelungenlied}
The Burgundians are ruined by the people of the revengeful Burgundian woman Kriemhild. (Nibelungenlied)
Dietrich von Bern loses his men.
Dankwart, a great hero, marshal of Burgundy, succumbs in Hunland to the great king of the heathen people in the East. (Nibelungenlied) Gun- ther's successor is Sigfrid. (Klage)
Attila's wife, Gudrun, murders hit sons Erp and Eitel, and afterward, himself. (Edda)
Gere, one of Gunther's men, seems to have survived the Hunnic battle. (Nibelungenlied)
The Nibelungen Legend 297
971-991 27b. Bishop Pilgrim of Pas- Bishop Pilgrim of Passau, a con-
sau and the Count Riidiger in temporary of Margrave Rtidiger of
Austria, live after the Hunnic bat- Austria, survives the Hunnic battle,
tie. (Nibelungenlied)
983-1002 27c. Eckewart, Margrave of Eckewart, one of Krimhild's men, Meissen. seems to survive the Hunnic battle.
(Nibelungenlied)
c. 370 28. The Gothic king Ermanric ^ Gothic km* Ermanric> *°™- commits suicide after his defeat by law of Gudrun, dies after being ., H ns wounded by her sons, the Hunnic her-
oes Hamde and Sorle. (Edda)
It is immediately noticeable that the chronology of the sec- ond act is disturbed; in the Overture and first act, it is fairly correct, the insignificant aberrations from the historical succes- sion of events not being sufficient to overturn the continuity of this saga of the Merovingian dynasty from the beginning to the end.
Sometimes indeed, the epical chronology may have been even more correct than we have indicated. It is not strictly necessary, for example, that Helm-Gunnar be placed, as in the legend, before his historical predecessor Gjuke (Gibeche). Certainly the latter is called "father" (ancestor, predecessor) of those Burgundian kings whose fates are described in the legend; thus some version may rightly have placed Gjuke behind the age of king Helm-Gunnar the alter ego of king Gun- nar or Gunther.
In other cases, events standing in their correct places in one version have in other versions been confused with corresponding episodes from different ages. So, while the northern version places the birth of Sigurd (Sigfried) after the death of Sigmund, the German version makes Sigmund survive Sigfrid, having substituted the older Sigbert who was murdered in 509, and Sigismund, who did not share his fate until 523.
In certain cases, chronological facts are preserved with astonishing faithfulness, as in the ten years between Sigfrid's marriage and death, and the reconciliation effected by Gunther three years after the husband of Brunhild's rival had been murdered.
In the second act, however, the chronology is mere chaos. Leaving the first act at the year 613 we skip to 447, 493, 436-7,
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630, 453, 530, 512, 451, 532, 630, 453, 991, 1002, (and in the Edda, back to 370). Only one scene continues the current from the first act; that is Dankwart's defeat by the Huns, a reflection of Dagbert's by the Slavs in 630, the fatal final catastrophe which ended Merovingian domination over Germany. With Dag- bert's fall, the saga of the Merovings ends. Exactly here the chronological confusion starts. The reason is not far to seek.
The well-known tendency of legends of dynastic catastrophes to conglomerate causes an influx of epical immigrants into the Merovingian drama headed by the Burgundian king Gunther from 436 A. D. He is accompanied by his contemporary circle of Hunnic heroes, and followed by several vagrant individuals, mostly Merovingian or victims of Merovingian policy. Some elements of female intrigue are added as moving forces; but the chief content of the conglomerate remains military action.
Gunthar of Burgundy's entrance is due to his onomatic likeness to the later Meroving Gunthrain of Burgundy. This confusion accounts for the striking contrast in the Nibelungen- lied, showing king Gunther in Act 1 as an un warlike, hen- pecked husband (Gunthram), then in Act II suddenly changed to a gallant warrior (the old Gunther). The northern version preserves a reflection of the old Gunther in his right place as Helm-Gunnar, the king who is killed by Agnar before the beginning of the Merovingian drama. Also, the German poems Rosengarten and Biterolf preserve a reflection of the fact that Gunther's defeat by the Romans preceded his final ruin at the hands of the Huns, for they tell how Gunther of Burgundy is beaten in a tournament at Worms, by Dietrich of Bern and Attila's margrave Rudiger prior to the final conflict with the Huns.
Attila himself, though he had no personal part in the Hun expedition against the Burgundians is naturally held more responsible by later ages. Thus was the Burgundian drama enriched with a series of Hunnic scenes: the murder of Bleda, 445; Attila's wooing of Princess Honoria, 447; his defeat in Gaul, 451; his wedding with Hildico, 453; his death in the bridal bed, and finally the defeat of his sons by the revolting tribes in the same year. The events of several decades were generally reduced to a space of months or weeks, and the wooing was set back to before the Burgundian defeat in 436. Such chrono-
The Nibelungen Legend 299
logical alterations must be considered insignificant and a normal consequence of the epical development.
In the course of time, however, Attila's wooing became amal- gamated with a later event of the same century. His proposal had not been successful, and the epical mind, not content with such a negative state of things, had sought for another famous heathen king who also had proposed to a Christian princess. One who had proposed and had been accepted was discovered in king Chlodwig, founder of the State of France, who, in 493 had married the Christian Burgundian princess Chrodhild. The details are borrowed and fitted to Attila, to the improvement of the story, and the feminine element is heightened by the his- torical fact that the Burgundian princess, as the wife of the heathen king, brought ruin upon her country and people.
The introduction of the Merovingian king in disguise na- turally attracted other elements from Merovingian history. Hence the episode of the ruin of the Thuringian king Irminfrid in 530. The fall of Hrodwulf the Erulian in 512 was also exploited. The severe losses suffered by Dietrich of Bern probably represent the ruin of the Gothic state in Italy, after the death of Theoderic the Great, during the wars of 535-553.
Chronology is further disturbed by the placing of all events between the beginning of the Burgundian-Hunnic conflict and the entrance of Dietrich, before the death of Dankwart, i. e., the defeat of the Merovingian king Dagbert in 630. This event may, from the Merovingian point of view, be regarded as the nucleus of the entire Nibelungomachia. But as Dank- wart is only a subordinate hero, the law of epical back-stress requires that the older Burgundian kings Gunther and Giselher with their demonic champion Hagen, survive until the tragical end of the drama. Then the surviving Burgundian prince Sigfrid, Gunther's son, reflects Dagbert's historical successor Sigbert who reigned after 638.
Toward the end, the northern version suddenly leaps back to the Gothic king Ermanric who died about 370. The German version, on the contrary introduces at the end Pilgrim, Bishop of Passau from 971 to 991, and his friend Margrave Riidiger of Austria. This Riidiger (instead of the Rodolf of the Thidreks- saga) reflects an historical Riidiger who lived in Pilgrim's time. The Margraves Eckewart and Gero (927-963) embody the wars
300 Schutte
of the Germans against the Slavs during the reign of the Saxon Emperors.
This bird's eye view of the Nibelung conglomerate presents its contents of good and bad chronology. The pages which follow will deal with the single chapters of the legend according to the true historical sequence.
1. THE LEGEND or THE GOTHIC KING, ERMANRIC
The stories concerning Ermanric as related by the Gothic historian Jordanis in the 6th Century, are the first Gothic legends to survive the migration age in epic tradition.
Ermanric had founded a large Gothic state in southern Russia, the first Gothonic power of note since Marbod's Swabian empire about the beginning of our era. But the Gothic emperor succumbed to the invading Huns about 370 A. D., and accord- ing to Ammianus Marcellinus, committed suicide, — perhaps a ritual sacrifice to avert the catastrophe. This was the first notable event in the Gothonic tradition since the defeat of Boiorix, the Jutlander, and his Cimbrians by Marius in northern Italy on July 29, 101 B. C., and since the German chief Arminius defeated the Romans in the forest of Teutoburg, 9 A. D. Boi- orix remained in Gothic legends of the 6th Century as Beric, the leader of the first Gothic migration from Scandinavia to Germany; but neither he nor Arminius survived the close of the migration age as epic figures.7 Ermanric became the first great center of an epic cycle, a predecessor of Dietrich von Bern, Attila, Charlemagne, Artus.
Jordanis relates of Ermanric that he had been deceived by one of his subjects, and in his rage had the traitor's wife Sunilda torn to pieces by wild horses. Her brothers Sarv and (H)ammi (Smock and Chemise) revenged themselves on the king, wounding him severely. He died from a slow fever caused partly by the wounds, and partly by the grief at the Hunnic invasion.
In the Edda, Sunilda becomes Svanhild, a niece of the Bur- gundian king Gunnar. Her mother, Gudrun, after killing her own husband Atle (Attila) had married king Jonakr. Svanhild was their daughter; Sorle, Hamde, and Erp, their sons. Svan-
7 See, however, H. I. Hanna, Siegfried- Arminius, Journal of English Ger- manic Philology, XIX, 439 ff.— Editor.
The Nibelungen Legend 301
hild married Ermanric who, influenced by the calumnies of his evil counselor Bikke, had her trampled by wild horses. Her brothers revenged her by cutting off the king's hands and feet, though they could not kill him. Ordinary weapons were futile against them, so they were stoned to death. Hence, in the poetic language, stones are called "the harm of Jonakrs' sons (Jonakrs bura harmr).
German and Danish traditions contain the same legend without reference to the Nibelung cycle.
2. THE LEGEND OF THE BURGUNDIAN KING GUNTHAR
About the year 510, king Gundbad of Burgundy had the laws of his nation codified in the Lex Burgundionum. The preface mentions his royal predecessors Gibica, Godomar, Gunthar, Gislahar, all of whom reappear in the Nibelung cycle. In the Edda the dynasty is called the Gjukungs, descendants of Gibica.
Gunthar was the most renowned member of the dynasty. His story is reported by such chroniclers8 of his own or the following age as Prosper Tire, Prosper Aquitanus, Idatius, and the Greeks Olympiodorus and Socrates.
From them we learn that Gunthar ruled about the middle Rhine (P.T.; 9; about Worms, capital of the epical Gunther). In 410 he and the Alanic chief Goar tried to set Jovinus, the usurper in Gaul, against the Roman Emperor (O.). About 430, the Burgundians repelled the Hunnic chieftain Uptar (Gothic* Ufta-harjis) who had attacked them with superior forces (S). However, Gunthar was totally defeated in 435-36 by the Roman governor Aetius with his Hunnic mercenaries (P.T. and I.). Twenty thousand Burgundians fell (I), including Gunthar and his whole family (P. A.). The Chronicon Paschale erroneously localizes the battle near the Danube. It was "a memorable fight" (P.T.), and such Burgundians as survived became Roman subjects in Savoy (P. A.).
Further, when the Huns invaded Gaul in 451, the Burgun- dians fought as Roman forces under Aetius, opposing Attila the Hun and his vassal Theodemar, father of Theoderic the Great (the epical Dietmar, father of Dietrich von Bern). Some Burgundians fought on the side of Attila.
8 Referred to following as P.T., P.A., I., O., and S.
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Gunthar's temporary power was memorable. His country ranks high, directly after the Huns and Goths (cf. Widsith). He dared make and unmake Roman Emperors. But his great power met equally striking ruin; the Burgundians, masters of the Romans, became- their servants. This humiliation lasted for decades, enough to make it perpetual in epic tradition. We see its presence under various forms.
a. Helm-Gunnar's Fight Against Agnar. (Edda, Sigrdrifu- mal and Helreid Brynhildar.)
When Sigurd had awaked the Valkyrie Sigrdrifa, she told him her story. There had been a fight between the old and valiant king Helm-Gunnar of Got-thiod and the young Agnar, Auda's brother. Odin had ordered Sigrdrifa to bestow the victory upon Gunnar; but, preferring the younger man, who had no other help, she killed Gunnar. In punishment Odin stung her with a magic thorn, causing her to sleep for ages, and prophesied that she would never be victorious and must suffer an enforced marriage.
This Sigurd is Sigbert II who was killed in 575. If we assume that a magic sleep must last about a century, the action would be dated about the middle of the 5th Century, the actual time of Gunthar's ruin.
Helm-Gunnar is the first epical king named Gunnar (Gun- thar); he rules a Gothic country, and is of advanced age. Everything fits in to identify him with the historical Gunthar, also the first of his name, ruling a Gothic country, and obvi- ously old in 436, as he must have been in his prime in 410 when he tried to dethrone the Roman Emperor.
Agnar evidently reflects Aetius (Agetius). As "Auda's brother" he belongs to the Audlings, the dynasty of Kiar of Valland (Fra Fornthjots eimqnnum) who was the Kaisgr or Emperor of the Welsh (Romans). Agnar is young, as Aetius must have been in 436; for he did not reach his full fame until 451 when he defeated Attiia.
Here then is a famous Gothonic king defeated by a gallant young Roman, a situation in which the Gothonic spectator hesitates between his national instinct and his respect for the victorious strength of the Roman. The poetical expression of
The Nibelungen Legend 303
this dilemma is the situation of Odin versus the disobedient Valkyrie; he being the embodiment of Gothonic national spirit, while the Valkyrie voices the poet's personal sympathy. As a whole, the tale of Helm-Gunnar is a closed episode, and its connection with the Nibelungen Legend is merely superficial.
b. Bavarian-Hungarian Legends of Gunthar's Fight with Attila; the poems Biterolf and Rosengarten.
In Bavaria and Hungary, Gunthar's struggle with the Huns was partially described without reference to the Nibelungen legend.9 In the Biterolf and Rosengarten, the subject is treated as a tournament in loose connection with the Nibelungen legend. Their historical background was first noted by Zinnow in 1843.10
The Hungarian Simon of Keza (c. 1280) describes the raid of Ethele (Attila). Advised by Dietrich von Bern, Attila led his Huns across the Rhine at Constanz and, near Basel, defeated Sigismund (the Burgundian Saint Sigismund died 523). Attila captured Strassburg, raided Gaul, fought against Aetius and the Gothic king Aldaric, expelled the Moors from Spain, visited Cologne, held a great parliament in Eisenach, and subjugated Frisians, Scandinavians, Prussians, and Lithuanians.
The Bavarian chronicler Thurmair (Aventinus) refers to the same legend, with the difference that the first army de- feated is led by Gundaric and Sigismund, father and son. In the German text, Gundaric is Gundackar. This is the historical Gunthar, king of Burgundy, defeated by the Huns in 436. Thurmair refers to another version which identifies Gundacker's fall with the battle of Chalons, 451. Olahus, the Hungarian, says that Sigismund was defeated near Basel and Guntachar near Strassburg. This appears in a version of the Nibelungen legend. The sequence is not historical, as Gun- thar died almost a century before Sigismund.
The Biterolf and Rosengarten poems describe Gunther's fight with the Huns in quite different epical surroundings, but with a common skeleton of action which is as follows:
9 Cf. Matthaei, Die bairische Hunnensage in Zeitschrift f. D. A., 1902, p. 12, ft
10 Germania, 1843, p. 25 ff.; cf. Matthaei, I.e., p. 14.
304 Schutte
A female relative of Gunthar (Brynhild, Kriemhild) chal- lenges a Goth, a vassal or ally of Attila. The Burgundians are attacked near Worms by Goths and Huns led by Rudiger and Dietrich von Bern. According to the second poem, the battle takes place in Kriemhild's wonderful rose garden. Many are killed, but the principal heroes content themselves with a harmless tournament. Gunther and his ally Sigfrid, son of Sigmund, are defeated, but not killed. Their deaths are re- served for the standard legendary situation.
The lays, in at least two points, surpass the Nibelung poems in historical faithfulness; Gunther's defeat, while large, is not final, and the Huns are shown as auxiliaries rather than leaders. Attila's personal passivity is historical, but that appears also in the Nibelungenlied.
c. Gunther -Gunnar' s Fight with Attila, According to the Nibelungen Legend
The German version of the conflict just mentioned makes Attila passive; the northern version makes him covetously desirous of the Nibelungen hoard. This, while not historical, accords with Attila's known character, as is illustrated by his insistence that the Emperor at Rome should deliver to him the broker Silvanus who had received some church plate saved from a Hunnic plundering, Attila's claim being that he had been thus cheated of his legal booty!
The legend started from two episodes, the fight with the Hunnic Uftahar, and the fight with the Roman governor's Hunnic troops. Later were introduced a dozen episodic bat- tles, mostly from Hunnic cycles or directly from the tragedies of the Erules in 512, the Thuringians in 530, the Burgundians, 532, the East Goths, 553; the Bulgares, 630; the Merovingian Franks, 630, No important additions are made in these episodes to the character of Gunther. He remains simply the ideal knight. The most impressive scene is the Eddie account of his death, where, with the trembling heart of the coward Hialle and the brave heart of Hogne before him, Gunthar defies Atle and proudly meets his death.
In really individual features, Gunther is surpassed by his fellow, Hagen-Hogne. The latter character is suggested as a reflection from the Roman Aetius (Agetius) who commanded
The Nibelungen Legend 305
the Burgundians against Attila in 451, and who, with the epical Hagen was sent as hostage to Attila. As a demonic type, Aetius' only rival in the following centuries is Chilperic, slayer of Sigbert II. The Hagen of the Nibelungen Act I cer- tainly reflects this latter; the relation between Aetius and the Hagen of Act II is too broad to be entered into here.
3. THE CYCLE OF THE HUNNIC KING ATTILA
As the Burgundian Gunther declined, Attila was arising until in time he eclipsed the Gothic Ermanric as a center of epical cycles. This predominance may be illustrated by various facts. Ermanric had three recognized epical followers, Sunilda, Sarv, and Hammi. Gunther had but one, Aetius (Hagen). Attila, however, had at least a dozen; his father Mund-jiuk (Atle's father Id-mund in the Helgakoida Hjorvardssonar ; his brother Bleda; his wives Kerka and Hildico; two sons; officials (H)one- gesios and Esla (epical Hungar and Else) ; a messenger, Vigilia (Vinge); a vassal, Theodmer in the third Godrunarkvida) ; perhaps still the hostage Aetius-Hagen.
There is an important distinction also in the descriptive details of psychology and civilization. Ermanric is the rough type of cruel tyrant; Gunther is the ideal knight; Attila has cer- tain individual features of wider variety. The northern legends stress his avarice and his polygamy. He is noted for his love of children, and his religious tolerance; the musicians at his court are widely mentioned in legend as in history. The horn-bows of the Huns are remembered in the northern and German legends, and the stony shields mentioned in the Hildebrandslied mark the low level of Hunnic civilization.
In episodes, too, Attila leads. Ermanric and Gunther have but two or three each; the Hunnic correspondents are legion. Both of Gunthar's episodes introduce Huns, and half the additional ones in the later stages of the legend are equally Hunnic.11
The culmination of Hunnic supremacy lasted a few decades only, and consequently offered no great opportunity for chron- ological disturbance.
11 Cf. Matthaei, 1. c. for a rich collection of Hunnic elements in German legends.
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Attila's wooing has given rise to epical continuations. In 447 he proposed to Honoria, a Roman princess, who had been seduced by her guardian and later placed in custody. Mar- cellinus Comes reports a probably unjustified rumor that she tried to stir up Attila against her own country. According to Priscus, Attila threatened war unless she and half the Empire were given him. The epical continuation of this tale will be dealt with later.
His death, too, offered a germ for epical growth, in this case a gradual transition from history to legend. Priscus, a con- temporary of his, reports that in 454 Attila enlarged his harem with a woman (H)ildico, became drunk at the wedding feast, and in the morning was found dead from a hemorrhage, beside his bride. In the 6th Century, Marcellinus refers to this tale, but believes that a woman stabbed Attila during the night. The Chronicon Alexandrinum repeats Priscus' tale, but adds that the concubine was suspected of the murder. Saxo, in the 9th Century and the Quedlinburg Annals, llth Century, say that Attila was murdered by a woman whose father he had slain. The Eddie Atlakmda describes how Atle killed the brothers of his wife Gudrun; and, drunken, was slain by Gudrun, who then burned the palace with its inhabitants. These all are not stages of the same legend, but exhibit the tendency te replace death by hemorrhage by murder at a woman's hand. Only in the German legend is the bride innocent, and even there she becomes a means of explaining the ruin of the Burgundians.
Attila's two historical wives have been variously confused. His wooing of Kerka in the Thidrekssaga is transferred to Hildico in the Nibelungenlied. The names also become amalgamated into Herka (Erka), Helche (should be *Hilche) and perhaps Kriemhild. "Kriem" means nothing in Gothonic, but points toward Kreka (Kerka) i.e., "the Greek woman." *Krek-hild (High German *Kriechild) was confused with Grimhild, as Attila's wife is called in an Austrian legend (Lazius) and resulted in the Nibelungenlied Kriemhild or the Grimhild of some Low German and Danish ballads.12
The elements above mentioned are generally regarded as historical. It remains to suggest a historical equation perhaps startling.
1J Cf., however, Heussler's objections, Zeitschrift /. D. A., LII, p. 105 ff • (no. 12).
The Nibelungen Legend 307
The Greek ambassador Priscus has described his journey to Attila's court in 446. The general importance of his brilliant fragments has long been recognized; our question is whether the connection between history and legend is not more direct than hitherto understood.
The overture of the Nibelung Act II is a difficult journey through the Danubian regions to the court of Attila. Solitary though the theme is in epical literature, it has historical cor- respondence in the report of Priscus. In some detail the likenesses are as follows:
When the travelers departed, their countryman Romulus remained at home, like the cautious cook of the Burgundians, Rumolt. Near the Danube, they met an ill omen; the valleys were full of skeletons. Compare the Danube water-nymph who prophecies the ruin of the Burgundians to Hagen. The ferry was not for ordinary passengers, but for the use of a hostile army; correspondingly in the Nibelungenlied. In the river region, the travelers suffered storm; a similar adventure is repeated constantly in the Nibelung legends, both German and Northern. Hostile frontier guards caused numerous hin- drances as in the Nibelungenlied. Later Esla took part in the hostilities against the Romans, as in the Nibelungenlied there is a hostile frontier guard, Else. Vigila, the messenger, who played into Attila's hands, first advised a continuance of the journey, then changed his mind, and was opposed by Priscus. So the messenger Vinge in the Edda persuades the Burgundians to accept Attila's invitation, and later warns them, but is silenced by Hogne. The travelers were kindly received by Bleda's widow and were told the legend of the Gothic hero Vidigoia who had succumbed to the Sarmatians near the river Theiss. In the Nibelungenlied, the Burgundians were kindly received in Pochlarn by Margrave Riidiger and his wife. A relative of his had been killed by the hero Witege (Vidigoia) and it is reported that later the widow was loved by Bloedlin (Bleda). Attila received the travelers unkindly, claiming angrily the delivery of a treasure which was beset with blood- guiltiness, as in the Northern legend. In the German legend, the claim is laid by Kriemhild. During the banquet, the guests were entertained by musicians and other players, as in the Nibelungenlied. All enjoyed it except Attila. "He sat
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motionless without betraying any interest. Neither in words nor in gestures he showed any gaiety, except when his youngest son, Ernac, entered and approached him; then he pinched the boy's cheeks, regarding him tenderly. Wondering why Attila neglected his other sons and paid attention only to this one, I asked my neighbor at table, a barbarian who knew Latin. He told me the soothsayers had prophesied to Attila that his kindred would decay, but be again uplifted through this son. My neighbor enjoined on me to be silent about his communica- tion."
The prophecy was fulfilled in 453 when the subjugated Gothonic tribes revolted against Attila's sons, killing the oldest of them, Ernac, and overthrowing the Hunnic Empire. Both the prophecy and the fulfillment reappear in the Nibelungenlied, there compressed into one scene, that of the killing of Ortlieb, Attila's favorite son, by Hagen, and the general fight which followed.
The prophecy, at least, must belong to the roots of the legend. But the preceding events correspond so clearly that it seems likely that Priscus had told the adventures of his travels to people he met at Attila's court, e.g., the Roman ambassador, and q,s he was an ingenious narrator, his report may have been remembered and in time told in poetry. The problem is at any rate too interesting to pass unnoticed.
4. LEGENDS OF THE ERULIAN KING HRODWULF AND THE GOTHIC KING THEODERIC THE GREAT
The following episodes, Erulian and Gothic, are in them- selves dramatic, but do not belong in the main action of the Nibelungen legend.
The Erules, a Scandinavian tribe which finally reached Austria, as subject of Attila fought under their Gothic king Theodmer, father of Theoderic, against Aetius and the Bur- gundians in Gaul, 451. With the fall of the Hunnic Empire, they became allies of the East Goths, and the Goth Theodoric the Great in Italy proclaimed the Erulian king Hrodwulf his "son by adoption of arms." His minister Cassiodorus in his collection Varia reproduces the letter of creation. Theodoric, however, could not save the Erules from defeat by the Lango-
The Nibelungen Legend 309
bards in 512. Paul Warnefrid's Langobardian Chronicle depicts poetically the ruin and death of King Hrodwulf .
The Erulian Hrodwulf, a Dane in Beowulf, and a contem- porary Norwegian king mentioned by Jordanis, are the first known persons of the name.13
The first two became epical heroes, and as their name seems to have been exclusively Scandinavian till the 6th Century, all German Rudolfs must be regarded as named for the Erulian.
A Rodolf, margrave of Bakalar in Austria appears as a faithful knight of Attila in the Thidrekssaga. As he is earlier than any namesake, he must be identified with the fairly con- temporary Erulian king of history. The later version of the Thidrekssaga calls him Rodingeir of Bakalar, except in one place, and this latter is identical with Riidiger of Bechelaren in the Nibelungenlied.u
The change of Rodolf to Rodingeir to Riidiger is explained by several factors.15 An essential reason was the existence of an Austrian Count Riidiger (circ. 980) who influenced the name of the Erulian hero. The influence seems more likely when we remember that Riidiger's three contemporaries, Pilgrim, Gero and Eckewart were introduced into the drama. We may suggest, too, that Riidiger was assimilated with Attlia's minister mentioned by Priscus, (H)onegesius, i. e., the Hungar of Widsith and of Saxo's Danish History; for the epical Riidiger and the historical Onegesius both appear as kind hosts to foreigners during the perilous trip through the Danubian regions to Attila's Court.
Apart from this, Riidiger has but one prominent character- istic, his firm alliance with Dietrich von Bern. This loyalty, Matthei points out, takes the place of the usual epical accom- paniment of father, brother, or son. The situation reflects exactly the alliance of Hrodwulf the Erulian with Theodoric the Great.
At the news of Riidiger's death, Dietrich was seized with wild despair. His men flung themselves furiously upon the
13 Cf . Sch6nfeld, Worterbuch der dtgermanischen Personen- und Vdlkerna- men.
14 Cf. Boer, Zeitsckriftf. d. Phil., XXV, p. 443; Matthaa, Zeitschriftf. D. Alt. XLIII, p. 305, ff.; H. Bertelsen in his edition oipidrikssaga a/Bern, p. 410.
16 Matthaei, 1. c., p. 316.
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slayers, but, with the exception of the old Hildebrand, were themselves killed. Dietrich's despair expresses Theodoric's feeling as his policy was menaced by the defeats of his allies, as of Hrodwulf in 512. The flight of Dietrich's men reflects the ruin of the Gothic power after Theodoric's death, with the fatal defeat by the Byzantines, 535-553.
5. MEROVINGIAN LEGEND A. THE HEATHEN KING HLODWIG AND HIS BRIDE CHRODHILD
After Attila's death and the defeat of the Huns, two con- temporary Gothonic conquerors founded empires upon the ruins of Rome; one the Gothic Theodoric the Great, of the Amalungian dynasty, in Italy; the other the Franconian Chlod- wig, founder of the state of France, a Merovingian. Both empires became famous in legends, offering the next epical culminations after Attila. Theodoric, as Dietrich von Bern, soon eclipsed Ermanric and Attila, but his brilliance was meteoric, and at length he occupies only a subordinate place in the Nibelungen legend, along with his faithful friend the Erulian Hrodwulf.
We have noted above the incident of Attila and the Chris- tian princess Honoria in 447, the first case of a heathen king woo- ing a Christian maiden. Attila's fame must have added to the sensation the event caused. Previous to his time, the female element had played no r61e worth mention in Gothonic litera- ture. But Attila's love story lacked one thing for literary appeal; he did not win the lady. As legend could not allow a hero of his rank to go without a bride, one had to be borrowed from another hero. For this purpose, Chlodwig the Merovin- gian came in handily. He was, next to Attila, the most impor- tant heathen conqueror who wooed an imprisoned Christian princess, and had the further advantages of having been suc- cessful in his suit.
The fusion, according to epical laws, was a matter of course. Attila, as the more famous hero, kept his name; Chlodwig sup- plied the story, and then disappeared from legend, lingering only in some Eddie poems in the shadowy references to "Chlodwig's halls." Such a disappearance is explained only by the assump- tion that he has been swallowed up by a more famous figure.
The Nibelungen Legend 311
The observation of this fusion is due to Sophus Bugge and Carl Voretzsch, who furnish exact particulars.16 We can but point out some main features.
Gregory of Tours gives nearly the pure history. The Bur- gundian King Gundbad, he says, had slain his own brother, Chilperic, and kept his two daughters Chrona and Chrodhild in custody. Hearing of Chrodhild's beauty, Chlodwig, in 493, proposed. Gundbad dared not refuse. As queen, Chrodhild converted her husband and stirred up her sons to revenge her on her Burgundian kindred. She was successful (523-532), Godomar succumbing in 532.
The same tale, epically depicted, is seen in Fredegar's Chronicle (7th Century), in the Neustrian Liber Historiae (8th Century), and in Aimoin's Chronicle. The new version appears then in Attila's wooing of Erka in the Thidrekssaga and of Kriemhild in the Nibelungenlied. The following summary appears in each detail both in one of the half-historical chroni- cles, and in one of the legends.
A mighty heathen king heard of a beautiful Christian prin- cess (Chrodhild) whose guardian, the Burgundian king (Gun- thar), had killed a relation of hers and imprisoned her and her sister. The heathen king sent messengers to propose, but they were denied sight of her. One of the messengers, in disguise, succeeded in reaching her, his fellows being hidden in a wood. She feared to marry a heathen, but was persuaded in the hope of converting him. She confirmed the promise by a ring given to the messenger, and fled with him. The Burgundian king had a counsellor who opposed the match strongly. She was pur- sued, and her treasures were captured, though she escaped and sent back forces to harry the Burgundian lands. After the wedding she continued to plan revenge, and finally caused the ruin of Burgundy. In the Nibelungen story, one of the ruined Burgundian princes is Gernot who takes the place of the Eddie Gottormr (Godomar) the historical Burgundian king who fell in 532.
The identity of the love stories of Attila and Chlodwig cannot be doubted, as they are the first Gothonic specimens of their kind both in legend and history, and the action in both
"Studier over de nordiske Gude-og Hdtesagns Opinddse, II, p. 260, ff.; and Zeitschrift f. D. A., 1909, p. 50, ff.
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cases is of the 5th Century. Through the medium of Chlodwig, then the Burgundian-Hunnic drama has been enriched with one of its most dramatic figures, the Burgundian princess who ruins her own relations with the aid of a heathen husband.
Leaving Act II of the drama, we turn to the overture and Act I.
5. THE MEROVINGIAN LEGEND B "THE KINDRED OF WOLVES" vs. "THE KINDRED OF DOGS"
Fredegar (chapter 9) reports the mythical origin of the Mero- vingian dynasty. The wife of Chlodio, Franconian king, was impregnated by a bull-like beast which arose from the sea. Her son was Merowech, who gave his name to the dynasty.
We regard Merowech as an eponymous figure. In the grave of his reputed son Childeric a golden bull's head was found, in 1653, belonging to a royal diadem.17 It shows the authenticity of the bull myth. But other animals appear in Merovingian dynastic tradition.
Fredegar says that the Franks dethroned their king because of his sexual debauchery. The Thoringian king Basin in Holland received him kindly, and Childeric, in true Merovin- gian style, rewarded him by seducing and carrying off his wife Basina. Soon after, she dreamed she saw the palace yard filled with lions, tigers and other large carnivora; then with wolves and similar beasts; then with dogs and other smaller animals which bit and tore each other. The dream was ex- plained as a prophecy of the fates of the Merovings. The problem is to discover it in legends outside of France.
The lions obviously allude to Childeric's son, Chlodwig. But as he was replaced in the legend by Attila, it is likely that this replacement explains the disappearance of the symbol of the lions. The wolves, as it appears from German legends, refer to king Theodoric of Austrasia, illegitimate son of Chlod- wig, and Theodoric's illegitimate son Theodbert, the last of the line. These last two kings gained fame through their defeat of the Viking Hugleik (circ. 513), and increased it by subjugat- ing the Thuringian king Irminfrid (530), the Irnfrido of the Nibelungenlied. The wolf symbol reappears in history in
» Cf. Mullenhoff in Zeitschriftf. D. A., 1848, p. 434.
The Nibelungen Legend 313
connection with Austrasia, and, strangely enough, applied to kings who repeat the names Theodoric and Theodbert. They were grandsons of the Austrasian king Sigbert, and when, in 613 they were engaged in fratricidal strife, Bishop Lesio of Mayence told Theodoric the parable of the old wolf who said to his children "Look as far as your eyes reach, you have no friend except your own kindred."18 The parable probably was meant to contrast the dissention of that generation as compared with the harmony of the older generation of "wolves."
The German legend remembers the wolf symbol as distinctly connected with the older Theoderic and Theodbert, here called Hug-Dietrich and Wolf-Dietrich. Their descendents are the Wiilfings. Wolf-Dietrich, an illegitimate son like his historical model, abandoned as an infant in a wood, is found by a she- wolf and raised with her offspring. The Wiilfings' struggle against a kindred line of legitimate birth reflects the historical situation of Theoderic and his step-brothers. Though the Wiilfings in German tradition have no connection with the Nibelungen legend, such connection is furnished by the Edda. The northern Ylfings and the Volsungs appear as descendants of the Nibelungen hero Sigmund (i. e. the Burgundian king Saint Sigismund, father-in-law of Theodoric the Autrasian). As step-father of Wolf-Dietrich's mother, Sigmund might be called the ancester of the epical Wiilfings, Sophus Bugge indi- cates further Merovingian records in the legends of the Ylfings.19
The third animal symbol, the dogs, indicates Chlodwig's legitimate younger sons who carried on the dynasty to its ends in the 8th Century. The names of this line often repeat initial CH (English H) as in their ancestors; so Chlodio, Chilperic, Chlodwig; and Chlodmer, Charbert, Chlodwig; the epical name of "Hounds," certainly reflects this. The Hounds fight the Wolves, and also each other, this last echoing the quarreling curs in the legend of Childeric and Basina.
In the Edda, they appear as Hundings, enemies of the Yl- fings. The Hunding Hervard is Chlodwig's son Charbert; Lyngve, the younger Merovingian Chlodwig (Louis). The
18 Cf. G. Kurth, Histoire pottique des Merovingiens, p. 412.
19 Studier over de nord. Gude-og Hdtesagns Opinddse, II, p. 79, ff. E. g., Hjorvard Ylfing of the Ynglingsaga is identified with Theodoric, the Hug- Dietrich of the German legend.
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picture is as unflattering as in Basina's dream. In the Vol- sungakvida, Hunding's conqueror, Helga Sigmundsson receives him scornfully in Valhall setting him the most menial tasks.
Some few of the "Hounds" scarcely deserve the dynastic reputation. Sigbert II was an exception to Merovingian de- bauchery and meanness. The legend therefore took him from the family of "Hounds," attributed him to a separate Volsung family, and linked him superficially to the older favor- ite group, the "Wolves." Sigmund, as ancestor of both Ylfings and Volsungs was the means of connection.
The chief action of the Ylfing legend is centered about Saint Sigismund. As he was a Burgundian, his legend would seem to belong to his own country rather than to the Merovingians. But as his son-in-law and conqueror were both Merovingian, his fate was recorded in their cycles, and passed from them to Scan- dinavia as an Ylfing legend.
The struggle of Sigmund and his son Sinfiotle with Siggeir seems to contain some myth, for Bugge finds Sinfiotle in the northern ballads of the mythical Sven Felding. The historical thread appears in Sinfiotle's death in the Edda. The narrative which follows is shared by Gregory III (ch. 5), there related of Sigismund and his son Sigeric.
Sigeric, proud and gallant, hated and was hated by his step- mother, who caused him to be murdered without objection from his father. Sigismund immediately repented and embraced his dead son. An old man remarked that such care for the dead son was superfluous.
This is the first cruel stepmother tale in Gothonic history and legend. The name Sigismund appears in both versions; it is known in history at the beginning of the Christian era, but not again for five centuries. The wretched Saint Sigismund is the next of the name, and his portrait corresponds so exactly to that of the Eddie Sigmund that there can be no doubt they are identical. The parallel goes further; Sigismund was con- quered and slain by Chlodwig's son Chlodmer in 523, shortly before the birth of Sigbert II; the epical Sigmund was slain by Hunding's sons shortly before the birth of Sigurd.
In the legend, Helga Sigmundsson accomplishes the revenge, reflecting the historical Childbert, son of Sigbert II, perhaps.
The Nibelungen Legend 315
If so, the episode does not belong in the true Ylfing cycle. This will be dealt with later.
7. MEROVINGIAN LEGEND C: THE 'WERGELD' OF THE GOTHS;
ALBERICH'S DEFEAT; THE AVARICE or FARRO AND RAGNHAR;
AMALRIC'S FLIGHT; THE MURDER OF SIGBERT I;
GODOMAR THE BlJRGUNDIAN AS SLAYER
OF A FRANCONIAN
PRINCE
Alberich, the dwarf, who in the Nibelungenlied attempts to defend the hoard against the Franconian Sigfrid, is named obviously from the ancient Celtic god, Mars Albiorix, wor- shipped in Gaul. He represents also the histprical Gothic king Alaric who was conquered in 507 and lost his Gallic territory and huge treasure to Chlodwig's Franks.20
The Edda does not know Alaric's name, but contains another mythical legend which points toward his time.
Fredegar says that Alaric was convicted of attempts on Chlodwig's life. The Goths were forced to pay as much gold as would cover a Franconian horseman sitting upright on his horse. When the top of his head was covered, still the tip of his lance projected, and this, too, the Goths were forced to cover.
In 538, the Goths were obliged to pay another large fine to the Franks; according to Gregory, 50,000 ducats. This was in payment for the murder of queen Amalasuintha, of the Franconian dynasty, by King Athalric of Italy. Soon after, the Franconian kings, Chlodwig's two sons, murdered the sons of their late brother Chlodmer.
The Eddie correspondence appears in the Reginsmal. This is the well known story of the killing of Hreidmar's son Ottar, and the wergeld of the otter's skin filled and covered with gold. To cover the last whisker, Loke was forced to give up a ring, with which went his curse upon any owner of the hoard. Hreid- mar and his sons soon fell out over the division of the hoard and killed each other.
Jacob Grimm 2l has shown correspondences to the "wergeld" in real life. There is an essential difference, however. In the
10 Cf. Giesebrecht in von der Hagen's Germania, 1837, p. 212.
11 Deutsche Rechtsdtertiimer, p. 668.
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Merovingian and Eddie type, the object to be covered is placed head upwards, and a projecting extremity is covered separately. Grimm's other examples are of the type in which the animal is hanged head down, and covered with grains.22 The contrast is important, as the Eddie- Merovingian type is individual, while the other type is frequent from England and Germany to Arabia. The Merovingian story is solitary in so-called history; its Eddie correspondence is solitary in mythical and epical literature. The time, too, coincides very nearly; the Merovin- gian incident in 507, and the Eddie about the time of the birth of Sigurd (Sigbert II, born 530). The "Goths" of the Mero- vingian tale have become "Gods" in the Edda. The dead Chlodmer whose sons are killed by their uncles soon after the payment of the Gothic fine, seems to reflect Hreidmar, whose sons kill him and each other after the "wergeld" of the gods. Such parallels are scarcely accidental.
After Alaric's ruin, Merovingian history continues with further treachery and plunderings.23 The figure of Chlodwig's kinsman, Ragnhar, king of Cambrai, emerges as noted for this treachery and lust, equalled only by his counsellor Farro. He, with his brothers and Farro, was overcome and plundered by Chlodwig. A study of this situation in detail would indicate a close parallel between it and the Eddie situation after the "wergeld" episode, the avarice of Chlodwig, Rhagnar and Farro being echoed in Hreidmar's sons, Ottar, Regin and Fafne. Of Ottar it has been said that "he ate with closed eyes, because he could not bear to see his food dwindle."
Two more episodes from the last years of Chlodwig are traceable in the legend.24
The Gothic king Amalric was ejected from Gaul by Chlod- wig in 507. This is the knight Amelrich, who according to the Nibelungenlied (str. 1548, Bartsch) had been driven out by his enemies. He is mentioned in Act II, but the event is of the time of Act I, i. e., about the time of Chlodwig.
Sigbert I, king of Rhenish Franconia was murdered by his own son Chlodric at the instigation of Chlodwig, in 509, four-
22 Six times a dog (Germany, Arabic), once a cat (Wales), once a swan (England). A northern variety is an ox-hide filled with meal.
23 Gregory, I, c. 42.
24 Gregory, II, c. 37 and c. 40.
The Nibelungen Legend 317
teen years before the death of Sigismund. The names and the details, nearly complete, reappear in the Nibelungenlied. Acci- dental parallelism is here impossible. It is an exact description.
Finally we may add an episode from the years just after Chlodwig's death.25
Chlodmer the Franconian was killed in 523 by the Burgun- dian Godomar. In the Edda, Gottormr (Burgundian) kills the Franconian Sigurd. As Chlodmer was the uncle of Sigbert II (Sigurd) the historical situation is preserved, though the only name kept is that of the slayer.
The Merovingian saga from first to last is a chain of adultery, treachery, plunder, and murder of kinsmen. Especially promi- nent in all this was Chlodwig. When he was replaced by Attila, no nucleus remained for the heritage which the Nibelungen legend took from the Merovingian age. But the likenesses remain in the portraits of such creatures as Ottar and Fafne.
8. MEROVINGIAN LEGEND D. SIGBERT II, BRUNHILD, AND
THEIR AGE
In vain have we sought thus far for an historical person who might have grown into the Nibelungen hero, with certain marked personal qualities. Ermanric, Gunthar, Hrodwulf, Theodoric, Attila, and all the others have each some marked defect which bars him. In the days of Theodbert the Wiilfing and of Sigismund, the hero appears, accompanied by a heroine of equal rank.
These persons are king Sigbert II who died in 575, and his queen Brunhild, who survived until 613. They were contem- poraries of Gregory of Tours, who describes their lives with details sufficient to recognize clearly in them the two figures in which the Nibelung drama culminates. We begin with a general survey of persons and setting.26
Sigbert was king of Austrasia, i. e., northern France extend- ing beyond the Rhine. He is the epical Sigurd Fafnesbane, alias Sigfrid of Rhenish Franconia. He married Brunhild of the Baldung dynasty, daughter of king Athanagild in Ispania (Spain). She is Brynhild the Budlung, the sister of Atla living
26 Gregory, III, c. 6.
* Cf. our more detailed synopsis in Arkivf. nord.filologi, 1907, p. 16.
318 Schiitte
in Isenland. In history as in legend, she died as regent of Burgundy, living at Worms. Her enemies charged her with Sigbert's death. Gunthram, king of Burgundy, married Bobila and became adoptive father of Brunhild's children. He is the epical Gunnar-Gunthar, husband of Brynhild. In his ancestors and in Brynhild's descendants, the name Sigbert occurs, and their son is Sigfrid. Sigbert's death was caused by Gunthram's brother Chilperic, king of Neustria, with the capital Tournay (Flemish Doornik) and his accomplice, the rival of Sigbert's queen. In the Nibelungenlied it is due to Hagen-Hogne, kinsman of Gunnar, the Hagen of Tronege (Troneck). Four of Chilperic's descendants were named Dagbert, one of them the last prominent Merovingian (Hagen's brother Dankwart; in the northern introductory legend, Hogne's son Dag) Chil- peric's family is aided against Sigbert's by Arnulf of Metz (cf. Hagen's nephew Ortwin of Metz). Sigbert, as was Sigfrid in the Nibelungenlied, was attacked by Danes and Saxons allied; and fought against the "Hagan" ("Chakan" — chieftain) of the Avares, who is the second model for Hagen.
Sigbert is a real hero in history. According to Dahn's "Urgeschichte der germanischen und romanischen Volker," he is the greatest Merovingian statesman after Chlodwig. His victory over the Danes and Saxons made him famous. He was not only clever and gallant; he was noble and pure. Dahn calls him the only moral hero among the Merovings, therefore their only real hero. On the dark background of his kinsmen he appears twice glorious. His tragic fate and the epical prominence of his dynasty did the rest; he was thus uncontestably entitled to become a great epical hero, in some Gothonic legends, the highest. It is only a wonder that scholars have not been able to realize this fact. If France could build her greatest epical hero out of an obscure count Roland of Brittany, king Sigbert must be tenfold qualified for similar rank.
Brunhild, like Sigbert, had a proud and clever nature. She was bold, ambitious, revengeful, both amazon and iron- clad; but always noble, as in her pardon of the assassins sent against her by her rival. Above all was her love for her husband, though singularly enough, after his death she married a relative of the murderer. Her conflict with a rival queen
The Nibelungen Legend 319
got her into misfortune, and her enemies charged her with Sigbert's death. Later French legends make her a powerful witch, and in northeastern France and Rhenish Germany numerous roads, peaks and castles bear her name.
Gunthram of Burgundy, (died 593) was weak and unwarlike. He tried in vain to reconcile the fighting queens. Chilperic of Tournay (died 584) was intriguing, clever, unscrupulous, avaricious. Inspired by his queen, equally unscrupulous, he caused the ruin of the hero and took his treasure. His younger relative Dagbert, with Arnulf of Metz, we will speak of later.
The multiplicity and contrasts of character could scarcely be reflected more faithfully than through the persons appearing in the Nibelung Act I. In the action, too, we find correspond- ec~~s.
In 561 when Sigbert became king, he had trouble over bound- aries and treasure. In 562, while being threatened by the Avaric "Hagan" (Chakan — chieftain) he also withstood Chilperic of Tournay. In 567 he made an inexplicable and unsuccessful attack on Gunthram of Burgundy. An attack of combined Danes and Saxons was repelled by Sigbert's gen- eral, who is praised in a poem by Venantius Fortunatus. In 572 Sigbert and Gunthram together defended Burgundy against the Saxons.
Sigbert desired to marry a princess, and in 566 wooed and wed Brunhild of Ispania. In 567 her sister was wedded to one of the Franconian kings, but was soon repudiated and killed, her place being taken by a rival who then came into conflict with Brunhild. The consequence was the murder of Sigbert about ten years after his wedding, by Chilperic. Brunhild's enemies accused her. Sigbert's treasure was taken by his murderer, but his son was saved by a faithful guardian. Brun- hild married a relative of the murderer, but did not leave her late husband's family. Gunthram became the foster father of her children and she herself died at Worms where she had lived as regent of Burgundy. Chilperic died in 584, and Brun- hild was blamed for his death, as she was known to have plotted revenge. Three years later, Gunthram effected a temporary reconciliation between the hostile queens. In 630, Dagbert, Chilperic's younger relative defeated an army of "Huns," but in the same year was totally defeated by the heathen
320 SchiMe
barbarians in eastern Germany. He was succeeded by another Sigbert.
The Nibelungenlied has these events in nearly the same sequence, remembering even the ten years between the hero's wedding and death, and the three years between the death of Brunhild's rival's husband and the agreement effected by Gunthram.
It seems inconceivable that scholars have been able to deny the historical character of the Nibelung Sigfrid and Brynhild.. No parallel between history and legend is more rich and strik- ing.
It is unique that one situation contains all the persons: Sigbert, Brunhild, Gunthram of Burgundy, Hagan, Hagen of Tournay; and the legend Sigfrid, Brynhild, Gunthar of Bur- gundy, Hagen of Tronege.
It is unique that a European queen, also regent of Burgundy and residing at Worms, has the name Brynhild-Brunhild, as she is the first historical person of that name, and Worms was not known as a residence town before 613 when she stayed there.27
It is unique that Danes and Saxons are spoken of as making a combined attack on the Franks; Sigbert is the only king who repelled such an attack.
It is unique, before the time of Mary and Elisabeth, that Europe witnesses a conflict between queens such as that between Brunhild and her rival.
Certainly the developing legend has changed considerably, especially in the relations of the hero to his queen and his murderer, yet the alterations contain nothing abnormal from the epical point of view. Much is explained if we remember that the descendants of Sigfrid's murderer finally crushed Brunhild's party and caluminated her memory infamously.
The northern legend takes the part of the victorious faction almost entirely, but confuses historical fact at times, and has the intriguing dowager-queen Grimhild, who seems to reflect the intriguing Burgundian princess Chrodhild. Gottormr, younger brother to Gunnar, is made the murderer; he is Godo- mar who killed Sigbert's uncle in 523.
87 Cf. Abeling, Das Nibelungenlied, p. 207.
The Nibelungen Legend 321
The Low German version found also in Denmark, keeps Hagen as the murderer, but otherwise reverses the situation as follows:
NlBELUNGENLEED HVEENSKE KK0NIKE (Danish)
Gunther complains that his wife Sigfrid complains that his wife Brynhild is reluctant. At night she Gremhild is reluctant. At night she ties him to a beam. Sigfrid secretly ties him to a beam. Hogen secretly takes his place and tames Brynhild. takes his place and tames Gremhild. Gunther repays evil for good. Sigfrid meanwhile lies in Hogen's bed,
and repays evil for good by seducing Hogen's wife, Gluna.
Here it can be seen that Brynhild has become Kriemhild; Gunther is Sigfrid; and Sigfrid, Hagen.
The High German legend remembers Hagen as a murderer. The Nibelungenlied lessens his crime, and Brynhild is denounced as the murderer, though not so violently as in the "Helreid Brynhildar"
The High German Sigfridslied partially resembles the Hveenske Krfinike. Brynhild's name has disappeared; Sigfrid's wife Kriemhild represents her. The identity is indicated from the episode wherein Sigfrid wins the dragon hoard and the imprisoned princess. His wife has no part in his death. The plot has exclusively political motives, and is due to Hagen and his brothers.
This synopsis shows a scale gradually leading from the calumnies of a victorious faction to an almost historic represen- tation. The legends differ more from each other than the Sigfridslied differs from history.
The marriage plot demands more detailed investigation. The most obvious epical changes are the divorce of Sigbert and Brunhild and of Chilperic and Fredegund, and the making of Brynhild the wife of Gunthram. The characters of the intrigu- ing couple are also changed.
Most radical is the divorce of Brunhild and Sigbert in the Nibelungenlied, where there is no trace of their connection, merely a mention of their earlier acquaintance.
The northern version has them betrothed; the Volsungasaga mentions a daughter of theirs; and the hero marvelously delivers the maiden and marries her in the Eddie Sigrdrffumdl,
322 SchiUte
the Hveenske Krfinike and the Sigfridslied. In explanation of such changes of historical truth, we may indicate several reasons.
1. The official calumnies against Brunhild, which in repetitions of the story caused a luckless marriage to be replaced with a divorce.
2. Brunhild's marriage to a son of her husband's murderer. Far from forgetting Sigbert, she so influenced her second husband that he abandoned his family, and was hounded to death by his parents. But gossips would naturally be startled by her marriage, and suggest some dark secret behind her life with Sigbert.
3. Some confusions of names and qualities. Brunhild died as regent of Burgundy. Gunthram, foster father of her children, had a wife whose pet name Bobila might in time be mistaken as a similarly familiar name for Brunhild.
4. The causal nexus between the marriages of rival couples. Chilperic, following Sigbert's example, had mar- ried Brunhild's sister Gailasvintha or Galsvintha. He soon killed her and married Fredegund, whose conflict with Brunhild led to Sigbert's murder. This situation, the first of its sort in Gothonic history, occupies a similarly isolated place in epical literature in the interdependent wooings of Sigfrid-Sigurd and Gunther-Gunnar. Later action in the episode is told differently in the legend; the murderer has been more or less cleared, and Fredegund has lost her name, apart from the syllable "gunth" which reappears in the northern name of Gu(n)drun, Sigurd's wife. But such changes cannot astonish us when we remember that the murderer and his accomplice belonged to the victorious faction, and their point of view influenced the traditions in calumnies against the conquered. More- over, the defeated faction, fearing the victors, dared not men- tion them by their true names. The mixture of entire lie and disguised truth resulted in the mixture in the legends.
A germ of the confusion may be seen in the double wooing. The Nibelungenlied reflects it in Sigfrid's wooing of Brynhild for Gunther, his future murderer Hagen accompa- nying him on the courting expedition. In the course of time
The Nibelungen Legend
323
the historically interdependent wooings could not easily be distinguished, and a fusion of Sigbert and Chilperic came about. We may assume the following primary develop- ment from history toward legend:
HISTORY
Sigbert proposes to Brunhild.
Chilperic proposes to Brunhild's sister
and repudiates her, later marrying
Frede-Gund.
Brunhild and her husband plan
revenge.
Chilperic murders Sigbert
ASSUMABLE FIRST FORM OF CALUMNY
Sigbert proposes to Brunhild.
Chilperic proposes to Brunhild's sister.
Sigbert repudiates Brunhild, later
marrying Gund(run).
Brunhild and her new lover plan
revenge.
Chilperic kills Sigbert
Whether this form of the intermediate stage be correct or not, it is true that the fusion of Sigfrid and his murderer appears in the Hveenske Krtfnike, as we have seen.
In the Nibelungenlied the fusion is not so evident at first sight, but in reality is more extensive. It here appears after Sigfrid's death. In 613 the victorious faction had accused Brunhild of the death of both Sigbert and Chilperic. The legend amalgamates her "victims" with this resulting parallel between history and legend:
GREGORY OF TOURS
When Chilperic had been murdered, his wife carried him into the cathe- dral, and provisionally dwelt there (VII, ch. 4).
His treasures were largely distributed among the poor. The spoils of his magnates were restored to the legal owners. (VII, ch. 8 and 19)
Gunthram of Burgundy visited the cathedral, complaining the murder. He asked the people to spare himself. (VII, ch. 5 and 8)
He protected the helpless widow against Brunhild (VII, ch. 7).
He caused the widow to be moved from her asylum. (VII, ch. 19)
NIBELUNGENLIED
When Sigfrid had been murdered, his wife carried him into the cathedral, and provisionally dwelt there (Str. 1039-1058, Bartsch)
His treasures were largely distributed among the poor. Kriemhild's liber- ality frightened the murderer, who consequently later captured her treas- ures. (1060-1128)
Gunther of Burgundy visited the cathedral, complaining the murder. He tried to excuse the murderer. (1040)
Gunnar protected the helpless widow against Brynhild. (Edda)
He caused the widow to be moved from her asylum. (1080)
324 SchilUe
For safety's sake she was shut up in a She kept herself deliberately shut up palace in Rotomagus, with her cour- in a palace in Borbetomagus (Worms) tiers (VII, ch. 19). with her courtiers. (1102)
She hired assasins against Gunthrum. She planned revenge, and said not a (VII, ch. 18; Vin, ch. 19) word to Gunther. (1024, 1027, 1106)
Three years after the murder Gun- Three and a half years after the mur-
thram brought about a general recon- der Gunther brought about a general
ciliation. The enemies kissed each reconciliation. The enemies kissed each
other. Gunthram praised the Lord." other. "Never a reconciliation was
(IX, ch. 11) effected with more tears.' (1108-1115)
Accidental coincidence is excluded.
It may still be remembered that Chilperic is perhaps amalgamated with several corresponding epical figures, not- ably the "Hagan" or chieftain of the Avares, another of Sig- bert's enemies; with the Roman Aetius or Agetius, lord of the Burgundians in Gaul, a similarly demonic character; and with Chlodric, slayer of Sigbert I.
It remains to consider the remarkable situation in the epic, wherein Sigfrid-Sigurd changes place and wife with Gunther- Gunnar or with Hagen. More surprising is it in those versions which make Sigurd assume the shape of Gunnar. It is a capital basis for those scholars who interpret the saga of Sigfrid-Sigurd as pure myth. In our opinion, the so-called "mythical situation" is simply an expression of the perplexity of narrators when they faced the fact that Version A referred to Sigbert and his group the identical actions which Version B gave to the murderer and his adherents.
As has been pointed out by Leo Jordan, the double wooing has a correspondence in the old French lay of Girart. This French continuation need not be derived from Germany; it may be a direct reflection from the Franconian legends of Sig- bert and Chilperic. We cannot, however, enter upon that question, here.
The final result of the development is a picture astonishing in its general faithfulness to fact, and its colossal vigor. The hero Sigbert stands pure and splendid. Even his worst enemies did not succeed in blackening him, aside from solitary exceptions as the Hveenske Krtfnike. Brunhild, however, has been so stig- matized that some historians have had difficulty in discerning
The Nibelungen Legend 325
her noble character. Still, no calumnies have succeeded in eclipsing that version which showed her as a grand heroine. She has remained the proud Amazon who finally mounted to the sky in mythical guise as a Valkyrie.
Here we leave the dramatic summit of the Nibelungen legend. What remains is of lesser importance and has assumed color and power only through its fusion with the old Burgun- dian drama.
9. MEROVINGIAN LEGEND E. DAGBERT AND SAMO
The decades between 587 and 630 offered few epical impul- ses. An Eddie poem reflects the horror of Brunhild's execution in 613 ; that is all. The postlude of the drama is furnished in an echo of the defeat in East Germany in 630 of King Dagbert who reigned from 622 to 638.
Dagbert, the last prominent Merovingian, grandson of Chilperic the murderer, ruled over Franconia and Burgundy, his family having subdued the descendants of Childbert Sigbertsson. Supported by Arnulf of Metz and Pipin, his counsellors, he tried to strengthen the failing royal power. Fredegar calls him a gallant warrior. At first munificent, he later turned avaricious. He had so many concubines that Fredegar does not trouble to enumerate them. He often broke faith; an example will be cited below.
Dag, son of Hogne, nephew of Sigar, and adversary of the Ylfing hero Helge Sigmundsson appears in the northern over- ture to the legend. He undoubtedly reflects Dagbert, but shares no individual features of character except the tendency to breach of faith.
The German version has a more distinct, though not copious parallel, in Dankwart, marshal of Burgundy. He is a gallant warrior, not so cruel and unscrupulous as his kinsman Hagen. He is pleasing to women, according to Brunhild's maidens (str. 414, Nibelungenlied).
Arnulf of Metz, an ancestor of the Carolingians, held an important place in Dagbert's councils. In 613 he assisted Chlothar, Dagbert's father, in the rebellion against Sigbert's widow and the murder of his grandson Sigbert. In 627 he retired to the life of a hermit, and after his death in 641 was canonized. It is among his descendants that the name Nibelung
326 Schiltte
first appears, in the person of Pipin's grandson who wrote the so-called Fredegar' s Chronicle from 751 to 768. A namesake belongs to the adherents of Charles the Bald, 850.28
Ortwin of Metz in the Nibelungenlied corresponds fairly well with Arnulf. As the latter supports the descendants of Sigbert's slayer, so Ortwin follows Dankwart and Hagen. In str. 869 he claims Sigfrid's death. But just as Arnulf takes no part in Dagbert's great struggle with the eastern barbarians, so Ortwin silently disappears after str. 1184, taking no part in the great battle with the Huns. Though the names differ widely, it is of note that both are of Metz, and that the historical name of Nibelung appears first among the adversaries of Sigbert, just as the epical name Nibelung is first and mainly connected with the enemies of Sigfried-Sigurd. The parallelism is scarcely accidental.
Dagbert's conqueror, the heathen king Samo, partially recalls Attila. Though born in Christian Franconia, he ruled a heathen country, leading barbarian Slavs and Huns (Avares) against eastern Germany. His resemblance to Attila is not complete, for while Attila was a violent conqueror, Samo, according to Fredegar, was extremely peaceful. But the Attila of the Nibelungenlied has one feature in contrast to his historical model; an extreme peacefulness which accords with the historical Samo.
The characters then correspond; Dagbert of Franconia and Burgundy, Arnulf of Metz and Samo king of heathen Slavs are reflected in the Nibelungenlied by Marshal Dankwart of Bur- gundy, Ortwin of Metz, and the heathen king Attila.
The main lines of the action follow. We do not enter upon the northern version, but regard only the German, which con- tains the most conspicuous sequence of episodes. The history is chiefly from Fredegar.
Sigbert's party was opposed by Dagbert's grandfather Chil- peric of Tournay, 562-584; and by Dagbert's ally, Arnulf of Metz in 613. Dagbert conquered the Saxons. Arnulf retired in 627. In 630 Dagbert received a band of fugitive Huns (Bulgares) near the Bavarian frontier, and later slaughtered most of them. At the same time he became involved in a war
»* Miillenhoff, Zeitschriftf. D. A., XII, p. 290, 293.
The Nibelungen Legend 327
with Samo, king of heathen barbarians in East Germany. Dagbert's army was totally defeated and the Merovingian domination over Germany was broken. Dagbert's successor, Sigbert, deplored the unrevenged catastrophe.
In the legend, Sigfrid is opposed by Hagen of Tronege, Dankwart his kinsman, and Ortwin of Metz, both during his first conflict with Gunther and during the strife of the queens. Dankwart took part in the victory over the Saxons. Ortwin disappears after str. 1184, taking no part in the great Hunnic battle. This battle near the Bavarian border was caused by Dankwart killing duke Bloedlin whom Kriemhild had sent out with a band of Huns. In the battle against the Huns of Etzel, Dankwart and his whole army perished. The young surviving Burgundian king Sigfrid deplored the catastrophe.
Dagbert's defeat had wide consequences. It delivered Eastern Germany to the invading Slavs, and all traces of Goth- onic nationality disappeared. It is likely that such a catas- trophe would be epically remembered by the beaten peoples, as the Britons remembered the fame of Artus and his struggle against the invading Anglo-Saxons. Such a legend is the episode of Dankwart in the Nibelung Cycle; but it has been swallowed up by an older and more famous episode which also tells of the defeat of a Gothonic power by invading heathen barbarians.
With the episode of Dankwart, the growth of the Nibelung Legend ceases. After the llth Century, no new historical persons were added; only the old material was recast and other legends amalgamated. Accessions before 1200 are merely nominal figures such as Margrave Gero of Saxony, Count Rudiger of Austria, Margrave Eckewart of Meissen, and bishop Pilgrim of Passau. The last has the best claim for admission, for the poem Klage says that he had the Nibelungen legend written down "with Latin letters," i.e., in Latin trans- lation. But the presence of these four persons assists in showing that even the most subordinate persons of the legend are gen- erally of historical origin.
Thus originated that gigantic conglomerate which we have examined in its growth from the fourth to the eleventh cen- turies, the ever memorable epos of our great migration age.
GUDMUND SCHUTTE
Eskjaer, Jebyerg, Denmark
THE EDITOR OF THE LONDON MAGAZINE I. The Champion AND ITS POLITICAL ATTITUDE
The opinions of an editor who died a hundred years ago do not promise anything at all exciting, and when that editor is not among the influential ones even of his own day, there would seem to be little reason for dragging him into the light from the peaceful oblivion of a newspaper file. John Scott may safely be classed among the unknown, and the journal of politics and literature, called The Champion, which he edited from 1814 to 1817 had an inconsiderable following, yet his very obscurity contains the hint of an interest which his more imposing and popular rivals do not possess. The editor who makes an impression on his contemporaries is the one who reproduces in clearest outline and with the sharpest emphasis the thoughts of a large and active section of the public mind, who takes a definitely partisan position and is precise and dogmatic on every issue of the day. The greatness of the Edinburgh and the Quarterly Reviews, taking their ability for granted, rests on the definiteness with which they espoused respectively the principles of the Whigs and Tories, while the Examiner of Leigh Hunt found support among the followers of radical reform. Whig, Tory, and Radical — Conservative, Liberal and Laborite — it seems inevitable that political man should fall into these distinct groups. If he attempts to act outside the lines of party he is looked upon with the same sort of pity as the man without a country. Such a man, though he may meet with sympathy from the philosopher, is an outcast from the pale of the politician's approval. That he should find a spokesman in the sphere of journalism is a rare and strange occurrence. A writer of leaders who argues for principles and not for parties, for whom neither side is absolutely white or absolutely black, who exercises a clear-eyed, critical judgment against the cause which he is supporting and is ready to concede a merit to the men he is opposing, whose sole guide to expression is his own honest and independently developed reflection on events, — such an editor may not have a wide public in his own time, but he is likely to prove more interesting to a later generation than men whose opinions can be predicted according to the
328
The Editor of the London Magazine 329
formula of the party to which they belong. The special reason for an interest in John Scott is that his reflections and remarks were occasioned by events of world importance which in their operation and consequences bear the closest analogy to those of our own times, and are largely concerned with the same actors. All Europe in arms against an enemy who threatened to impose his arbitrary will upon it, and summoning against that enemy not only every military resource but every principle of morality and ideal justice. A great victory for the allies and the dictation of terms, bringing into play the familiar issues of responsibility for the war, punishment of the enemy, rights of nationalities, reconstitution of the old order, and numberless lessons to be learned from the conflict. For almost every one of our problems, whether as fundamental as the agitation of the pacifists or as idle as the clamor for the execution of the Kaiser, the Napoleonic period had its parallel, and the opinions which John Scott expressed about them in many instances still retain a force and application.
If we try to determine the position of this editor in relation to the leading parties of that era, we find ourselves immediately in some difficulties. He appears in spirit to belong to the con- servatives, proclaiming an almost superstitious devotion to the ancient laws of England and directing his efforts toward warding off "those frightful calamities which overwhelm every society when the attachment and respect for its consecrated institutions are effaced."1 But in practice the title of conservative is appropriated by a reactionary cabinet whose tendency it is to undermine the traditional liberties on which an Englishman prides himself. Association with the tools of such a ministry is repugnant to a generous mind. On the other side is the reform- ing opposition. Gradual reform is consonant with sound Brit- ish principles, but these reformers are so passionate, violent, and unreasonable that one's sense of fairness is outraged by them. The Editor of the Champion may feel that the French Revo- lution is a failure, but he must deplore its being converted, by Southey and others, into a lesson of implicit submission. Stand- ing up for popular rights against the formidable claims of Legitimacy, he is exposed to the assaults of the highly loyal,
1 The Champion, March 23, 1817.
330 Zetilin
but confessing that he hopes for better things from the rule of the Bourbons than from Napoleon, he becomes a target for the ultra-liberal. At one time he is so aroused at the "slavish, venial, and crafty" character of the government organs that he feels it might be "safer to join the small but lively system of thoughtless dissent and ingenious captiousness — calculated as it certainly is to kindle a temper of independent resistance, than to run the risk of fostering a proneness to receive the yoke, to cower under the display of force, and the unwarrantable assumption of arrogant pretension."2 But on turning to that side he sees unfairness, untruth, inconsistency, deficiency in true British feeling and sympathy with Napoleon which does more injury to the cause of freedom than all the calumny of its Tory enemies. On the one hand the Times, on the other the Morning Chronicle: it was mortifying to be thrown on either horn of the dilemma. The character of a trimmer was the only one an honorable man could adopt. "There is such a thing," he declares, "as a temper of impartiality and a desire to recon- cile the various claims of the different orders of society for the common interest of all." This he regards as the only ground which is maintainable for any truly good purpose or to one's lasting reputation and on which one may enjoy the satisfaction of associating with the strongest and purest intellects "far above the heavy vapors of arbitrary doctrine and the turbulent storms of party spirit."3
In the main Scott's views on political questions lean toward common sense and moderation. He sympathizes with rulers or statesmen who are torn between conflicting demands and believes that the good probably will always be worked out by a rough collision between those who withhold and those who demand too much. This is a feature of his essentially English character. His political creed is distinctly of the soil. Its cardinal principle is a deeply grounded faith in the popular mind. He sees in the masses of the people "a sober, steady, unpretending sense of right and wrong, a tact for the truth which directs their conduct even when it does not admit of being clearly propounded, far less of being triumphantly main-
1 The Champion, Jan. 14, 1816. 'Ibid.
The Editor of the London Magazine 331
tained, ... a severe morality which enables them quickly and with nicety to discriminate between the genuine and the counterfeit."4 In these popular sentiments he finds the sus- tenance of his own sturdy patriotism, setting their instinctive sagacity above the dispassionate calculations of the intellectu- alist. "After all our reasonings and demonstrations," he believes, "there is more of certainty, and therefore more of wisdom, in patriotic attachments than in patriotic plans. Public affections afford us a changeless test by which to try the nobility of the qualities of character."5 The consciousness that this popular sanity was a peculiar possession of his country enhanced the pride of the Englishman, whose patriotism during the Napoleonic struggle was fed from many sources. It attained its greatest expansion and exaltation after Waterloo. England's triumph, according to Scott, "will be classed amongst those magnificent examples of the higher qualities of public character that form the common stock of human nature's valuable possessions, in which every one takes an interest and a pride without regard to time or place."6 The greatness of his country is a frequent theme with him — its "unrivalled capital, unrivalled skill, unrivalled establishments, unrivalled facilities of communication and conveyance, unrivalled freedom and superior morals."7 His breast swells complacently at the thought of England's excelling virtues, — her moralities and decencies of conduct, her integrity and vigor of mind exercising themselves in all the varieties of religious and political dissent, her institutions for enlightening and improving the condition of mankind, her union of public spirit, opulence, and liberality evincing itself in behalf of almost every desirable object of attainment and needy object of compassion. "What is the character of a philosophy," he asks, "that hesitates to ac- knowledge a national superiority so constituted?"8
To be completely patriotic at that time it was necessary to hold the character of the French in profound detestation. And in this requirement, too, John Scott did not fall short. We all
4 The Champion, April 1, 1816.
6 "Paris Revisited," 180.
8 The Champion, July 24, 1815.
7 The Champion, March 10, 1816.
8 Ibid., July 24, 1815.
332 Zeitlin
know how intently the gaze becomes concentrated on the failings of a people with whom we are at war. Hostility to the French spirit and contempt of French character had been fostered in England during the eighteenth century by the school of British thought of which Dr. Johnson was the head, and Burke had fed the hatred with all the ardor of his eloquence. The influence of the war and an infatuation with German metaphysics had contributed to form Coleridge's conception of the French as an utterly vain, shallow, and unstable people. And the same opinion was pronounced by Wordsworth in solemn verse:
Perpetual emptiness! unceasing change! No single volume paramount, no code, No master spirit, no determined road, But equally a want of books and men !'
It is in this vein and with an emphasis equally marked that John Scott speaks of the French, both in his editorials and in the two books in which he describes his visits to Paris. The return of Napoleon from Elba and his apparently cordial recep- tion by the people is the occasion for one of his sweeping dia- tribes:
She has always been without poetry; she is at present without literature: her dexterity in science is very considerable, but the philosophers of England and Germany beat hers in the discovery of first principles, and in all that indicates profound thinking; her art is chiefly famous for showing skill of hand without feeling; her political history for the last twenty-five years is nothing but a tissue of crimes, inconsistencies, duperies, and misery. . . She is fierce, false, and vain: she rests her reputation on regarding honor as subordinate to success. She has been educated in ignorance and carelessness of principles, but quick, dexterous, and unhesitating in action."10
This sounds curiously like what was only yesterday being said of another continental nation. The charge of vandalism and barbarity is not wanting to complete the resemblance. "No local association," we are told, "no feeling of attachment or veneration, no propriety or advantage of position, or right of property, was ever regarded in effecting their barbarous removals. They were perpetrated in a cruel coldness of heart."11 As against the conduct of the French we are reminded
' Sonnet: Great men have been among us.
10 The Champion, April 2, 1815.
11 Paris Revisited, 108.
The Editor of the London Magazine 333
of the civilized behavior of Frederick of Prussia, who on becom- ing master of Dresden asked the magistrates for permission to sit in their gallery to admire its pictures. The French generals made their selection and packed the pictures off to France. It must be remarked, however, that some other allusions to the behavior of the conquering Prussians in France are more in accord with present notions.
Traveling in France after the first exile of Napoleon, and feeling perhaps the seductive charm of superior social manners and the atmosphere of a more refined civilization, he is provoked by the irritation to his national pride into the most vehement of his outbursts, in which the recognition of those qualities does not mitigate but rather heightens the tone of his denuncia- tion:
"They are a clever people, they are an active people, they are a gay people; but they are not deep or sound thinkers; they do not feel virtuously, or per- manently, or kindly; they have no relish for the charms of nature, — the shallow sophistications and cold forms of artificial systems are their favorites; they can see nothing but simple facts, they cannot detect causes, consequences, and connections, and (what is worst of all) their actions are not indexes to their hearts. Hence they must be, and are, smart conversers, amiable talkers, dexterous workers, persons who pull down pyramids to see what they contain, who make drawings of ruins, exhibitions of statues, and speeches at Institutes; but hence they cannot be, and are not, inspired poets, sound moralists, or correct politicians. Look at all the great modern discoveries of concealed truths that have done honor to human knowledge and advantage to the human condition, — scarcely one of them has been made by France; but France has robbed the discoverers of their honors, and France has raised many splendid but false theories, and Frenchmen have been very able and industrious com- pilers, collectors, linguists and travelers. On the other hand, by far the major- ity of atrocities, disappointments and sufferings which have befallen the world during the last hundred years, have had their source in France. There is scarcely an imaginable extreme of opposite follies and crimes in which she has not plunged herself within that period; there is not an example of imprudence which she has not afforded; not a possible boast of vanity which she has not offensively made and from which she has not been disgracefully driven. It would be unworthy of a rational man to feel incensed against a nation, but it would be bastardly and unfaithful towards all the most important interests of our nature and species, to fall silently in with pretensions that are untrue, unfair, and mischievous. There is no shape in which the claim of being the greatest people of the world can be made, in which it has not been made by the French. It is repeated day after day, under every possible change of circum- stances; now as conquerors, now as vanquished, now as Republicans, now as Imperialists, now as Royalists. Whatever freak they cut, whatever tumble
334 Zeitlin
they take, whether they stand on their heads or their heels, or lie or sit, they poke their faces in those of their neighbors with a supercilious grin of satisfaction and an intolerable assumption of superiority.12
It is quite clear that John Scott does not regard an assump- tion of superiority as becoming in everybody. But it is not as a somewhat surly, over-bearing Briton that he calls for remem- brance. These are typical manifestations of the man and show him in full sympathy with the impulses, the feelings, and the ideals of his countrymen. And this fundamental typical- ness is what gives peculiar value to his frequent expressions of protest or dissent from the conventional line. Knowing that he is immovably hostile to Napoleon and not in the least indulgent toward French character, we are the more likely to be influenced by his appeal to tolerance. At least we shall not suspect him of a sentimental, or even treacherous, weakness for the enemies of his country when he records that the influence of a journey in France was to humanize the heart and to impress upon him how little individuals are to be blamed for what we most dislike in their conduct. "And when the impression," he adds, "of this sentiment of forbearance and kindness is coupled with a dis- play of what has been working to produce the mischief and imperfection that we cannot but see and regret, the lesson, thus including a knowledge of what ought to be corrected with a motive to cheerfulness and charity, is the most useful that man can receive. It has a direct tendency to raise his nature toward that higher rank of intelligence, in which irritation against disagreeable consequences is prevented by a knowledge of their natural and necessary causes."13 There is genuine wisdom, as well as humanity, in the last sentence, and if its lesson could be impressed upon mankind, the wounds of the world would take less time to heal.
To the principle of distinguishing between the blame of a government and the blame of a people, John Scott adhered with tolerable consistency. "The share that the mass of a nation," he says in one place, "may have in any outrage com- mitted by its government is so necessarily small, and generally venial through circumstances of delusion and misrepresentation,
» "Visit to Paris in 1814," pp. 204-6. 13 "Visit to Paris in 1814," pp. 337-8.
The Editor of the London Magazine 335
that the mind of the impartial observer, seeing no just propor- tion between the offence and the retribution . . . becomes lost in indignation and sorrow, in the contemplation of human misery, from which those who are chiefly accountable for it, always chiefly escape."14 Its sovereign rights, he maintains, can never be lost to a people through the misconduct of its govern- ment. "Their natural rights as men, and their interests as individuals, cannot justly be sacrificed in consequence of out- rages committed by the state, to which, as a matter of com- pulsion and not of choice, they belong. By departing from this rule much more must be lost than can be added to the triumph of justice, and a wide door is opened to the abuse of force to enter in under the cover of the privileges of conquest and com- pensation for wrongs."15 This was Scott's warning to statesmen bent upon the "fruits of victory," that graceful euphemism for selfish aggrandizement and bitter retaliation.
Against the France of Napoleon quite as much as against Germany of the Kaiser was the spirit of the crusader invoked. The imperialism and the aggression were as flagrant in one case as in the other. It was natural, therefore, that there should be the same cries for punishment and humiliation of the offender in both cases. The passion of revenge, then as now, enveloped itself in the cloak of justice. Here again the good sense of the Editor of the Champion tore through the emotional deception and invited his readers to regard the matter in a sober light. His disdain of sham is invigorating to the moral tissue, as when he exclaims,
"If once politicians undertake to be dispensers of moral justice, where and when are their inflictions to stop? Further, what government stands forward so pure in its purposes and untainted in its conduct as to be warranted to act in the capacity of moral avenger?
Earth is sick,
And heaven is weary of the hollow words Which states and kingdoms utter when they speak Of truth and justice.
A greater outrage cannot be committed on the sense of right and wrong than is committed when the unworthy profess to be
14 "Paris Revisited," pp. 247-8. 18 The Champion, Jan. 22, 1815.
336 Zeitlin
implacable against unworthiness, and take violent means to punish guilt which does not more than equal their own. Tur- pitude committed by one state, unless it be connected with injury sustained by another, is not an object of which cabinets or princes have any right to take cognizance; and in like manner, a war that is urged merely for retaliating a pain, or establishing an abstract point of honor, and not for any definite purpose of recovery or security, is an unsuitable and improper measure, which is sure in its course to violate more of principle than it establishes, and will generally, by its fanciful and unlimited nature, betray into worse disgraces than those which it seeks to repair."16 Is there not abundant confirmation under our very eyes of the truth of this observation?
To declare that no state is qualified to impose itself as judge and executioner over another is not equivalent to denying the moral law in dealings between nations. But force does not supply the surest vindication of the moral law. There is no cynicism involved in recognizing that if the righteous are avenged, it is not always before the wicked have enjoyed their little triumph; and often, as appears from Scripture, it is not the wicked themselves but their children of whom divine destiny exacts the penalty. The moral law between states is something which is struggling to be born from the better consciousness of men. When war is forced upon us, it is well to extract from its horror and ruin whatever may contribute to the building of our ideal, but that is a far different matter from going to war for the sake of it. Some such view as this is pointed at by John Scott when he says:
If in the pursuit of such sober objects as self-defense or the recovery of property, "heaven's own finger traveling round" shall cause to "strike in thunder" to listening lands a lesson of justice in the knell of crime; if the remedy shall be such as to impress, by its coincidence with the wrong, the natural tendency of violence and oppression to recoil from their discharge to crush those who discharge them, the triumph is doubly brilliant, inasmuch as it is calculated to be doubly useful. With the particular right that is gained, the principle of right is displayed and confirmed; and mankind have an encouraging assurance given them that there are innate properties in actions, as well as in things, that provide against any very violent influx or disorder, and regulate the motions of the world by something more abidable and encouraging than the will of any of its creatures.17
18 The Champion, Jan. 22, 1815.
"Ibid.
The Editor of the London Magazine 337
Such sober objects as self-defence and the recovery of property are, to the mind of the Editor of the Champion, the real justification of war. Further than that, he declares that it was for these material interests and not for unselfish ideals that England carried on its contest against Napoleon. English- men a hundred years ago, like Englishmen and others of the present, believed that they were fighting in behalf of Europe and humanity. They were disappointed that other people did not show greater appreciation of that fact and did not evince their gratitude by material tokens. Scott bluntly reminds them that it was for themselves they had fought the fight and not for the thanks of their neighbors. He is as proud as any Englishman of his country's achievement in a struggle which for a long time she had maintained single-handed against odds. But if in the course of winning her own freedom, England res- cued other nations from the oppressor's yoke, she might look for her meed to the applause of posterity, not to "a present monopoly of hardware and broadcloth. What first-rate nation has ever been the object of contemporary gratitude?"18 He often has misgivings as to whether England's motives were quite as high and pure as even he would like to think them :
If it was, as England pretended, in pure indignation against tyranny and the pretensions of villainous imposture that she fought in Spain, and not solely against Buonaparte as the enemy of England's teas and muslins, her severe maritime code, and her suspicious Indian conquests, if it was for the Spanish people — meaning, in her classification of it, the cause of liberty, independence, virtue, and good faith — that she combatted so gloriously, is it becoming that these signs of personal esteem should be conveyed from the head of the English government to him who, as an ungrateful despot, as an enslaver of his people contrary to law, as a perfidious ingrate, ought to be deemed quite as distasteful, if not so dangerous a usurper as Buonaparte?19
"Have we not," he queries on another occasion, "in a great measure been putting national vanity in the place of magnani- mous adherence to truth, and representing a selfish hatred of a formidable enemy as a disinterested detestation of his vices?"20 And feeling in a mood of more than common candor, he makes an exposure of the foreign policy of his country which might pass for the envious complaint of one of her defeated rivals. He
18 The Champion, Oct. 13, 1816.
19 "Paris Revisited," 232.
» The Champion, March 5, 1815.
338 Zeitlin
represents her as "everywhere inciting, directing, provoking, paying, and fighting . . . everywhere forcing premature growths, supplying what was exhausted, urging what was unwilling, buying what could be bought, compelling what she could compel, lifting up to the combat those that were sunk on the earth and wished to remain there." Like Homer's gods, "for one disarmed warrior she gathered up his spear, to another she gave a shield, a third she refreshed with a cordial, a fourth she actually carried into the field and clapped him down before his adversary." A principal in Spain, an auxiliary in Germany, a counsellor in Russia, a paymaster everywhere . . . During the war she paid her neighbor's armies that the princes might fight and liberate, and after the peace she consented to pay them still, that they might dispute and enthrall."21
But while seeing squarely these realities that underlie statecraft, he, like most of us, clings to the faith that something good may come of it all, and he calls upon the rulers of England to prove to the world, something of which the world was not convinced, that the great sacrifices of the contest were not incurred to increase the arrogance of a state bent on its selfish enrichment, but were animated by "the consistent pursuit of fair and honorable views, embracing the great connection between safety and integrity, and the intimate union of political interests with the principles of political justice and gradual improvement."22 While the need of improvement is greatest abroad, where the people have not been accustomed to the same blessings as in England, England too is susceptible of improvement "by admitting popular opinion to busy itself with the internal affairs of the country, to exercise itself on the character of its political establishments, to grapple on even ground with professional and official prejudices and preposses- sions, and finally to knock everything down that does not stand firm in its own moral strength."23 Scott, indeed, is only too eager to seize on the least manifestation of hope "that the late terrible agitations have not afflicted the world quite in vain, but that a great moral and political improvement has
11 Ibid.
» "Paris Revisited," 234.
"Ibid., 231.
The Editor of the London Magazine 339
occurred as their issue."24 How pathetically familiar to our ears is the phraseology! It makes one wonder how often the poor world will have to go through these agitations before it is at length improved into a condition of respectable humanity.
There are other interesting opinions of Scott which reflect credit on his calm judgment and have a pertinence to our own problems. There is, for example, his protest against the de- mands for the trial and execution of Napoleon, to which he objects on the ground that the continental powers had ac- knowledged his imperial prerogatives and that even England had treated with him as de facto the chief magistrate of France. "With what justice," he goes on to ask, "could we put this man to death, we who are the allies and friends of Ferdinand of Spain? . . . Those who commemorate the glories of Frederick of Prussia have no title to constitute themselves into a tribunal to try Buonaparte. Under all circumstances of his case, by far the greatest outrage would have been involved in his execution."25
Finally there is that sad inheritance left by every war in the form of emergency legislation. In relation to this our experi- ence also is but a repetition of what took place a hundred years ago. The English government took advantage of its oppor- tunities to perpetuate its extraordinary powers, and in resisting it Scott again placed himself on the side of the angels. He de- nounces the demands for inquisitorial powers, and Alien Bills, and such sort of state knick-knackeries. "The fact is," he declares, "ministers at the end of a war are like persons who have so long been habituated to a variety of luxuries and satisfactions, which their peculiar situation demanded, that they began to fancy them indispensable to existence."26 And he concludes by warning the people in the future like misers to look twice at every tittle of privilege which they are asked to give up or delegate.
Such an attitude is at present commonly associated with a captiously radical, not to call it somewhat disloyal, point of view, and therefore it has been deemed less worthy of notice.
M Ibid., 62.
* The Champion, May 19, 1816.
*Ibid., June 16, 1816.
340 Zeitlin
But John Scott, as I hope has been made clear, was a staunch patriot and a conservative Englishman. Because of his unquestionable loyalty, his appeals to good sense and fair play ought to have aroused an encouraging response. That they actually did so cannot be inferred from the very moderate success of his journal, although there were discerning persons who recognized his merit. Reginald Heber is so impressed that he makes inquiries: "Who is Scott? What is his breeding and history? He is so decidedly the ablest of the weekly journalists, and has so much excelled his illustrious namesake as a French tourist, that I feel considerable curiosity about him." We, a century later, exhuming his opinions and seeing ourselves faced with the same questions, may still find in them not only a warning to our prejudices, but an example of candid thinking and of independent attachment to conscience and truth, so strong as almost to raise the man above his own prejudices.
II THE London Magazine AND THE QUARREL WITH Black-wood's
What faint reputation John Scott enjoys as a man of letters is connected with his brief editorship of the London Magazine. He was a judge of literature of no mean powers, with a taste for its highest excellences. Hazlitt in speaking of Byron on one occasion says, "His lordship liked the imaginative part of art, and so do we, and so we believe did the late Mr. John Scott."1 He ranged himself early among the discerning admirers of Wordsworth, hailing him as the greatest poet of the age;2 and he not only admired him, he absorbed him. He acclaimed Keats on his first appearance as "a genius that is likely to eclipse them all,"3 and his estimate of Shelley was equally appreciative. His essay on the Waverley Novels is among the first to make a critical appraisal of those romances.4 It is difficult to trace the hand of the editor with precision,4* but a good idea may be
1 Works, Ed. Glover and Waller, XI, 496.
1 The Champion, June 25, 1815.
*Ibid., March 23, 1817.
4 London Magazine, Jan. 1820.
*a Scott's articles in the Champion are generally signed S. or ed., and in- clude besides political editorials reviews of poems by Walter Scott, Words- worth, Southey, Leign Hunt, and Keats. His contributions to the London
The Editor of the London Magazine 341
formed of his judicial poise and sense of literary perspective from an incidental passage in one of his attacks on Blackwood's Magazine. He is here measuring the stature of Scott alongside of some of his prominent contemporaries, and after disposing of Wilson he goes on to Leigh Hunt:
"Hunt," he says, "permits a smallness of soul to be apparent in all he does: he cannot or dare not grapple with the real elements of human nature; his philosophy is as petty as his taste, and poisonous in a worse way. He would convert life into child's play, in which sweetmeats represent everything desir- able, and a surfeit is the summunt bonum. Instead of being malevolently inclined, he is really of an amiable disposition; but he is very vain, and totally destitute of magnanimity, — and hence it has happened that he has quite as often outraged merit, misrepresented character, and calumniated motive as any of the public writers who are known to be either venal or malignant. Shelley is a visionary, with a weak head and a rich imagination; and Byron, who has far more internal strength than any of those we have mentioned, is for ever playing tricks either with himself or the public; his demoniac energy, like that of the Pythia, is either wrought up by his own will, or altogether assumed as a deception. We incline to the former supposition. The author of the Scotch Novels appears among these perverters as if charged to restore to literature its health and grace, to place it again on its fair footing in society, legitimately associated with good manners, common sense, and sound prin- ciple. . . The vivacity, keenness, intelligence, and easy elegance of Sir Walter's mind, as manifested in his poems, and other avowed publications, become sublimated into genius of a high standard in the merits of the novels; but the kind is not altered, the degree only is increased.6"
Magazine bear no signature; sometimes the authorship is established by allu- sions in other places, sometimes it may be inferred, though without certainty, from internal evidence. There is no question that he wrote the articles in which Blackwood's Magazine is assailed, whether directly or casually. These are "Lord Byron: his French Critics; the Newspapers; the Magazines," May, 1820; "Blackwood's Magazine," November, 1820; "The Mohock Magazine," December, 1820; "Town Conversation," January, 1821. With almost equal certainty we may ascribe to the pen of the editor the series of articles on Livng Authors: "The Author of the Scotch Novels," January, 1820; "Wordsworth," March, 1820; "Godwin— Chiefly as a Writer of Novels," August, 1820; "Lord Byron," January, 1821; and the reviews of Scott's "Monastery," May, 1820 and "The Abbot," October, 1820. In all probability the editor is responsible also for the articles on "The Spirit of French Criticism," February, 1820, "Notices of Some Early French Poets," March, 1820, and "Literature of the Nursery," November, 1820, and for the following reviews: "Henry Matthews' Diary of an Invalid," July, 1820, "Poems of Bernard Barton," August, 1820, Keats' "Lamia, Isabella, etc." (so also conjectured by E. V. Lucas in his edition of Lamb, II, 305), September, 1820, "Sbogar, the Dalmatian Brigand," September, 1820, and "Our Arrears," a group of reviews, December, 1820. 6 Ibid., May, 1820.
342 Zeitlin
Another slighter evidence of his perception is worth noting for its own sake, when in 1820 he expresses a prophetic fear that if the French ever take to embracing the doctrines of the Romantic School there will be an out-Heroding of Herod. Sound literary judgment was not his only qualification for editing a magazine. He had the tact for gathering gifted contributors and for eliciting from their pens the finest touches of their art. In the pages of the London Magazine first appeared the Essays of Elia and the Table Talk of Hazlitt. It may be only an accident that Lamb and Hazlitt, who had been writing good prose for many years, should both now discover that strain of rich recollection, that art of poetically transmuting the stuff of their emotional experience, which makes the distinctive charm of their essay style and marks an important culminating stage in the development of the English essay. Doubtless it was only Scott's luck to obtain articles which imparted such lustre to the early volumes of the London, but the maintenance of the flow must have been owing in no small measure to the stimulus which the writers found in his appreciation, for Lamb, we know, was not otherwise given to producing regular copy for periodicals.
In spite of these claims upon the gratitude of students of literature, the only notice which John Scott receives from its historians is in connection with the distressing journalistic quarrel which terminated in his death. As Scott has had no biographer, the story of the quarrel has nearly always been related form the point of view of his antagonists, for whom elaborate, eulogistic memoirs were composed in which their virtues were generously displayed and their errors indulgently glossed over. For a full account of the episode and of the matters leading up to it we are dependent upon Andrew Lang's "Life and Letters of Lockhart," Mrs. Oliphant's annals of "William Blackwood and his Sons," and Mrs. Gordon's filially tender biography of "Christopher North." Each of these books is sedulous to minimize the blame of the person with whom it is concerned, and without any deliberate unfairness, two of them at least contrive to create the impression that about the only person who was seriously at fault was the poor victim. There is palliation for every piece of atrocious slander and unscrupu- lous calumny perpetrated in the pages of Blackwood's Magazine,
The Editor of the London Magazine 343
but Scott is adjudged guilty of undue violence or even silliness because in his anger against the irresponsible Black-wood's crew he allowed himself to use strong language; much is for- given to Lockhart and Wilson because of their genius, the sincere resistance of their honest critic has met with few sympa- thizers.
But to lead up properly to the quarrel and to assess its merits fairly, it is necessary to review the early history of Black-wood's Magazine, notorious though it may be. It forms a moderately important and lively, if not edifying, chapter of literary history. It is bound up with the fame of Coleridge and Wordsworth, of Keats and Leigh Hunt and Hazlitt, and it represents a new kind of force in periodical literature. When in 1817 the young publisher, William Blackwood, engaged John Wilson and John Gibson Lockhart to write for his new monthly, it was with the idea that they should do something to attract attention. They did so, promptly and startingly. Their first issue6 contained a satirical skit in Biblical language shockingly entertaining, in which all the respectabilities of Edinburgh were turned into unmerciful mockery. Merriment and indignation strove for mastery in the minds of the good people when they read it. There was no denying the cleverness of the strokes, but at the same time it was impossible to condone, unless in malicious secret, the liberties taken with men of leading and light, to say nothing of the desecration of the scriptural style. The copies of the first number were torn eagerly from hand to hand, but when the second edition ap- peared it was without this popular article. To the "Chaldee MS" the magazine owed its initial succes de scandale, and as it gave rise to only one libel suit, the publisher felt that he had got off very prosperously.
If all its offences had been of this sort, no one would long have harbored a grievance against its writers; it might have been treated as a harmless prank. But there was in the same issue another article, for which no such excuse is possible, and it struck the note of Black-wood's more characteristically. This was a review of Coleridge's "Biographia Literaria," abusive
• No. 7 of the magazine, October 1817, the first six numbers having been edited by Pringle and Cleghorn.
344 Zeitlin
without restraint and without principle. The book is de- nounced as egotistic, pretentious, hollow, and "from a literary point of view most execrable." There is no serious discussion of its ideas, but opportunities are sought for turning its views to ridicule. Coleridge himself is said to be impelled by "vanity, envy, or diseased desire of change," and he is compared dis- paragingly with his contemporaries in every field of literature. In the samernumber appears also the first of a series of articles on the Cockney School of poetry. In this Leigh Hunt is cruelly reviled as ignorant, vulgar, irreligious, immoral, and obscene. Coarse as the abuse is in general, it is at times pointed with a diabolic venom, as when the victim is credited with certain lofty pretensions for the sake of heightening the absurdity of his shortcomings. Articles like this appeared frequently in the succeeding numbers. Leigh Hunt was pur- sued with unflagging malice, and Keats was made to suffer in company with him. It was in one of these essays that the author of Endymion was recommended to go back to his pots. Hazlitt was tormented with a running fire of taunts ending in an outrageous insult for which the publisher was com- pelled to pay him £300 in balm and which exasperated John Murray, who was the London agent for the magazine, to the point of breaking off his business connection with Blackwood's.
Let it not be supposed that the writers in this magazine were raging Philistines, determined to resist by fair means or foul the current innovations in poetry and criticism. Wilson was himself un unbridled romantic in temperament and practice; Lockhart, more under the influence of classical discipline, was yet responsive with the sensitiveness of youth to the stimulus of new beauties and new ideas. If there is one feature in which Blackwood's may claim to excel its rivals, it is in quickness of discernment and fervor of appreciation for literary qualities which do not come under the accepted formulas of that day. It offers a refreshing antidote to the solemn, dictatorial pro- nouncements of the Edinburgh Review, which recognized novel excellences slowly and somewhat grudgingly and delivered its edicts with a Sinaitic unction. The pompous manner of the established reviews provided the younger wits with constant food for their mirth. While Jeffrey was saying "This will never do," the critics in Blackwood's were uttering Wordsworth's
The Editor of the London Magazine 345
name with reverence, writing exalted eulogies of his poetry, extending their admiration even as far as "Peter Bell." As against the utterly unfeeling disdain of the Edinburgh toward "Christabel," we find the other review responding with enthu- siasm to its novel beauty, speaking of Coleridge (in spite of their first article about him) as absolutely alone among all the poets of the most poetical age "in his mixture of all the awful and all the gentle graces of conception, in his sway of wild, solitary, dreamy phantasies, in his music of words and magic of numbers." It discusses Lamb's writings with just apprecia- tion, and often it even dissociates its literary judgment from its political prejudices. Especially noteworthy in this connection is its treatment of Shelley. Blackwood's on several occasions laments the neglect or abuse of Shelley by reviewers. It expresses disagreement with his views on society but places him high in the rank of poets, as one destined to leave a great name behind him. The magazine carried its literary catho- licity further still. It admitted among its contents an extremely long report of Hazlitt's "Lectures on the English Poets," running through three numbers and concluding with a reference to the lecturer as "among the best, if not the very best, living critic on our national literature." And at another time it made a respectful comparison of Jeffrey and Hazlitt as two foremost critics of the day.
In view of this accumulated evidence of critical intelligence and open-mindedness, we are forced to look upon many of the scandalous articles as proof either of an insane, uncontrollable proclivity to mischief or of a well-conceived plan for maintaining public interest at whatever sacrifice of justice and consistency. As neither of these interpretations is particularly creditable to the editors, it does not greatly matter which of them we adopt. There is perhaps more in the facts to lend color to the first suggestion and to justify the line which Scott applies to them: "They do but jest — poison in jest — no offence i' the world 1" Leigh Hunt is almost the only writer toward whom a uni- form attitude is preserved. We might account for the scurri- lous abuse of Hazlitt as being directed solely toward his per- sonality considered apart from his literary talent. It is more difficult to understand how an editor could reconcile the ridicule with the panegyric in the case of Coleridge. Perhaps
346 Zcitlin
the fun of the proceeding was that they could not be reconciled. Sometimes, however, the fun assumed a ghastly aspect for the critics themselves.
In one of the Noctes Ambrosianae7 a certain Irishman named Martin was referred to as a jackass. Mr. Martin threatened to take legal action. The threat struck terror to the heart of John Wilson, — not because he was afraid to face Martin in court, but because he would have to acknowledge the author- ship of the Conversation and all that it contained. Wilson had been so unlucky as to introduce there an elaborate disparage- ment of Wordsworth, saying, for example, that Wordsworth often writes like an idiot, that he is in all things the reverse of Milton — a good man and a bad poet, with no grasp of understanding, not a single creation of character, not one inci- dent, not one tragical catastrophe. "The Excursion," he says, "is the worst poem in the English language. . . And then how ludicrously he overrates his own powers. This we all do, but Wordsworth's pride is like that of a straw-crowned king of Bedlam. For example, he indited some silly lines to a hedge- sparrow's nest with five eggs, and years after in a fit of exulta- tion told the world in another poem equally childish that the Address to the Sparrow was 'one strain that will not die.' ' This in itself is harsh enough, but when the circumstances are taken into account it becomes atrocious. Wordsworth, except for one or two violent exceptions during the first year, had been accustomed to the utmost respect in the pages of Blackwood's; Wilson had been a neighbor of his in the Lake country and had always professed the warmest admiration for his character and his poetry, and shortly before the appearance of this attack he had been hospitably entertained under Wordsworth's roof. There is no hint of provocation for Wilson's conduct. To make matters worse still, he had taken a needless fling at the poetry of Sir Walter Scott, to whom he was indebted for many impor- tant kindnesses, some of them quite recent. And now loomed up the menace of exposure! Wilson was in an agony of shame and mortification. He foresaw death to his honor and happi- ness as an instant consequence. Replying to a communication on the subject from Blackwood, he writes: "On reading your
7 September, 1825.
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enclosures I was seized with a trembling and shivering fit, and was deadly sick for some hours. . . To own that article is for a thousand reasons impossible. It would involve me in lies abhorrent to my nature. I would rather die this evening. Remember how with Hunt I was willing to come forward; here it is death to do so. . . This avowal would be fatal to my character, my peace, to existence. . . Were I to go to London it would be to throw myself into the Thames. . . Lying or dishonor are to me death. . . If I must avow myself I will not survive it."8 All these ejaculations in a single letter testify to a very highly developed sense of honor not deducible from the original action. After all, it must be remembered, Wilson was Professor of Moral Philosophy at the University of Edinburgh. His life and reputation were for the minute saved by the helpful pen of Lockhart, who inserted a fulsome eulogy of Martin in the next number of the magazine which placated that worthy and induced him to call things off.
This affair took place some years after the periodical was supposed to have given over its wild pranks, but from beginning to end it is thoroughly typical of the methods of its earlier years. First a slashing blow at some character or reputation, wringing a cry of pain or wrath from the victim, then a skilful and soothing application of balm (sometimes financial), or, if desired, a further twist of the inquisitorial screws. The process might be repeated until either the players or the spectators grew weary of the game. The device for keeping up the fun was in the elusive, tantalizing disguises of the contributors. Under different signatures Lockhart might safely attack and eulogize the same person, or he might employ a new signature to give additional authority to a view he had already expressed, or he might disown the entire business in some book that he was writing, such as "Peter's Letters to His Kinsfolk." Contributors might use one another's pseudonyms the more easily to befuddle the reader and draw him off the scent. They might even take liberties with real names. Thus they made the reputation of a certain dentist of Glasgow by fathering upon him a series of clever contributions in verse, and he too was in time convinced that he was the author to the extent of accepting a testimonial
8 Mrs. Oliphant, "William Blackwood and his Sons," I, 281-2.
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dinner from a literary society of Liverpool.9 The case of James Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, is even more striking. In his "Memoirs" Hogg tells how he tried to draw information from Lockhart about the authorship of the articles, and how Lock- hart with a solemn face would mention any name that occurred to him, which being spread broadcast by the shepherd, got him the reputation of the greatest liar in Edinburgh. At last thinking that he had caught on to their trick of never denying anything they had not written and never acknowledging anything they had, he supposed he would be safe if he signed his proper name to anything he published. "But as soon," he says, "as the rascals perceived this, they signed my name as fast as I did. They then continued the incomparable 'Noctes Ambrosianae' for the sole purpose of putting all the sentiments into the Shepherd's mouth which they durst not avowedly say themselves, and these, too, often applying to my best friends." The hoaxing of the "Odontist" and Shepherd is merely amusing, but the joke is carried beyond the limits of decency when some one writes a letter to Leigh Hunt accepting responsibility for the Cockney School articles and signs it with the name of a man who had himself been cruelly slandered in the magazine and was suing it for libel.10
Why was not the veil promptly torn from all this mystifica- tion? There must have been some directing spirit who could be held accountable for what was published. Yet even to this day students are unable or reluctant to fix the responsibility. We have seen how Lockhart and Wilson eluded efforts to pin them down in the case of their own essays ; as regards the general management of the periodical they totally and repeatedly disclaimed any connection with it, and their biographers have accepted their protestations. When Blackwood himself was appealed to for redress, he pleaded that he was at the mercy of the young men who wrote for him and that he himself had scarcely had time to glance at the contents. To prove his sincerity he offered the pages of his periodical to any admirers of the injured gentlemen, Leigh Hunt for example, who wished to write in vindication of them. But one at least of these
9 Mrs. Gordon, "Christopher North," chap. viii.
10 Ibid.
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three men must have been directly to blame, and in view of the entanglements which followed, it is of some interest to ascertain which one. The likelihood is that Blackwood always reserved for himself an important voice in the control, but that in the early years he allowed himself to be guided in his editorial policy by his two great allies. If proof were needed of the influence exercised by Lockhart and Wilson over the publisher, much could be adduced from their letters. And it is more than informal influence that these letters at times suggest. Why should Lockhart write to a correspondent in Wales inviting contributions and boasting to him of Walter Scott's interest in the magazine?11 And why, when Murray is disturbed by some particularly vicious piece of abuse, should Lockhart and Wilson jointly write in defence of the general policy of the magazine and at the same time promise that nothing reprehensible would appear in the future? Lockhart, about this time, refers to an agreement which he and Wilson had made with the publishers, by which they were to receive £500 for editing the magazine for one year.12 The fact that this is the only existing allusion to the engagement and that both men in after life hotly denied that they had at any time received a penny for editorial work, has dictated the inference that the proposal was never carried out and induced the apologists of the various persons concerned to set aside altogether the evidence in the letters pointing to the direct authority assumed by Lockhart and Wilson during a certain period, even if it was very brief.
There was one occasion when the two gentlemen practically delivered themselves into the hands of their enemies. Some one published an anonymous pamphlet entitled "Hypocricy Un- veiled and Calumny Detected in a review of Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine," full of abuse against the writers of the periodical but mentioning no names. It now appeared what sensitive and high-spirited natures they were, resenting pay- ment in their own coin, brooking no taint or aspersion upon their character. Both Lockhart and Wilson sent a challenge to the anonymous writer through his publisher, but the latter, having succeeded in drawing the offenders into the open, dis-
u Mrs. Oliphant, op. cit., I, 187-9. 11 Ibid., 162-7.
350 Zeitlin
erectly preserved his incognito. Two years passed before another occasion occurred for the display of their chivalrous sense of honor, this time with tragic consequences.
In the May (1820) number of the London Magazine there are some discriminating remarks on the virtues and vices of Black- wood's. The editor, it should be noticed, was attached by no close bonds to any of Black-wood's victims, among whom Hazlitt was his only contributor. With Leigh Hunt he had never felt any sympathy, either political or literary; his admiration of Keats's poetry was dissociated from personal interest. He had not himself been touched in its pages, so that whatever he might have to say about the periodical would not be likely to be actuated by vindictive motives. In the present article he under- takes to inform his own readers as to what qualities of his rival he will refrain from imitating. Here are some of them:
We should reject the mean insincerity and vulgar slander of Z, destroying whatever there might otherwise be of justice in some of his strictures, and alto- gether disgracing the principles of integrity and good taste for the honor of which he professes to be zealous. . . We disclaim a right to encroach on the mountebank but tedious farce carried on with the Ettrick Shepherd. Mr. Hogg, with singular good nature, seems to have consented to act the part of Blackwood's Mr. Merryman; and in this capacity he submits to degrading and insulting treatment, and exposes himself in a ridiculous light for the sake of raising a horse-laugh amongst the subscribers. . . The indecency of per- sonalities and the unmanliness of retractions we mean to respect as belonging to our Scotch friends: — also the pleasures of caning and being caned, or cudgelling and being cudgelled; item, the magnanimous expedient of purchasing immunity for admitted calumny. Finally, and in order to make their minds easy, we seriously assure them that we shall never seek to transport into our pages from theirs that recklessness and levity in regard to truth and consistency which pervades their departments of political argument and sometimes of literary criticism; qualities which afford convincing evidence that the writers think nothing of less consequence than their own convictions, which might easily be shown to be totally different from the tenor of many of their essays.
With characteristic fairness the article then balances against its faults the good qualities of the magazine, which it calls one of the cleverest and most talented of the day:
Its principal recommendation is a spirit of life not usually characterizing such publications. Generally speaking, it has done important service to the cause of taste and truth by its poetical criticisms; indeed, before its appearance there was no periodical work whatever, belonging to any part of the United Kingdom, that could be looked to for a decent judgment on poetry. . . Black- wood's Magazine has distinguished itself by a just and quick feeling of the
The Editor of the London Magazine 351
dements of poetical beauty and power; it has vindicated with ability, energy, and effect several neglected and calumniated but highly deserving poetical reputations; it has shown much skill and sensibility in displaying the finer and rarer of those rainbow hues that play in the "plighted clouds" of genuine poesy, the subtleness and delicacy of which causes them to escape the grosser vision of the critics that take the lead in the Edinburgh and Quarterly Reviews on such subjects. This magazine, too, has in some measure vindicated the national character, which had become seriously compromised in flippant and ignorant attacks, so frequently made in certain -popular journals, on the most exalted literary names of the continent. But if we go on much further, we shall balance the creditor against the debtor side of the account; and this would be, after all, incorrect. On the whole, then, and in conclusion, we pronounce, with be- coming and appropriate dogmatism, that Blackwood's Magazine is a clever pro- duction which we would rather read than write: more amusing than respectable, and often amusing at the expense of those qualities that confer respectability; that, nevertheless, its faults, gross as they are, bear the character of whims and flights rather than of radical vices.
This description, it will be admitted, is not only fair, but exceedingly good-natured. Six months later,13 however, the editor launches an attack in a style of uncompromising de- nunciation. He speaks of the "regular plan of fraud," "cunning impositions," "violations of the most sacred rules of honorable intercourse in society," "low remorseless outrages on reputation and truth," "duplicity and treachery as mean and grovelling as their scurrility has been foul and venomous." He points directly at Lockhart. He accuses him of surpassing everything in the annals of disgraceful publication and from motives of cunning sordidness and black malignity. Finally he accuses him of signing a statement that he is not the editor of Black- wood's Magazine, though it is well known that under the assumed name of Christopher North he is its editor. The charge is as scathing and provocative as the writer's command of direct expression can make it.
The vehemence of this onslaught has been deplored by Mr. Andrew Lang and others. While recognizing that John Scott had much right on his side, Lang refuses to regard the affair too ardently. What is called a system of fraud, he believes, did not deceive any one; some of the persons whom Scott defends might have been left to look after themselves; a num- ber of the offences laid at his door Lockhart was innocent of,
"Blackwood's Magazine, Nov. 1820; The Mohock Magazine, Dec. 1820; Town Conversation: The Mohocks, Jan. 1821.
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notably the charge of lying with regard to the editorship and the attack on Coleridge. He maintains that Lockhart's con- nection with the magazine was at that time very slight, and in fact there was very little scandal stirring in its pages. We are given to understand that the London Magazine was going out of its way to look for trouble and that its editor fancied he had hit on a popular vein of writing.138 But perhaps when excuses are so easily provided for the offenders, it is legitimate to enter a plea in behalf of the man who attempted to execute justice. Why should Scott not be credited with sincerity in believing that the good name of literature was concerned in the abatement of a nuisance? That he was not warming up stale quarrels is clear from his reference to the "still renewed spec- tacle of outrage" in recent issues. From the same number which professes to have no personal feeling with regard to Keats, Hunt, and Hazlitt and even contains some qualified sympathy and appreciation for Keats, Scott quotes some of the coarsest doggerel directed against the poet.14 The evidence of reform was not obvious to the careful reader. Even five years later there was to occur the ignominious affair of Mr. Martin described above. It is true that Lockhart had been shamed by Sir Walter into a gradual withdrawal from Blackwood's cabinet, but how was any one to know it? His spirit and his pseu- donyms survived, and his contributions had not ceased com- pletely.
One of the curious features of the situation, and one which cannot be left out of the account, is that for his friends Lockhart was the soul of chivalry and honor. The esteem of his high- minded father-in-law stands unshakably to his credit. And so, on being confronted with the accusations of the London Maga- zine, he felt it imperative to clear his character. He sent a letter to his friend Chrystie in London asking him to demand satisfaction from the editor of the magazine. The negotiations which followed are too tangled to be capable of clear statement in a brief space. Andrew Lang describes them with sufficient fullness,15 with his customary inclination, however, to find
1|a "Life and Letters of John Lockhart," chap. ix. 14 Blackwood's Magazine, September, 1820; London Magazine, Dec. 1820. 11 Cf. also the statement by John Scott prefixed to the London Magazine, Feb., 1821.
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flaws in the conduct of John Scott. The essential point to me seems that, before acknowledging Lockhart's right to demand satisfaction for injuries, Scott insisted that the latter declare upon his honor "that he had never derived money from any connection, direct or indirect, with the management of Black- wood's Magazine; and that he had never stood in a situation giving him, directly or indirectly, a pecuniary interest in its sale." To the wording of this demand Lockhart objected, and as a matter of right refused to make the denial, so Scott declared the affair terminated. Lockhart thereupon wrote to Scott that he considered him "a liar and a scoundrel" and posted him in the press. But the statement which appeared in the newspaper contains the denial that "he derived, or ever did derive, any emolument from the management" and declares in its last sentence that "the first copy of this statement was sent to Mr. Scott, with a notification that Mr. Lockhart intended leaving London within twenty-four hours of the time of his receiving it." Here is a palpable misstatement which Andrew Lang, who is constantly impugning the correctness of Scott's conduct on the score of punctilio, explains away as an oversight — an oversight so flagrant that Scott should have known it to be such. Lang's explanation successfully clears Lockhart from the suspicious appearances, though it argues a terribly excited state of mind on the part of the latter that he should have over- looked the significance of a declaration on which the whole weight of the quarrel rested. This error (and I speak with diffidence on a subject so far out of my experience) is much more serious than any Scott was guilty of, whose worst mistake, if I follow Mr. Lang, is that the man he first chose for his second, the witty and humane Horatio Smith, was not of a bellicose disposition and showed a tendency to mess up the proceedings. And perhaps Scott himself was not too eager for a meeting. But Lang even tries to turn Lockhart's crucial blunder into a point against Scott; he seems to think that it was Scott's business to look for honorable explanations of his adversary's behavior. Is it not obvious, however, that with such an opinion as he already had of Lockhart, the action would have impressed him as eminently characteristic? Was it not in keeping with the notorious methods of the editors of Black-wood's? He felt called upon to issue a counter-statement taking full advantage
354 Zeitlin
of the opening offered by Lockhart's blunder and renewing his former charges. To cut the story short, in the correspondence that followed Chrystie managed to assume the quarrel upon himself and to provoke a challenge from Scott. A meeting was arranged and, because of bad management on the part of the seconds, ended more tragically than was usual with such meetings. The duel was fought at night, and Scott not b eing able to observe that Chrystie, whose behavior in all these proceed- ings was above reproach, had fired his shot into the air, took deliberate aim and missed. Another exchange of shots was called for, and this time Chrystie's second insisted on his firing directly, in self-defense. On February 27, 1821, John Scott died as a result of the wound which he received, and the London Magazine was deprived almost at the beginning of its career of an editor who had given promise of making it as brilliant as Blackwood's and far more steady and respectable.
JACOB ZEITLIN University of Illinois
TRACES OF ENGLISH INFLUENCES IN FREILIG- RATH'S POLITICAL AND SOCIAL LYRICS
Hardly any German poet of the nineteenth century studied English literature with such diligence and thoroughness as Ferdinand Freiligrath, the poet of the German revolution. The works of Milton, Goldsmith, and Scott1 were his constant companions during his school years; and the endeavor to acquaint the German public with the best productions of English and American poetry dominated his literary activities throughout his life. As translator, anthologist, and editor of English literature he deserves the highest praise; and several poets such as Thomas Hood, Felicia Hemans, and Alfred Tennyson as well as Walt Whitman and Bret Harte owe their first introduction into Germany to his untiring efforts.
Not only was he prepossessed in favor of English literature but he showed also a somewhat sentimental predilection for the English people — a feeling which was, however, quite general among German liberals during the first half of the nineteenth century. The inhabitants of his native province, Westphalia, he considered more closely related to the Anglo- Saxons than any other German tribe,2 and in a letter to a friend we find the following burst of Anglomania: "Das eng- lische Leben und Weben, Volk, Literatur und Handel hat mich immer machtig angezogen, und die Thranen standen mir in den Augen, als ich vor drei Monaten den dickleibigen Bata- vier mit seiner Fracht bestaubmantelter Sohne und beschlei- erter Tochter Albions die Maas hinabdampfen sah."3 Later he was obliged to spend a number of years in England as a political refugee.
It may, therefore, be assumed that English poets exercised a lasting influence on Freiligrath's own productions. He himself says in a letter of 1833: "Ich wiisste, unsere eigne aus- genommen, keine neuere Sprache, deren Literatur mich so mannigfach angeregt hatte, als gerade die englische."4 Yet
1 Buchner, W., Ferdinand Freiligrath. 2 vols., Lahr, 1882. Vol. I, pp. 38f, 148f.
'Ibid., p. 410. 1 Ibid., p. 227. 4 Ibid., p. 113.
355
356 Gudde
literary investigation has so far failed to trace English influ- ences upon our poet.
My original intention was to investigate the subject in its broadest sense; but that would have necessitated a thorough study of English literature from the middle of the eighteenth to the middle of the nineteenth century. I, therefore, limited my research to the political and social lyric; and even this field proved to be so extensive that the third part of this paper should be considered only as a preliminary survey. Neverthe- less I believe that my conclusions, so far as they go, are fairly definite and final.
FREILIGRATH'S DEVELOPMENT AS A POLITICAL AND SOCIAL POET Various investigators of this subject have stated that English poets were instrumental in turning Freiligrath from exotic to political and social poetry. Richtersays: "Beidiesem jahen Ubergang Freiligraths in das Lager der politischen Dichter darf man wohl nach Vorbildern suchen, die dem "Wustendichter" den Weg gewiesen haben,"5 and then puts forward the suggestion that besides Hoffmann, Prutz, and Herwegh mainly English and American poets pointed the way which Freiligrath was to follow. Petzet expresses a similar opinion,6 while Weddigen and Erbach boldly assert that the roots of Freiligrath's political poetry may be found in Byron.7 I shall first attempt to prove that Freiligrath turned to political poetry independently of Byron or any other British poet.
The year 1840 we may regard as the turning point in Frei- ligrath's poetical production, though this date is chosen some- what arbitrarily. Until then he was under the spell of his exotic poetry, the necessary result of his character and natural gifts. This full-blooded scion of the Saxon tribe was unable to follow the lead of Heine's "Buch der Lieder" like most of the other German poets of that period. The aridness of public life
8 Richter, K., Ferdinand Freiligrath als Ubersetzer. Forschungen zur neueren Literaturgeschichte, XT. Berlin, 1899, p. 64.
8 Petzet, C., Die Bliitezeit der deutschen politischen Lyrik. Miinchen, 1903, pp. 183 f.
7 Weddigen, F. H. Otto, Lord Byron' 's Einfluss auf die europaischen Littera- turen der Neuzeit. Hannover, 1884, pp. 48 f.
Erbach, W., Ferdinand Freiligraths Ubersetzungen aus dem Englischen im ersten Jahrzehnt seines Schaffens. Bonn, 1908, p. 137.
English Influences in Freiligrath's Lyrics 357
in Germany after the Napoleonic wars caused Freiligrath's muse to flee into foreign lands. The struggle for existence in the tropics, the enslavement of the negroes, the conquest of the American West, the fight of the seafaring people against wind and water — such were the pictures that engaged the imagination of our poet. But Freiligrath was well aware that this kind of poetry could not satisfy a true poet for any length of time. In 1841 he wrote: "Meine Kameele und Neger sind nun freilich, Gott seis geklagt, auch just nichts Ewiges und Bleibendes, an dem man sich in die Hohe ranken konnte, aber wenn der Hebe Gott nur etwas mehr freien Odem und ein gut Theil weniger Sorgen giebt, als ich jetzt habe, so denk ich noch was Tuchtiges zu leisten."8 He commenced, therefore, to look for new inspiration within the borders of the fatherland. As early as 1839 he had sung in his "Freistuhl zu Dortmund":
Den Boden wechselnd, die Gesinnung nicht, Wahlt er die rote Erde ftir die gelbe! Die Palme dorrt, der Wtistenstaub verweht:- Ans Herz der Heimat wirft sich der Poet, Ein anderer und doch derselbe!
And two years later in "Auch eine Rheinsage" he definitely abandoned his "Lowen- und Wiistenpoesie" :
Zum Teufel die Kameele, Zum Teufel auch die Leun! Es rauscht dutch meine Seele Der alte deutsche Rheinl Er rauscht mir um die Stirne Mit Wein- und Eichenlaub; Er wascht mir aus dem Hirne Verjahrten Wiistenstaub.
But he struggled in vain to rid his mind of the glowing pictures of the tropics and to find in the sober surroundings of his native country new motifs for his muse, until he turned — after several unproductive years — to political poetry. This change, however, was not brought about by English political poets but by the unbearable political conditions of his country to which the poet's eyes were opened in the course of his famous literary controversy with Herwegh. While there are, as we shall see later on, unmistakable signs of English influences
8 Buchner, op. cit, I, p. 411.
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present in his political poems that originated in the years 1843 and 1844, every student of Freiligrath will have to admit that they are insignificant if we take* into account the over- whelming influence of contemporary German political poetry.
But the most convincing proof of all we find in the fact that Freiligrath, before he devoted his pen to the struggle for German union and freedom, had not yet written or trans- lated a single political poem, although there were many such among the works of the British poets whom he introduced to his countrymen in selected German renderings. During the period of his exotic poetry and the unproductive years following this period he did not show the slightest interest in or under- standing for politics. Neither the Greek songs of Byron nor Burns's hymns of the great French revolution could stimulate his imagination, despite the fact that both the Greek war of independence and another Frenqh revolution occurred during the period of his adolescence.
Our argument is further supported by the circumstance that during the period of transition Freiligrath busied himself much less with British poetry than ever before or afterwards. To be sure, he translated at that time Hemans' poems and ac- quainted his countrymen with Tennyson, but these two could not have had the slightest influence on his political opinions. Even in his letters we find but few references to English litera- ture during those years.
To what extent the poet was influenced by English lyrics after he had turned to political poetry I shall try to show in the second and third parts of this paper. This is, however, the proper place for correcting the erroneous impression that in later years English influences manifested themselves again in leading the poet to social poetry.
Richter advances the view that nearly all of Freiligrath's social poems were shaped after English models. But in most cases he merely hints at such a connection, and where he tries to give proof he is easily confuted.
In speaking of the two social poems of the "Glaubensbe- kenntnis" Richter says: "Freiligraths eigne Gedichte 'Vom Harze' und 'Aus dem schlesischen Gebirge' weisen in der ganzen Art der Behandlung zu grosse Ahnlichkeit mit (Thomas Hood's) 'The Song of the Shirt' und 'The Bridge of Sighs' auf. Immer
English Influences in Freiligrath's Lyrics 359
ist der Ausgangspunkt ein wirkliches Ereignis, an das der Dichter allgemeine Betrachtungen ankniipft, und der Vorwurf aller vier Gedichte ist der Gegensatz zwischen den sorglos in Freuden Dahinlebenden und den von Sorge Verzehrten, oft durch jene in den Tod Getriebenen."9 Both these statements are erroneous, for a comparison of the four poems reveals the fact that in "The Song of the Shirt" and "Aus dem schlesischen Gebirge" no actual occurrence serves as a starting point, while the alleged motif of social contrasts is not present in any of the poems save for a passing allusion in "The Song of the Shirt." Elsewhere Richter says about the following passage in Tennyson's "Lady Clara Vere de Vere":
Howe'er it be, it seems to me, 'Tis only noble to be good. Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood
"Wer gedachte da nicht an die Freiligrathschen politischen Lieder, die in immer neuen Varianten diesem Gedanken Aus- druck geben!"10 But in spite of the fact that this thought must have struck a sympathetic chord in Freiligrath we do not find it in any of the poet's own songs, but only in his translation of Burns's "Is there for honest poverty," which probably was Tennyson's model.
We must likewise decline to accept Richter's opinion that Freiligrath's "Von unten auf" and "Requiescat" treat the same subject as Burns's "Is there for honest poverty."11 The latter is simply a hymn on the valor of the common man, without the slightest "Tendenz." "Requiescat" on the other hand puts forward the socialistic argument that the brain-worker also is nothing but a proletarian; while "Von unten auf" points out the contrast between the proletariat and the upper classes.
Finally Richter thinks that it was the influence of Hood and others which led Freiligrath, during his first sojourn in London (1846-1848), wholly upon the field of the social lyric; and that after his return to Germany, though he did not yet dissociate himself from the political movement, he was never-
9 Richter, op. cit., p. 78. 10 /Wd., p. 74. 11 Ibid., pp. 65 f.
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theless chiefly interested in social poetry and folklore.12 The fact is that Freiligrath, after his return from England, played a leading part in the Rhenish revolutionary movement and only then reached the height of his activity as a political poet.
Coar, who apparently depends on Richter, expresses himself even more drastically: "In the dark days of the reactionary movement which followed in the footsteps of the revolution, the central thought of democracy gradually lost its hold on the imagination of the poet. Its place was taken by the thought of the material misery and unmerited squalor of the working classes. Freiligrath forgot that one class cannot constitute the people. The poems of Thomas Hood ate into his heart and seared his imagination. Revolution descended from its high estate."1*
To refute Gear's and Richter's statements it is sufficient to sketch briefly Freiligrath's development as a social poet. The "Glaubensbekenntnis" (1844) contained only a few scattered social notes, but with his collection "£a ira" (1846) Freiligrath entered the arena of the class struggle. An influence of Hood is out of the question. To be sure the poems of the English- man show up the defects of the social order with almost brutal straightforwardness, but they carefully refrain from instigating the oppressed to revolt against their oppressors. They are in substance an appeal to the rich to allay the sufferings of the lower classes:
In poverty, hunger and dirt; And still with a voice of dolorous pitch — Would that its tone could reach the rich! — She sang this "Song of the Shirt"! or:
And yet, oh yet, that many a Dame Would dream the Lady's Dream!
(a dream in which the lady is shown the misery of the masses).14 While it is true that Freiligrath during his first stay in London
"Ibid., pp. 79 f.
13 Coar, J. E., Studies in German Literature in the Nineteenth Century, New York, 1903, p. 223. See also the statement by P. Zaunert in his introduc- tion to Freiligrath's Werke, Leipzig, 1912, p. 13.
14 A passage from a letter of Thomas Hood to Sir Robert Peel shows clearly that the writer of the "Song of the Shirt" never intended to preach revolution- ary socialism: "Certain classes at poles of society are already too far asunder; it should be the duty of our writers to draw them nearer by kindly attraction,
English Influences in Freiligrath's Lyrics 361
translated several of Hood's poems, he himself produced only one social poem, "Irland," which does not show any relation to Hood's poetry. The uprising of the German people caused the poet to abandon social poetry altogether. He was thenceforth the "trumpeter of the revolution," a purely political poet in whose mighty hymns we seldom find a social note. Richter and Coar have, as we have seen, turned things upside down. Freiligrath did not give up his revolutionary ideals to become the poet of the working-class; on the contrary he ceased to be the latter when the political struggle of 1848-1849 gave him the opportunity to develop his poetical talent to a height heretofore unknown in the field of political poetry. After all hope for a victorious outcome of the revolution was gone, we find him again translating several poems of Hood, but his own muse was not stimulated thereby.
In this connection attention must be called to a curious misstatement by Weddingen. He labels the translations of certain poems of Bryant, Burns, Campell, and Hood "the passionate outbursts of a furious, deluded revolutionist."15 A political opponent of Freiligrath might conceivably speak thus of the poet's own productions, but to characterize mere translations in such terms is to ignore the facts in the case and to show, besides, a lack of understanding of the originals.
EXTERNAL EVIDENCES or ENGLISH INFLUENCES Although the evidence shows that Freiligrath's political and social poetry was not primarily inspired by English models, we may freely admit that after Freiligrath, following his own bent, had turned to political poetry, he was inspired frequently by British poets. His political conviction, his longing for a democratic and united Germany, as expressed in the poems of the "Glaubensbekenntnis," was doubtless genuine; yet it was not based on intellectual deliberation, but on emotional impulse. He was ignorant of the historical causes of the political condi- tions, and for some time he was dependent upon others for his
not to aggravate the existing repulsion, and place a wider moral gulf between Rich and Poor, with Hate on the one side and Fear on the other." (Jerrold, W., Thomas Hood: His Life and Times. New York, 1909, p. 392.)
15 Weddigen, O., F. Freiligrath als Vermittler englischer und franzosischer Dichtung. Arckiv fiir das Studium der neueren Sprachen und Literaturen. LXVI, p. 7.
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political opinions. Moreover, he could not, like Herwegh or Sallet, make poems out of political catch- words; and in German history he found nothing that could, for instance, be compared to the heroic struggle of the Irish which Moore glorified in his "Irish Melodies." It is, therefore, quite probable that Freilig- rath turned anew to English lyrics for inspiration and for new motives; that is suggested by the numerous translations, the selection of topics, and the wording of his thoughts.
The translations of political and social poems demand at least brief consideration, because Freiligrath gave them a place among his own productions.
Burns' "For a' that and a' that" he rendered with such unsurpassed mastery that its refrain "Trotz alledem" became a familiar phrase in the German language. It does not, as already mentioned, indicate a definite political conviction, but contrasts the real worth of a free though poor man with a worthless "birkie, ca'd a lord." Freiligrath used the form of this poem for one of his revolutionary songs, just as we also find the "for a' that" frequently in Burns' poems.
The second of the British poems which found a place among the German poet's political lyrics possesses none of the charm of Burris's famous song, but it contains a thought that could not fail to fascinate a German liberal of that period. It is Camp- bell's "Ode to the Germans," apparently suggested by the passage of the Reform Bill in 1832. Britannia calls upon her sister Alemannia, the inventor of the powder, the clock, and the art of printing to break "the chains of tyranny."
Ebenezer Elliott's "The Tree of Revelin" is a warning to the princes without any thought of revolution and is in consonance with Freiligrath's own feeling at that period. A similar ten- dency is shown by another translation, that of "The Winds" by W. C. Bryant.
The collection "£a ira" does not contain translations, but the social part of the two collections "Neuere politische und soziale Gedichte" consists almost entirely of such: one from the French of Pierre Dupont, five from Thomas Hood, and three from Barry Cornwall. What has been said of the poems of Hood in the first part of this paper applies also to those of Barry Cornwall. They try to excite the pity of the rich by pointing out the evils of the social order. They do not express
English Influences in Freiligrath's Lyrics 363
any revolutionary thoughts; only once, in "The Poor-House," Cornwall hears already the sound of the "rebel drum" as a result of the indifference of the upper classes.
Besides these translations we have numerous other indica- tions of Freiligrath's study of English poetry during the years before the revolution.
In "Aus Spanien" he says about the poet in general:
Er beugt sein Knie dem Helden Bonaparte Und hort mit Ztirnen d'Enghiens Todesschrei!
This refers in all probability to Wordsworth's Elegy upon the duke's execution; for Wordsworth is, so far I know, the only poet who uses this motif.
The second part of the "Glaubensbekenntnis" is introduced by a quotation from Felicia Hemans's "The Forest Sanctuary." In his "Auch ein Walpurgisnachtstraum" the poet uses charac- ters of Shakespeare's "Midsummer Nights Dream"; and in "Hamlet" he compares Germany to Hamlet and Kotzebue to Polonius. Similarly in the poem "Im Irrenhause" the insane Censor is compared to Macbeth
The motif for his "Eispalast" Freiligrath borrowed, as he admits himself in a footnote, from the first of Moore's "Fables for the Holy Alliance." Although our poet treats the story more generally and not satirically like Moore, he follows his model in several instances quite closely.
"Der Adler auf dem Mauseturm," in which Freiligrath con- siders timely topics in connection with the old legend of the cruel bishop Hatto, was perhaps suggested by Southey's "God's judgment on a wicked bishop"; in the treatment of the subject, however, we find no traces of Southey.
The comparison of the struggle for freedom to the rushing of the wind is another motif of English origin that we find re- peatedly in Freiligrath's political poems. It has been used by Byron, Shelley, Moore, and Elliott.
In the last stanza of "Irland" the German poet speaks of Erin
Mehr noch, als Harold-Byrons Rom, Die Niobe der Nationen.
364 Gudde
He refers here to line LXXIX of the fourth canto of "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage," where Byron says of Rome:
The Niobe of nations! there she stands, Childless and crownless, 'In her voiceless woe.
In the poem "Am Birkenbaum" the author relates how he translated Byron's Mazeppa on a hunting trip:
Mein Jagdgenosse, mein Byron, komm her! —
Und er nimmt seinen Waidsack and langt sie herf iir,
Die ihn ofters begleitete schon,
Die hochst unwiird'ge auf Loschpapier,
Die Zwickauer Edition.
Den Mazeppa hat er sich aufgeschlagen:
Muss sehn, ob ich's deutsch nur reimen kann!
Mogen immer die andern lachen und sagen:
Ha, ha, der lateinische Jagersmann!
In another stanza he compares the Westphalian heath to the Russian steppe over which Mazeppa gallops. This heath is the scene of the mystical battle around the birch-tree which is the nucleus of the poem.
In addition we find in Freiligrath's political lyrics a number of references to England in general, most of them laudatory. But in view of the fact that the English constitution was the ideal and the goal of German liberalism in that day, the number of such references seems rather inconsiderable.
In the poem "Ein Kindermarchen" the poet says of Ernst August, the son of George III of England, who at his accession to the throne of Hannover set aside the constitution :
Der Konig Einaug' wars — ich kann ihn nennen! Von einer Insel kam er gross und frei. Du lieber Gott, da hatt' er lernen konnen, Wie dass ein Volk kein Hundejunge sei!
For the "Glaubensbekenntnis" Freiligrath uses as motto a quotation from Chamisso's letters: "Die Sachen sind, wie sie sind. Ich bin nicht von den Tories zu den Whigs iiberge- gangen, aber als ich die Augen iiber mich offnete, war ich ein Whig."
In the poem "Springer" we read:
Kein fliichtig Haupt hat Engelland Von seiner Schwelle noch gewiesen.
English Influences in Freiligrath's Lyrics 365
and similarly in "Em Weihnachtslied fiir meine Kinder:"
Vielleicht aufs neu umfangt sie treu Alt-Englands werter Boden —
In "Nach England" the poet describes his first voyage to England when his ship followed the course that once William the Conqueror had taken.
Finally, in several instances Freiligrath chooses British topics for his political poems. In "Und noch einmal der Zopf" he discusses the habit of the Indo-British cavalry to use the pig- tail as a whip; in "Noch zwei Sonette" he wishes for Prussia a bad ruler like John Lackland who was forced to grant the Magna Charta; and in "Ihr kennt die Sitte wohl der Schotten" he tells how the Scots used to give the signal for rebellion. According to Richter16 he got this motif from Scott's "Lady of the Lake."
ECHOES OF ENGLISH POETS IN FREILIGRATH'S POLITICAL
POETRY
I think I have succeeded in demonstrating that British poets neither converted Freiligrath to political poetry nor influenced his political ideals to any noteworthy extent. It is true that a close comparison of Freiligrath's poems with those of the more important English political poets has revealed a number of parallel passages; but they are not of a nature to indicate anything like a real kinship of thought or feeling, they merely show that the German poet leaned to a certain degree on English poets so long as he felt his footing on the treacherous ground of politics to be insecure. In the measure in which his thoughts were absorbed by the ensuing revolution in Germany he gradu- ally ceased to look across the channel for inspiration.
There are more echoes of Thomas Moore in Freiligrath's political lyrics than of any other British poet. The way the Irish bard conceived and treated political ideas could not fail to touch a responsive chord in Freiligrath.
In Moore's "Sublime was the warning," one of the "Irish Melodies," like most of the poems referred to in the following, we read at the end of the first stanza:
Nor, O, be the Shamrock of Erin forgot
While you add to your garland the Olive of Spain I
16 Richter, op. cit., p. 66. Several of the instances quoted on the preceding pages were first mentioned by Richter.
366 Gudde
and in Freiligrath's "Die Freiheit, das Recht!":
O Gott, welch ein Kranz wird sie glorreich dann zieren! All die Lauber die Volker, im Fahnentuch ftihren! Die Olive des Griechen, das Kleeblatt der Iren, Und vor allem germanisches Eichengeflecht!
More obvious still is the relation between Moore's "Erin, O Erin" and Freiligrath's "Am Baum der Menschheit drangt sich Bliit' an Bliite." Moore says in regard to Ireland:
The nations have fallen, and thou art still young, Thy sun is but rising, when others are set.
The same thought Freiligrath elaborates into three stanzas: Poland is already fallen, while Spain and Turkey will soon suffer the same fate; Germany, on the other ha,nd, is still a young bud. The third stanza of Moore's poem runs:
Unchill'd by the rain, and unwak'd by the wind,
The lily lies sleeping thro' winter's cold hour,
Till Spring's light touch her fetters unbind,
And daylight and liberty bless the young flower.
Thus Erin, oh Erin, thy winter is past,
And the hope that lived thro' it shall blossom at last
while the sixth stanza of the German poem reads:
Der du die Knospen auseinanderfaltest, O Hauch des Lenzes, weh' auch uns he ran! Der du der Volker heil'ge Knospen spaltest, O Hauch der Freiheit, weh' auch diese an! In ihrem tiefsten, stillsten Heiligtume O, kiiss sie auf zu Duft und Glanz und Schein — Herr Gott im Himmel, welche Wunderblume Wird einst vor allem dieses Deutschland sein!
There are also several parallelisms that may be merely accidental.
In "Dear Harp of my country" Moore draws out into day- light the Irish harp:
Dear Harp of my Country I in darkness I found thee, The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long, When proudly, my own Island Harp, I unbound thee, And gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and song!
Similarly Freiligrath unfolds the old German colors in "Schwarz- Rot-Gold:"
In Klimmernis und Dunkelheit, Da mussten wir sie bergen!
English Influences in Freiligrath's Lyrics 367
Nun haben wir sie doch befreit, Befreit aus ihren Sargen! Ha, wie das blitzt und rauscht und rollt! Hurra, du Schwarz, du Rot, du Gold!
Moore's "Corruption:"
When the last tyrant of that ill-starr'd line Fled from his sullied crown, and left thee free To found thy own eternal liberty!
Freiligrath's "Die Toten an die Lebenden:"
Die Throne gehen hi Flammen auf, die Fiirsten fliehen zum Meerel
Und seine Zukunf t bildet selbst das Volk, das souverane.
And when Moore in "O, blame not the Bard" sings about Ireland:
The stranger shall hear thy lament on his plains ; The sigh of thy harp shall be sent o'er the deep.
we seem to hear the answer in Freiligrath's "Ireland":
Der West hat mir den Schrei gebracht — Er trug ihn schrill bis vor mein Fenster.
Byron seems to have had less influence on the German poet than Moore. To a large extent this may be explained by the difference in the characters of the two men. "Ein Byron 1st Freiligrath nie gewesen" says Meyer,17 in refuting Clemens Brentanos18 opinion that Freiligrath's poetry is deeper than that of Byron. "Dazu fehlte dem herzensguten, prachtigen Men- schen schon die damonische Tiefe der Erfahrungen, die der brit- ische Lord besass. "Single motifs such as the sympathy for Ireland and the protest against Russian supremacy in Europe prove, of course, nothing. Nevertheless we find here, too, several parallels.
In "The Irish Avatar" Byron expresses his contempt for the submissiveness of the Irish:
My contempt for a nation so servile, though sore,
Which though trod like the worm will not turn upon power —
17 Meyer, R. M., Deutsche Charaklere. Berlin, 1897, pp. 173 f.
18 Buchner, op. cit, I, p. 358.
368 Gudde
while Freiligrath in his "Irland," which resembles Byron's poem in other respects too, says likewise:
Ihr aber seid blasiert und stumpf ,
Fault und verfault — euch weckt kein Wecker!
Freiligrath's "Aus Spanien" was in all probability stimu- lated by English lyrics, almost all of which hailed the rebellion of Spain against the yoke of Napoleon. Freiligrath takes his motif from the civil war of the forties. In the "Age of Bronze" and "Childe Harold" Byron calls repeatedly upon the Span- iards to think of the old glory and to shake off the fetters of the usurpers. Thus in Stanza VII of the "Age of Bronze" :
Up! up again! undaunted Tauridor! The bull of Phalaris renews his roar.
The same thought Freiligrath gives expression in "Aus Span- ien" though he compares the country to the bull and not to the tauridor :
Noch ist es Zeit! — Noch hast Du Kraft! — Gesunde! Wirf Deine Qualer, Andalusias Stier!
The fact that Freiligrath's "So wird es geschehen" may be traced back to Byron has already been stated by Ackermann.19 Byron's "The destruction of Sennacherib" begins:
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold.
Freiligrath's war-song starts:
Wie der Wolf, der Assyrer, in klirrender Pracht.
Ebenezer Elliott, the corn-law rhymer, exerted little influ- ence on the German poet. Two motifs used by Elliott occur also in Freiligrath's works. In "They met in heaven" the poet arrives in heaven and finds there the great Englishmen, "who, battling for right, had nobly died." The conditions on earth which the poets describes, arouse the wrath of the departed spirits. Freiligrath's "Eine Seele" narrates how the daughter of the Hessian Professor Jordan — who was innocently confined to prison while his daughter died — comes to the place of supreme happiness. There she meets the "best German dead," who are indignant at the despotism of the princes. There is, besides, the following parallel:
19 Ackermann, R., Lord Byron, p. 178; quoted by Erbach, op. cit, p. 137.
English Influences in Freiligrath^ Lyrics 369
Elliott:
Where dwell the great,
Whom death hath freed from pain.
Freiligrath:
Auch der Tod, du weisst es, kann befreien.
Freiligrath wrote this poem in the same month in which he translated another political poem of Elliott.
Similarities may be found also in Elliott's "Proletarier- familie in England"20 and Freiligrath's "Vom Harze." In both cases a law is attacked — by Elliott the corn-law, by Frei- ligrath the hunting-law; and both poets treat the subject satirically, the former by the refrain: "Hurra Brottax und England," the latter b / the ironical praise:
Es lebe, was auf Erden Stolziert in grtiner Tracht, Die Walder und die Felder, Der jSger und die Jagd !
It is very surprising that there are no distinct echoes from* Burns, though Freiligrath esteemed him more highly than any other of the modern British poets. The chief explanation for this is probably to be found in the fact that the Scotchman's political poems, though always liberal and progressive, rarely attempted to make propaganda; while Freiligrath deliberately put his pen at the disposal of the German democratic move- ment.
Although we find in Freiligrath's poems frequently the refreshing defiant note of the Scotch peasant I found only two cases where there is a possibility of the German poet having been influenced by Burns. The latter's "Song of Death" and Freiligrath's "Ein Lied vom Tode" strike the same chord and show also a certain similarity in the expression of the thought; both poems glorify the heroic death on the battlefield. Burns' "Right of Women" starts with a survey of the political situa- tion in Europe before it treats of the rights of women in a satirical manner. Freiligrath gives in "Der Flaschenkrieg" (which is, however, not really a political poem) a similar intro-
10 The only edition of Elliott's poems (London, 1833) at my disposal does not contain this poem. I quote, therefore, Freiligrath's translation.
370 Gudde
duction and then describes a merry battle between wine-bottles. In the same poem Burns employs the phrase £a ira which we find frequently in Freiligrath's works.
Lastly we quote from Richter21 a parallel between Hood's "Song of the Shirt" and Freiligrath's "Aus dem schlesischen Gebirge . " In the former we read :
Sewing at once, with double thread A shroud as well as a shirt!
which is translated by Freiligrath
Mit doppeltem Faden nah' ich Hemd, Ja, Hemd und Leichentuch!
Compare with this the lines in the German poem:
Ich glaub', sein Vater webt dem Kleinen Zum Hunger — bald das Leichentuch I
CONCLUSION
Freiligrath's change to political poetry was not due to the influence of British poets.
After Freiligrath had turned to political poetry he shows occasional dependence upon British sources in the selection of subjects and motifs and the wording of thoughts, but not in his political ideals. And even here it was apparently not Byron but Thomas Moore who exerted any noteworthy influence.
The supposition that Thomas Hood's poems caused the Ger- man poet to change from political to social poetry is wrong; but that Freiligrath had a high regard for the author of "The Song of the Shirt," is shown by the fact that he not only trans- lated almost all of Hood's social poems, but also gave them a place among his own productions.
ERWIN G. GUDDE University of California, 1918 ^
n Richter, op. cit., p. 78.
SIR THOMAS BROWNE AND R. L. STEVENSON
It is a little strange that Robert Louis Stevenson, who wrote so freely upon writing in general and his own writing in particu- lar, should not have left more definite and specific record of the influence of the work of Sir Thomas Browne upon his own writing.1 References to Browne are, of course, not utterly lacking in Stevenson; he is mentioned, for example, in the oft- quoted passage in "A College Magazine" in which Stevenson describes the method by which he learned to write. Browne is here, however, bracketed, in the group of writers to whom Stevenson played the sedulous ape, with Hazlitt, Lamb, Wordsworth, Defoe, Hawthorne, Montaigne, Beaudelaire and Obermann. It is true that Browne is spoken of again in the same paper, this time with Hazlitt and Ruskin, the last having cast upon him merely "a passing spell," as the inspiration of the successive drafts of "The Vanity of Morals"; but these "monkey tricks" are followed by others, in prose and verse, which take for their guiding stars as oddly assorted a group of writers as those first mentioned. It is to be noted that neither here nor elsewhere is Browne singled out for particular recognition as the primary influence in the formation for Stevenson's early style. Yet it is very much to be doubted if any one of the others could be shown to have anything like the direct influence which Browne exerted, upon the style which we think of as characteristically Stevensonian. The generous explanation — and with Steven- son the generous explanation is likely to be the correct one — is that Stevenson, conscious stylist though he was, was still not sensible of the extent or the precise direction of the influence of Browne.1
Leaving aside for the moment the question of style in the narrower sense, reasons why the work of Browne should have attracted Stevenson are not far to seek. The spiritual kinship is unmistakable. The Shorter Catechist who still could heap bitter invective upon the minister of his own sect who had
1 The writer wishes to express his hearty thanks to Professor Morris W. Croll, of Princeton University, who interested him in the larger problem of the genesis and the influence of Browne's prose-style. Professor Croll has been kind enough to read the present paper in manuscript, and has offered very help- ful criticism.
371
372 Robertson
attacked the memory of Father Damien found a companionable spirit in the seventeenth century Anglican who "could never hear the Ave-Mary Bell without an elevation." It is of record, however, that Stevenson, after the Father Damien episode, deeply regretted having indulged in bitterness, even in this just cause. Must he not have read with entire approval Browne's discussion of "that other Virtue of Charity, without which Faith is a mere notion, and of no existence?" Even Charles Lamb, we recall, was moved to take exception, in "Imperfect Sympathies," to the entire lack of "common Antipathies" in Browne's profession. Browne, indeed, allows but one limitation to his toleration: "My conscience would give me the lye if I should say I absolutely detest or hate any essence but the Devil;" and are we not justified in believing, to use a phrase of Carlyle's on another occasion, that "the very devil himself he cannot hate with right orthodoxy?" In the case of Browne, as in that of Stevenson, the spirit of toleration belonged to a man upon occasion outwardly a skeptic, in matters of ritual, but one whose heart was deeply reverent; it is not, in either instance, the toleration of indifference. Moreover, both men unite this trait with an unmistakable fondness for preach- ing; Lay Morals is perhaps Stevenson's nearest formal approach to Religio Medici, but, through his work, the lay preacher is seldom silenced for long at a time.
It is significant that Stevenson, speaking of Walt Whitman, as "not one of those who can be deceived by familiarity,"2 should compare him with Sir Thomas Browne, to whom also life was "one perpetual miracle." The spirit of universal curiosity expressed in his own nursery rhyme, "The world is so full of a number of things," is one which, very strikingly, Stevenson shares with Browne. There is in each case, too, a thorough- going optimism in spite of a curious preoccupation with the thought of death. The subject to which Sir Thomas Browne recurs again and again in Religio Medici, as well as in Urn- Burial, is that of man's mortality; and it is this theme which unfailingly inspires him to his loftiest manner. The circum- stance of life-long ill health made it inevitable that Stevenson
1 Familiar Studies of Men and Books, p. 92. References to Stevenson are to the Biographical Edition.
Sir Thomas Browne and R. L. Stevenson 373
too should recur often to this thought; but it is wholly remark- able that his treatment of the theme should, like Browne's, contain so little of what is morbid.
There is a keen temptation to pursue, in further detail, these and other parallels between the thought of Stevenson and that of Browne. We are concerned, however, rather with manner than with matter, though the two, naturally, cannot entirely be disassociated; Browne attracts Stevenson both as philosopher and as stylist. Stevenson, of course, has reiterated his belief that style is of primary importance in writing: "Style is of the essence of thinking;"3 "Style is the invariable mark of any master."4 Our purpose will be to limit our inquiry into the influence of Browne upon Stevenson, as closely as possible to the side of style rather than that of thought.
Parenthetically it may be said, that with the evidence which exists of Stevenson's familiarity with Browne, it is again sur- prising to observe that his discussion of "Books Which Have Influenced Me"6 contains no mention of Religio Medici or any other work of Browne. The works here noted, in the order in which they are discussed, are Shakespeare, Dumas, Bunyan, the New Testament, Whitman, Herbert Spencer, Lewis' Life of Goethe, Marcus Aurelius, Wordsworth and George Meredith. Nevertheless we are warned that the list may have omitted important names: "I suppose, when I am done, I shall find that I have forgotten much that was most influential, as I see I have already forgotten Thoreau, and Hazlitt, whose paper 'On the Spirit of Obligations' was a turning point in my life, and Penn . . . and Mitford's Tale of Old Japan." If it was thus possible for Stevenson even temporarily to forget Hazlitt, to whom elsewhere he has paid such direct tribute of admiration, surely we may suspect that he has omitted other significant names, and that two of these names are Charles Lamb and Sir Thomas Browne. ! Are the guiding principles of Stevenson's style, then, derived in any sense from Browne? In answering this question it will be convenient first to refer to Stevenson's theory of
• Familiar Studies, p. 104.
4 "A Note on Realism," Essays of Travel, etc., p. 278.
* Essays of Travel, p. 317 ff.
374 Robertson
style, and then to observe how far his practice conforms to his theory; at the same time, we shall inquire what both theory and practice have in common with the work of Sir Thomas Browne. Fortunately, Stevenson has discussed at length his theory of style, in the much debated article "On Some Technical Ele- ments of Style in Literature," contributed to The Contempor- ary Review for April, 1885.6 The general principles of style there enumerated are discussed under four main heads: choice of words, the web, the rhythm of the phrase, the contents of the phrase. Each of these points demands separate consideration. The first topic, choice of words, is dealt with briefly and in generalizations. Stevenson distinguishes the material with which the literary artist works from that which must be em- ployed in other departments of creative art, and points out the advantage and the limitation arising from this difference. "The first merit," he believes, "which attracts in the pages of a good writer ... is the apt choice and contrast of the words employed." Though the first merit, he holds that it is very far from being characteristic in equal degree of all good writers; indeed, writers who excel in this respect are likely to be inferior to the best in other aspects of style. Stevenson's phrasing of the principle actuating choice of words is noteworthy: "It is, indeed, a strange art to take these blocks, rudely conceived for the purpose of the market and the bar, and by tact of applica- tion touch them to the finest meanings and distinctions, restore to them their primal energy, wittily shift them to another issue, or make of them a drum to rouse the passions." It is precisely this point which Sir Walter Raleigh, in his suggestive analysis of Stevenson's own style, has selected as its first excellence: "a fine sense of the sound, value, meaning and associations of individual words."7 Surely Stevenson's "careful choice of epithet and name" and his use of words in unusual and striking associations are traits which he shares with Browne. The allusiveness of a word, for example the last in this phrase, "Man's own reason is his best Oedipus;"* and the full flavor imparted to a word by employing it with a glance at its older
• Included in the volume Essays of Travel, etc., pp. 253-277. 1 Raleigh, Robert Louis Stevenson, London, 1904, p. 33. 'Religio Medici, II, p. 327. References to Browne are to the Bohn edition, in 3 vols.
Sir Thomas Browne and R. L. Stevenson 375
meaning, like Browne's "such extravagant and irregular heads as mine"9 — these are to be paralleled again and again in Steven- son.10 The proof of influence cannot, of course, be made con- clusive, because there are so many writers besides Browne in whom Stevenson may have studied the effective choice of words, and because his discussion of this point is confined to gener- alization. Nevertheless certain aspects of Stevenson's choice of words, some of them associated with the other stylistic traits he discusses, recall Browne pre-eminently; and, in general, there can be no doubt that Browne belongs, in Stevenson's own classification, with the Montaignes and the Carlyles, peculiarly effective in the choice of individual words.
Choice of words is closely associated, naturally, with the as- pect of style which forms the subject of the second point Stevenson discusses, what he calls "the web." "The true business of the literary artist," he says,11 "is to plait and weave his meaning, involving it around itself; so that each successive sentence, by successive phrases, shall first come into a kind of knot, and then, after a moment of suspended meaning, solve and clear itself. In every properly constructed sentence there should be observed this knot or hitch; so that (however delicately) we are led to foresee, to expect, and then to welcome the successive phrases." "The pleasure," he continues, "may be heightened by an element of surprise, as, very grossly, in the common figure of the antithesis, or, with much greater sub- tlety, where an antithesis is first suggested and then deftly evaded." The last clause, and a statement a little later as to the propriety of inexact balance, might stand as the description of a favorite turn of phrase in Browne; for he, "with much greater subtlety" than the Euphuists, cultivated the purposely incomplete antithesis and intentionally imperfect balance. "I should violate my own arm rather than a Church; nor willingly deface the name of Saint or Martyr"12 is an example; the reader's expectation of another "rather than" clause is pleasantly disappointed. The famous last chapter of the
• Religio Medici, II, p. 327.
10 Cf. Raleigh, pp. 34-36, for a number of examples, from Virginibus " P. 257.
Puerisque, of "happy hits and subtle implications conveyed in a single word." » Religio Medici, II, p. 321.
376 Robertson
Urn-Burial abounds in sentences made up of deliberately asymmetrical clauses.13 A single example from Stevenson may be used to illustrate his employment of this type of sentence: "To be overwise is to ossify; and the scruple-monger ends by standing stockstill."14 Here the vowel and consonantal allit- eration,15 joined with the inexact balance of the clauses,18 give us Sir Thomas Browne to the life.
Stevenson's early essays, those collected in Virginibus Puerisque, for example, are full of sentences composed on the principle he enunciates of the "successive phrase," foreseen and expected. To vary the two-clause balanced sentence, we frequently encounter, as also in Browne, happy use of the "magic number three," the successive phrases usually arranged in climactic order. "I thank the goodness of God, I have no sins that want a name; I am not singular in offences; my transgressions are Epidemical, and from the common breath of our corruption."17 This sentence will illustrate the type in
" The first sentence (III, p. 40-1) is a case in point.
14 "Aes Triplex," in Virginibus Puerisque, p. 159.
16 For the more elaborate use of vowel alliteration in Browne, cf. Urn-Buriat, III, p. 47, "invisibly interred by angels and adjudged to obscurity"; and p. 37, "in old apprehension unworthy of the earth."
16 It is characteristic of Browne to suggest, and then carefully avoid exact balance of clauses. "To be nameless in worthy deeds, exceeds an infamous history" (Urn-Burial, p. 44) illustrates, hi brief, this favorite turn of phrase. Professor Croll, in the introduction to his edition of Lyly's Euphues (London, 1916, p. xvii) points out that Browne's more subtly patterned balance is one of the stylistic traits that place him (with Bacon and with Montaigne, among others) in "the Anti-Ciceronian movement which arose at the end of the 16th century hi reaction from the various forms of ornate, formal style in the pre- ceding age, such as Euphuism. ... Sir Thomas Browne . . . likes just so much symmetry of form as will serve to point his artful and rhythmical departures from it." Professor Crell has called my attention to a striking analysis, by Charles Lamb, of a similar trait in the prose of Thomas Fuller: "The charm of it [a passage from Fuller's account of Henry de Essex in his Worthies] seems to consist hi a perpetual balance of antitheses not too violently opposed, and the constant activity of mind in which the reader is kept. . . The reader by this artifice is taken into a kind of partnership with the writer — his judgment is exercised hi settling the preponderance — he feels as if he were consulted as to the issue." (A note to Lamb's Specimens from Fuller's Writings, p. 385, of vol. II, Talfourd ed., New York, 1855.)
"Religio Medici, II, p. 434. Cf., further, p. 403, "I can hardly think . . ."or pp. 438-9, "For there is a musick. . ."
Sir Thomas Browne and R. L. Stevenson 377
Browne. Examples may be added of sentences from Stevenson which parallel the clause construction and have something too of Browne's rhythm, different as they are in subject matter: "They are dreams and unsubstantial; visions of style that repose upon no base of hidden meaning; the last heart-throbs of that excited amateur who has to die in all of us before the artist can be born."18 "Cattle awake in the meadows; sheep break their fast on dewy hillsides, and change to a new lair among the ferns; and houseless men, who have lain down with the fowls, open their dim eyes and behold the beauty of the night."1'
Stevenson's discussion of the "web" leads him inevitably to the conclusion, with which, of course, all his writing is con- sistent, that "style is the foundation of the art of literature."20 Moreover, "that style is the most perfect, not, as fools say, which is the most natural, for the most natural is the disjointed babble of the chronicler; but which attains the highest degree of elegant and pregnant implication unobtrusively; or if obtrusively, then with the greatest gain to sense and vigour." The last phrase of this dictum might well have been added to bring Sir Thomas Browne within the definition: for Browne's style (and Stevenson's own) cannot fairly be described as "unob- trusive."
The last two points of Stevenson's discussion of technical elements of style are concerned with the rhythm of the phrase and the contents of the phrase. The conclusion as to rhythm in prose is, "Prose may be rhythmical, and it may be as much so as you will; but it must not be metrical. It may be anything but it must not be verse."21 Dickens "in his earlier attempts to be impressive" is the stock illustration used by Stevenson (and others) to typify prose-writing which trespasses upon the domain of verse. Stevenson's own practice in this particular once more may be said to recall that of Sir Thomas Browne. The concluding chapter of Urn-Burial, by common consent, affords the supreme example in all English literature of the "other harmony of prose." To give a single example, ". . . the glory of the world is surely over, and the earth in ashes
18 "Fontainebleau," in Across the Plains, p. 133.
19 Travels with a Donkey, p. 112. *> P. 259.
« P. 267.
378 Robertson
unto them:"22 these words surely border close upon the con- fines of poetry, but are true nevertheless to their own medium. The following examples from Virginibus Puerisque will demon- strate rhythmical prose in Stevenson: "Wise men of yore erected statues of their deities, and consciously performed their part in life before those marble eyes,"23 and (with the closing phrases containing mingled suggestion of Shakespeare and Browne) "Times are changed for him who marries; there are no more by-path meadows, where you may innocently linger, but the road lies long and straight and dusty to the grave."24 Occa- sionally Stevenson comes perilously close to suggesting the sustained iambic metre, inappropriate, according to his own theory, to prose; the closing sentence of this essay on "Technical Elements of Style" is "We need n6t wonder, then, if perfect sentences are rare, and perfect pages rarer." Nevertheless, the fact that in Stevenson, prose-rhythm is often more obvious and less subtle than in Browne,25 does not militate against the belief that the latter's work, in this particular also, strongly influenced the former's.
Under his final topic, "the contents of the phrase," Steven- son is chiefly concerned with assonance and alliteration: "The beauty of the contents of a phrase, or of a sentence, depends implicitly upon alliteration and assonance." Here it is especially difficult to believe that the prose of Sir Thomas Browne, though not represented in the selections quoted to illustrate the point, is not in Stevenson's mind. The matter has already been touched upon, and will be referred to again, but perhaps a single illustration may be given here of Stevenson's use of alliteration: "The chair he has just been besieging as a castle, or valiantly cutting to the ground as a dragon, is taken away for the accom- modation of a morning visitor, and he is nothing abashed; he can skirmish by the hour with a stationary coal scuttle; in the midst of the enchanted pleasance, he can see, without sensible
» III, p. 49.
»P. 32.
M P. 30.
* For examples (from the multitude which might be cited) of prose in which rhythm is kept from being metre, see R. M., p. 444, "There is a piece of divinity in us ... and owes no homage unto the sun"; and p. 402, "The heart of man is the place the devils dwell in . . . Legion is revived in me."
Sir Thomas Browne and R. L. Stevenson 379
shock, the gardener soberly digging potatoes for the day's dinner."26 Here, to analyze the sentence after Stevenson's own manner in "Technical Elements," we find the "s" sound predominating throughout; the "c" which furnishes subsidiary alliteration in the early part of the sentence is replaced in this capacity, toward the close, by "d." This may be placed alongside the following passage from Browne: "The solemni- ties, ceremonies, rites of their cremation or interment, so solemnly delivered by authors, we shall not disparage our readers to repeat. Only the last and lasting part in their urns, collected bones and ashes, we cannot wholly omit, or decline that subject, which occasion lately presented, in some discovered among us."27 Here the prevailing alliteration is the "r" sound, strongly supported throughout by the ever-present "s." It may be that there are other and more subtle effects to be found here also, a manipulation, for instance, of the vowels in order to emphasize flat "a" and close "o"; this would demon- strate, merely, what may be taken as a premise, that Browne is a more delicate artist in sound-values than Stevenson.28
* "Child's Play," in Virginibus Puerisque, p. 219.
» Urn-Burial, III, p. 13.
M Browne's use of alliteration is a large subject at which we have merely glanced. It varies in kind and in degree from a relatively simple to a highly complex type; it is to the former kind, naturally, that Stevenson's practice more nearly conforms. This sentence of Stevenson's, "The past stands on a precarious footing; another straw split in the field of metaphysic, and behold us robbed of it." ("A Chapter on Dreams," Across the Plains, p. 206) with its alternating "p" and "s," supported first by "f" and then by "b," illustrates about as elaborate use as Stevenson ever makes of alliteration. Of the same general type are such sentences of Browne's as this: "But that these phantasms appear often, and do frequent cemeteries, charnel-houses and churches, it is because those are the dormitories of the dead, where the devil, like an insolent champion, beholds with pride the spoils and trophies of his victory over Adam." (Religio Medici, p. 380). The more intricate and subtle use of alliteration and the long drawn out harmony less characteristic of Religio Medici than of Urn- Burial may be illustrated in a paragraph from the latter (p. 37), "We examine not the old laws of sepulture . . . from whence there was no redemption," where the pattern "pr" is maintained throughout, and aided by minor harmonies, suc- cessively "x," "b," "f," "m," besides a phrase of vowel alliteration. For further illustration of the simpler type, see Urn-Burial, p. 48, "When many that feared to die . . . and annihilations shall be courted"; and, for the more com- plex type, p. 33, "Christians have handsomely glossed the deformity of death . . . most pathetically ceremonious." The former kind of alliteration is
380 Robertson
That Stevenson had an early fondness for the simpler and more direct prose of the 18th century writers may be inferred, among other indications, from his remarks on alliteration in an early bit of critical writing. Speaking, in 1874, of Lord Lytton's Fables in Song, he writes, "We must take exception ... to the excess of alliteration. Alliteration is so liable to be abused that we can scarcely be too sparing of it; and yet it is a trick that grows upon a writer with years. It is a pity to see fine verses, such as some in 'Demos,' absolutely spoiled by the recurrence of one wearisome consonant."29 The character of much of his earliest work, such as "The Pentland Rising" (1866) and "College Papers" (1871),30 seems to support the conclusion that his early theory and practice was based more on Addison than on Browne. There is, however, direct reference to Religio Medici in "The Wreath of Immortelles" (1870) ;81 one wonders whether the increasing influence of Browne upon Stevenson, becoming obvious, as the attempt will be made to show, in Stevenson's first published work of importance,32 does not in part account for his change of heart as regards alliteration. In the essay on style, he writes, "It used to be a piece of good advice to all young writers to avoid alliteration; and the advice was sound, in so far as it prevented daubing. None the less for that, was it abominable nonsense, and the mere raving of those blindest of the blind who will not see."
frequent in all Browne's writing; for examples outside his two best known works, cf. Vvlgars Errors, IT, p. 286, "Surely, if such depravities there be yet alive, deformity need not despair; nor will the eldest hopes be ever superannuated, since death hath spurs, and carcasses have been courted"; and Letter to a Friend, III, pp. 77-8, "Not to fear death, nor desire it, was short of his resolution: to be dissolved, and be with Christ, was his dying ditty."
Whether, however, Browne's alliteration is comparatively simple or extremely intricate, it is to be noted that it does not take the obvious form characteristic of Euphuism, where it is so frequently joined with exact balance of clauses. Browne's attitude toward alliteration is as different from Lyly's as is his use of antithesis, (cf . p. 375 above). In this respect, too, Browne departs from the formal oratorical style of the Ciceronian school; Seneca, rather than Cicero, is his model.
29 Lay Morals, p. 164.
80 Both included in Lay Morals and Other Papers.
11 Lay Morals, p. 195.
12 Virginibus Puerisque, An Inland Voyage and Travels itnth a Donkey all belong to the years 1878-1881.
Sir Thomas Browne and R. L. Stevenson 381
One other point of resemblance between Browne and Stevenson may be mentioned, a minor stylistic device not commented on in the essay on style. This is Stevenson's use of what seems peculiarly a Brownism, the quaint arrangement of pairs of words alike in sound, though often varying in sense. Frequently these pairs take the form of different derivatives of the same stem, the likeness of sound pleasantly calling attention to the differences. These are examples in Browne: "Time which anliquates antiquities . . . hath yet spared these minor monuments."™ "While some have studied monuments, others have studiously declined them."34 ". . . the smartest strokes of affliction leave but short smart upon us."35 In the following sentence from "Child's Play," this device is joined, in the second clause, with alliteration; and the whole (indeed much of the first part of the essay) exhibits the inexact balance cultivated by Browne: "What we lose in generous impulse, we more than gain in the habit of generously watching others; and the capacity to enjoy Shakespeare may balance a lost aptitude for playing at soldiers."36 Very similar is this sentence from "Acs Triplex,"37 surely with the authentic accent of Browne: "The poorest persons have a bit of pageant going to the tomb; memorial stones are set up over the least memorable." Still more striking is another phrase from the same essay: "By the time a man gets well into the seventies, his continued existence is a mere miracle."36 In this instance, beyond any question, he is recalling an idea of Browne's to which he has alluded elsewhere.39 The phrase in Browne, however, runs thus: "Now for my life, it is a miracle of thirty years."40 Is it not significant that, in the very act of recalling this, Stevenson should fall into a characteristic Brownism?
It may not be out of place to join to the foregoing analysis of Stevenson's theory of style, as exemplified in his practice, the
» Urn-Burial, III, p. 41. "Ibid., p. 48. * P. 45.
18 Virginibus Puerisque, p. 211. "Ibid., p. 147. *8 P. ISO.
89 "His whole life is to him what it was to Sir Thomas Browne, one perpetual miracle." "Walt Whitman," Familiar Studies, p. 92. 40 Religio Medici, II, p. 444.
382 Robertson
caveat that it be not applied too broadly to his method of writing. Even so hostile a critic as Mr. Swinnerton acknowl- edges that injustice has been done Stevenson in this direction: "Because Stevenson found certain combinations of consonants recurrent in select passages, it was assumed by his critics that he lived in a state of the dreariest kind of pattern-writing."41 Beyond any question, Stevenson was a most conscientious craftsman; the proofs of this are too familiar to need rehearsal. He was a man of letters, by his own testimony and that of others, who wrote always with care, often with difficulty. In the very last year of his life he told S. R. Crockett, how, having spent twenty-one days of at least seven working hours each on The Ebb Tide and Weir of Hermiston, he had completed exactly twenty-four pages. All this does not imply, however, that he subjected his own writing to the minute analysis of style and rhythm which he applies to the passages selected for this purpose in the essay on style. Have we not, in Sir Thomas Browne's case, though Browne is so much less prolific an author, a writer who is meticulous in much the same degree as Stevenson? In regard to Browne's manner of writing Edmund Gosse remarks, "The examination of his numerous manuscripts is enough to show with what care he ran over the texture of his sentences, weighing them down with precious metal, fusing, elaborating, and implicating them, turning the rough yarn of statement into heavy cloth of gold."42
The illustrations of specific points of resemblance to the style of Sir Thomas Browne, it will have been perceived, have been confined usually to the essays of Stevenson's youth. It is not surprising, for more than one reason, that the influence of Browne should grow perceptibly less and less in the works of Stevenson's later years. Obviously, even in so relatively early a work as Treasure Island, written "as the words come and the pen will scratch,"43 there is little place for "fine writing." Though we must not exclude all the novels and certainly not all the short stories, it is still true that the Brownisms are primarily to be noticed in the earlier writer and in the essayist. One
41 Frank Swinnerton, R. L. Stevenson, A Critical Study, London, 1914, p. 85.
°Sir Thomas Browne, E. M. L., p. 192. 48 Letter to W. E. Henley, August, 1881.
Sir Thomas Browne and R. L. Stevenson 383
explanation is suggested by the author himself, his belief, that is to say, that style, in the narrower technical sense and in the larger as well, should not be formed once and for all, and for all purposes alike, in a writer's youth: "Artists of indifferent energy and an imperfect devotion to their own ideal make this ungrateful effort once for all; and, having formed a style, adhere to it through life. But those of a higher order cannot rest content with a process which, as they continue to employ it, must infallibly degenerate towards the academic and the cut and dried . . . the changing views which accompany the growth of their experience are marked by still more sweeping alterations in the manner of their art."44
Apart from this, it is natural that in the personal essay, above other places, the note of Browne should be heard. Browne (particularly because of the second part of Religio Medici) deserves to be reckoned as an important link in the chain by which the tradition of Montaigne was handed down to the 19th century, to Lamb and to Stevenson before all others. Though never able entirely to keep himself out of his writing, it is indisputable that Stevenson, as he matures, draws less and less upon his personal experiences. Professor Rice, com- menting upon a different spirit in the latter half of Stevenson's writing life, selects the year 1880 as a dividing line.45 Does not what he refers to as "the diminution of the autobiographic tem- per" assist us in explaining the lessening influence of Sir Thomas Browne, pre-eminently a subjective writer? It may be said, however, that although toward the end the echoes of Browne grow fainter and fainter, they never are utterly silenced.
After all this attempt to demonstrate specifically the stylistic indebtedness of Stevenson to Browne, one is conscious that a large part of the indebtedness defies such a demonstra- tion. Critics have found Browne's peculiar quality extremely difficult to analyze satisfactorily. Sir Leslie Stephen, inquiring into "the strange charm of Sir Thomas Browne's style," is forced to the conclusion, that "like other spells . . . it is incom- municable: no real answer can be given even by critics who,
44 "A Note on Realism," Essays of Travel, p. 282.
46 Richard A. Rice, Stevenson — How to Know Him, Indianapolis, 1916, p. 156.
384 Robertson
like Coleridge and De Quincey, show something of the same power. . . The perusal of a page will make us recognize what could not be explained in a whole volume of analysis."46 Similarly we may say that the note of Browne in Stevenson is frequently easy to perceive, difficult to classify. Such random phrases as these: (of a drum made of asses' hide) "in this state of mummy and melancholy survival of itself,"47 or (of the Cami- sard warriors) "mystically putting a grain of wheat among the pewter balls,"48 recall Sir Thomas Browne irresistibly; precisely why, it is more difficult to state.
The conclusion to which we are led is that Stevenson, coming in his youth to take Sir Thomas Browne as a model for style, to an extent greater than he realized, never relinquished allegiance to his master, though his tribute becomes less and less servile as he grows in stature. Always a stylist, the great 17th century stylist continues to attract him, particularly, as has been sug- gested, when a solemn theme congenial to Browne's manner is touched upon. It is recognized, of course, on all sides, that the "style" which he cultivated early in life became a perma- nent characteristic of his work, though it becomes less obtrusive in his more mature writing. "There is an indescribable air of distinction," thus Sir Walter Raleigh summarizes the matter, ". . . breathing from all his works."49 Mr. Swinnerton, in his less gracious manner, puts it in this way: "Having turned writer in his youth, he remained a writer to the end. He could not dictate a letter but what the phrases ran in accus- tomed grooves, half way to the tropes of his covenanting manner."50 It has been the attempt of the present essay to show that there is one writer, among the "older masters" of English prose, who has helped, in more definite ways than it has been supposed, in the formation of Stevenson's style.
STUART ROBERTSON Temple University
46 Hours in a Library, II, p. 34.
47 An Inland Voyage, p. 71.
48 Travels with a Donkey, p. 127. « Op. oil., p. 43.
*° Op. cil., p. 150.
WEITERE NACHTRAGE ZU DEN ALTHOCH- DEUTSCHEN GLOSSEN
Nach Ahd. Gl. II 24560 ware nachzutragen aus Cod. SGall. 299 p. 26519: Arbor, mastque1 sursu erigitur.2 I>azu vgl. Cod. Selestad. 100, folio 95 recto = Ahd. Gl. II 2466: Arbor, mast bourn que in naui sursum erigitur.
Nach Ahd. Gl. II 59820 ware einzufiigen aus Cod. Selestad. 100, fol. 71 verso 222: Ignis acer. osma; dazu vgl. Ahd. Gl. II 597", wo zu der Leidenglosse Ignis acer. o°ma geftigt werden sollte die entsprechende aus Cod. SGall. 299 p. 27 118: Igni- sacer. osa, d. h. osa = osma = oma saxonice. Wie es mit dem ahd. Charakter des von M. Hofler in seinem Krankheitsnamen-Buch S. 452a angegebenen angeblich ahd. oma, oman steht, habe ich nicht nachpriifen kb'nnen, er verweist auf Rochholz, ZfdMaa. IV 104 und Panzer, Bayr. Sagen 2, 528. Dasz es ein deutsches Ohm 'Hautentziindung mit Geschwulst' gibt, ersieht man aus Grimm, DWb. 7, 1200; dazu das Adj. 'b'hmig' ebd. 7, 1201. Hierher stellt Hofler auch den Pflanzennamen Ohmblatt (Grimm, DWb. 7, 1200); dieser riihrt nach ihm daher, dasz zur Bedeckung ohmiger Hautstellen das Volk noch heute die Ohmblatter Lappa, Rumex, Tussilago farfara beniitzt.*
Die Ahd. Gl. II 597 Anm. 2 als lateinisch bezeichnete Leiden- glosse tesseras. tevsulas sollte als altenglisch nach 5973 aufge- fuhrt und dazu die Entsprechung aus Cod. SGall. 299, p. 27 1,1 tesseras. tessalas gefiigt werden. Das zweite s des Interpre- taments sieht aus, als sei es nachgetragen. Dem Schreiber lag wohl vor tesseras. te'sulas d. h, tesulas saxonice. Die Glosse findet sich auch im Cod. Selestad. 100, fol. 73 recto 217 (Ahd. Gl. II 59858), und da ist iiber ae. tessalas (d. h. tessulas) das ahd. wurf. zabal geschrieben.
Wo das auch aus dem Cod. Selestad. 100, fol. 71 recto 2W fehlende Emporiu, cvfstat. (d. h. coufstat) nachzutragen ware, kann ich vorderhand nicht sagen, da mir die Quelle der Glosse nicht klar ist. Sie ist von anderer Hand nachgetragen nach Exedre subselli=Cod. SGall. 299, p. 27116 (Exedrae).
*Da der Drucker, laut Kluge, den Tatbestand nicht genau darstellen kann, so sei zu Zeile 6, 7, 9 bemerkt, dasz s und » iiber m von oma stehen sollte; v ist vernacule und auch im folgenden iibergeschrieben zu denken.
1 ue durch komma-ahnliches Zeichen ausgedriickt, das dicht am Kopfe von q steht.
2 ur durch v-ahnliches Zeichen iiber t ausgedriickt.
385
386 Schlutter
Von Randglossen aus dem Cod. Selestad. 100 waren nach- zutragen aus fol. 78 verso, link. Rand, 2. Abteilung, Zeile 5: Panus.3 lignu est4 circa quod4 inuoluuntur4 fila tele, quod* dicitur4 spvlo (vgl. Ahd. Gl. II 369*). Von ebenda, fol. 79 recto, recht. Rand, 2. Abteilung, Zeile 4: Tyro, nouus, miles, qui Icipit militari qui4 sturling dicitur2. vgl. Ahd. Gl. IV 343 a. 2.
Nachzutragen ware Ahd. Gl. II 26242 aus Cod. Selestad. 100, fol. 99 verso 2 l4-15, Febris proprie4 / rtto, ponitur2 tamen6 diuerse.
Ahd. Gl. II 26355 fehlt die entsprechende Glosse aus Cod. SGall. 299, p. 2312: superliminare.7 uberturi1. f.
Ahd. Gl. II 26435-36 fehlt die entsprechende Glosse aus Cod. Selestad. 100, fol. 100 verso I27-28: Episcopiu hoc loco dicitur1 tuom. ponitur2 tamen6 diuerse.
Ahd. Gl. II 26450-52 fehlt aus Cod. SGall. 299, p. 24411-12, die entsprechende Glosse: Elefantinus3 morbus3 i. lepra. quae* inmodu cutis elefantu, incute ho/minu coaceruatur, diutisce rub&ur6 (d. h. rubet; der Abschreiber hat augenscheinlich das Langezeichen seiner Vorlage fur das gewohnliche Abkiirzungs- zeichen von -ur genommen).
Vor Ahd. Gl. II 35821 ware nachzutragen aus Cod. Selestad. 100, fol. 80 verso 24: Parricidiis, magmordrvm* die identisch ist mit der Ahd. Gl. II 3568 aus Cod. SGall. 299, p. 30311 gegebenen.
Zu Ahd. Gl. II 32218 ware zu bemerken, dasz Cod. SGall. 299, p. 2792 nicht das gedruckte richtige leo, sondern klarlich das falsche leo steht.
Nach Ahd. Gl. II 32233-36 ware einzufugen aus Cod. SGall. 299, p. 28018-20: ADVIGLANCIV. Calagurritanus.3 .1. placentas. / Cronph&as.9 / ex farina simila melle & pingue tenuissimus.3 panis coquitur5 integu / la ferro. (Siehe Zeitschr. f. d. w. XIV.)
Zu Ahd. Gl. II 323, Anmerkung 1, ware zu bemerken, dasz im Cod. SGall. 299, p. 28310 die Uberschrift steht: ITEM DEEPISTOLIS HIERONIMI, wahrend die Glosse Lympha-
3 us abgekurzt.
4 abgekurzt.
5 -ur abgekurzt. 8 -en abgekurzt.
7 -er abgekurzt.
8 drvm abgekurzt durch drv mit Strich durch Balken von d.
9 r in die Biegung von C geschrieben.
Nachtr&ge ?u den Althochdeutschen Gloss en 387
tico more, vuojfanti auf p. 28317 steht. Ihr gehen sechs andere rein lateinische Glossen voran.
Nach Ahd. Gl. II 323s sollte eingefiigt werden aus Cod. SGall. 299, p. 28416-17: ADAMASVM. Liquentis element!.4 .i. puri lutures. Die entsprechende Glosse im Cod. Selestad. 100, fol. 75 recto I10 ist Liquentis element!.4 puri, ohne die deutsche Erklarung. >
Nach Ahd. Gl. II 735M ware einzufiigen aus Cod. Selestad. 100, fol. 65 recto I8: Babose. stulte. 1 seiuerer, wozu vgl. Ahd. Gl. IV 240, Anmerkung 8: Babose .i. stulte. 1 seuere. Ganz augenscheinlich hat da der Abschreiber aus dem deutschen seiner seiner Vorlage, welches = seiuerer ist, sein lateinisches seuere gemacht.
Ob in Careauit. bilauit (Cod. Selestad. 100, fol. 65 recto lu), das vor der Ahd. Gl. II 73548 gedruckten Glosse steht, etwas Germanisches steckt, mochte ich wenigstens der Erwagung anheimstellen.
Nach Ahd. Gl. II 1531 ware einzufiigen aus Cod. Selestad. 100, fol. 67 recto 1M: Cistella. chistu".10 quorum11 ministerio merca/tores uti solent.
Ob das auf fol. 67 recto I5 stehende Cuniculus. foramen. runvs12 das ahd. runs enthalt, ware zu erwagen.
Vor Ahd. Gl. II 15210 ware wohl die Randglosse im Cod. Selestad. 100, fol. 66 recto2 Apulia Apula19 terra14 zu erwahnen Apula steht iiber Apulia.
Nach Ahd. Gl. II 15361 ware einzufiigen aus Cod. Selestad. 100, fol. 70 recto 2 (Zeile 4 der U-Glossen): Vua Uath™ folia super16 lingua positfl. blath steht iiber Vua.
Nach Ahd. Gl. II 13964 ware einzufiigen aus Cod. Selestad. 100, fol. 88 verso 221-22: Preuenti sunt. copulsi sunt. furiuan / goto sint.
Zu Ahd. Gl. II 9320 ware hinzuzufiigen die entsprechende Glosse aus Cod. Selestad. 100, fol. 90 recto 216: Animositas motvs3 animi. tnissimuti.
10 Uber u ein Abktirzungsstrich ausradiert.
11 -rum abgekiirzt durch Strich durch die r-Schleife. u s mit v ligiert.
u Ubergeschrieben.
14 -er durch Strich (iber r abgekiirzt.
u -er durch Strich durch p abgekiirzt.
?88 Schluttcr
Zur SGaller Glosse ware zu bemerken, dasz die Hs. trennt missi/ mouti (p. 1889-10).
Zu Ahd. Gl. II 93, Anmerkung 13, habe ich schon friiher bemerkt, dasz die Glosse Ciangas hosun wohl aus dem Concilium Aurelianense I c. 20 stammt, wo es nach dem Zitate bei Ducange unter Tzangae heiszt: Monacho uti orario in Monasterio vel tzangas habere non liceat. Fiir tzangas bieten ciangas die Canones editi a Jacobo Petito.
Zu Ahd. Gl. II 941 ware die entsprechende Glosse aus Cod. Selestad. 100, fol. 91 recto I8 zu fiigen: Cassatfl. solutti 1 euacuata. formitan.
Nach Ahd. Gl. II 9428 ware einzufiigen aus Cod. Selestad. 100, fol. 91 verso 1 (Zeile 7 der E-Glossen): Enigma, sententia obscura ratiski; der Cod. SGall. 299, p. 19316 hat die entsprech- ende lateinische Glosse, entbehrt aber der ahd. Erklarung.
Nach Ahd. Gl. II 94" ware einzufiigen aus Cod. SGall. 299, p. 1911: Festin& debts' = Cod. Selestad. 100, fol. 92 recto I15: Festinet debet, wenn anders das Interpretament zu ae. pefian zu stellen ist, wie ich in den Englischen Studien 43, 313 vermutet habe. Ebenso unsicher ist, ob das gleich folgende Fasce. massa (Cod. SGall. 299, p. 196x = Cod. Selestad. 100, fol. 92 recto I17) das lat. massa oder das daraus entlehnte ahd. Wort ist.
Ahd. Gl. II 845 fiihrt Steinmeyer aus dem Stuttgartensis an nauitaer. nauigo, und verweist fur das Interpretament auf Graff 2, 1053. Wenn das richtig ist, so miiszte nach Ahd Gl. II 9542 eingef iigt werden aus Cod. SGall. 299, p. 20015, Naui- ter. nauigat und Verderb von nauigat aus nauigo 1 angenommen werden. Aber man beachte, dasz der Cod. Selestad. 100, fol. 93 recto 1 (Zeile 2 der N-Glossen) hat: Nauiter, strenue 1 nauigatio. Diese Erklarung legt den Verdacht nahe, dasz auch im Stuttgartensis dem angeblichen ahd. nauigo ein lat. nauigatio bezw. nauigatione zu Grunde liege, indem nauiter mit nauis (falschlich) in Zusammenhang gebracht wurde.
Nach Ahd. Gl. IV 17526 ware einzufiigen aus Clm. 14429, fol. 223 verso I6 Frico. — id est melim (altirisch). Auch altirisch ist die Ahd. Gl. IV 1769 falschlich medo gedruckte Erklarung. Wie mir Steinmeyer freundlichst schreibt, hatte ihn Kuno Meyer schon langst darauf aufmerksam gemacht, dasz die Glosse serum caseuuazzar id est medc zu lesen sei, wo ntedc das air. medg 'Molken' darstelle. Aber die Hs hat wirklich medc fol. 225 verso 36, das c ist ganz deutlich; das meolc,
NachtrtLge zu den Althochdeuts^hen Glossen 389
das Piper ZfdPh. 15, 83" druckt, beruht auf Verlesung des irischen d, als ware es ol. Er hat auch das irische lange s fiir r verlesen, indem er careuuazzar statt caseuuazzar druckte. Auch hat er die auf den zwei vorhergehenden Zeilen stehende Glosse falschlich mit der neueir, mit serum beginnenden Glosse verbunden. Zum tJberflusse steht nach dem abgektirzten dicitur deutlich ein von ihm nicht gedruckter Punkt in der Hs. In dieser vorhergehenden Glosse druckt er auch die falsche Lesung commune fiir das deutliche conuiua der Hs. Die Gtosse sollte so lauten: Simplones conuiuae & amicus spon/si quiw cfl eo ambulat simplator17 dicitur.16
Zu Ahd. Gl. IV 1759 ist zu bemerken, dasz das Interpreta- ment in der Hs. fol. 222 recto 37 nicht iiber loquitur,18 sondern iiber -one von sibilatione steht, wiewohl ich nicht glaube, dasz es sibilatione erklaren soil; es ist wohl in lisbere aufzulosen. Steinmeyer sagt, dasz die Glosse von j lingerer Hand iiberge- schrieben sei. Da er das Interpretament von Ahd. Gl. IV 175T Bubo fiuo als 'von anderer Hand zugesetzt' erklart, und man daraus schlieszen konnte, dasz diese Hand verschieden sei von der, die das abgekiirzte lisbere iiberschrieb, so bemerke ich, dasz es dieselbe Hand ist. Auch ist uuo nicht sowohl 'zugesetzt' als iibergeschrieben. Die Glosse lautet: Bubo, nomen auis. Uber dem Raume zwischen Bubo und nomen schrieb eine spatere, grobe Hand das deutsche Interpretament. Es ist dieselbe Hand, die fiir alle iibergeschriebenen und eingef iigten und an den linken Rand geschriebenen Erklarungen verant- wortlich ist. Dies zu betonen ist notwendig, da Steinmeyers Anmerkungen die Sache nicht ganz klar machen. So sagt er in der Anmerkung 9 zu c6s uuezstdn,19 Ahd. Gl. IV 17522, dasz das Interpretament von 'ganz anderer Hand' stamme. Gewisz, die Hand ist eine ganz andere als die, welche das Lemma schrieb. Aber es ist genau dieselbe, welche in den Anmerkungen 5, 6, 7, 8 genannt wird, nur hat sie hier ihre Erklarung in den leeren Raum neben dem Lemma geschrieben, wahrend sie sie an den ge- nannten Stellen iiberschrieb oder an den linken Rand. Die linken Randglossen hat Steinmeyer durch Einklammerung des Lemmas gekennzeichnet.
18 abgekttrzt
17 Nach dem ersten r-Striche ein Wurmloch; dasz der zweite durch Wurm- frasz zerstorte Strich ein n-Strich war, wie Piper annahm, indem er simplaton druckte, ist mir nicht wahrscheinlich.
" -ur abgekiirzt. " Zu Grunde scheint ae. huuctstdn zu liegen.
390 Schlutt>r
Ahd. Gl. IV 17519 druckt Steinmeyer falschlich crostel als linke Randglosse. Naher kommt dem iiberlieferten Pipers crosbel (ZfdPh. 15, 834), aber er gibt falschlich Cartallago als Lemma. Die Handschrift hat fol. 222 verso 1, vorletzte Zeile von unten crospel Cartillago. cutis mollis quedefendit capita ossuvm. Die beiden letzten Worte stehen auf der vorher- gehenden Zeile und sind von dem andern durch drei iiber- einanderstehende Striche abgetrennt; pel von crospel steht unter cros. Ausgelassen hat Piper a. a. O. die von Stein- meyer Ahd. Gl. IV 17534 gedruckte Glosse, aber Steinmeyer irrt sich, wenn er id est4 pretta als iibergeschrieben bezeichnet; es steht vielmehr auf der vorhergehenden Zeile (fol. 225 recto 238) und ist von -atur der vorhergehenden Glosse in der oben angegebenen Weise getrennt. Was aber das Interpretament anlangt, so hat Steinmeyer das i der Hs. fur t verlesen; es steht klarlich preita. Wir sollten statt des p ein c erwarten. Denn es liegt doch wohl der Krotenname vor.
Zu Ahd. Gl. IV 17532 bemerkt Steinmeyer in der Anmerkung 15, dasz le:tar aus lector radiert sei. Ich habe die Stelle wieder und wieder daraufhin gepriif t, kann aber von einer Rasur keine Spur bemerken. Es wird also wohl Schwund des c durch Abreibung zu konstatieren sein.
Zu Ahd. Gl. IV 17531 ware zu bemerken, dasz die Hs. rou und auf der vorhergehenden Zeile chus hat, welches letztere von lacessitus. — prouocatus der vorgehenden Glosse in der angegebenen Weise getrennt ist.
Aufmerksam machen mochte ich noch auf einige Glossen dieses Glossars, die mir Germanisches zu enthalten scheinen: fol. 224 verso 29 steht Palda. argumentum. Das erinnert an Argumentum est uelox approbatio rerum incertarum im Cod. Palat. Reg. 598 (Ahd. Gl. IV 61032). Ferner lesen wir fol. 226 recto I7: Turdus 1 sturis. nomen6 auis. In der nachsten Zeile steht Turdella. nomen auis.
tiber diese und noch einige andere interessante Glossen des Kodex hoffe ich spater einiges sagen zu konnen.*
OTTO B. SCHLUTTER Hartford, Conn.
*The above is printed from the proof of an article, written at the request of Fr. Kluge for the Zeitschr. f. d. Wortforschung, but for some unexplained reason was not included in the last and final number of this journal in 1914. — Editor.
SOME FACTS ABOUT ANTHONY ASTON
In his Anthony Aston Stroller and Adventurer (1920), Mr. Watson Nicholson has done a valuable service for scholarship, especially in reprinting the interesting autobiographical sketch of the once famous itinerant actor. Various statements, how- ever, in Mr. Nicholson's discussion of Aston call for immediate correction.
In the first place, the exultation at the "discovery" of an important document was singularly unfortunate. As Coad has pointed out (Modern Language Notes, XXXVI, pp. 112-114), Aston's sketch of his life is listed in the catalogues of the British Museum and the Library of Congress, and was well known to Judge Daly and Mr. O. G. Sonneck, both of whom used it in their discussions of the American stage. It should also be noted that this work, which Mr. Nicholson says appears in no reference list or bibliographical table, is described at some length in Lowe's Bibliographical Account of Theatrical Literature (p. 10), referred to in Jeanette Marks's list of plays in her English Pastoral Drama (p. 188), and used by Wegelin in his The Beginning of the Drama in America, and by Hornblow in his The Theatre in America (I, 30-32).
Equally unfortunate is Mr. Nicholson's assertion (pp. 3-4) that "the details contained'in the following pages represent all that is known about the once famous wag" — a statement which Coad is inclined to accept. As a matter of fact, a con- siderable amount of information regarding Anthony Aston, overlooked by Mr. Nicholson, is at hand in such well known productions as Genest's Some Account of the English Stage (///, 75-77), W. Clark Russell's Representative Actors (p. 15), Fitz- gerald's New History of the English Stage (II, 48-50), and Dibdin's Annals of the Edinburgh Stage (pp. 35-40).
In possession of the information contained in these works, together with scraps of knowledge gleaned from other sources, let us examine some of Mr. Nicholson's conclusions regarding the character and doings of Aston. Taking too seriously the facetiousness of Chetwood and of Tony himself, he has, while rescuing Aston from the furious ignorance of Bellchamber,
391
392 Graves
nevertheless underestimated the stroller's ability as an actor and exaggerated his egotism and instability of character. It seems that Anthony on at least two occasions tried to establish himself permanently and go in for the presentation of legitimate drama. His unsuccessful attempt to establish himself in London in the winter of 1716-1717 has been handled at length by Mr. Nicholson. With this attempt should be compared Aston's interesting experiences in Edinburgh during the years 1725-1728. From the evidence assembled by Dibdin it is pretty clear that Aston came to Edinburgh in 1726 at the express invitation of the city magistrates — an unusual honor at the time — that he was held in high esteem by leading citizens of the town, and that he was a warm friend of Allan Ramsay, who wrote various prologues for his performances and praised him most lavishly in his Some Hints in Defense of Dramatic Entertainments (1727). One wonders if the Scottish poet was related to the "one Ramsay" who first inoculated Anthony with the "Itch and also good Latin" (cf. Sketch, p. 54). It is also clear that Aston intended to settle permanently in Edinburgh, and that he took his managership seriously. He spent con- siderable money on his performances, assembled a troupe of eleven actors besides himself, gave such dramas as The Earl of Essex and Love for Love in addition to his "Medley," and was able to put up a most skillful legal fight when his theater fell under the disapproval of the Scottish Magistrates. In view of his experience with Scottish law, we are not surprised at his successful opposition to the an ti- theatrical bill of 1735; and there may well have been reasons other than Anthony's self- assurance to explain why he was allowed to represent the pro- vincial actors before Parliament.
Aston's speech in 1735 has not been thoroughly understood by Mr. Nicholson. It does contain considerable gusto and nonsense, but Anthony probably knew what he was about. At least Theophilus Gibber says that he did. In his appendix to his Dissertations on Theatrical Subjects (1756) Gibber writes: "But when it [i. e., the proposed bill of 1735] was plainly per- ceived, this Bill was chiefly calculated to serve the Managers of two Theatres — it began to be treated with less Respect, than it was at its first Appearance; 'till, at length, even Tony Aston (a strolling Player of Interludes) of drole memory, was intro-
Some Facts About Anthony Aslon 393
duced to the Bar, where he pleaded his Cause, in Forma Pauperis, before the Honourable Ch-m-n- of the C-m-te; — and, operating on the risible Muscles of the Gay, and Good-Natured, he fairly laughed it out of the House" (pp. 43-44).
Such incidents as those referred to above do not indicate that Aston was, to use the words of Mr. Nicholson, an ignorant and uncultured person in whom egotism, mendicancy, and coarse- mindedness are inherent faults everywhere shamelessly featured. Nor does Allan Ramsay's tribute to Aston in 1726 seem to support Mr. Nicholson's characterization: "Mr. Aston and his family live themselves, to my certain knowledge, with sobriety, justice, and discretion, he pays his debts without being dunn'd; is of a charitable disposition, and avoids the intoxicat- ing bottle."
Nor must we censure Aston too severely, as Mr. Nicholson is inclined to do, for his boasts regarding his histrionic powers and his association with better society. There is every reason to believe that Anthony was an outspoken, perhaps over ardent, champion of what he considered to be justice and his own rights; consequently, when in his Sketch and his speech in Parliament, he expresses a willingness to pit himself against the leading actors of the day, we must remember his own words which follow one of these boasts: "I am obliged to appear thus vain, because of the many repulses, Shams, and Male-Treatment I have received from those in Power." His experiences at London in 1717 and at Edinburgh in 1727 prove that this is not an entirely unjustified remark. Again, when he claims in his speech before Parliament that he has often been invited to show his "Medley" in the "Private Apartments of the Heads of Colleges and Noble and Gentlemen's Houses," Anthony is indulging in no especially egotistical or boastful talk. That he did manage to move among a higher class of people than was ordinarily accessible to an itinerant actor is proved by his experiences in Edinburgh; and that he took especial pains to associate with those who were on an equality with his Stafford- shire ancestors is shown not only by his sketch of his life, but by the words which concluded his advertisement, when, in 1716, he brought from Bath to London his Welsh "mock voice" and other curiosities: "Any person of quality, or others, may
394 Graves
command him to their houses, etc., by sending word to the place above (Fitzgerald, II, 50).
Anthony's son is worth discussing briefly here. A document quoted by Dibdin (p. 40) shows that in 1715 Aston received permission from the Lord Mayor of Dublin to present his "Medley" in that city, and that his son, who two years later is advertised as being an actor of only ten years of age, took part in the father's entertainment Another document, cited by Dibdin, proves that this son was named Walter, perhaps in honor of Anthony's distinguished kinsman, Walter Aston (1584-1639), eldest son of Sir Edward Aston, of Tixall, Stafford- shire, and patron of the poet Dryden and Baron of Forfar in the Scottish peerage. The same document also shows that Anthony's son apparently married above himself at Edinburgh in April, 1728, where he and his father were imprisoned "as supposed to have enticed away that young gentlewoman," that is, a certain "Mrs. Jean Ker." The hero of this adventure, it may be added, is apparently the Walter Aston who wrote "The Restoration of King Charles II, or, The Life and Death of Oliver Cromwell. An Historic-Tragi-Comi-Ballad Opera" — a piece which was forbidden to be performed and was conse- quently published in 1733, with a vindication of the author against the unjust censure that his production had aroused.
Mr. Nicholson, (p. 38) remarks that "at one time during his career Tony was afflicted with consumption, against which he seems to have put up a winning fight." Mr. Nicholson does not cite his authority for this statement. If it is possible that he has based his remark on Chetwood's facetious comment that Aston, after tricking a certain landlord, paid him "when his Finances were in Order, and cur'd of the Consumption," then he has made a curious blunder; for Chetwood is speaking not of a bodily ailment but a disease of which a no less robust person than Sir John Falstaff complained.
Some idea of Aston's personal appearance is appropriate in connections with the assertion that he was a consumptive. The frontispiece of the British Museum copy of The Fool's Opera contains a scene presumably taken from the piece, in which Aston is revealed as a rather tall and slender personage. In one corner of the frontispieces is an inset medallion. Mr. Nicholson says (p. 43) that it is "labelled Tony Aston." This,
Some Facts About Anthony Aston 395
however, is a mistake. It is not "labelled," but a former owner has written on the fly-leaf that the inset is the only known portrait of Aston. The face thus revealed is evidently that of a lean and droll person. Such a description of the comedian is supported by a statement made by Thomas Davies, who was in a position to know what he was talking about. In the early eighteenth century, says Davies, when Pierre, challenging the conspirators in Otway's Venice Preserved, addressed one of them as
"Oh, thou! with that lean, withered, wretched face!" it was customary for an actor "of a most unfortunate figure with a pale countenance" to half-draw his sword and confront his accuser. Aston was "the last performer of this ridiculous part" (cf. Dutton Cook, On the Stage, I, 248). Davies's com- ment is better evidence than Chetwood's remark for saying that Tony was at one time afflicted with consumption.
Mr. Nicholson, it may be noted in passing, fails to note that Aston, like Dogget, acted Shylock in the ridiculous fashion made necessary by Lansdowne's version of Shakspere's play, and that on January 9, 1722, Anthony was announced to act the part of Fondlewife at Lincoln Inn Fields, his first appearance at this theater (Genest, III, 75).
A minor matter in connection with The Fool's Opera calls for discussion. Mr. Nicholson (pp. 41-2) conjecturally assigns the British Museum copy of the production to the year 1730. This is the date assigned to the piece in the British Museum Catalogue. Lowe inclines to the year 1731. It is possible that there were two editions of the production, one of which was specifically dated 1731, for "The Fool's Opera, or the Taste of the Age" is definitely assigned to that year in Egerton's The- atrical Remembrancer (p. 176), where it is listed under anony- mous plays; in Barker's List of Plays (p. 105), where it is assigned to "Medley"; and in the 1812 edition of Biographia Dramatica (II, 243), where it is conjecturally assigned to Aston. If the words "To which is prefixed A Sketch of the Author's life, Written by Himself," printed on the title-page of the British Museum copy of Aston's opera, appeared on that of the edition listed by Baker and others, then it is rather strange that none of them took the trouble to see who the author was. It is, of course, quite possible, on the other hand, that they
396 Graves
were not sufficiently interested to consult the Sketch, especially since it is not "prefixed" to but follows the text of The Fool's Opera. Be this as it may, the edition of the production dated 1730 by Mr. Nicholson and the British Museum Catalogue was evidently published some time after the appearance of Gay's Beggar's Opera in 1728. This is revealed by the interesting "A Ballad, Call'd a Dissertation on the Beggar's Opera," which follows the text of Aston's play.
Finally, Mr. Nicholson makes no attempt to determine the date of Aston's death. Russell, on what authority I know not, states that he died in 1753 (Representative Actors, p. 15, note 2). That he was dead in 1756 is proved by the words "of drole Memory" which Theophilus Gibber applies to him in the Disser- tations quoted above.
THORNTON S. GRAVES University of North Carolina
ON CHAUCER'S TROILUS AND CRISEYDE I, 228
The text of Troilus and Criseyde I, 225-231, runs in The Oxford Chaucer as follows :
So ferde it by this fers and proude knight:
Though he a worthy kinges sone were,
And wende no-thing hadde had swiche might
Ayens his wil that sholde his herte stere,
Yet with a look his herte wex a-fere,
That he, that now was most in pryde above,
Wex sodeynly most subget un-to love.
The Campsall manuscript alone ends line 228 with dere; the other manuscripts have stere. What is the meaning of the phrase "his herte stere"? Some modern translators have ren- dered it with the words "stir his heart," a translation which is based, I believe, on an erroneous idea as to the source of the verb stere. For stere almost certainly springs not from Old Kentish -sterian ( = WS. styrian), but from OE. steoran, and consequently is to be taken in the sense of "control," and not of "stir." One may compare the similar meaning of the verb in such passages as the following:
For with o word ye may his herte stere. — Tr oil. and Cr. iii, 910.
And fyr so wood, it mighte nat be stered. — Legend of Good Women, 935
Jrin herte nu Jm stere. — King Horn, 434 (C).
Suffre a while and your herte stere. — Generydes, 1773.
Ther myght no man hur stere. — Le Bone Florence, 825.
Hys sorow for-to stere. — Sir Cleges, 150.
The evidence of Chaucer's rimes is also in favor of stere < OE. steoran, the e being indeed regularly close in Kentish a-fere, and close as well, in this particular instance, for the pret. subj. were (WG. a). Thus Chaucer rimes fere (cf. Angl.-WS. fyr}, T. iii, 978, with dere (OE. deore) and here (Angl— Ken. heran); while William of Shoreham, too, assigns to fere, "fire," or to its variants/er, uere, vere, the close e, examples of which are found in Konrath's edition, pages 5, 15, 32, 38, 40, 99, 100, 112. In like manner Shoreham has a close e in kepe (cf . WS. cypan), — which he combines \viihfor-sepe (<OE. -seopan), vii, 832-833, — and in the rime beerde, "bride," with ferde (OE. pret. ferde), v, 298-299. The e in ME. ferde, however, may have undergone analogical shortening.
397
398 Read
But if e is close in Ken. e<O\d. Ken. e ( = WS. y), such is not the case with the e which Chaucer uses as the representa- tive of Old Ken. e ( = WS. y) in an open syllable. Here we have an e which is proved to be open by the rimes stere: bere (OE. beran) HF. 567-568, stereth: bereth HF. 817-818, stere: bere (OE. bera) T. iv, 1451, 1453. It seems therefore highly probable that stere, T. i, 228, has descended from OE. steoran, and not from OE. styrian.
There remains, it is true, the remote possibility that Chaucer may have chosen for the rime in line 228, not the open e (<Old Ken. e-), but the close e which often developed from ME. i-: thus styrian<stire<stere. He was certainly not unac- quainted with this kind of e. No distinctive mark, however, of e<i- appears in Chaucer's rimes; and since stere, "stir* has the open e three times at least, the assumption of the same verb with a close e for line 228 would be plausible only if supported by the context.
From the context no support for the rendering "stir" can be gleaned; the entire passage, on the contrary, calls for stere in the sense of control." To convey merely the idea that the knight's emotions are aroused is, in fact, far from Chaucer's purpose. What the poet wishes to say is, that the knight, though the proud son of a distinguished king, is made suddenly subject to love, just as Bayard, on feeling the lash of the whip, is forced to realize that he is but a horse after all:
Yet am I but an hors, and horses lawe I moot endure, and with my feres drawe.1
WILLIAM A. READ Louisiana State University
1 T. i, 223-224.
REVIEWS AND NOTES
NORSK SPROGHISTORIE. StSrre utgave. By Didrik Arup Seip. Kristiania, 1920. 64 pp. with preface.
This publication, as the preface (forord) states, is an enlarged version of the author's earlier text-book, En liten norsk sprog- historie. To this second edition have been added certain chapters (viz., on Primitive Norse and Old Norse), dealing with linguistic material of too advanced a nature to be of practical service to students in the Norwegian secondary schools. But for teachers of the Norwegian language (especially for foreigners not acquainted with the Norwegian dialects) this publication is an invaluable little guide.
As the title indicates, this work is not only a history of the official language of Norway (i. e., the Dano-Norwegian riksmdl), but a history also of the landsmal and of the chief Norwegian dialects. The work is, therefore, in fact a linguistic history of Norway, in which the development of Norway's language in toto is presented in correlation with Swedish and Danish. This comparative method enables the reader to gain a very practical and valuable knowledge of the chief differences, both phonetic and syntactical, between these three Modern Scandinavian languages.
The chief merits of the book consist in the logical arrange- ment of the material and in the concise form and clarity of expression. Furthermore, Dr. Seip everywhere accommodates himself to the pedagogical requirements of Ms book; he is never too technical or abstract and carries the reader in the simplest and clearest way over many difficult phonetic problems. His sound practical sense is demonstrated, for instance, by his in- troduction of selections from Scandinavian literature (Sprog- prfiver) to illustrate each period or status of Scandinavia's linguistic development.
The work is divided into six chapters: 1) Innledning, 2) Urnordisk (till omkr. 800), 3) Gammelnorsk (800-1350), 4) Mellemnorsk (1350-1525), 5) Sprogutviklingen i Norge (1525- 1814), 6) Sprogutviklingen i Norge efter 1814.
1) The Introduction (p. 1-4) consists in a very brief analysis of the nature of language and of the relationship of the various Indo-European languages to one another. Exception may perhaps be taken to Dr. Seip's preference (p. 3) for the term Gothic over East Germanic, especially since the other two branches of the Germanic languages are designated according to geographical position (i.e., West and North Germanic): "Man regner gjerne tre germanske sproggrener, den vestger- manske, den gotiske (eller 0stgermanske) og den nordiske eller nordgermanske." Why not read, "Den jstgermanske (eller gotiske)?"
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400 Sturtevant
2) The chapter on Primitive Norse (Urnordisk, p. 4-7) presents a very brief outline of the prehistoric status of the Scandinavian languages. Emphasis is laid upon those phonetic conditions which the Primitive Norse had in common with the Gothic on the one hand and with West Germanic on the other. In this connection it is not clear to the reviewer why Dr. Seip (p. 7) has not designated the North and West Germanic sound law according to which z developed into R (r), by the traditional terminology; especially, since it was a Dane, Karl Verner, after whom the law was named. Similarly in his discussion of the First Sound Shifting (p. 3), Dr. Seip does not state that the so- called Germanic Sound Shifting (den sdkalte germanske "lyd- forskyvning") is also commonly known as Grimm's Law. Dr. Seip seems to avoid technical terms wherever possible, in order to accommodate himself to the student uninitiated in technical vernacular. But it is a question whether a certain amount of technical terminology may not be of practical use to every student, especially in the case of the most commonly accepted terms, such as Grimm's Law or as Verner's Law (Grammatical Change).
3) The Chapter on Old Norse (Gammelnorsk, p. 7-20) is divided under two heads, viz., a) The Language during the Viking Era (Sproget i mkingatiden) from 800-1050, and b) Old Norse (Norrjnt mal) from 1050-1350.
a) Dr. Seip here characterizes the status of the language in the first stages of its development out of the Primitive Norse. In his discussion of the so-called a-umlaut (omlyd) Dr. Seip correctly states (p. 9) that the a-umlaut operated at an earlier period than did the i- or the w-umlaut. But exception may be taken to his statement th&t when an unaccented a was lost, it exerted an influence on the foregoing vowel (i or u): "Nar en trykklett stavelse med a fait bort, virket den pd foregaende vokal, men bare nar denne vokalen var * eller u; i forandret sig till e, og « til o." Dr. Seip has here evidently followed the traditional view of the a-umlaut, established by Adolf Holtz- mann,1 and has not given due consideration to more recent investigations, such as, for instance, Professor Hermann Collitz's "Early Germanic Vocalism," M.L.Ns., June 1918, p. 321-333. No one can deny that the 6 in Old Norse hoi is the result of an a-umlaut, but is Old Norse hoi the regular phonetic development from Primitive Norse *hula, as Dr. Seip maintains (p. 9)? It is far more likely, as Professor Collitz points o;ut (ibid., p. 332), that in monosyllabic forms the umlauted vowel (& or tf) is not a regular phonetic development but the result of analogy with the dissyllabic forms of the word where the -a-
1 Cf. Holtzmann's Altdeutsche Grammatik, I, 2, Leipzig 1870-75, p. 13: "Die Umlaute e und u in Wortern wie weg via, wolf lupus konnen nur in einer Zeit entstanden sein, als die Nominative wirklich noch wigas, wulfas lauteten."
Reviews and Notes 401
of the ending still remained intact (cf. also my article, "Zur A- Brechung im Nord- und Westgermanischen," Journal of Eng. and Germ. Phil, XVIII, 1919, p. 379 f.). Otherwise how could Dr. Seip explain the Old Norse monosyllabic forms without a-umlaut, such as nom. sing, fugl over against nom. ace. plur. foglar? Obviously the o in the later monosyllabic form fogl is due to analogy with the dissyllabic forms like foglar, and therefore the 6 in fogl, hoi, etc., must be considered as an analogical a-umlaut.
Dr. Seip is still further from the truth when he maintains that the £ in Old Norse verr is the result of an a-umlaut (p. 9): "Verr 'mann' av urnordisk *wiraR (jfr. lat. vir)." If Old Norse verr had been phonetically derived from *wiraR, the nominative singular would have been *virr, not verr, as has been shown above.
But it is out of the question to assume that the Primitive Norse form of this word was *wiraR. Dr. Seip would, no doubt, admit that the ai (i. e., e") in the Gothic word wair (i. e., wlr) was not due to the a-umlaut (which did not operate in Gothic) but to a much earlier Germanic law (viz., the r- 'breaking'). Why should we assume, then, that the Indo-European i in this word (cf. Sanskrit vird-s, Latin vir) after passing thru the earlier Germanic status e (cf. Gothic iv^r) reverted to its original status £ in Primitive Norse (cf . *wir-aR) and then finally returned to its earlier Germanic status £ (cf. O.N. verr) by reason of the a-umlaut? The vowel I in the Gothic word wlr must represent the primitive vocalic status of this word in all the Germanic languages, and in spite of the Indo-European * the I in North and West Germanic *wSr- must, as in Gothic, be due not to an a-umlaut but to the Old Germanic umlaut (or 'breaking') before r (cf. Hermann Collitz, ibid., pp. 328 ff.). The Primitive Norse form for this word must then have been *w&raR and not *wiraR. Dr. Seip has here evidently followed the traditional theory that the Gothic vowel system was peculiar to that language alone and not representative of the prehistoric status of all the Germanic languages.
b) This period (1050-1350) is characterized by its magnifi- cent literary development. The Norsemen came into closer contact with foreign nations and consequently took up many foreign words into their own language. For students of German the most interesting fact is brought out (p. 15) that the Han- seatic League exerted such a far reaching influence upon the language and culture of the North.
In his analysis of the language of this period Dr. Seip states (p. 16) the conditions under which a syllable was either long or short. Under the category of short syllables, however, he has neglected to mention the fact that a radical syllable was considered short, if it contained a long vowel or a diphthong
402 Sturtevant
followed immediately by another vowel, as, for instance, bti- in btia or dey- in dey-ia (cf. A. Heusler, Aisl, Elementarbuch, p. 16, §41). This statement should have been included as No. 5 under the rubrik Kort var en stavelse.
4) The period of Medieval Norse (Mellemnorsk, from 1350 to 1525, p. 20-28) is especially interesting as regards the influ- ence of Danish and Swedish upon the Norwegian language (i. e., the riksmdl) subsequent to the Calmar Union (1319). Low German also made further rapid encroachments upon the vocabulary and syntax of the Norwegian. Very important is Dr. Seip's analysis of the phonetic changes which the Danish (and partly also the Norwegian) underwent during this period; cf. especially the development of the original voiceless stops p, t and k into the corresponding voiced stops b, d, and g. For a student of Norwegian this knowledge in regard to the Danish is indispensable since it explains in such cases the rela- tion between the orthography and the pronunciation of the Norwegian riksmdl.
5) The history of the Norwegian language (i. e., the riksmdl, p. 28-40) during this period (from 1525-1814) is primarily a history of the Danish language as spoken in Norway. The Modern Norwegian riksmdl is here in the making and Dr. Seip reveals this fact to us by tracing those fundamentally Norwe- gian characteristics which later on were to make the riksmdl an individual language as distinct from that of Denmark. In reading this chapter, the reviewer was impressed with the scientific inaccuracy of our English designation of the Norwe- gian riksmdl as "Dano-Norwegian"; "Norwegian-Danish" would be a far more satisfactory term. Most instructive is Dr. Seip's enumeration (p. 30) of certain Norwegian words (quoted from Jens Bielke's Dictionary of 1636) which at this time were unintelligible to the Danes.
6) In the concluding chapter (p. 40-64) Dr. Seip traces the development of the Norwegian language (i. e., the riksmdl, the landsmdl and the dialects) from 1814 up to the present day. The history of the reform of the riksmdl with the gradual in- fusion of Norwegian elements is given with admirable brevity and clearness. The relation of the riksmdl both to the lands- mdl and to the Norwegian dialects is made clear by the sections devoted to these latter phases in the history of Norway's language. This relation is still further clarified by a resume of the Norweigan dialects (Oversikt over de norske dialekter, p. 55-59). Dr. Seip here demonstrates his sound pedagogical sense by inserting (p. 58) a linguistic map of Norway, indi- cating the geographical boundaries of the chief dialects. From this admirable resume of the Modern Norwegian dialects we see all the more clearly the real nature both of the Norwegian riksmdl and of the landsmdl, and we understand all the better
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the reason for those reforms in orthography and usage which the law (rettskrivnings-reformeri) of 1917 has permitted for both languages.
Dr. Seip concludes his book by a resum6 of Norwegian peculiarities in the riksmdl (Sarnorske eiendommeligheter i norsk riksmdl, p. 61-64). Many of his remarks, especially as regards syntax, should furnish invaluable knowledge to any student of the Norwegian language, especially if he is already acquainted with Danish and Swedish. The outstanding fact is that the Norwegian riksmdl is rapidly developing along national (i. e., "norsk") lines, notably wherever the discarded form or con- struction in question is of Danish origin and at variance with the native Norwegian usage. To American students acquain- ted with all three Scandinavian languages it would seem as if the Norwegian riksmdl were in this development approaching the Swedish, but Dr. Seip's analysis makes it clear that this impression is due to the fact that in many respects the native Norwegian language is closer to the Swedish than to the Danish.
Dr. Seip's work should recommend itself as a very useful text-book for all teachers of the Scandinavian languages in America, and ought to be of service also to more advanced pupils. Its chief value for us lies in the practical suggestions it offers for making our way out of the labyrinth of Norwegian orthography. The book is written in the reformed orthography of 1917 and therefore affords us a model for the written riksmdl of the Norway of today. Teacher and student alike can profit by a careful comparison of Dr. Seip's language and orthog- raphy with that, for instance, of Wergeland, Ibsen and Bj^rnson. The chief defect of the book seems to the reviewer to consist in Dr. Seip's antiquated theories regarding the Primi- tive Germanic vowel system, but this defect does not in the slightest degree detract from the usefulness of this publication as a text-book on the history of the Norwegian language. Norsk Sproghistorie ought to be included as a reference book in all our advanced courses in the Modern Scandinavian languages.
ALBERT MOREY STURTEVANT Kansas University
1
ENGLISH PAGEANTRY: AN' HISTORICAL OUTLINE. Vol. 2. By Robert Withington. Harvard University Press. Cambridge, 1920.
With the publication of a second volume even larger than the first, Dr. Withington's exhaustive history of English pageantry is brought to a close. The work is one which the Harvard Press, I have no doubt, views with pride. It has many reasons for doing so.
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In my review of the first volume I expressed regret that so laborious a work should be in its architecture so casual, ill- sorted, and overloaded. My opinion on this point has not been changed by the second volume, which is to the same degree gorged with fact. Continuing his progress toward modern times, Dr. Withington "does" the Lord Mayor's Show, surveys quickly a number of Survivals and Revivals, and then passes on with an audible sigh of content to the so- called "modern pageant," the place-festival invented by Louis N. Parker. He devotes a chapter each to the Parkerian Pageant (ugly name!) and the Pageant in America. In treating these modern materials he has shown as much diligence in ransacking the files of newspapers and the reports of com- mittees as he did elsewhere in sifting the manuscripts of the Bodleian and British Museum. And again everything is included; the trivial or fatuous antics of some crudely imagined civic holiday have their place with the annals of the York and Peterborough pageants. Such all-embracing favor has undoubtedly an encyclopedic value, but it is neither good art nor good history.
In two respects this second volume is to be preferred to the first. For one thing, the notes are much less obstreperous; one can read without being constantly distracted to the foot of the page. And for another thing, it contains thirty-five pages of excellent bibliography, which for many students may prove to be the most useful part of the work. The index is full, and so far as I have tested it, accurate.
Surely infinite pains have been spent on these two volumes, to make them complete and exact. I cannot help wishing that a higher purpose had informed the writing of them, but they are done now and we must take them as they are, storehouses of reference. For this use they have a very considerable value, from which I would not on any account detract.
HAROLD N. HILLEBRAND University of Illinois
GOETHE'S LYRIC POEMS IN ENGLISH TRANSLATION PRIOR TO 1860. Lucretia van Tuyl Simmons, Univer- sity of Wisconsin studies in language and literature, number 6, Madison 1919: 202 pp.
Dr. Simmons' monograph is equipped with seven indexes as follows: A. "Bibliography of bibliographies" (sc. such as contain information regarding Goethe's poetry in England and America). B. "Goethe's works in sets" (sc. in English trans- lations). C. "Single volumes of Goethe's poems" (sc. in English translation). D. List of anthologies and other books
Reviews and Notes 405
containing translations from Goethe. E. Translations of individual poems prior to 1860. F. "List of translators" (and poems translated by each). G. "Alphabetic index of poems." These indexes make up about three-fifths of the volume, but none of them could well be spared. The biblio- graphical difficulties surmounted by the compiler were for- midable. It was a labor of the greatest pains to gather together the material from sets, anthologies, and magazines, to compare the various versions, and to establish the authorship of transla- tions adopted without acknowledgment by anthologists. The author is led to regret that the four hundred or more translations which Edgar A. Bowring produced in an astonishingly short space of time about 1853 have been printed again and again, while many really meritorious efforts, among them those of the Irish poet James Clarence Mangan, begun in the Dublin University Magazine in 1835, have almost been lost sight of.
The tardy appreciation which Goethe's literary work found in England and America has often been commented upon, and the puritanical standards of art prevailing in both coun- tries has been adduced as the chief hindrance. This is no doubt a correct view but Miss Simmons stresses another import- ant factor in the case: Since Goethe's highest attainment was in the realm of lyric poetry, and since the qualities of that poetry were never even approximately reproduced in English, a proper appreciation was out of the question even had public sentiment been favorably receptive.
The author traces the history of the translations of Goethe's lyrics from the feeble beginnings at a time when "Monk" Lewis and Walter Scott were exhibiting an interest in the poetry of the supernatural,1 then thru a period of apathy or anti- pathy toward German literature (1800-1820) relieved only by the criticism of William Taylor of Norwich, to and through a period of greater interest ushered in by Thomas Carlyle. In America Margaret Fuller, Longfellow, and a group of Uni- tarians in New England next began to participate in the new interest. The list of translators of Goethe's poems (see appen- dix F) is long, containing over a hundred names, some of them notable; among them may be mentioned Mrs. Sarah Austin (12 poems), George Bancroft (12), William Cullen Bryant (1), Jane Welsh Carlyle (1), Thomas Carlyle (15),2 James Freeman
1 Lewis translated Der Erlkonig 1795, Der Fischer 1801, and O Mutter guten Rat 1795. Scott translated Der Erlkonig 1797, Der untreue Knabe 1801, and Asan Aga 1799.
2 The author gives the number as 14 but Professor Kurrelmeyer, Modern language notes XXV (1920) 487-492, has pointed out that the bibliographical data at this conspicuous point are inaccurate. Many well concealed pitfalls lay hidden here. Professor Hohlfeld has still more recently pointed out that in making his corrections Professor Kurrelmeyer has involved himself in certain errors, Modern language notes XXVI (1921) 205-211. That there should be
406 Price
Clark (4), Samuel T. Coleridge (1), Jonathan Dwight (94), Margaret Fuller (9), Felicia Hemans (3), T. W. Higginson (1), George H. Lewes (7), "Monk" Lewis (4), Henry W. Longfellw (1), Walter Scott (4), Percy Bysshe Shelley (2), Harriet Beecher Stowe (1), Wm. Taylor of Norwich (12), and John Greenleaf Whittier (1).
The Simmons monograph is interesting because of the his- torical treatment of a really vital literary theme, the growth of Goethe's reputation as a lyric poet in England and America, stimulating by its discriminating discussion of the work of the translators, and its often deft characterizations of the subtle shortcomings of their verses and, valuable on account of its bibliographical data.3
This work is to be acknowledged with gratitude. It is the first long and necessary step toward the fulfilment of an alluring project which the author suggests toward the close of the work. "Here is a branch of work worthy the attention of Goethe students: To see that a new edition entirely revised, made up from the best translations and based on the soundest scholarship of recent years with the translators frankly men- tioned and all the authorities stated, be put into circulation." Such an accomplishment has hitherto been impossible for lack of just such a fundamental study as the one we have now before us. We may take it for granted that the period, 1860 to the present time, will soon be covered according to a similar plan. The editors of the German Classics (20 vols., N. Y. 1913), as the author points out, failed notably to make use of their opportunity. Of the twenty-six shorter poems given, seventeen are by Bowring and these by no means his best ones.
The question arises, how should the eclectic volume of Goethe in English translation be produced? It goes without saying that Miss Simmons should have a hand in it, but selec- tion is a subjective matter and a board of editors would com- mand more confidence than an individual anthologist. In many cases more then one version ought to be given. One might perhaps wish to compare Carlyle's, Bancroft's, Hemans's and Coleridge's versions of Mignon even though our critic is convinced that the Beresford version is the best of the thirty or more translations. On the other hand poems never yet successfully translated should be rigidly excluded from the volume, since misrepresentation is worse than no representa-
certain errors in such a mass of bibliographical data was inevitable. Numer- ous "Stichproben" on the part of the reviewer have brought to light relatively few, however, as follows: p. 105, no. 6 date of 1844 — for 417 read 427; p. 148, no. 164 date of 1836— for 495 read 295; p. 115 no. 50 date of 1844— should be attributed to Aytoun-Martin.
3 Unfortunately the author has failed to mention the book of Dr. E. G. Jaeck, Madame de Stae'l and the Spread of German Literature, New York, 1915, in which most translations of Goethe's lyrics were already listed. — Editor.
Reviews and Notes 407
tion. Before the volume is published a distinct call should go out for translations of certain poems, the inclusion of which is particularly desired. An active competition would surely result. The time is almost ripe. A worthy volume of Goethe's lyric poetry in English translation is near at hand. The financing of such a project presents no difficulties. A patron can readily be found for so attractive an enterprise. Organiza- tion is the need of the moment and since the initiative has been taken at Wisconsin we may hope to see the project followed through to its conclusion.
LAWRENCE MARSDEN PRICE University of California
THE POSITION OF THE ROOD EN WITTE ROOS IN THE SAGA OF KING RICHARD III. By Oscar James Campbell. Univ. of Wisconsin Studies in Language and Literature, No. 5. Madison, 1919.
Lambert van den Bos, author of the Rood en Witte Roos, "owes his position in Dutch literature," so Professor Campbell testifies, "to his skillful translations and adaptations of foreign works." Among other things he turned into Dutch a number of English pieces of no great importance. This habit of his raises a presumption that his play on the Red Rose and the White (published in 1651) was an adaptation, if not a transla- tion, of an English original. If that is so, then he evidently used a play no longer extant, and that play may even have been the earlier version of Richard III which Lowell, Fleay, and others have surmised. And if that is so, then the Rood en Witte Roos has a very real interest for students of Shakespeare. Following this alluring path, Professor Campbell has compared the Dutch play carefully with the Chronicles, Richardus Tertius, The True Tragedy of Richard the Third, and Richard III, and has arrived at a conclusion which may best be stated in his own words:
At present we are able to say that all the indications are that the [Rood en Witte Roos] had for its source an English tragedy now lost; that this drama attaches itself to the English dramatic tradition of Chronicle plays as it existed about the year 1590; and that Shakespeare apparently knew the play. He seems to have used it, however, not as the main source of his work, but as a repository of suggestions for the effective composition of material mainly derived directly from Holinshed.
It would be impossible to go here into the details of Pro- fessor Campbell's arguments. He finds resemblances to practically all the other versions of the Richard story, which could be explained, if one rejects his hypothesis, only on the clumsy supposition "that van den Bos had before him, when he wrote, one of the English Chronicles and all three of the English plays under discussion." The fact that Legge's
408 Hittebrand
Richardus Tertius was not at this time in print would alone render such an hypothesis "inherently improbable." I find no difficulty in accepting Professor Campbell's thesis, which indeed is no more than a confirmation of several of Fleay's shrewd guesses. Considering the complex relationships of the various versions before Shakespeare, and knowing his inclina- tion to depend on a single source, one is almost bound to believe in a play which preceded him and which formed the basis of his Richard III. Unfortunately the Rood en Witte Roos offers little upon which to reconstruct that play. Either Shakespeare expanded greatly upon it, or as seems to me more probable, van den Bos cut it heavily. His play contains few of the details of which Shakespeare makes such copious use. It is in comparison thin and brief. Professor Campbell's summary of the action will serve to show how little it has of Shakespeare's exuberance :
The play begins immediately after the imprisonment of Rivers and Grey with the young king in Gloucester's hands. From that point only the main steps in the attainment of Richard's object are presented, — and each one is made the dramatic center of an entire act. The first act presents the successful efforts of the conspirators to carry off the young Duke of York from the sanctuary whither his mother has fled with him; the second, the seizure of Hastings and his subsequent execution. The third act is composed of two scenes, both of which deal with Gloucester's devious methods of gaining the throne; the first presents Buckingham's long speech before the Council of London; the second, Richard's exaggerated and hypocritical horror at the suggestions of the citizens that he assume the title of king, and his final yielding to their requests. The fourth act is not so clearly unified; the first part is taken up with the murder of the princes and the reactions of the queen and Buckingham to that crime; the last scene depicts Richard's futile wooing of his niece, — the first check admin- istered to his advance toward the fulfillment of his desires. The last act is the history of Richard's downfall, — all except the first scene. This is a dialogue between Buckingham and Richard while the former is on the way to his execu- tion, in which Buckingham prophesies that the vengeance of Heaven will over- take the tyrant. This threat is immediately brought to pass in the succeeding scenes.
That this play is very much like the original Richard III seems to me quite unlikely, for this reason. Shakespearean scholars have held two opinions as to whether Shakespeare knew Legge's Richardus Tertius and the True Tragedy. At any rate, the resemblances of these two plays to Richard III are too uncertain to oblige one to believe that he knew them. More than one commentator has suggested that the resem- blances come about through an intermediate play which formed the base of Richard III. Now if the Rood en Witte Roos were a fair copy of this play, I would expect these disputed parallels to show there, but they do not. And yet at the same time their absence proves nothing, for many of them occur before the Dutch play opens, and others are related to incidents which are extraneous to van den Bos's narrowly limited story and would
Reviews and Notes 409
therefore have been eliminated for artistic reasons. I have no acquaintance with Dutch drama in the middle of the 17th century, and so can form no opinion as to what influence the native styles of play writing may have had upon van den Bos to refashion his English source. The whole matter of the rela- tion of the Dutch play to the English, supposing there was one, is involved in mystery, out of which we can derive no clearer solution than the conclusion to which Professor Campbell comes and which I have quoted above.
And yet I feel sure that van den Bos had an English play, and that this play in some of its materials at least antedated Shakespeare. The most striking parallel, and the only one which really adds to our understanding of Richard III, I have reserved to the last. The circumstances are these. The fa- mous monologue of Gloucester after the visitation of the ghosts offers a crux which has caused a good deal of fruitless specula- tion to commentators. It would be a dull critic who did not feel that a very different mood animates the lines which I print in italics from that which animates the rest of the speech.
Give me another horse! Bind up my wounds! Have mercy, Jesu! — Soft! I did but dream.
0 coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me! The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What! do I fear myself? There's none else by. Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I.
Is there a murderer here? No. Yes, I am.
Then fly. What, from myself? Great reason why,
Lest I revenge. What, myself upon myself?
Alack, I love myself. Wherefore? For any good
That I myself have done unto myself?
O, no! alas, I rather hate myself
For hateful deeds committed by myself!
1 am a villain: yet I lie, I am not.
Fool, of thyself speak well; fool, do not flatter. My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree; Murder, stern murder, in the dir'st degree; All several sins, all us'd in each degree. Throng to the bar, crying all, Guilty! guilty! I shall despair.
Many critics have been of the opinion of Johnson, who said: "There is in this, as in many of our author's speeches of passion, something very trifling, and something very striking." An even stronger view was stated by Hudson: "In this strange speech there are some ten lines in or near the Poet's best style; the others are in his worst; so inferior, indeed, that it is not easy to understand how Shakespeare could have written them at all."
1
410 Parry
Upon examining the pre-Shakespearean versions of the ghost scene, one finds that in all the chronicles where it occurs the visions are demons or furies, not identified with Richard's victims. The author of the True Tragedy was the first to make that identification, and thus perhaps was the one who put that idea into Shakespeare's head. But the ghost scene in the Rood en Witte Roos is markedly different from any other.
Rich: Who are you? God! What terror shakes my limbs! Futile fear. I will walk somewhat nearer to him. Who are you, I say? Speak. May a thunderbolt strike it! What is your name?
Ghost: My name is Richard.
Rich: Richard?
Ghost: Yes.
Rich: I start and quake with fear. What do you seek here?
Ghost: Myself.
Whereupon the ghost vanishes. In this case the visitant is clearly a Doppelganger, perhaps a projection of Richard's conscience. Upon such a scene Richard's "What! Do I fear myself?" and his "Then fly. What, from myself?" become intelligible, not as a lapse into the false taste for quibbling which was one of Shakespeare's weaknesses, but as a bewildered commentary upon an experience. I am tempted to believe, with Professor Campbell, that the ghost scene and monologue in Richard III is a telescoping of two versions of the scene, one in the True Tragedy and one in the lost play. The version in the True Tragedy appealed to Shakespeare so much more through its dramatic fitness, that he built his ghost , scene entirely upon it and wrote a splendid monologue for it. Yet for some reason he retained a portion of the monologue which had followed the doppelganger scene in the lost play, and inser- ted it into the center of the new speech. It is a clumsy piece of work, yet when one reflects upon the glaring inconsistencies and false leads of other made over plays like the Two Gentlemen and Much Ado, one need not feel a strain upon his credulity.
HAROLD N. HILLEBRAND University of Illinois
SHAKESPEARE AND THE WELSH. By Frederick J. Harries. London, T. Fisher Unwin. (1919)
This book is disappointing in that it tells us little or nothing that is new about either Shakespeare or the Welsh; neither is it an intelligent and orderly compilation of what has already been said upon the subject, but rather a chaotic mass of undigested quotations, erroneous statements and irrelevant facts. Chapter I contains a number of surmises concerning Shakespeare's early life all centering on the two facts that at this time there were a number of people in Stratford who bore Welsh names, and that
Reviews and Notes 411
one Thomas Jenkins was master of the Stratford Grammar School for a time, possibly before Shakespeare left the town. In Chapter VI we find a statement, given on the authority of Mr. Pym Yeatman, that Shakespeare's grandmother was of Welsh descent, "which may be held to account for the sporadic appearance of genius in an unremarkable middle class family" (p. 73). Apparently Mr. Harries wants us to believe that this Welsh ancestry clears up also the mystery of the Mr. W. H. of the Sonnets, since William Herbert and Shakespeare were both Welsh. We must not carry this fascinating theory too far, however, since we are told on page 68 that Shakespeare's description of Queen Elizabeth as a pattern to all princes "may be due to the courtier rather than the lover of things Welsh."
The greater part of the book is taken up with rather extended summaries of all the scenes in which Welsh characters and Welsh allusions occur; after these have been considered (in Chapters VIII-XIII) "in respect of character and allusions to Welsh tradition" — such remarks upon the characters as are offered are of the most conventional kind — the author proceeds, in Chapter XVIII, to go over the whole process again "from the standpoint of their contents and action" (p. 220), but he very kindly gives the "unleisured reader" permission to omit this chapter. Then we have one chapter (IV) on Some Notable Welshmen of Shakespeare's Time, and another (XVI) on Contemporary Welsh Printers and Publishers, some of whom Shakespeare may have known. There is a chapter (XVII) on Wales in the Sixteenth Century, taken up chiefly with the brawl (on October 9, 1596) at Llantwit Major between the Vans and the Seyses, which, for some reason or other is told in connection with a reference to the Montagues and Capulets. Chapter II, In London Town, contains a very sketchy account of the theatrical situation in Shakespeare's time, intended evidently as a setting for the statement (p. 32) that a man "bearing the Welsh name of Harry Evans" had held a lease on the Blackfriars Theater not long before Shakespeare became connected with it. Into the chapter on Welsh Legends and Allusions in the Plays (Chap. VII) goes everything that cannot, by hook or crook, be forced into one of the others, including the interesting facts that the Welsh Insurance Commissioners now prefer the daffodil to the leek, and that the Tylwyth Teg (the fairy people) comb out the beards of the goats every Friday to make them presentable for the Sabbath.
The errors in the English part of the book are not such as are likely to mislead any one and therefore require little comment. One may, however, call attention to the rather startling "Malory, whom Leland says was Welsh" on p. 78, and the statement on p. 154 (quoted, to be sure, but without comment) that "we have no exhibition of the peculiar pronunciation of
412 Pease
either Scottish or Irish persons in any of the plays, or of the peculiar dialect of any particular district in England." A caution should be given, however, against accepting any of the author's statements on Welsh subjects, for here his parade of knowledge is a mere sham. No person at all familiar with th language would write Medeyglin for Meddyglyn, or Eistedfodd for Eisteddfod as he does (pp. 108 & 99), for in Welsh dd is pronounced as a voiced th, and such forms would look as strange to him as broderhooth for brotherhood would to an Englishman. Neither would a Welshman be likely to call Carnhuanawc's book Banes Cymry (History of Welsh people) instead of Hanes Cymru (History of Wales), or to talk about the Red Book of Her gist for Hergest (pp. 199 & 85). Furthermore the author tells us (p. 108) that "medd" in Welsh means "honey," which it does not, and that Sir Hugh says "fery well" because there is no v in the Welsh alphabet (p. 24). It is true that the letter v does not exist in Welsh but the sound does, and is regularly represented by /, while the much less common sound of / is represented by jf. On the same page he tells us that Fluellen's "Alexander the Pig" is to be accounted for by the fact that "b is aspirated in Welsh," whatever that may mean. Professor T. Gwynn Jones has pointed out that a Welshman speaking English unvoices his consonants only under certain definite conditions, and that the indiscriminate unvoicing of them by Shakespeare and his contemporaries indicates, not close observation but rather the lack of it.
The book is attractively printed and bound, but about the only useful thing in it is the recipe for making metheglin given on p. 108, and I have a great fear that this, when tested, will prove to be as unreliable as the rest of the book.
JOHN J. PARRY University of Illinois
THE THEOCRITEAN ELEMENT IN THE WORKS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. By Leslie Nathan Brough- ton, Ph.D. Halle, Max Niemeyer, 1920. Pp. viii+193.
The aim of this study is not to show direct imitation of Theocritus by Wordsworth but to prove that "the great differ- ence between the pastorals of Theocritus and those of Words- worth is a difference in local coloring, not in function, not in style, not in literary type." Wordsworth did know and value Theocritus, but of actual references to him by name Dr. Broughton has been able to discover but three, of which two are slight allusions in prose works. The greater part of this treatise is, accordingly, concerned with a comparison of the handling by the two poets of various elements of pastoral poetry (such as
Reviews and Notes 413
man, landscape, town and country, the golden age), and with a discussion of the characteristics of pastoral language. The passages compared are selected with no little skill, but the differences in point of view are at times so decided and the likenesses often so vague that the results are somewhat inde- cisive. This is not unnatural, if we consider the very different literary movements represented by the two poets, the diversity of the ages at which they wrote, and individual differences of temperament. Furthermore, of the passages in Wordsworth in which the influence of the ancient pastoral is distinctly seen, a greater number point to Virgil than directly to Theoc- ritus, and although Dr. Broughton occasionally recognizes the importance of Virgilian influence (e. g., pp. 105, 137, 153 f., 165), one cannot but feel that, as a whole, he has underesti- mated it in his enthusiastic comparison with the Greek. For example, on p. 69 he notes that the antithesis of city and country, so conspicuous in Wordsworth, is lacking in Theocritus, but he fails to remark its very definite presence in Virgil, Ed. 1, 34. Again, the lines quoted on p. 80 (Prelude, 7, 84-86) find in Virgil, Ed. 1, 19-25 a far closer parallel than in Theoc- ritus, and the beechen bowl (Prelude, 8, 206) cited on p. 97 may recall the ivy bowl of Theocritus 1, but more definitely suggests the beechen bowls of Virgil, Ed. 3, 36 f. The enthu- siasm of Wordsworth for the Virgilian pastoral is further dis- tinctly shown by a passage quoted by Dr. Broughton on p. 111. Other instances might, I believe, be collected to show that Virgil's influence upon Wordsworth is more definite, if not actually broader, than that of Theocritus.
A few statements in matters of detail seem open to possible question. The barefoot condition of Battus (p. 10) is not, con- sidering Greek habits, necessarily a sign of poverty. The difference between Theocritus and Virgil in their attitude toward mountain scenery is more than a matter of their respec- tive nearness to mountains; it is the difference between the feeling of antiquity and the modern view which dates in large measure from the Renaissance.1 Yet even here it should be noted that Etna — an unforgettable element in the views about Syracuse — appears again and again in the pages of Theocritus. The treatment of the conception of the golden age (p. 92) might have gained much in value from use of the materials collected by Graf,2 and for the relation of Virgil to Theocritus fuller accounts might well be cited (p. 120) than the remarks of
1 Cf. the works of W. W. Hyde: The Ancient Appreciation of Mountain Scenery (Class. Journ. 11 (1915), 70 ff.; The Mountains of Greece (Bull. Geogr. Soc. of Philadelphia, 13 (1915), nos. 1-3; The Development of Appreciation of Mountain Scenery in Modern Times (Geogr. Rev. 3 (1917), 106ff.).
2 In Leipz. Studien, 8 (1885), 1-84.
414 Pease
Sidgwick.8 Some parallels adduced will not be convincing to all readers, such as that between Theocritus, 8, 56 and March, 4-10 (p. 156), and the commonplace found in both Theocritus, 14, 68-70 and The Excursion, 6, 275-278 (p. 156). Arethusa (p. 145) was sung by Virgil as well as by Theocritus; and one is tempted in the quotation from the Prelude (cited on p. 143) to look for a possible source in the Pervigilium Veneris, 52. The book of 'Revelations' (p. 51; in a somewhat inapposite digression) will, I trust, be new to some readers hitherto unfamiliar with this too frequent error.
After all, Dr. Broughton has written with enthusiastic admiration for both poets and with intimate knowledge of their works, and such weaknesses as his study shows are those of eyes focussed too carefully upon the objects immediately before them. His manuscript was completed in 1913 and the book was partly in type in 1914. Not until 1919 could the printing be resumed — the quality of paper in the last part bears striking testimony to the changed conditions of Germany at the later date — , and the writer in his preface remarks that his views have been somewhat modified and his knowledge of the pastoral deepened during the interval between composition and publica- tion. We may well wish him success in the further studies in pastoral poetry which he is contemplating.
ARTHUR STANLEY PEASE The University of Illinois
» Cf. Schanz, Gesch. d. rom. Litt. 2, 1, 3 ed. (1911), 53, for a bibliography.
1
NOTES
By garnering in his "Old and New" (Harvard Press, 1920) a harvest of knowledge and reflection, Professor Grandgent has reminded us that his field is broader than Romance Philology, and that his scholarship has prevailed in the class-room and in his publications because it has never been tainted with pedantry, because it has always been attended by common-sense, and because it has been communicated with the clarity that depends upon having, first of all, sufficient knowledge and then a generous impulse to share it with others. This is all Professor Grandgent's pedagogy. Therefore one can well understand the impatience expressed in these essays with persons who try to master the art of teaching rather than the subject to be taught with the vanity of the "Educational Expert," and with all the pedagogical fads and foolishness for which we pay in the ignorance and mental debility of our children. In general we should applaud the author's discreet conservatism. But, while acknowledging the concession he has made to "the fashion of rebellion" in the matter of simplified spelling (see "Numeric Reform in Nescioubia"), we might be permitted to question whether in such an essay as "Nor Yet the New" he has succeeded in apprehending the true significance of our modern spirit of revolt. At least to remark satirically in reference to the destructive criticism which is nowadays leveled against the Victorian Age that "it is a pure waste of hind-leg power to go on forever kicking at a corpse" is credit- able neither to Professor Grandgent's intelligence nor to his taste.
H. S. V. JONES
GOETHE'S TORQUATO TASSO, 11. 1319-1337
In the quarrel between Tasso and Antonio, Antonio has rather plainly indicated his dissatisfaction with Tasso's corona- tion by the princess. Tasso answers with bitterness:
Verschwende nicht
Die Pfeile deiner Augen, deiner Zunge! Du richtest sie vergebens nach dem Kranze, Dem unverwelklichen, auf meinem Haupt. Sei erst so gross, mir ihn nicht zu beneiden! Dann darfst du mir vielleicht ihn streitig machen. Ich acht ihn heilig und das hochste Gut:
That is : I should not wantonly give it up or put it in jeopardy under ordinary circumstances. But to prove to you that I would not unworthily claim it, I make you this offer:
Doch zeige mir den Mann, der das erreicht, Wornach ich strebe, zeige mir den Helden, Von dem mir die Geschichten nur erzahlten;
415
416 Diekho/
That is, show me a hero of recognized renown; or
Den Dichter stell mir vor, der sich Homeren, Virgilen sich vergleichen darf, ja, was Noch mehr gesagt ist, zeige mir den Mann, Der dreifach diesen Lohn verdiente, den Die schone Krone dreifach mehr als mich Beschamte: dann sollst du mich knieend sehn Vor jener Gottheit, die mich so begabte : Nicht eher stiind' ich auf , bis sie die Zierde Von meinem Haupt auf seins hiniiber riickte.
All commentators seem to expect that Tasso means to make a concession, utter a challenge, a dare, to Antonio, putting at stake his crown. But with any of the numerous interpreta- tions so far suggested, he would rather over-scrupulously keep on the safe side, not to mention the boundless conceit involved in his unwillingness to yield his crown except to poets who equal Homer or Virgil, or, "what is saying still more," who are thrice as worthy of the crown as he. Unless we assume that he has completely lost his senses, this cannot possibly be an acceptable interpretation. In line 780ff, he tells the princess that even Ariosto is for him a great model, a part only of whose worth, and hence perhaps also a part of whose fame, he secretly hopes to attain. Whence now suddenly his boundless conceit?
The whole meaning becomes perfectly plain and simple, it seems to me, if we but read the lines with proper intonation on "vergleichen" (1330), and if we refer "diesen Lohn" (1332) not to the wreath of the princess, but to the insulting treatment which Tasso just received at the hands of Antonio. Perhaps a translation of the lines (1319-1337) will here, as so often, prove to be the simplest exegesis:
"Do not thus waste the arrows of your eyes, nor of your tongue! In vain you aim them at the wreath, the incurrupti- ble, upon my head. First be magnanimous enough not to begrudge it, and then, perchance, you might contest it with me. I deem it holy, and the highest good; but bring the man who shall attain for what I strive; the hero show me, such as the ones of whom the legends tell; present to me the poet who might venture, but to compare himself with Homer, Virgil; indeed, I'll go still farther, bring the man, who thrice deserves your scorn, whom thrice more than myself this crown abash: and, doubt not, you shall see me kneeling before that goddess, who endowed me thus; I should not rise until her hand removed this beauteous crown from my head unto his.
With this interpretation we have precisely what all com- mentators seem to expect; it is simple and natural, and it does not seem to me that my translation has in any way done violence to the original. Now there is point to Antonio's rejoinder: "Bis dahin bleibst du freilich ihrer wert." And as
Notes 417
if to corroborate me in my interpretation, Tasso says in the next two lines: "Man wage mich, das will ich nicht vermeiden; allein Verachtung hab' ich nicht verdient?" after a few lines before he had said: "Zeige mir den Mann, der dreifach diesen Lohn verdiente, etc."
Incidentally, I should like to reiterate an interpretation of line 1404: "Vergib dir nur, dem Ort vergibst du nichts." I sent it years ago to the Modern Language Notes, but it seems to have been commonly overlooked. Professor Thomas, in a personal note to me, expressed himself pretty well convinced, though in the reprint of his edition the change was not made in his notes, and also Coar does not mention the note. I sug- gested that "vergeben" is here used in the sense of accuse, and cited for precisely the same use of the word Schiller's Don Carlos, Act IV, Sc. 14: "Denn wirklich muss ich gestehn, ich war schon in Gefahr, den schlimmen Dienst, der mir bei meinem Herrn geleistet worden, — Ihnen zu vergeben."
T. DIEKHOFF
Two ADDITIONAL SOURCES OF SEALSFIELD
In view of the fact that Sealsfield had been in America but a few years when he wrote some of his romances which, on account of their psychological penetration and their genuine ethnic and historical significance, must nevertheless be ranked amongst his best, he has often been suspected of extensive borrowing1 of episodes, incidents, and, in short, of matter which supplemented personal experience and observation. In fact Otto Heller2 and Preston A. Barba3 have pointed out several sources of which he made use in his novels. In no case however, could the question of plagiarism be raised, although it may be admitted that Sealsfield frequently filled gaps in his knowledge by reading reliable descriptions of journeys and similar material, which furnished the details that make his romances so instructive and interesting.4 The following two descriptive works hitherto overlooked as sources of Sealsfield, belong to this category:
I. McKenney, Thomas L., Sketches of a Tour to the Lakes, of the Character and Customs of the Chippeway Indians. . . . Balti- more, 1827.
Pages 283-284, giving a description of an Indian burial, were undoubtedly drawn upon for pp. 101-102, pt. II, oiDerLegitime
1 Even L. M. Price, in his English>German Literary Influences, Berkeley, 1920, p. 562, speaks of "extensive borrowing."
* Modern Philology, 1910, v. VII, pp. 5S7 -592— Modern Language Notes, 1908, v. XXIII, pp. 172-173.
3 German American Annals, n.s., v. IX, pp. 31-39.
4 The only exception perhaps is an almost verbal translation in Morton from Balzac's Gobsek. Cf. R. M. Meyer, Deutsche Arbeit, v. VI, pp. 510-512.
418 Uhlendorf
und die Republikaner, 1832, and pp. 319-320, which tell in detail of the building of a canoe, are almost literally translated in pt.
I, pp. 116-117. Other passages, too, such as descriptions of Indian dances (viz. 322-323), as well as the whole attitude of McKenney (cf. 299-301, 415, etc.), who was of the Indian de- partment and a commissioner in negotiating the treaty of Fond du Lac, have probably influenced Sealsfield. The name of his White Rose, one of the characters in Tokeah; or the White Rose, Philadelphia, 1829, the original version of Der Legitime, may likewise have been suggested by McKenney's mention (p. 210) of some Canadian French voyagers chanting the "White Rose."
II. Berquin-Duvallon, edit., Vue de la Colonie espagnole du Mississippi, ou des provinces de Louisiane . . . Paris, 1803.
A comparison of pp. 178-181 of this book with Pflanzerleben pt. II, pp. 96-101, as well as p. 292 of B.-D. with Pfl. II, 29, will furnish abundant proof that Sealsfield must have been familiar with the Frenchman's work describing Louisiana under the Spanish regime, which, as the first cited passage shows, was of a character none too savory. The present writer believed for some time that the scenes of the private and public life of the Spanish vice-governor described by Sealsfield, were exagger- ated bits of fiction until he found Sealsfield's picture verified by Berquin-Duvallon's account which, being a contemporane- ous publication, records in all probability undeniable facts.
B. A. UHLENDORF
THE WRITINGS OF BERNARD MANDEVILLE: A BIBLIOGRAPHICAL SURVEY
Mandeville was one of the great connecting conduits between French and English thought — spreading the pro- vocative philosophy of Pierre Bayle in England and conveying English speculation into France, chiefly by way of Voltaire. He was one of the most important figures in the development of eighteenth-century utilitarianism. And he was a main source of the economic doctrines that were to find their best-known spokesman in Adam Smith.1 Nevertheless, little attention has been paid to any work of Mandeville's besides the Fable of the Bees. Thus far, no scholarly survey has been made of Mande- ville's writings except Paul Sakmann's Bernard de Mandeville und die Bienenfabel-Contr averse (Freiburg, Leipzig, and Tubin- gen, 1897). Sakmann, however, is not only incomplete in his list- ing of works which may be by Mandeville and of the various editions of listed works, but he is inconclusive in his attempts to determine the questions concerning Mandeville's author- ship of disputed works.
This article, which endeavors to supply the critical survey hitherto lacking, divides the writings considered into three groups. The first contains those works demonstrably by Mandeville. The second is composed of works probably or possibly by Mandeville. The third considers writings which have been erroneously ascribed to Mandeville. In the first two sections full description is given of the first editions of each work;ia the other editions are listed; and the question of attribution to Mandeville is argued wherever this is necessary. In addition, I have furnished an analysis of the content of each work, this being made in such a manner as to throw some light on the development of Mandeville's thought and to
1 1 have considered the international influence of Mandeville in the spheres of ethics and economics in my forthcoming edition of his Fable of the Bees (Clarendon Press) . I have found evidence of an influence so far-reaching and fundamental that I am not, I believe, exaggerating in describing Mandeville as one of the most important writers of the century, whose influence is to be com- pared with that of Hume and Adam Smith.
ia In copying title-pages I have kept the capitalization of initial letters wherever it was definitely indicated. Where it was not thus indicated I have capitalized all nouns and adjectives, and these only.
419
420 Kaye
reveal the relationship of the various works with Mandeville's most important book, the Fable of the Bees. The treatment of the group of works erroneously attributed to Mandeville is limited to the demonstration that he was not their author. Within each group the arrangement is chronological.
I
AUTHENTIC WORKS
Bernard! & Mandeville / de / Medicina / Oratio / Scholastica, / pub- lic£ habita, cum 6 schola Erasmiana ad / Academiam promoveretur, / Octob. clo loc Lxxxv. / Rotterodami, / Typis Regneri Leers, / M DC LXXXV. /
4°, apparently signed in eights. Collation: title, p. [1]; blank, p. [2]; text, pp. 3(A2)-16.
This oration, his earliest extant work, was pronounced on leaving school for Leyden University in 1685. It is written in Ciceronian Latin, and is quite a respectable performance for a boy not yet fifteen. A foreshadowing of his coming Pyrrhonism is to be found (p. 4) in his 'Aliis alia placent, mihi medicinse studium . . . .'
Disputatio Philosophica / de / Brutorum Opera tionibus./ Quam / Annuente Summo Numine, / sub Praesidio / Clarissimi, Acutissimique Viri / D. Burcheri de Voider, Medicinae / & Philosophise Doctoris, hujusque, ut & Ma- / theseos in Illustri Academia Lugd.-/Batav. Pro- fessoris Ordinarii./Publice defendendam assumit / Bernardus de Mande- ville, Rotter.-Bat./ Ad diem 23 Mart, loco horisque solitis, ante meridiem./ Lugduni Batavorum, / Apud Abrahamum Elzevier, / Acade- mic Typograph. M D C LXXXIX./
4°, apparently signed in eights. Collation: title, p. [1]; dedication, p. [2]; text, pp. [3(A2)-12].
This dissertation, delivered at Leyden University in 1689, defends the Cartesian tenet that animals are feelingless auto- mata: 'Bruta non sentiunt.' Mandeville reviews the arguments that seem to point to the possession of intelligence by animals, the chief being the similarity between the actions of beasts and those of men. To explode this argument he considers the case of a bee-hive. If, he says, we looked at the life of this hive as those do who credit animals with intelligence because of the ingenuity of their actions, we should have to allow the race of bees a knowledge of everything from geometry to state- craft— which, he maintains, is a reductio ad absurdum. His other argument that animals are automata is also a reductio ad absurdum. If animals are to be credited with free-will
The Writings of Bernard Mandeville 421
and intelligence, he argues, why then they must have an immor- tal soul — which is out of the question. This argument renders it easy to see how it was that Mandeville could later abandon the Cartesian hypothesis (see Fable of the Bees, I, 197). 2 When he came to consider the soul of man as not of overwhelming importance,3 the difference between men and beasts disappeared, and the animal automata became endowed with feeling, while the feeling men became automata (cf. Fable, II, 147).
Disputatio Medica / Inauguralis / de / Chylosi Vitiata. / Quam / Annuente Divina Gratia / Ex Auctoritate Magnifici Rectoris, / D. Wolferdi Senguerdii, L. A. M. / Phil. & J. U. Doct. illiusque in Ulustri Academia / Lugd.-Bat. Profess, ordinarii, celeberrimi, &c. / Necnon / Amplissimi Senates Academici Consensu & Almae / Facultatis Medicae Decreto, / pro Gradu Doctoratus, / Summlsque in Medicina Honoribus ac Privileges / rite & legitime consequendis, / Publico examini subjicit / Bemardus de Mandeville, Rotter.-Bat. / Ad diem 30 Mart. hor£ locoque solitis./ Lugduni Batavorum, / Apud Abrahamum Elzevier, / Academiae Typograph. M D C XCI. /
4°, apparently signed in eights. Collation; title, p. [1]; dedication, p. [2];text,pp.[3(A2)-12].
Of this dissertation, rendered on the occasion of taking the degree of Doctor of Medicine, Mandeville later said:4
[My thesis] was de Chylosi vitiatd [translated in a note as 'of a depraved Chylification'], which I defended at Leyden in the year 1691, Dr. William Senguerdus, Professor of the Aristotelian Philosophy, being then Rector Magnificus [translated in a note as ' The Head of the University for one Year']. My reason of telling you this, which otherwise might seem imper- tinent, is because I have often thought it very remarkable, that I always had a particular Eye upon, and have been led, as it were, by Instinct to what afterwards to me appear'd to be the Cause of the Hysterick and Hypochondriack Passions, even at a time, when I had no thought of sing- ling out these Distempers for my more particular Study, and was only design'd for general Practice, as other Physicians are.
In this thesis, Mandeville maintains that the principle of digestion is fermentation rather than warmth; and he con- siders various derangements of the digestion, offering remedies
1 The references to the Fable in this article apply to the similarly-paginated editions of 1723, 1724, 1725, 1728, and 1732 of Part I, and to the editions of 1729 and 1733 of Part II.
1 Cf., for instance, his Treatise (1730), p. 159, where he doubts the immor- tality of the soul.
4 Treatise (1730), p. 132. Of these theses in general, Mandeville wrote (Treatise, p. 131): 'They are Printed; and being neatly Stitch'd in Covers of Marble-Paper, distributed among the Scholars.'
422 Kaye
in the shape of definite prescriptions. He argues, incident- ally, that what people naturally like is usually good for them, a theory characteristic not only of his later medical practice (see Treatise, ed. 1730, pp. 240-1), but of his whole attitude toward life.
Some / Fables / after / The easie and Familiar / Method of Monsieur de la / Fontaine. / London: / Printed in the Year 1703. / [On the title- page is printed in addition]: There is newly Published the Comical His- tory / of Francion.
4°. Collation: title, p. [i]; blank, p. [ii]; preface, pp. [iii(A2)-vii]; blank, p. [viii]; text, pp. 1 (B)-81(M); advertisement, pp. [82 (Mv)-84].5
In 1703, this, his first known English work, appeared anonymously. It is known to be by Mandeville because of the identity of the fables in this volume with those published at another time under Mandeville's name (in jEsop Dress' d). The preface is a whimsical disquisition on the custom of preface- writing. 'It is hard I should be compelled to talk to my Reader, whether I have anything to say to him or not.' And he adds, 'All my Business with you, is, to let you know, that I have writ some Fables in Verse, after the Familiar Way of a Great Man in France, Monsieur de la Fontaine. . . . Two of the Fables are on my own Invention; but I'm so far from loving 'em the bet- ter, that I think they are the worst in the Pack: And therefore in good Manners to my self I conceal their Names.' Dr. Sakmann6 has judged that these original fables are The Coun- tryman and the Knight (Some Fables, pp. 1-6) and The Carp (pp. 24-26). As a matter of fact, however, Dr. Sakmann is correct only as to the latter. The Countryman and* the Knight is a rendering of La Fontaine's Le Jardinier et son Seigneur. 7 The second original fable is really The Nightingale and Owl (pp. 27-34).
6 According to the advertisement on the last page, the book was published by Richard Wellington, at the Dolphin and Crown, at the West-End of St. Paul's Church- Yard.
8 Sakmann, Bernard de Mandeville und die Bienenfabel-Controverse (1897), p. 12.
7 La Fontaine, Oeuvres Completes, (1863-87), I, 116-8.
The Writings of Bernard Mandeville 423
The verse of these fables is Hudibrastic :
Before the Reign of Buxom Dido,
When beasts could speak as well, as I do (p. 46).
Says he, the Scoundrels are alive, I hear 'em stir, and must contrive To draw 'em out; for, where they dwell, I'm sure, they're uncomatable (p. 69).
These fables have none of the conciseness and delicacy of La Fontaine, but they show, nevertheless, narrative power. They are not mere paraphrases, but reflect the temper of the translator somewhat as if they were original work. And, indeed, many of the details are quite original.
/Esop Dress'd;/ or a /Collection /of / Fables / Writ in Familiar Verse. / By B. Mandeville, M. D. / London: / Sold at Lock's Head adjoyning to Ludgate. / Price one Shilling. / [N. D.]
8°, signed in fours. Collation: title, p. [i]; blank, p. [ii]; preface, pp. [iii (A2)-iv(A2v)]; text, pp. l(B)-75; Index, p. [76].
This is identical with the preceding work, except for the substitution of an index for the advertisement; and the addi- tion of ten new fables: The Two Dragons. A Fable; The Wolf and Dog; The Frog; The Pumpkin and Acorn; The Hands, Feet, and Belly (these occupying pages 1-10; the fables of the 1703 edi- tion then following in a lump); The Two Physicians; Love and Folly; A She-Goat, a Sheep and a Sow; The Dog and the Ass; The Fox and Wolf (these last five occupying from p. 66 to the end) . All these additional fables have analogues in La Fontaine; there is no reason to assume that the jEsop in the heading was more than an attempt to achieve a catchy title.8
I believe the book just described to be the second edition, and have described it rather than the first because I have been unable personally to inspect the edition I consider prior.9 The date of the first edition was 1704.
8 There was at the time quite a fad for this sort of title, and Mandeville's may have been suggested by one of the following: Aesop Naturaliz'd; and Ex- pos'd to the Publick View in his own Shape and Dress, 1697 (second edition in 1702), and Aesop Unveti'd, c. 1700.
* A photograph shows the title-page of the 1704 edition to read:
.(Esop Dress'd / or a / Collection / of / Fables / Writ in Familiar
Verse. / By B. Mandeville, M. D. / London: / Printed for Richard
424 Kaye
These two little sets of fables, Mandeville states,10 did not sell well.
Typhon: / or the / Wars / Between the / Gods and Giants: / A Burlesque / Poem / In Imitation of the Comical / Mons. Scarron. / Lon- don: / Printed for J. Pero, at the Swan, and S. Illidge, / at the Rose and Crown in Little-Britain, and / Sold by J. Nutt near Stationers-Hall. 1704. / Price One Shilling. /
4°. Collation: title, p. [i]; blank, p. [ii]; dedication, p. [iu (A2)-vij; pref- ace, pp. [vii-viii], text, pp. 1 (B)-47; Errata, p. 47.
This was first advertised on Apr. 15, 1704, in the Daily Courant. On Nov. 4, it was readvertised in that paper. There may, therefore, have been two issues. The poem is a very free translation of the first canto of Scarron's famous burlesque, Le Typhon, ou la Gigantomachie. It is introduced by a dedi- cation to 'the Numerous Society of F — Is in London and Westminster,'' signed 'B. M.,' and a preface.
Sakmann (Bernard de Mandeville, p. 12) has merely found it very probable that this work is by Mandeville. It is, how- ever, certainly Mandeville's. What renders this positive is the following paragraph from the preface:
I Presented you some time ago with a Disk of Fables; but Wei — ton says. They went down with you like chopt Hay: Raw, I'm sure, they were
Wellington at the Dol- / phin and Crown at the West-End of / St. Paul's
Church- Yard. 1704. /
My belief that this is the first edition is based on a description kindly furnished me by Mr. Alfred de Burgh, Assistant Librarian of the Library of Trinity College, Dublin. The signatures as well as the page numbers of the book run irregularly. The pagination is regular to p. 16 (A to C4), but at this point the numbering begins again at 3 and the signatures at B2. A comparison of the edition with the 1703 volume (published by the same printer, Wellington) shows the 1704 booklet to be a compound of sheets from the 1703 printing with new sheets. The preface (A to A4) belongs to the 1703 printing; pages 1 to 16 (B to C4) are new; pages 3 to 80 (B2 to L4) are from 1703; and from then on (M to N) the pages are a new printing. Now, either all three editions (those of 1703, 1704, and n.d.) are by Wellington, or the undated edition is by a different publisher. If all are by Wellington, the undated edition must be the latest, for it is hardly conceivable that Wellington would have pieced together the mongrel edition of 1704 after he had struck off a normal edition (the undated edition being quite regular in makeup). And, if the undated edition is by a different publisher, then too it must be later, for then it must have been taken from the 1704 edition, as Wellington, who issued the 1704 edition, was Mandeville's publisher (see Typhon, preface) and would have printed from the manuscript.
10 See Typhon, preface.
The Writings of Bernard Mandeville 425
very good Meat; and either I have been the Devil of a Cook to 'em, or else your Mouth was out of Taste: if I spoyl'd them in the Dressing, I ask my French Caterer's pardon; if not, I know who ought to beg mine. I told you then, that if you did not like them, you should be troubled with no more of 'em, and I have been as good as my word ....
Now, when, in addition to the signature 'B.M.,' it is remembered that both the 1703 and 1704 editions of Mande- ville's Fables were published by the very Richard Wellington mentioned, that in these same Fables, Mandeville had just played cook to a 'French Caterer' — La Fontaine — and that the identical promise, cited above, not to issue more fables if i hose already published were not successful closes the pref- ace to Mandeville's Fables, and in exactly the same words,11 it becomes certain that Mandeville's Fables must have been the ones referred to as his own by the translator of Typhon, who must, therefore, have been Mandeville.
The / Grumbling Hive: / or, / Knaves / Turn'd / Honest./ London: /
Printed for Sam. Ballard, at the Blue-Ball, in Little-Britain: / And Sold
by A. Baldwin, in Warwick-Lane. 1705. /
4°. Collation: title, p. [i]; blank, p. [ii]; text, pp. 1-26.
This small six-penny12 quarto appeared anonymously on Apr. 2, 1705.13 The same year the piece was pirated in a four- paged pamphlet. The only other separate printing of the poem was at Boston in 1811.
This is the allegorical verse fable which was to form the nucleus of the Fable of the Bees. Under the simile of a bee-hive Mandeville describes a flourishing state, whose prosperity is matched by the viciousness of its members. These members, adding hypocrisy to their other vices, pray the gods for virtue. Unexpectedly, Jove grants their wish; and the inhabitants find the prosperity of their state gone with its vices — its now vanished industry, art, and science having been called into being chiefly to supply the selfish and extravagant wants which have disappeared with the coming of virtue.
The / Virgin / Unmask'd: / or, / Female Dialogues / Betwixt an Elderly / Maiden Lady, / and her / Niece, / On several / Diverting Dis- courses / on / Love, / Marriage, / Memoirs, / and / Morals, &c. / of the /
11 In the Fables, Mandeville says, 'If any like these Trifles, perhaps I may go on; if not, you shall be troubled with no more of 'em.'
12 The price is given in Fable, I, ii.
1$ It was advertised in The Daily Courant for that date as 'This Day is publish'd.'
426 Kaye
Times. / London: Printed, and are to be Sold by / J. Morphew, near Stationers-Hall. J. Woodward / in Thread-needle-street. 1709./
8°. Collation: half-title, p. [i]; blank, p. [ii]; title, p. [iii]; blank, p. [iv]; preface, pp. [v(A3)-xiv]; table of contents, pp. [xv-xxxi]; Errata, p. fxxxii]; dialogues, pp. 1(B)-214.
In 1714, according to the 'Catalogue of the Valuable Library of the Late George Edmund Benbow, sold at Auction by Messrs. Sotheby, Wilkinson & Hodge. . . Friday, the 1st November, 1889,' this same work appeared under the title of Mysteries of Virginity. This must have been the worjt advertised in The Post Boy for Nov. 21-4, 1713, as 'This Day is published,' under the title of 'The Mysteries of Virginity: Or, a full Dis- covery of the Difference between young Maids and old Ones. Set forth in several Diverting Dialogues of the Female Sex. On Love and Gallantry, Marriage and single Life, Dress and Behaviour, Bachelors and Husbands, Beauty and Courtship, Plays and Musick. With many other curious Subjects relating to young Women not enter'd into the State of Matrimony. Sold by J. Morphew near Stationers-Hall.' A 'Second Edi- tion,' by G. Strahan, W. Mears, and J. Stagg, appeared in 1724 with Mandeville's name on the title-page. Other editions appeared in 173114 (printed and sold by A. Bettesworth and C. Hitch), in 1742 (by J. Cooper), and in 1757 (by J. Wren).
The preface takes the form of a protest at having to write a preface, and an amusing analysis of the hypocrisies of preface- writing in general, somewhat like the foreword to the Fables, but more elaborate. Then follow ten dialogues between the misanthropic Lucinda and her full-blooded niece, Antonia, which have for main subject love and marriage, but touch on everything from art and economics to the abilities of Louis XIV. The thought in many ways forecasts The Fable of the Bees. There is the same keenness at scenting out the hidden motives of people, the same reduction of all to selfish- ness (though this is not promulgated into a philosophy), the same skepticism as to the existence of universal criteria of conduct. And there is a forecast of the dual standard which was to underlie the main paradox of the Fable of the Bees, that private vices are public benefits — a dual standard accord-
14 In 1732 an edition was advertised in the Grub-street Journal, May 18, 1732, as 'printed for, and sold by J. Brotherton.' Whether this is the same edition taken over by Brotherton, or a new edition, I do not know.
The Writings of Bernard Mandeville 427
ing to which the merit of an action was judged both by its effect on the general welfare and by the personal motive which caused the action, thus allowing the same act to be at once a public benefit from the former point of view and a private vice from the latter. The Virgin Unmask'd furnishes an antecedent to this in such a sentence as (ed. 1724, p. 66) 'All is not Gold that glisters; many things are done daily, for which People are extolFd do the Skies, that at the same time, tho the Actions are good, would be blamed as highly, if the Principle from which they acted, and the Motive that first induc'd them, were thoroughly known.'
The work is in some respects not only dialogue and essay, but fiction. The two speakers are fairly well characterized. Of some interest, perhaps, in relation to the history of the novel is the fact that the book contains two tales illustrating the miseries of married life, one almost eighty pages long, ably told in realistic manner. This employment of parable or story to drive home his meaning, is a favorite device of Mande- ville's, although he has nowhere else used anecdotes of such length and detail. The humor is broad, sometimes coarse, but usually effective.
A / Treatise / of the / Hypochondriack / and / Hysterick / Passions, / Vulgarly call'd the Hypo in Men and / Vapours in Women; / In which the Symptoms, Causes, and Cure / of those Diseases are set forth after a Method / intirely new. / The whole interspers'd, with Instructive Dis- courses /on the/Real Art of Physick it self ;/And Entertaining Remarks on the Modern Practice / of / Physicians / and / Aopthecaries: / Very useful to all, that have the Misfortune to stand in / need of either. In Three Dialogues. / By B. de Mandeville, M. D. / Scire potestates herbarum, usumque medendi / Maluit, & Mutas agitare inglorius artes. / ^Eneid. Lib. XII. / London: Printed for and are to be had of the Author, / at his House in Manchester-Court, in Channel-Row, West- / minster; and D. Leach, in the Little-Old-Baily, and W. / Taylor at the Ship in Pater- Noster-Row, and J. Woodward, / in Scalding-Alley, near Stocks-Market.1* 1711."
u This edition was issued also with a somewhat different title-page, on which, after 'London,' is stated, 'Printed and Sold by Dryden Leach, in Elliot's Court, in the Little-Old-Bailey, and W. Taylor at the Ship in Pater-Noster- Row. 1711.' In this variation of the edition, the very close of the preface (p. xiv) is altered. Instead of giving his house-address, as in the other form of the edition, Mandeville refers the reader who wishes to learn where the author lives to the bookseller. He does the same in the 1715 edition.
18 It was advertised in the booksellers' quarterly lists for May; see Arber's Term Catalogues (1903-6), III, 674.
428 Kaye
8°. Collation: title, p. [i]; blank, p. [ii]; preface, pp. iii(A2)-xiv; table of contents, pp. xv-xxiv; text, pp. 1 (B)-280; advertisement, pp. [281(*)-288]. This advertisement does not appear in all copies.
In 1715 appeared a second edition, printed by Dryden Leach. In 1730, this work appeared in a much enlarged form; the preface was altered, and 'Diseases' substituted in the title for 'Passions.'17 The same year appeared another edition by Tonson, differing only in being entitled 'The Third Edition' instead of 'The Second Edition: Corrected and Enlarged by the Author.'
This is the medical work which was such a favorite with Dr. Johnson;18 and it must be admitted that these dialogues between the hypochondriacal19 Misomedon and the Dutch physician, Philopirio (identified with the author by himself), are marked by Mandeville's customary candor and common sense. The underlying motif is, as usual, his empiricism. He attacks physicians who, like 'the speculative Willis,' conceive the practices of medicine to consist in the logical deduction of conclusions from inflexible general hypotheses;
17 A / Treatise / of the / Hypochondriack / and / Hysterick / Diseases. / In Three Dialogues. / By B. Mandeville, M. D. / Scire Po testates Herbarum usumque medendi / Maluit, & mutas agitare inglorius artes. / ^Eneid. Lib. xii. / The Second Edition: Corrected and / Enlarged by the Author. / London: / Printed for J. Tonson in the Strand. MDCCXXX./
8°. Collation: title, p. [i]; blank, p. [ii]; preface, pp. [iii](A2)-xxii(a3v); The Contents, pp. [xxiii(a4)-xxxii]; dialogues, pp. [1](B)-380.
18 See Hawkins, Life of Johnson (Dublin, 1787), p. 234, note.
19 The hypochondriac or hysteric disorders were in Mandeville's day, as in the days of Galen, looked upon as due to an excess of the 'melancholy' or 'bilious' 'humor,' one of the four 'fluids' believed to determine men's tempera- ments. The disproportion of this humor was thought due to a diseased condi- tion of that portion of the viscera considered the home of the offending humor. Hypochondria, therefore, was not only a mental, but a visceral disturbance. Different physicians assigned different parts of the viscera as the seat of the humor — the spleen, gall bladder, etc. Mandeville traced the disease to the stomach, and continuing the line of speculation indicated in his youthful trea- tise De Chylosi Vitiata, coupled it with an imperfect chylification (digestion). As a specialist hi hypochondria, therefore, Mandeville could be termed a nerve and stomach specialist. (It should be noted that he does not fully subscribe to the hypothesis of the humors, his analyses in many respects being more close to modern views.)
The Writings of Bernard Mandemlle 429
this arouses him to real moral indignation. He will no more abide such a procedure in physic than he can in ethics. The true way to learn the art of healing, he maintains, is at the bedside of one's patients. Every case is a law unto itself, and it is experience, and not ingenious theory, which will enable the doctor to deal with it. On the philosophical side, this preference for experience over theory takes the form of a depreciation of the powers of sheer reason,20 and of the declara- tion that the hypotheses of science are merely of pragmatic value. He argues that reason alone is insufficient to guide us, and that intuition is often of much more value.
Phil .... I saw in your Parlour a Head of Van Dike's, which I would swear to, is an Original: But should any body, especially one that had no skill in Painting, ask me, why I would be so positive, when it might be a Copy, that was very well done, and like it, and I was either to give him an intelligible Reason, why I knew this from any Copy that could be made, (which yet is very true,) or else to be hang'd; I must die like a Fool.
Misom. I confess I never heard better Reasons, to avoid giving any, in all my Life (ed. 1730, p. 62).
He goes so far as to call reason an 'idol' — and that in the early eighteenth century. In accordance with this attitude, he refuses (p. 163) to allow the validity of even so respected an hypothesis as that of the 'animal spirits,' though he will allow its use, as he will that of other explanations, for the value it may have in practice.
Such a physician as this is obviously not trying to impose upon his patients. And, indeed, Mandeville is so honest that he loudly publishes the great gaps in the knowledge of the medical profession, including himself. He is in every respect the opposite of the doctor in Moliere who has 'change tout cela.' His remedies are usually most simple. The final regimen which he prescribes for Misomedon rests chiefly on exercise and air.
20 Compare Fable, I, 382 : Tor we are ever pushing our Reason which way soever we feel Passion to draw it, and Self-love pleads to all human Creatures for their different Views, still furnishing every individual with Arguments to justify their Inclinations.'
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It remains to note, before leaving this book, that the reader will learn from it concerning other matters besides hypochon- dria. Mandeville delights in exposing the tricks of doctors and apothecaries, and the current fads, and tempers his dia- logues to accord with and display the characters who utter them.
Wishes / to a / Godson, / with Other / Miscellany / Poems. / By B. M. / London: / Printed for J. Baker, at the Black-Boy, in / Pater- Noster-Row: 1712.21 Price 6d./
8°, signed in fours. Collation: title, p. [1]; blank, p. [2]; text, pp. 3(A2)-38; The Contents, pp. [39-40].
This little book begins with the seven-page poem which gave the volume its name, Wishes to a Godson, in which the author outlines a career for his godson, just one year old.
May you live to be a Man,
Handsome, Sturdy, Tall, and then, . . .
May your Hose, whate'er you feel
At the Toes, stand buff at Heel ....
Of the handsome Female fry
May you've still variety . . .
May you never stick to one,
Or, by fondness be undone;
But have Forty at a call,
And be fit to serve them all ....
May you never drink on tick,
Guzzle Belch to make you sick;
Trust to Punch made out of sight,
Tho' a Priest should swear it's right ....
May y'in Taverns ne'er be thought,
One that's pleas'd with finding fault;
But commanding without Noise,
Kind to Men, and grave to Boys ....
These and Thousand Blessings more,
Than I have leisure to run o're,
Light upon my little Godson,
Th — d — re the Son of H — d — son.
Then follow four erotic poems, smoothly executed, and with something of a Prioresque touch. Next comes A Letter to Mr. Asgil, Writ at Colchester. John Asgill was the gentleman who was expelled from Parliament for maintaining that death
n The impression of the date is blurred in the copy seen by me and may possibly be 1713.
The Writings of Bernard Mandevitte 431
was 'not obligatory upon Christians,' but that people could go immediately to heaven, body and all. The poem expost- ulates with him humorously, deducing the practical incon- veniences that would result from belief in such a doctrine. Now come four bits of verse designed for 'Typhon; or the War between the Gods and Giants' — a description of morning, the speech of Bacchus, the speech of Neptune, and the encoun- ter between Mars and Enceladus. These are, of course, remade from Scarron's Typhon?* A poem, On Honour, from the Falstaffian point of view, is next:
In bloody Fields she [the enchantress, Honour] sits as Gay,
As other Ladies at a Play ....
And when [her] . . . Sweet-hearts for their Sins,
Have all the Bones broke in their Skins;
Of her Esteem the only Token
Is, t' have Certificates th'are broken:
Which in grave Lines are cut on Stone,
And in some Church or Chappel shewn
To People, that, neglecting Pray'r,
Have tune to mind who's buried there.
Till some half-witted Fellow comes,
To Copy what is writ on Tombs;
And then, to their immortal Glory,
Forsooth, they're said to live in Story:
A Recompence, which to a wonder
Must please a Man that's cut asunder.
'Tis thought, the cruel-hearted Jade
Is, and will ever be a Maid;
Because none e'er lay in her Bed,
Unless they first were knock'd o' th' head.
The pamphlet concludes with a satiric Latin poem on the mar- riage of a sexagenarian.
Since this booklet contains verses 'designed for the be- ginning of the Second Book of Typhon; or the War between the Gods and Giants,' and is, like Typhon, signed 'B. M. ,' it must be by the author of Typhon, Mandeville, for it is too much to suppose that two B. M.'s should have been translating Typhon, and the one have begun, after eight years, at the precise point where the other left off; and, in addition, that both should have used the same form of title for their work, although
22 Cf. Scarron, Typhon, Canto 2, (Oeuvres, ed. 1756, V, 437, 443-4, and 444-5) and Canto 3 (Oeuvres, V, 451).
>
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this was neither a literal nor the only extant translation of Scarron's title.23
The / Fable / of the / Bees: / or, / Private Vices / Publick Benefits. / Containing, / Several Discourses, to demonstrate, / That Human Frailties during the de- / generacy of Mankind, may be turn'd / to the Advantage of the Civil / Society, and made to supply / the Place of Moral Virtues. / Lux e Tenebris. / London: / Printed for J. Roberts, near the Ox- / ford Arms in Warwick Lane, 1714./
12°. Collation: title, p. [i]; blank, p. fii]; preface, pp. [iii(A2)-xiv]; table of contents, pp. [xv-xxiii] ; Errata, p. [xxiv] ; Grumbling Hive, pp. 1 (B)- 20; introduction, pp. [21-2]; Enquiry into the Origin of Moral Virtue, pp. 23^11; Remarks, pp. 42-228.
23 Quite aside from any association with Typhon, there are convincing indications that this work is by Mandeville. Not only is the work signed with the initials which he used on the title-page of avowed works, but it shows very strong internal evidence to prove it his — despite the fact that, except for the 'B.M.' and association with Typhon, Sakmann (pp. 18-19) adduces as evidence to prove the work Mandeville's little more than a general similarity in tone to acknowledged writings by Mandeville. To begin with, the poem On Honour is distinctly in harmony with Mandeville's creed, a creed of which he was, at the time, in England, the only really thorough-going exponent. This poem brings to mind passage on passage from the Fable of the Bees; for instance, 'To continue and heighten this artificial Courage [in battle] . . . those that fought well . . . must be flatter'd and solemnly commended; those that lost their Limbs rewarded, and those that were kill'd . . . artfully lamented, and to have extraordinary Encomiums bestowed upon them; for to pay Honours to the Dead, will be ever a sure Method to make Bubbles of the Living' (Fable,
I, 233). The very expression 'Bed of Honour' is used in the Fable; and the phrase 'knock'd o' th' Head' appears in the Virgin Unmask'd (1724), p. 128, in a context analogous to that in the poem On Honour.
The elaborate picturing of ideal representatives of certain types of individ- uals, such as is done in the Wishes to a Godson, where an ideal man-about-town is depicted, was also a favorite device with Mandeville. Both parts of the Fable (e.g., 1, 389 ff., and II, 50-8) are full of this, and so is the Virgin Unmask'd (e.g., pp. 190-2, ed. 1724), the Treatise (e.g., pp. xii-xvi, ed. 1730), the Free Thoughts (e.g., pp. 26 ff., ed. 1729), and the Letter to Dion (e.g., pp. 56-8). The reference to Asgill is somewhat significant because ironical mention is made of him, also, in the Origin of Honour, p. 35. Then, the long catalogue of wines given in Bacchus's speech offers some evidence of the authorship. We have here 'Champain,' Cahors, Pontack, Obrion, Murgou, Claret, Burgundy, Coutou, Mourin, and Vin d'aie. There is no such long list in Scarron. The translator put it in because he liked such a catalogue; and the Fable, I, 118 and 260, shows that Mandeville was fond of these catalogues. Indeed, he mentions four of these very wines. Latin verse, too, was used by Mandeville in the Fable,
II, 408-9. Again, in Wishes to a Godson, p. 34, there is a contemptuous reference to romances. Such reference is characteristic of Mandeville (see, for example,
The Writings of Bernard Mandeville 433
The first edition exists also with a different title-page, on which the motto, from 'Several Discourses' through 'Lux e Tene- bris,' is omitted and a wood-cut substituted. In 1723, Edmund Parker issued a much enlarged version of this book; and the work was again expanded when Tonson published it in 1724. Tonson issued other editions in 1725, 1728, 1729 and 1732. Meanwhile Mandeville had written a companion volume to the Fable, which he called The Fable of the Bees. Part II (see below, pp. 439-40). After 1732, the two parts were published together. Tonson issued a two-volume edition under date of 1734.24 W. Gray and W. Peter printed a two-volume edition at Edinburgh in 1755, and another such edition was issued there by J. Wood in 1772. The two parts appeared in one volume in 1795 at London, and again in 1806.25
Fable, 1, 241, Virgin Unmask'd (1724), p. 131, Origin of Honour, pp. 48 and 90-1). On p. 22, there is mention of 'Helovet-Sluce' (HeUevoetsluis), although any other port would have done equally well. This place is in Mandeville's country, the Netherlands. Then, the idea of Wishes to a Godson is very possibly derived from Erasmus's Colloquies, which Erasmus wrote for the education of his god- son, little John Erasmius Froben, a book almost as ill adapted to a small boy as Wishes to a Godson. Now, Mandeville was much influenced by Erasmus (see my forthcoming edition of the Fable). Finally, there is a most remarkable and convincing parallel in connection with an unusual simile for sexual inter- course. The author of Wishes to a Godson writes of 'Celia' (p. 18): What ever Snows without appear, I'm sure there's a Vesvious [sic] near. And yet I'm tempted with a strong desire, To go in quest of this deep Gulph of fire; And will whatever place it is, Like Pliny venture on th' Abyss.
Now, in Mandeville's Virgin Unmask'd (ed. 1724, p. 112) one character asks, 'Would he have me pay for my Curiosity as Pliny did, and perish by the Flames, to know the Cause of them'; and the other answers, 'The Application is plain, if Matrimony be like a Vesuvius.'
Some of these indications of authorship are insignificant individually, but, especially when the smallness of the space in which they congregate is considered, they have a cumulative effect; and, together with such important evidence as the signature, the poem On Honour, and the Pliny-Vesuvius meta- phor, would, even apart from association with Typhon, give sufficient grounds for supposing Wishes to a Godson to be by Mandeville.
M It was listed in the London Magazine for Dec. 1733 (p. 647). 25 The Fable was partially reprinted in 1844 in F. D. Maurice's edition of William Law's Remarks upon a Late Book, Entituled, the Fable of the Bees, in Selby Bigge's British Moralists (1897), II, 348-56, and in Alden's Readings in English Prose of the Eighteenth Century (1911), pp. 245-54.
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In 1740 there appeared a four- volume French translation attributed to J. Bertrand. This translation included both parts of the Fable. Another edition folio wed in 1750.26 German versions appeared in 1761, 1817, 1818, and 1914.
The many-sided speculation of the Fable I have treated at length in my forthcoming edition of the work (Clarendon Press), and shall therefore here merely indicate enough of the nature of Mandeville's thought to refresh the memory of those who have read the Fable and to furnish enough data to the others for the understanding of my analyses of Mandeville's other works. — The thought of the book is largely a development of the paradox which he placed on the title-page — private vices, public benefits. This paradox is attained by the application of a double standard of morality. In the first place, Mande- ville judges the value of things from an empiric point of view. From this standpoint he finds, with the pyrrhonists, that con- ceptions of right and wrong seem to have no absolutely fixed standards independent of circumstances, but to vary with differ- ent men and different ages; and for practical purposes, therefore, he offers a utilitarian standard to measure whether a thing is desirable or not. At the same time, however, he applies an oppo- site morality — a morality which judges the merit of an act according to whether the motive which produced it was or was not a self-regarding one, holding that, if there was the slightest taint of selfishness in the motive, then, no matter how beneficial the act, it was a vicious one. Mandeville undertakes a subtle and masterful analysis of human motives, and reaches the conclusion that, unless assisted by divine grace, complete unselfishness is impossible to men — that, traced to their roots, the most altruistic-appearing actions are really selfish. As a result, therefore, of this rigoristic and ascetic condemnation of motives tinged with selfishness, all action becomes vicious — including such action as was found to be beneficial from a utilitarian point of view, what is a benefit from the utilitarian standpoint becoming vice according to the rigoristic criticism of motives. Thus it is that Mandeville, by applying simul- taneously two opposite moral standards, can maintain that private vices are public benefits.
26 Goldbach's Bernard de Mandeville's Bienenfabel, p. 5, lists a French edition of 1760, whose existence, however, I doubt.
The Writings of Bernard Mandeville 435
The question of course arises as to which of the contra- dictory ethical creeds which he applied at the same time is really basal in Mandeville's thought. To this I answer, with no attenpt at discussion, which would be impracticable in the limits of this paper,27 that the basal trend of Mande- ville's thought is very strongly 'empiric'; the imposition of the rigoristic gloss is an arbitrary procedure and not of a piece with the real fabric of Mandeville's philosophy.
Free Thoughts / on / Religion, / the / Church, / and / National Happi- ness./ By B. M. / London: / Printed, and Sold by T. Jauncy, at / the Angel without Temple-Bar, and J. / Roberts, in Warwick-Lane. MDC- CXX. / (Price Bound 5 s.)/
8°. Collation: title, p. fi]; blank, p. [ii]; preface, pp. [i] (A2)-ixx; Errata, p. [xx]; table of contents, pp. [xxi-xxii]; text, pp. [l](B)-364; index, pp. [365-376],
In 1721, this important work was re-issued by T. Warner, the publisher of the British Journal; and Brotherton in 1723 republished it as 'By the Author of the Fable of the Bees.' In 1729 Brotherton sponsored another edition, an enlarged one, this time again attributed to 'B. M.' Another seems to have appeared in 1733.28
Of this work there appeared more editions in foriegn lan- guages than in English. French versions (the translator was was Justus van Effen)29 appeared in 1722 and 1723, both published at the Hague by Vaillant Freres and N. Prevost, and in 1729 and 1738, both issued at Amsterdam by Francois L'Honore. A German translation was published at Leipsic in 1726, and a Dutch version appeared in 1723 at Amsterdam.
The book opens with a preface in which is given a digest of the work. Toward the close of the preface (ed. 1729, pp. xix- xxi), Mandeville notes that he has borrowed freely from Bayle without acknowledgement; and he adds as apology, '/ thought they [the borrowings] would read better in the manner they now stand, than if I had stated them only as his opinions, which would have occasioned many breaks in the discourse. Had this been done out of vanity to compliment myself, or disregard to the honour of that great man, I would have been wise enough not to
27 Besides, I have supplied this discussion in my edition.
28 Advertised in the Gentleman's Magazine, III, 108, as issued Feb. 1733.
29 According to the French translation of the Fable (1740), I, viii.
436 Kaye
have spoke of it now.' However, despite this considerable debt to Bayle, the book is essentially an original one.
The main body of the work is composed of twelve chapters, the first five of which deal with religion, the next five, with the church, and the last two, with 'Government' and 'National Happiness.'
The thought which runs through the first ten chapters on religious matters is of a piece. Real religion, says Mandeville, does not exist. We do not 'live up to the rules of Christianity. To conquer our passions, and mortify our darling lusts, is, what few of us set about in earnest' (ed. 1729, p. 8). But, he continues, since true Christianity is not to be found, what passes for such is no more of divine authority than the worship of Diana, or Mahometanism, or anything else which we agree to call superstition. Indeed, Christianity as we see it ex- emplified (though not, of course, as it really is), has most of the traits of these superstitions. There is, then, no special virtue in a cassock or creed which endows its possessors with a venerableness or infallibility lacking to other more worldly callings or beliefs. All history proves the Christian clergy, Protestant as well as Catholic, as weak, and the Church as selfish, as any other group or organization. Christianity, as we have it, is essentially a thing of this world and liable to all the mistakes of it. Religious matters, therefore, should be judged with the same circumspection and regard for the public weal that we would apply to any other matter. It is, therefore, folly to fight and persecute about it, when such persecution will necessarily pervert that very good of the state which is the only recommendation of our religion, since there is nothing divine about it — all this, of course, on the assumption that true Christianity, whose decrees are above all worldly criticism, is not involved. But yet, even if it were involved, Mandeville would still maintain the same, for 'There is no characteristick to distinguish and know a true church from a false one' (p. 260). Why fight about such a confusion? Through- out his book, therefore, it is toleration which is most insisted upon.
This, however, does not mean that Mandeville minimizes the importance of the clergy, but that he measures their importance as he would that of a statesman or a lawyer, and
The Writings of Bernard Mandeville 437
limits their power alike. Nor does it mean that he considers churchmen worse than other men. 'I have said nothing of the clergy,' he writes, 'but what ought to be expected from all mankind under the same circumstances and temptations' (p. 291 ).30 This quotation really sums up the point of the book — that he insists on treating matters usually considered of other-worldly, or absolute, authority as things to be handled in the same manner as the most worldly problems.
In other words, he is as empirical here as in the Fable of the Bees. Mysteries, principles, universal criteria, all walk the plank under the eye of his piratical sense of fact. But, although he systematically criticises whatever pretends to a more than worldly authority, Mandeville is not an unadulterated empiri- cist. As in the Fable, it is a dual standard which he applies — condemning things good by a worldly test, because they do not accord with the dictates of a completely rigoristic morality and religion. Thus it is by means of his absolutely ascetic view of religion that he proves that no really religious people exist, for he finds no complete ascetics. And it is, therefore, his too high, ascetic expectations of religion which leave him free to treat empirically religion as he finds it actually and disappointingly embodied. His asceticism has, therefore, really played servant to his basal feeling, his empiricism.
In the chapter 'Of Government,' Mandeville invests sove- reignty not in the king alone, but in the wishes of 'the three estates jointly.' He holds the opinion that the social contract with constitutional monarchs is valid only so long as they fulfil the essential condition of the contract, the welfare of the people. The chapter concludes with a demonstration of the illogicality of favoring the claims of the Pretender.
The last chapter, 'Of National Happiness,' is a- typically Mandevillian plea for self-knowledge and candor, and against the folly of expecting the impossible. He preaches here the theme which he before announced (Fable, I, [viii-ix]) as the purpose to be accomplished by the Fable of the Bees,
That in the first Place the People, who continually find fault with others, by reading . . . [it], would be taught to look at home, and exam-
10 Cf. Fable, I, 337: ' ... real Virtue, which it is Foolish and indeed Injurious, we should more expect from the Clergy than we generally find it in the Laity.'
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ining their own Consciences, be made asham'd of always railing at what they are more or less guilty of themselves; and that in the next, those who are so fond of the Ease and Comforts, and reap all the Benefits that are the Consequence of a great and flourishing Nation, would learn more patiently to submit to those Inconveniences, which no Government upon Earth can remedy, when they should see the Impossibility of enjoying any great share of the first, without partaking likewise of the latter.'
In the Free Thoughts, this reads (p. 399),
When we shall have carefully examin'd the state of our affairs, and so far conquer'd our prejudices as not to suffer our selves to be deluded any longer by false appearances, the prospect of happiness will be before us. To expect ministries without faults, and courts without vices, is grossly betraying our ignorance of human affairs.
An / Enquiry / into the / Causes / of the / Frequent Executions / at / Tyburn: / and / A Proposal for some Regulations con- / cerning Felons in Prison, and the good / Effects to be Expected from them. / To which is Added, / A Discourse on Transportation, and a Me- / thod to render that Punishment more Effectual. / By B. Mandeville, M. D. / Oderunt pec- care Mali formidine Poenae. / London, / Printed: And Sold by J. Roberts in Warwick-Lane. / MDCCXXV./
8°. Collation: half-title, p. [i]; blank, p. [ii]; title, p. [iii]; blank, p. [iv]; preface, pp. [v(A3)-xiv]; table of contents, pp. [xv-xvi]; text, pp.
The six chapters of the little book were contributed as letters to as many issues of the British Journal?1 The first two chapters condemn the evils arising from the practices of professional thief-catchers, and the selfish and illegal conni- vance of those robbed, who are content if only they can recover their goods. The third chapter contains a vivid account of the scene of a public execution, and closes with the plea that the corpses of malefactors be given for dissection to the universities. The next chapter, analyzing this account, argues forcibly that the 'publick Executions. . . instead of giving Warning. . . are exemplary the wrong Way, and encourage where they should deter. The small Concern, and seeming Indolence of the Condemn'd, harden the Profligates that behold them' (pp. 36-7). 'If no Remedy can be found for these Evils, it would be better that Malefactors should be put to Death in private' (p. 36). In Chapter 5, Mandeville advises as to the treatment of the
« Of Feb. 27, Mar. 6, Mar. 13, Mar. 20, Mar. 27, and Apr. 3, 1725. The communications were signed, 'Philantropos.'
For further information about these letters, see below, p. 439.
The Writings of Bernard Mandeville 439
condemned. They should be held in solitary confinement; they should be allowed the privilege of reprieves only for a certain period; and they should be kept to a severe diet and an ascetic life. Thus would be avoided the specious, drunken courage with which the condemned now deceive and encourage the spectators. Instead (p. 42), 'When seated on the ignomi- nious Cart, by his restless Posture, the Distortion of his Features, and the continual wringing of his Hands, he [the condemned] should disclose his Woe within, and the utmost depth of Sorrow: When we should hear his shrill Cries and sad Complaints interrupted with bitter Sobs and anxious Groans, and now and then, at sudden Starts, see Floods of Tears gushing from his distracted Eyes, how thoroughly would the Concurrence of so many strong Evidences convince us of the Pangs, the amazing Horror, and unspeakable Agonies of his excruciated Soul!' One such execution 'would be more serviceable . . . than a thousand of those that are now so frequent' (p. 46). The last chapter advocates that, in place of the transportation of criminals, which he considers ineffective, they be exchanged for the honest captured Englishmen now slaves in Morocco and Barbary. He adds (p. 50), as a customary whimsical touch, that 'a Barbarian would be glad to change an elderly honest Man, pretty well worn, and above Fifty, for a sturdy House-breaker of Five and twenty.'
Letter to the British Journal
Mandeville's contributions to the literature of criminology did not cease with the articles which he collected into the Executions at Tyburn. He wrote, under the same pseudonym of Thilantropos,' one more communication on this subject (hitherto unnoted) for the British Journal, which ran in the issues of April 24 and May 1, 1725. In this article, he included a letter the receipt of which he had acknowledged in a footnote to his communication of March 27, 1725, which footnote he did not reprint in his Executions at Tyburn.
The / Fable / of the / Bees. / Part II. / By the Author of the First. / Opinionum enim Commenta delet dies; Naturae ju- / dicia confirmat. Cicero de Nat. Deor. Lib. 2. / London, / Printed: And Sold by J. Roberts in / Warwick-Lane, MDCCXXIX. /
8°. Collation: title, p. [i]; blank, p. [ii]; preface, pp. [i](A2)-xxxi(d); Errata, p. [xxxii](dv); dialogues, pp. [1] (B)-432; index, pp. [433(Ff)-456].
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Roberts published two other editions of this work — a duodecimo in 1730 and an octavo in 1733. Thereafter the book appeared only as the second half to a first half consisting of the original Fable.
The six dialogues which make up the body of Part II are ostensibly a defense of the original Fable, but Mandeville introduces much new matter — notably an analysis of the origin of society from a modern evolutionary point of view. As my brief outline of the first part of the Fable can serve also in great part for this book, I dispense with further description of its content.
An / Enquiry / into / the Origin / of / Honour, / and / The Usefulness
of / Christianity / in / War. / By the Author of the Fable of the Bees. /
London: / Printed for John Brotherton, at the / Bible in Cornhill. 1732. / 8°. Collation: title, p. [i]; blank, p. [ii] ; preface, pp. [iii](a2)-xi; table
of contents, pp. [xii-xx]; Errata, p. [xx]; dialogues, pp. 1(A)-240.
It is possible that there was a second issue the same year, for, in the Gentleman's Magazine for July 1732 (II, 16),32 the book is noted as amongst those published that July, al- though it had previously been announced there (II, 591) as issued in January. An advertising campaign was also begun in the Grub-street Journal for July 27, and, beginning then, for eleven issues, the book is mentioned as 'This Day is pub- lished,' although it had been so advertised back in January, and for some months past had been mentioned merely in the regular list of publications for sale at Brotherton's.
The preface is, perhaps, the most interesting part of the book. In it Mandeville argues at once for the relativity and the ascetic content of virtue. An interesting disquisition on the etymology of such words as virtue and morals leads him to the conclusion that (pp. v-vi),
It will be easy to imagine, how and why, soon after Fortitude [con- quest of the passion of fear of death] had been honoured with the Name of Virtue, all the other Branches of Conquest over our selves were dignify'd with the same Title. We may see in it likewise the Reason of what I have always so strenuously insisted upon, viz. That no Practice, no Action or good Quality, how useful or beneficial soever they may be in themselves, can ever deserve the Name of Virtue, strictly speaking, where there is not a palpable Self-denial to be seen.
32 The six pages of which p. 16 is the second are inserted between pp. 880 and 881.
The Writings of Bernard Mandeville 441
He also considers two objections to his thesis that virtue is relative to the regulation of the human passions, and not a divinely eternal truth. In answer to one of these objections, he maintains that the fact that truth is eternal does not interfere with this thesis.
All Propositions, not confin'd to Time or Place, that are once true, must be always so; even in the silliest and most abject Things in the World; as for Example, It is wrong to under-roast Mutton for People who love to have their Meat well done. The Truth of this, which is the most trifling Thing I can readily think on, is as much Eternal, as that of the Sublimest Virtue. If you ask me, where this Truth was, before there was Mutton, or People to dress or eat it, I answer, in the same Place where Chastity was, before there were any Creatures that had an Appetite to procreate their Species (p. viii).
In other words, that the rules of virtue did not exist in actual fact from the beginning of time does not prevent these rules being truths, even though one admits the eternity of truth; a thing can be true without being eternal in that particular sense. Nor, he says, answering the argument that virtue is of divine origin, have we any right to deduce anything concerning virtue from what we know of God.
For as God has not a Body . . . , so he is entirely free from Passions and Frailties. With what Propriety then can we attribute any Thing to him that was invented, or at least signifies a Strength or Ability to conquer or govern Passions and Frailties? . . . there is a perfect and compleat Goodness in the Divine Nature, infinitely surpassing . . . every Thing that Mortals can conceive about it.
'I recommend the fore-going ... to the Consideration of the Advo- cates for the Eternity and Divine Original of Virtue' (pp. ix-x).
Thus, by the very loftiness of his conception of the divine goodness and perfection, Mandeville argues their indifference, just as in his Free Thoughts,33 in the very transcendence of his ideal of religion, he finds a reason to deny religion any in- fluence.
In the dialogues, which are between the characters who appeared in Part II of The Fable of the Bees, Mandeville contends that honor is a conception built, like what is usually called virtue, upon pride and shame. Pride and shame are in this book considered to be different aspects of the same passion
33 See above, p. 437. The same is true of Mandeville's procedure in The Fable of the Bees.
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of self -liking; Mandeville explicitly recants (p. 12) the passages in the Fable in which he made pride and shame separate passions. Honor, however, is more openly and elaborately selfish than what passes for virtue. Although virtue at least pretends that it is self-mortifying, the avowed purpose of honor is to intensify the joy we feel in our own merits. When we say that so-and-so is a man of honor, and his actions an honor to him, we mean that he is 'in the Right to gratify and indulge himself in the Passion of Self -liking' (p. 8). 'The most effectual Method to breed Men of Honour, is to inspire them with lofty and romantick Sentiments concerning the Excellency of their Nature, and the superlative Merit there is in being a Man of Honour. The higher you can raise a Man's Pride, the more refin'd you render his Notions of Honour' (p. 86). As a result, nothing more fitted to sway men's thoughts and actions has yet been discovered; it is more potent than virtue and religion together.
It is, however, he proceeds, quite opposed to Christianity, the doctrines of which, he argues, as in the Fable, condemn self-glorification and demand complete self-conquest. But this in no way interferes with the efficacy of the principle of honor, for Christianity is not really believed or practised. Indeed, the very clergy preach principles of temporal glory and international strife in absolute conflict with the Gospels. This does not, however, mean that men are hypocrites, since people often honestly think that they believe things which they do not really believe, and, besides, do not act from beliefs, but from passions.
Nevertheless, although Christianity may be disregarded for practical purposes, what is popularity known as Christianity and religion cannot. This, like everything efficacious, rests upon a passion in our nature, the fear of an invisible cause. This passion is universal, so universal and potent that it is impossible 'that the most artful Politician, or the most popular Prince, should make Atheism to be universally received among the Vulgar of any considerable State or Kingdom, tho' there were no Temples or Priests to be seen. From all which I would shew, that, on the one Hand, you can make no Multitudes believe contrary to what they feel, or what contradicts a Passion inherent in their Nature, and that, on the other, if
The Writings of Bernard Mandeville 443
you humour that Passion, and allow it to be just, you may regulate it as you please' (pp. 27-28).
With this as a background, it is now easy to understand Mandeville's position as regards the 'Usefulness of Christ- ianity in War.' Briefly, it is no use at all. If we were really Christians there would be no war. At any rate, a broken spirit, a contrite heart, and loving one's neighbor as oneself are hardly the proper prologue to battle. However, although Christianity itself is worse than useless for martial purposes, what passes for Christianity, 'the Interpretations, that are made of it by Clergymen,' is very useful indeed. From time immemor- ial, statesmen, no matter what their cause, have realized the need of enlisting the religious passion on their side.
No rebellion was ever so unnatural, nor Tyranny so cruel, but if there were Men who would fight for it, there were Priests who would pray for it, and loudly maintain, that it was the Cause of God. Nothing is more necessary to an Army, than to have this latter strenuously insisted upon, and skilfully inculcated to the Soldiers. No body fights heartily, who believes himself to be in the wrong, and that God is against him: Whereas a firm Persuasion of the Contrary, inspires Men with Courage and Intre- pidity; it furnishes them with Arguments to justify the Malice of their Hearts, and the implacable Hatred they bear their Enemies; it confirms them in the ill opinion they have of them, and makes them confident of Victory; si Deus pro nobis quis contra nos? . . . Nothing is more com- fortable to Men, than the Thought, that their Enemies are likewise the Enemies of God' (pp. 159-60).
But, however useful all this may be in assisting the principle of honor to make men fight, and however common, it is not Chris- tianity as taught in the New Testament, where, Mandeville concludes with a touch of Lucianesque irony, 'it will ever remain in its Purity and Lustre.'34
A / Letter / to / Dion, / Occasion'd by his Book / call'd / Alciphron, / or / The Minute Philosopher. / By the Author of the Fable of the Bees. / London: / Printed and Sold by J. Roberts in Warwick- / Lane. M.DCC. XXXII. /
8°, signed in fours. Collation: title, p. [i]; blank, p. [ii]; text, pp. 1 (A)-70.»
84 The main argument of the Origin of Honour is anticipated in Bayle's Miscellaneous Reflections (1708), I, 282-5, where is developed the thesis that the 'Courage inspir'd by the Gospel is not that of Murder and Violence, such as War requires' (I, 283).
35 It was on sale before July 27, on which date the Grub-street Journal advertised it as one of the recent books sold by J. Brotherton. And it must
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A German translation of most of the Letter to Dion was published in Mandeville's Bienenfabel (Munich, 1914), pp. 347-98.
The Letter was written in answer to George Berkeley's Alci- phron, or the Minute Philosopher, a series of dialogues published in 1732, of which the second and part of the first were devoted to a rebuttal of the Fable of the Bees.
This pamphlet is one of Mandeville's most characteristic and able performances. For clarity and pleasantness of statement, it is remarkable. Mandeville begins by complaining of the great outcry that has been made against his book by people who never read it, and regrets that he is forced to reckon Dion [Berkeley] among that number. The character (Lysicles) in Alciphron who is supposed to represent Mandeville's thought is really such an insufferable coxcomb and rascal that the author of the Fable would refuse his mere acquaintance; and, therefore, must consider Dion ignorant if he is not to consider him some- thing worse. This quietly ironic prologue serves Mandeville as an excuse to reiterate the principles of his Fable for the benefit of the supposedly ignorant Dion, after which he proceeds to deal with the great objection to the Mandevillian philosophy, that the man who defended the thesis, private vices, public benefits, was an advocate for all wickedness and lawlessness without bounds, a belief of much currency, despite the fact that a careful reading of the Fable refutes it.
It is true, says Mandeville, that I have proved the useful- ness of vices ('what I call Vices are the Fashionable Ways of Living, the Manners of the Age,' p. 31) and have demonstrated their necessity to temporal greatness but, 'Tho' I have shewn the Way to the Worldly Greatness, I have, without Hesita- tion, preferr'd the Road that leads to Virtue' (p. 31.) Al- though I have shown the utility of vices, I have never gone beyond the maxim of M. Bayle, that (p. 34) 'Les utilites du vice n' empechent pas qu'il ne soit mauvais.' Supposing, now, that I were to be asked what ought to be done by a jockey whom
have been written after June 24, when The Craftsman published a communica- tion mentioned in the Letter to Dion. It is advertised in the May number (is- sued June or later) of the London Magazine for 1732 (p. 105) as priced at one shilling.
The Writings of Bernard Mandeville 445
age had made too heavy for his profession, and who wished to regain his riding weight. I should prescribe for the lad a regimen very bad for his health. But if, on this, I were to be accused of advocating unhealthy diet and living, it would be most unfair. I only prescribed what should be done to reduce his weight. I did not advise the reduction. On the contrary. In the same way, although I have shown the road to temporal pleasure, I have always maintained that it could never 'be worth . . . the Risque of being eternally miserable' through the loss of one's soul. 'The Moment such a Thought enters into a Man's Head, all the Poison is taken away from the Book, and every Bee has lost his Sting' (p. 22).
Mandeville has here intrenched himself behind his rigor- istic rejection of what his empiricism had shown desirable. His position is, logically, a very strong one. But it is open to two great objections. In the first place, the rejection of the fruits of vice is entirely verbal. His real feeling is not that these passions and impulses which cause temporal happiness, and which he has dubbed vice, are bad; the feeling which permeates the book is that they are intensely good. The words may be the words of Ecclesiastes, but the voice and the intonation are those of Rabelais. Mandeville may say that the denial of the passions is good, but he has, obviously, no intention of following his own advice, while he says quite definitely that nobody else will; and the thorough delight that he takes in dragging to view the unascetic organization of society shows that he would much regret it if his advice were followed. Mande- ville's plea, therefore, that he is really an apostle of asceticism and that his book will work for the spread of this doctrine, is a specious one.
In the second place, even if Mandeville were allowed to distinguish virtue from vice by making a complete asceticism the criterion, still this would be satisfactory only to those will- ing to accept such a criterion. And, even to these, it could not be of much practical service. Since all but a really infinitesimal proportion of human action is, according to Mande- ville's observations, not in accord with completely ascetic prin- ciples, such action is, judged by these principles, completely bad. All is equally vice, and the purchase of a beautiful costume is just as vicious as the murder of a helpless child. Obviously,
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the differentiation of vice from virtue according to the dictates of a complete asceticism is not of practical value.
If Mandeville is really to justify his book against the charge of having confused vice and virtue it must be according to the empiric viewpoint which he really holds and in accordance with which society is really organized. And this he does. Abandoning the ascetic touchstone, he points out that he has always said that vices should be punished as soon as they grow into crimes, that is, cease to be beneficial to society. He quotes the Fable to establish this. It must have been, he surmises, the paradoxical sub-title of the book, 'Private Vices, Publick Benefits,' that misled people into believing he thought no one action more reprehensible or desirable than another. But (p. 38) 'The true Reason why I made use of the Title . . . was to raise Attention. . . . This ... is all the Meaning I had in it; and I think it must have been Stupidity to have had any other.' The reader should notice, he says (p. 36), that, in this sub-title, 'there is at least a Verb . . . want- ing to make the Sense perfect.' This sense of the Fable is not that all passion and selfishness is beneficial, but that passion and selfishness may, by careful regulation, be made productive of social good, and are only excusable when their effects pass this utilitarian test. The real thesis of the book, therefore, is not 'All private vices are public benefits,' but 'Private vices may, some of them, become public good.' Mandeville has, therefore, adopted a utilitarian criterion, just as he does in all his works, where his superficial rigorism does not obscure matters. The veil of rigor- ism has blinded people to the utilitarianism by which he really solves his problems and avoids the Berkeleian criticism.
This was Mandeville's last book.
II
DOUBTFUL WORKS
The / Planter's / Charity. / London: / Printed in the Year 1704. / 4°, signed in twos. Collation: title, p. [1]: preface, p. [2]: text, pp. 3-8.
This is a versified tract on slavery. Apparently, planters feared to allow their negro slaves Christian baptism, because of the belief that Christians could not legally be kept in slavery. The author of the Planter's Charity cites authority to prove that slaves are not freed by becoming Christians, and urges
The Writings of Bernard Mandeville 447
planters, therefore, not to keep their bondsmen any longer in heathen darkness.
The tract has been attributed to Mandeville by Lowndes,36 Allibone, the Encyclopedia Britannica, and the Diet. Nat. Biog. The only definite indication of authorship, however, is the fact that its short prose preface is signed 'B. M.' There are besides some slight further indications that Mandeville may have been its author. Its subject — negro slavery — is akin to one that interested him — the captured Christians made slaves in Morocco (see Executions at Tyburn, pp. 48-55). To be sure, this subject also interested the 'B. M.' who wrote A Letter from a Gentlemen (see below, p. 460, note 59), and who was not Mandeville; but the Planter's Charity is in content and manner more like Mandeville's work than like the Letter from a Gentleman. The Planter's Charity, like the Executions at Tyburn, answers the argument that Christians cannot be slaves, and, in connection with this argument, it draws the very parallel traced in the Executions (p. 53) between the English treatment of slaves and that accorded the Huguenots in the galleys by Louis XIV. There are also certain passages whose irony (if it be irony) is Mandevillian. Thus, the Planter's Charity says of a certain divine who had preached a sermon in favor of baptizing slaves: 'And as the Author by Preaching and Printing of it [the sermon], could have no other Aim, than the Eternal Welfare of these Captive Souls, so his Labour ought to be valued as a Pious Deed, and the meer Effect of Christian Charity.' The analysis, too, of the motives why planters fear to have their slaves baptized has a Mandevillian tinge:
The Estate is the Concern, tho' you would hide Your Thoughts, and deck your Avarice and Pride With Right and Lawfulness . . . (pp. 6-7).
However, the little poem is so commonplace that such evidence can, when added to the evidence of the signature, do no more than make it somewhat more probable than improbable that the piece is Mandeville's.
A / Sermon / Preach'd at / Colchester, / to the / Dutch Congrega- tion. / On February 1. 170|. / By the Reverend C. Schrevelius; being his first or / Introduction Sermon, / after his being Elected. / And Translated into English, by B.M. M.D. /
36 Lowndes describes it as bound with two of Mandeville's authentic works.
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4°, signed in eights. There is no title-page in the copy I saw; the above title heads a dedicatory epistle of one page. Collation: title and dedication, p. 1(A); text, pp. 2(Av)-31.
This is a sermon on the advantages of Christianity, in which the preacher takes occasion to pledge himself to the service of his new community. The translator apologizes (p. 1) for his translation, 'because there is a great Energy in the Artful Composition of Words, which no Languages, at least such as are known in Europe, are capable of, but the Greek and Dutch.' That this pamphlet is a translation from the Dutch (Dr. Mandeville was born in Holland), and that it is signed not only B. M., but B. M., M. D., are the reasons for asso- ciating it with Mandeville.
The / Mischiefs/ that ought / Justly to be Apprehended / from a / Whig-Government. / London: / Printed for J. Roberts, near the Oxford- Arms / in Warwick-Lane, 1714. / (Price Six-Pence.) /
8°, signed in fours (D signatures omitted). Collation: title, p. [1]; blank, p. [2]; text, pp. 3(A2)-40.
This anonymous pamphlet, which is in the form of a dialogue between Tantivy, a Tory, and Loveright, a Whig, is a defence of the Whig party and policies. On the title-page of one of the copies of this work in the Bodleian Library a contem- porary hand has jvritten, 'By Dr. Mandevill,' and this is the reason — and hitherto the only reason — why the pamphlet has been connected with Mandeville. Professor Sakmann (Ber- nard de Mandeville, p. 38) maintains that it is probably not Mandeville's, arguing both that it is not in the author's manner and is on a subject quite foreign to his known interests. With the first of these reasons I disagree completely. The dia- logue seems to me written in typically Mandevillian prose and illuminated by the same type of wit and logic (see, for instance, the typical use of parable, pp. 10-12), the difference between this and his known works consisting not in difference of kind, but in the fact that the present pamphlet is less able than his best, although it is a respectable work and one that could well be studied by those seeking a keen and concise summary of contemporary politics. Professor Sakmann' s second argument, that Mandeville was not interested in the subject of the present pamphlet, is one easily invalidated in face of the facts that Mandeville was the protege of the
The Writings of Bernard Mandeville 449
Whig Chancellor, Earl Macclesfield,37 and that he devoted some fifty pages of his Free Thoughts to a defense of Whig poli- cies.38
Besides the dubitable matter of literary style, there is other internal evidence that the Mischiefs is Mandeville's. There are close parallels of thought between this and his known works. The argument in the Mischiefs (p. 17) for toleration is matched by one in Mandeville's Free Thoughts (ed. 1729, pp. 235-6) in which the reasoning is enforced by the same consideration that the Church of England is as much a dissent- ing body in Scotland as is the Scotch Presbytery in England. Again, the argument in the Mischiefs (pp. 30-1) that the Pro- testants' dread of the figure of the crucifix is as absurd as the Catholics' idolatry of it is paralleled by a passage in the Free Thoughts (pp. 48-50) which is alike not only in reasoning but in phraseology.39
Another equivalence of thought between the Mischiefs and a work known to be by Mandeville concerns the theory of political sovereignty. This matter revolved about the question whether or not the king was entitled to absolute obedience. Hobbes held that a king, as sovereign by an original social contract between his predecessor and the people, could by virtue of that contract claim complete obedience. Hobbes's contention was combated mainly by two methods: the first admitted that a king was a sovereign, but denied that the sovereign was independent of the will and interests of his subjects; the second admitted that a sovereign had au- thority independent of his subject's desires, but denied that the king was the sovereign. Locke employed the first method, arguing that public utility conditioned the power and the very
37 See my forthcoming edition, introduction, chap. I.
38 Mandeville, it is true, does state, 'I despise the very thoughts of a party- man' (Free Thoughts, ed. 1729, p. 169), but, considering the party arguments in his Free Thoughts, it is clear that all he can mean is that he is no bigot.
39 Note the similarity of expression in these two passages from the argu- ments mentioned above. The Mischiefs has (p. 30) : 'The Papists are great Idolaters of the Cross they Carve it, they Paint it, they Wear it, they make Use of it in every part of their Devotion.' The Free Thoughts has (pp. 48-9) : 'Every thing had the sign of the cross upon it, or was made in that shape; and few things were wore, or made use of, that had not the figure of it expressed, either in painting, sculpture, or embroidery.'
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tenure of office of the sovereign. Mandeville used the second method. 'An unlimited obedience is due,' he says (Free Thoughts, p. 335), but 'the question is, to whom?' 'To the . . . power, that is invested with the absolute sovereignty of the nation,' he replied. But is this sovereignty 'lodg'd in one person, or in more than one?' By the constitution, answers Mandeville, in which the sovereignty is founded, this absolute power is lodged not in the king alone, but in the three estates, 'king, lords and com- mons' (pp. 336 and 352), which 'three estates . . . can never interfere with each others power, whilst the laws are held sacred by all the three equally' (p. 340). Substantially the same theory seems to underlie the passage in the Mischiefs (p. 29) in which the author, attempting to prove that the king has no absolute authority, states that 'King, Lords and Commons are three parts of one Body, whilst the Constitution remains they are insepar- able, and so ought to be their Interest.'
My belief in Mandeville 's authorship of this pamphlet is based also on evidence more objective than what has just been offered. In the Mischiefs are two woodcuts — one, of a vase, on the title-page, the other, of a lion, on p. 3, heading the text. These identical woodcuts — both of them — are found in the 1714 edition of the Fable of the BeesM (published by Roberts, who issued the Mischiefs] , and in three editions of the Free Thoughts — the editions of 1720 (published by Roberts and Jauncy), of 1721 (published by Warner), and of 1723 (published by Brother- ton). If any of these four volumes were, in addition to being issued by different publishers, printed by different printers then, of course, Mandeville must have owned the woodcuts, and the Mischiefs must be his.41 But even if one press printed all these books, when one considers that not one, but both woodcuts are found in Mandeville's works (and an extensive search has failed to find them elsewhere), and that they are both found in two different works by Mandeville, the odds are so against this having happened by chance that probability indicates that they were allotted to Mandeville and appeared in the Mischiefs only because he wrote it.
40 Only the version of the 1714 edition without the motto about the 'degen- eracy of Mankind' on the title-page has both woodcuts; the other version has only one (see above, p. 433).
41 A comparison of the three editions of the Free Thoughts proves them to be from the same press.
The Writings of Bernard Mandeville 45 1
Two Letters to the St. James's Journal
P
In the St. James's Journal for Apr. 20, 1723 (p. 311), is a a letter signed 'Your Humble Servant unknown, B. M.,' which contains a commonplace 'Essay on Description in Poetry,' and ends with a verse 'Description of a Rouz 'd Lion.' In its issue of May 11, 1723 (p. 329), this paper prints another letter from the same correspondent (he mentions a recent contribution), also signed 'B. M.,' and containing an attempt to improve Dryden's translation of the very close of the jEneid. 'I hope,' the letter-writer prefaces, 'none will tax me with Arro- gance for presuming to believe I have done Virgil more right than he, for there is vast Difference betwixt translating an Author intirely, and being hurry 'd in the Performance; and the chusing a small Fragment only, and having sufficient Leisure to employ all the necessary care about it.'
Besides the signature, the only reasons I find for connecting these articles with Mandeville are that he shows elsewhere a lively appreciation of the lion's 'Fabrick, his Structure, and his Rage, so justly proportion'd to one another,'42 and that he has often in his work evidenced great interest in verse translations and in literary criticism.
A / Modest Defence / of / Publick Stews: / or, an / Essay / upon / Whoring, / As it is now practis'd in these Kingdoms. / Nimirum propter Continentiam. Incontinentia ne- / cessaria est, incendium ut ignibus extinguitur. / Seneca. / Omne adeo genus in terris, hominumq; ferarumq; / Et genus aequoreum, pecudes, picteq; volucres, / In furia, ignemq; ruunt. Virg. Georg. 3. / Written by a Layman. / London; / Printed by A. Moore near St. Paul's. / M.DCC.XXIV. /«
8°. Collation: half-title, p. [-]; blank, p. [-]; title, p. [-]; blank, p. [-]; dedication, pp. [i](A)-xii; preface, pp. [xiii-xvi]; text, pp. l(B)-78.
In 1725 this was reissued by A. Bussy, together with a two-page attack upon it and 'The Thirtieth Account of the Progress made in the Cities of London and Westminster. . . By the Societies for Promoting a Reformation of Manners,' the six pages of which were intended to substantiate the attack. In 1740 an edition was published by T. Read, attributed to 'the late Colonel Harry Mordaunt.' That same year was issued another edition, called the fourth, with the title of The Natural
"Fable, II, 267-8. Cf. also Fable, I, 190-7.
^Advertised in the Post-Boy for July 21-23, 1724, as "This day is published.'
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Secret History of Both Sexes : or, A Modest Defense of Publick Stews. . . . By Luke Ogle, Esq. There was also an undated edition published at Glasgow by J. Moral and Jocolo Itinerant, attributed to the fictitious Colonel Harry Mordaunt, the date of which edition the British Museum places in 1730; and there was another undated edition, also attributed to Colonel Mor- daunt, published by S. Scott and T. Browne, the date of which the Library of Congress conjectures to be 1740. Read's and Scott's editions contain a one-page poem 'To the Most Valuable Good-for-nothing Female Living,1 as does the Glasgow edition; and the so-called fourth edition has added four appendices, the first, 'Some historical regulations of prostitutes,' and the last three, letters on venereal disease by William Beckett, dated 1717 to 1720.
A French version appeared in 1727, purporting, by its title-page, to be issued by Moore in London, but really published at the Hague,44 with the title of Venus la Populaire, ou Apologie des Maisons de Joye. This, like the subsequent French translations, omits the preface. It adds a Latin poem by Buchanan, 'Ad Briandum Vallium Senatorem Burdegal. Pro Lena Apologia.' Other editions of the French version are said to have appeared in 1751, 1767, 1796, without date about 1800,45 and in 1869, these issues being listed in the Brussels edition of 1881 (avant-propos, pp. i-ii). (I have seen only the editions of 1727, of 1796, published by Mercier, and of 1881.) J. Lemonnyer's Bibliographic des Outrages Relatifs a I' Amour (1894), III, 1315, lists also French editions of 1791 and 1863.
The work is now generally ascribed to Mandeville, in accord with the tradition which credits him with it (see Newman's Lounger's Common-Place Book, 3rd ed., 1805, II, 308). In Mandeville 's own day it was connected with him, for the answer included in the 1725 edition says (p. 58), 'The Author seems to have aped that superlative Composition, lately published
** According to the catalogue of the British Museum. The French version of 1881 (avant-propos, p. ii) says it was published in Holland.
46 It may be of this edition that Barbier's Dictionnaire des Outrages Anony- mes says, 'L'edition de Paris, chez Vauteur, 1797, in -18, a 6t6 donn£e par Claude-Fr.-X. Mercier, de Compiegne.' The 1796 edition was published by Mercier, but it is not inscribed 'chez 1'auteur.'
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with the Title of Private Vices, Publick Benefits; or it may be, both these Books may come from one hand, for the same pernicious Spirit runs alike thro' each of 'em.' There has, however, been some disagreement. Halkett and Laing, and Gushing, perhaps because of the edition purporting to be by 'Luke Ogle,' attribute it to George Ogle. This, how- ever, they did under the delusion that the book first appeared in 1740. Had they known its actual date, they would scarcely have attributed it to Ogle, who was then a boy of twenty. The book could hardly have been written by one of that age. There seems not the slightest discoverable ground for be- lieving him the author. I shall return to this matter of author- ship after outlining the contents of the book.
The text is introduced by a dedication, signed 'Phil- Porney,' to 'the Gentlemen of the Societies [for the Refor- mation of Manners],' and by a preface. The author argues that the sexual passion is too powerful to be overcome by mere prohibitions. Such arbitrary procedure would not only not stop immorality, but would bring about more subtle and dangerous evils. Instead of prostitutes disappearing, the result would be that women now honest would be debauched; perverse vice would flourish; and dishonesty and hypocrisy be brought about through the inevitable breakdown of unenforcible laws. But yet the present conditions, he adds, are very unsat- isfactory. Whoring, while not to be abolished, needs to be con- trolled. Such control would be exerted by the licensing and proper supervision of public stews. The author submits a plan for such houses. Once public stews were established, then, he proceeds, one might attack the problem of private immoral- ity with hope of success. He expatiates on the benefits to be expected from such an institution. There would be less secret vice, he argues, for one thing; young men would no longer fall victims to their inexperience; and girls, with the unromantic facts before them, would be strengthened in their honesty. Finally, he answers idealistic and religious objections. To the idealists, he admits the unpleasantness of the arrange- ment which he proposes, and the unsavoriness of the hard facts upon which it rests. But, he adds, the facts are what they are irrespective of how we like them. We cannot abolish them, but must adapt ourselves to them. It is advisable,
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therefore, to make the best of matters by choosing the less obnoxious of our alternatives, which means the adoption of public stews.
He next considers the objection of the religious people that, even if public stews were beneficial, yet they would be sinful, since one 'may not commit Evil that Good may come of it.' To this, he answers (p. 68)46 that, 'if a Publick Act, taking in all its Consequences, really produces a greater Quantity of Good, it must, and ought to be term'd a good Act.' In a similar manner, he answers another version of this objection,
That altho' the Welfare and Happiness of the Community is, or ought to be, the only End of all Law and Government, yet since our spirit- ual Welfare is the summum bonum which all Christians should aim at, no Christian Government ought to authorize the Commission of the least known Sin, tho' for the greatest temporal Advantage.
To this Objection, I answer, That it is universally allow'd as one of the greatest Perfections of the Christian Religion, that its Precepts are calculated to promote the Happiness of Mankind in this World as well as the next .... And, therefore, we may with Confidence affirm, that no sinful Laws can be beneficial, and vice versa, that no beneficial Laws can be sinful (p. 69).
Both the content and style of this book are typical of Mandeville. The argument is simply an elaboration of Remark H of the Fable of the Bees.*1* Even the details of the argument have almost exact parallels in the Fable. Thus, the unusual argu- ment that infanticide is often due not to the greater baseness but to the superior virtue of the mother (Fable, I, 67-8) is matched by an equivalent passage in the Modest Defence, p. 26. The stews in Italy and Holland are used to prove contentions in the Modest Defence (p. 74) just as in the Fable (I, 95-9). Even the position which Mandeville takes about duelling in the Fable (I, 242-4) and the Origin of Honour (pp. 63-8) is suggested in the Modest Defence (p. 38).
Not only the content, but the style of the work is typical of Mandeville. Every one of his traits is in evidence. There
46 References are to the first edition.
47 Sakmann (Bernard de Mandeville, p. 34) mentions this fact, together with the Mandevillian quality of the style and the ascription of the piece to Mandeville by the Lounger's Common-Place Book (see above, p. 452), as making it very probable that Mandeville wrote the Modest Defence. Sakmann, how- ever, pushes his analysis no further.
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is the same fondness for making his point by use of an apt allegory or elaborate simile.48 There are the same occasional medical details, betraying the physician.49 There is the same extensive use of various kinds of prefatory matter to introduce the main text. But, above all, there is the same penetrating wit and humor, the same keen, paradoxical good sense and fluent reasoning, and the same injection into the most serious passage of a cynical or brutal jest, while remaining serious in the argument all the while. To those who are for suppress- ing vice merely by harshness to prostitutes, the author says (pp. x-xi), 'It is very possible, indeed, that leaving a poor Girl Penny-less, may put her in a Way of living Honestly, tho' the want of Money was the only Reason of her living otherwise; and the Stripping of her Naked, may, for ought I know, contribute to Her Modesty, and put Her in a State of Innocence.' This has the true ring. Then there is such a typical thing as the whimsical climax of the passage in which, to show the inexorable force of sexual passion, he has instanced the philosophers who succumbed to it, noting among others the case of Socrates who 'confess'd that, in his old Age, he felt a strange tickling all over him for five Days, only by a Girl's touching his Shoulder' (p. iv). 'Or,' the author concludes (p. ix), 'is an Officer of the Army less Ticklish in the Shoulder than Socrates?' We get, also, the same insight into character, with especial reference to those traits usually kept out of sight. 'They [those who have become prostitutes],' the author writes (pp. 16-17), 'are utterly abandon'd by their Parents, and thereby reduc'd to the last Degree of Shifting-Poverty; if their Lewdness cannot supply their Wants, they must have Recourse to Methods more criminal, such as Lying, Cheating, open Theft, &c. Not that these are the necessary Concomitants of Lewdness, or have the least Relation to it, as all lewd Men of Honour can testify; but the Treatment such Women meet with in the World, is the Occasion of it.' All this is typical Mandeville, even to the rhythm of the sentences.
There is, however, one aspect of this pamphlet which must give some pause to careful students of Mandeville's thought.
48 Compare, for example, Modest Defence, pp. xi-xii with Fable, I, ix-xi and 262-6, and Letter to Dion, pp. 34-5.
49 For example, on pp. 40-41 of the Modest Defence.
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In this book, the author maintains a consistently utilitarian position, arguing that nothing really beneficial can be contrary either to morality or Christianity. Mandeville, however, while directing the main current of his thought, and all his feeling, in accord with such a philosophy, nevertheless con- sistently gives his reasoning a paradoxical twist by main- taining that morals and religion are necessarily anti-utilitarian. However, this paradoxical turn given his thought is, as I noted before (pp. 435), 50 entirely superficial. His basic trend is as utilitarian as any passage in the Modest Defence. Mande- ville may say that morality and religion demand unadulterated self-mortification, but he would do all in his power to prevent them gaining their demands. There is a real reason why he would have stated his position differently in the Modest Defence from in the Fable. In the Modest Defence the author is considering a practical matter. He is arguing in favor of a definite program, and not simply theorizing. Therefore, had he added to his argument the tag that, however desirable he made his program, it was nevertheless wicked — as Mande- ville does in the Fable — he would have had no chance of gaining his point. Such a man, therefore, though he might employ this paradox in a non-propagandistic work such as the Fable, where it would be ineffectual to contradict his real desires, would never use it in a book like the Modest Defence where it would negate them. This is perhaps the explanation of what in the Modest Defence might, at first, seem contradictory to Mandeville's method of thought, but is really latent in this thought, where keen observers, from Coleridge to Leslie Stephen, have always felt it.51
However, even if it were difficult to reconcile this difference with Mandeville's main current of thought — which it is not — there would still be a convincing array of evidence in favor of his authorship. The extraordinary parallels in the argument, the identity of style, the tradition ascribing the book to him, and the absence of anyone else who could be thought to have written it, make me positive that the book is by Mandeville.
60 1 have considered this aspect of his thought at length in my forthcoming edition of the Fable.
61 And as a matter of fact Mandeville himself at times adopted in the Fable the same unqualifiedly utilitarian attitude taken in the Modest Defence. Cf. I, 274, II, 196, 333, and 335.
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Remarks / Upon two late / Presentments / of the / Grand-Jury / of tile / County of Middlesex: / Wherein are shewn, / The Folly and Injus- tice of Mens / persecuting one another for Difference of / Opinion in Mat- ters of Religion: And / the ill Consequences wherewith that Practice / must affect any State in which it is / encouraged. / By John Wickliffe. / Sua si Bona n6rint! / London: / Printed for A. Moore, near St. Paul's. /M.DCC.XXIX. / (Price Six-pence.) /
8°, signed in fours. Collation: title, p. [i]; blank, p. [ii]; dedication, p. iii (A2); blank, p. [iv] (A2v); preface, pp. v-viii; text of the present- ments, pp. l(B)-6; Remarks, pp. 7-28.
It was reprinted as by an 'Author Unknown' in Another Cordial for Low-Spirits: by Mr. Gordon and Others (1751) — which formed Vol. II of A Cordial for Low-Spirits: being . . . Tracts by . . . Thomas Gordon, Esq.; the Second Edition (1751).
This book, never before, so far as I am aware, connected with Mandeville,52 consists of a dedication, a preface, the re- print of two presentments by the Grand- Jury,53 and six letters. Of the last, the author writes (p. v), 'These Letters were first intended to have been inserted distinctly one in of the Weekly News-Papers. But I have chose rather, without altering their Form, to give them to the Reader at one view.1 'I do not,' says the author, (p. vi), 'write in behalf of Infidelity; but, I own, I contend for a Liberty for other Men to write in behalf of it, if they think fit.' Then follows a series of trenchant arguments for complete tolerance, cleverly put. The author maintains (p. 11) that he has never read either The Fable of the Bees or the letters of 'Cato' which were presented along with it, but it is amusing to note that, in the next letter (p. 14), he shows knowledge of the contents of Cato's letters.
The fact that, out of all the presentments which the author of this pamphlet could have selected as horrible examples to illustrate his arguments against tolerance, he should have chosen just the two condemning The Fable of the Bees made me suspect that Mandeville might be the author, and a reading of the arguments strengthened this suspicion. They are in perfect accord with those offered for toleration in Mandeville's Free
"The British Museum catalogue attributes this work to Henry Hetsell, apparently on the authority of a note by an eighteenth-century hand in a copy in the Library that the pamphlet was 'by Henry Hatsell Esq.'
MThe first presentment was of the Fable of the Bees and 'Cato's Letters.' It is reprinted in Fable, I, 443-6. The second, dated Nov. 28, 1728, was of the Fable and one of Woolston's Discourses on the miracles. .
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Thoughts, and the handling has much of his logic and vivacity. Arguing that an attempt to force perfect conformity in religious matters would mean that, eventually, there could, if the attempt were achieved, be only one man left alive, he adds (p. v), 'Tho' even he, if he would do justice to his Principles, the next time he differs from himself, i.e. from his former Opinion, in any matter of Religion, ought to shoot himself thro' the head.' In another passage (p. 15), he writes, 'You may cast vile and unjust Reflec- tions upon the Physicians, Lawyers, or Merchants as long as you will; but if you once come to touch the Clergy, Religion is at stake: Whereas the truth is, Religion has nothing to do with the Characters of the Clergy.' This is a sentiment typical of Mande- ville; as witness the last paragraph of his Origin of Honour. Equally typical is the statement (p. 16) that 'The Welfare of Religion, and the State, are so far from being closely united, that supposing the Religion to be chang'd, no imaginable Reason can be given why the State should not continue in the same Strength and Vigour.'54
I shall cite one more passage equally pertinent to Mande- ville's position and manner. In this passage he is refuting the Grand- Jury's statement that the Arian heresy 'was never introduced into any Nation, but the Vengeance of Heaven pur- sued it.'
It is possible [he writes (pp. 13-14)] these Gentlemen . . . are so well read in Ecclesiastical History, as to be able to state Arius's Doctrine, and confute it; which if they could, would be a much better way of driving it out of the World, than by complaining of it to the Judges, who, I believe, never met with any account of it in Plowden, or in my Lord Coke's Writ- ings. . . . But it is shocking to hear them cry out that the Arian Heresy was never introduced into any Nation, but the Vengeance of Heaven pursued it. ... Are then all the unhappy Events of War, or Miseries of Poverty, so many certain Marks of God's Anger? ... Or suppose the Vengeance of God to have fallen upon an Arian Nation, was it certainly upon the account of that Heresy? Are they sure that was the Crime which drew down God's Anger? Were there no Murders, Adulteries, Perjuries, or Persecutions in those times? Or were there any Marks in the Vengeance inflicted, whereby
64 Cf. Fable, II, 243: 'We know by Experience, that Empires, States, and Kingdoms, may excell in Arts and Sciences, Politeness, and all worldly Wisdom, and at the same time be Slaves to the grossest Idolatry, and submit to all the Inconsistencies of a false Religion.' Cf., also Fable, I, 35-6, II, 155, and II, 249. Also Letter to Dion, pp. 56-7 and 62, and Free Thoughts (1729), pp. 10 and 17.
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to distinguish the Cause for which it was sent? If not, why do these presumptuous Men take upon them to say for what cause God Almighty thought fit to chastise a People? As if they were Privy-Counsellors to God, and had assisted at the going forth of the Decree.
The Fable contains more than one such argument in answer to those people who urged the danger of Providential punish- ment as an objection against Mandeville's contention of the usefulness of vice,55 and a close parallel to the mode of ex- pression is to be found in Erasmus's Praise of Folly,66 which much influenced Mandeville.57
Some other details point to Mandeville as the author of this pamphlet. The unpleasant way in which the writer refers to Woolston (p. viii, note), who was presented along with Mandeville, is one such detail. It is a habit with Mande- ville, in self-defense, to vilify his fellow free-thinkers. The 'infamous Vanini,' and 'that silly piece of Blasphemy calFd Spaccio della Bestia triumphante,' he says in the Fable of the Bees, I, 238. And, after a humorous piece of skepticism, or a broadminded plea for tolerance, he will earnestly insist that no profane wit be tolerated. It is worthy of notice, also, that, while the author of the Remarks condemns Woolston's work, he offers no such deprecation of the Fable, although this book enjoyed no more sanctified a reputation than Wool- ston's. Again, the quotation Homo sum, humanum nihil a me alienum puto, used in this pamphlet (p. 12), is also used by Mandeville in his Treatise (1730), p. 321. Then, the inclusion of matter attacking his own work is a device of Mande- ville's, as witness the Fable. Further, in the preface to Part II of the Fable, dated Oct. 20, 1728, Mandeville mentions having 'wrote, and had by me near two Years, a Defence of the Fable of the Bees.'88 Now, according to its own statement
66 See, for instance, Fable I, 117, I, 127, and II, 206. Also Free Thoughts (1729), p. 247.
M Erasmus in Praise of Folly (1870), p. 119.
47 See my forthcoming edition.
68 See Fable, II, iii-iv. Mandeville, it is true, also states (Letter to Dion, p. 30), 'I have not hitherto thought fit to take Notice of any [attacks on the Fable of the Bees],' but his assertion may well be discounted in view of the fact that he incorporated a defense of the Fable at the close of the first part of the Fable, that he acknowledged (see above) an unpublished consideration of the attacks upon his book, and that the anonymity of the Remarks indicates, be- sides, a desire to avoid responsibility for it which might easily have led to deliberate mystification.
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(pp. 12 and 16), the earlier portion of the Remarks relates only to the first presentment, and therefore, could easily have been written two years before 1728. Thus, the Remarks could very well include the defense refered to by Mande- ville. Finally, the publisher of the book was A. Moore, who had recently issued a pseudonymous work (the Modest Defense) for Mandeville.
The conmbination of internal evidence noted on the last few pages with the fact, already mentioned, that the author selected for onslaught only the two presentments attacking the Fable, establishes some degree of probability that the book is Mandeville's.
Ill
WORKS ERRONEOUSLY ATTRIBUTED TO MANDEVILLE59
In the Diary of Mary Countess Cowper there is this inter- esting entry for Feb. 1, 1716:
Mr. Horneck, who wrote The High German Doctor . . . told me that Sir Richard Steele had no Hand in writing the Town Talk, which was
"There are also a number of works of the period not by Mandeville and not ascribed to him, which, however, may come to be attributed to him in the future because they bear the initials B.M., which he so often used as a signature. I list them therefore in this note as a precaution.
Ambassades / de la / Compagnie Hollandaise / des Indes / d'Orient, / vers / PEmpereur / du Japon / avec / Une Description du Pays, des / Moeurs, Religions, Coutumes, & de / tout ce qu'il y a de plus curieux, / & de plus remarquable / parmi ces Peuples. / Premiere Partie. /A la Haye, / Chez Meindert Uitwerf, / Marchand Libraire proche la Cour, / M.D.C. XCVI. / [In two volumes.]
Mandeville could have had nothing to do with this translation from the Dutch of A. Montanus, although the preface of Vol. II was signed B. M., for there was an earlier edition in 1686, without the signature, when he was a boy. A / Letter / From a / Gentleman / To the / Right Reverend Father in God, /'Henry, / Lord Bishop of London, &c. / London: / Printed by J. Mayos, and are to be Sold by / J. Nutt near Stationers-Hall. 1701. / The pamphlet is a plea that the recent agreement with the Emperor of Morocco be taken advantage of to redeem the English sailors now captives there. This was a subject Mandeville was interested in (see his Executions at Tyburn, pp. 50-55) ; and the author also cites the example of the Dutch in re- deeming captives. But, on the other hand, the author says (p. 2), 'God's Providence made me many years a Witness, and sometimes a partaker too of their extream Sufferings'; so that the attribution to Mandeville seems out of the question.
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attributed to him; that it was one Dr. Mandeville and an Apothecary of his Acquaintance that wrote that Paper; and that some Passages were wrote on purpose to make believe it was Sir R. Steele.
However, there seems no good reason to doubt the generally accepted attribution to Steele.
An / Enquiry / whether / a general Practice of Virtue tends to the / Wealth or Poverty, Benefit / or Disadvantage of a People? / In which the Pleas offered by the Author of the / Fable of the Bees, or private Vices / Publick Bene- / fits, for the Usefulness of Vice and Roguery / are consid- ered. / With some Thoughts concerning a Toleration of / Public Stews. / . . . London: / Printed for R. Wilkin at the King's Head in St. / Paul's Church-Yard. 1725. /
This is one of the ablest of all the many attacks made on Mandeville.60 I attribute it to George Bluet.61
The / Present State / of / Poetry. / A Satyr. / Address'd to a Friend. / To which are added, / I. Advice to a Young Author./ II. An Epistle to Florio. / III. On drinking a Flask of Burgundy. / By B.M. / — Ridentem dicere verum. / Quid vetat? Hor. / London: / Printed for J, Roberts in Warwick-Lane. 1721. / Price Six Pence. /
This booklet is in a style very unlike Mandeville's. I see no reason except the B.M. and that his printer published the work to connect it with Mandeville. 60 1 have analyzed this work at length in an appendix to my forthcoming edition of the Fable.
61 The authorship of this book is a vexed question. A manuscript note in a copy in the Bodleian Library ascribes it to 'George Blewitt of the Inner Tem- ple.' Halkett and Laing (apparently on the authority of a note by De Quincey), and Lord Crawford in the Bibliotheca Lindesiana (the book seen by Crawford was inscribed 'Ri: Venn, ex dono authoris'), do the same, as do many great libraries. On the other hand, a ms. note in a copy in the British Museum as- cribes the authorship to Thomas Bluett, an ascription which the British Mu- seum has accepted. And Thomas Birch, in his life of Mandeville in the General Dictionary, which was published — this particular volume — in 1738, speaks of the author as one 'Mr. Bluet,' and 'Bluet' is the name given in Masch's Be- schluss der Abhandlung von der Religion der Hciden u. der Christen (1753), p. 104. As a matter of fact, Bluett, Bluet, and Blewitt are all forms of the same name. I have preferred Bluet, since it was used by the most contemporary authority, a very trustworthy authority in this case, for Birch was a famous scholar. The real question is not as to the surname, but as to whether the Christian name was George or Thomas. Now, there is in the British Museum a book authentically by Thomas Bluett — Some Memoirs of the Life of Job, the Son of Solomon the High Priest of Boonda in Africa. This work is so different from the Enquiry as to make it seem improbable that the same man wrote both. On the other hand, certain considerations as to De Quincey's and the Bodleian's attribution to one George Bluet confirm their authoritativeness. Both the manuscript
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A / Conference / about / Whoring. / Eccles. vii. 26. / I find more bitter than Death, the Woman / whose Heart is Snares and Nets; her Hands / as Bands: Whoso pleaseth God shall escape / from her, but the Sinner shall be taken by Her. / Rom. xiii. 13. / Let us walk honestly — not in Chambering / and Wantonness. / London: / Fruited and Sold by J. Downing, in Bar- / tholomew-Close near West-Smithfield, 1725./
This is in the form of a discussion of prostitution, the debaters being an alderman, his wife, and their two guests. The one guest begins by blaming women for the social evil. To this the Alderman's wife replies that the fault lies equally with the men, in that they afford such bad examples and prevent women from being accorded an education sufficient to make them more circumspect. The guest responds with a sermon directed against the evils of illicit love; and the Alder- man brings the discussion to a close by giving practical advice as to how to deal with temptation.
The first ten pages, containing the guest's attack on women and their defense by the Alderman's wife, while not precisely in Mandeville's vein, yet are not very foreign to it. There are some Mandevillian turns of phrase, and lively expressions such as 'a Country-Squire, who smiles in black at his Grand- father's Death' (p. 5). The arguments of the Alderman's wife as to the position and abilities of women are also Mande- villian.
A married woman [says the Alderman's wife] is used and accounted but a better Sort of Servant (p. 8). . . . You [men] will not venture us with Letters or Language, but preclude us; lest we should top upon you with Learning, who can make our Part good without it. You say one Tongue is
note in the Bodleian's copy and De Quincey state that Bluet was a lawyer. Now, although none of the records of the Inner Temple to which I have had access mention any George Bluet or Blewitt, yet the Enquiry itself betrays the lawyer on almost every page. The tone and scholarship of the book render it more than likely that its author was a well-grounded scholar or learned lawyer, while the knowledge of law displayed (see, for instance, pp. 74-5), and the manner of conducting the argument, indicate the lawyer. De Quincey also notes that Bluet died aged less than thirty years. This statement, also, is very plausible, for the Enquiry is so able that it seems nothing short of death could have kept its author from achieving at least some reputation. The probability, then, of De Quincey's and the Bodleian's assertion as to the author's vocation and death, by indicating their general reliability, renders their further assertion that his name was George also probable. Many libraries assume this, and I have followed suit.
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enough for a Woman; I say 'tis too much for a Man, unless he has good Understanding to dictate: for could he speak in twenty Languages, it would only expose him to Twenty Nations.
With this compare, for instance, Fable, II, 188.
But with the beginning of the long and tedious moralizing of the guest's reply, with its continual citing of Scripture, resemblance to Mandeville ceases completely. The last five- sixths of the book make it seem practically certain that it is not his work; and I have not found the slightest external evi- dence to connect it with him.
The / True Meaning / of the / Fable of the Bees: / in a / Letter / To the Author of a Book entitled / An Enquiry whether a gene- / ral Practice of Virtue tends to the / Wealth or Poverty, Benefit or Dis- /advantage of a People? / Shewing / That he has manifestly mistaken the True / Meaning of the Fable of the Bees, / in his Reflections on that Book. / London: / Printed for William and John Innys at the / West End of St. Paul's. / M. DCC. XXVI. /
This defense and interpretation of the Fable, in the form of an answer to Bluet's book, has been attributed to Mande- ville by several bibliographies, and in 1757 Walch's Bibli- otheca Theologica Selecta (I, 761) also conjectured it to be by him. It is certainly not his, however, for its argument rests upon a total misunderstanding of Mandeville's intention. The True Meaning begins by analyzing what Mandeville means by 'virtue' and 'vice.' 'The Essence of Virtue consists in Actions beneficial to others, the Essence of Vice consists in Actions injurious to others' — that, says the True Meaning (p. 10), is what Mandeville means. For him to say, therefore, that" vice conduces more to the public happiness than virtue would be 'to say, that what conduces most to the Publick Peace, and Real Felicity, do's not conduce most to the Public Peace and Real Felicity1 (p. 12). The True Meaning refuses to be- lieve that Mandeville could thus have contradicted himself, and offers as an explanation (p. 5) 'that when he says private Vices are publick Benefits, he means private Vices are private Benefits, or in other Words, that Vice is a Benefit to some particular sorts of People.' And, continues the True Meaning (p. 12), we should understand that Mandeville means more specifically by 'Private Vices are Private Benefits, that Vice is a Benefit to the Politician.' The remainder of the True Meaning
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is devoted to a detailed endeavor to show how the Fable is merely a satire on politicians.
The fallacy of all this, of course, lies in the True Meaning's complete failure to grasp what Mandeville means by virtue and vice. Mandeville does not mean by virtue something conducive to the temporal welfare of the state, and by vice something inimical to that welfare. To him virtue is action done in absolute contradiction of all the actor's natural tend- encies, and vice is action which obeys in no matter how slight a degree such natural tendencies; and his statement that the public good is based on what is thus denned as vice is merely an elaboration of the observation that it is impossible to abolish the tendencies which nature has given us. Since, therefore, vice to Mandeville does not mean something contrary to public welfare but something wrong according to a completely rigor- istic morality, his statement that vice is a benefit does not mean at all that the unbeneficial is beneficial, and the contradiction which the True Meaning is trying to explain has no existence.
Some / Remarks / on the / Minute Philosopher, / In a Letter from a Country / Clergyman to his Friend in London. / London: / Printed for J. Roberts, near the Oxford- / Arms in Warwick Lane. MDCCXXXII. / (Price One Shilling) /
This is an attack on Berkeley's attack on Mandeville and other free-thinkers (Alciphron: or, the Minute Philosopher). It is this fact, and the cleverness of the pamphlet, which has caused its occasional attribution to Mandeville. Mande- ville, however, had that very year already published an answer to Berkeley. And, besides, the author of Some Remarks is not so much defending Mandeville as attacking Berkeley for having missed Mandeville's weaknesses. In referring to the latter 's answer to Berkeley in the Letter to Dion, he says (pp. 43-4),
But at the same time, that this wanton Author [Mandeville] exposes the Sophistry of his Commentator, I cannot say he makes use of none in the Defence of his own Text. His Explanation of the Title of his Book is forc'd; and his Apology for that Part of it, relating to publick Stews, very lame.
He then shows how he considers that Berkeley should really have answered the Fable. Among his criticisms is one which shows him as misunderstanding a most important aspect of the
The Writings of Bernard Mandeville 465
Fable. Vice and luxury, he maintains, though they are 'too often the Consequence of Prosperity, I cannot agree, that [they are] . . . always the Source of it' (p. 48). The author is here under- standing vice and luxury in their common acceptation, in which only the harmful is vice and luxury. But Mandeville employs quite a different definition. According to him, every act, not only the harmful ones, is vicious and luxurious, and naturally, therefore, there can be nothing not dependent on vice, and luxurious. The author of the Remarks here missed an essential point in the Fable.
Fortunately, an internal test is not our only means of demonstrating that Mandeville did not write a work in which he showed ignorance of a fundamental aspect of his own philosophy. Horace Walpole in his Catalogue of the Royal and Noble Authors of England, with Lists of their Works (Works, ed. 1798, I, 450-1), ascribes Some Remarks on the Minute Philosopher to John, Baron Hervey, 'a clever writer, whose pamphlets,' says Walpole, 'are equal to any that ever were written.' Hervey was, indeed, perfectly able to write this pamphlet. The Supplement to Biographia Britannica62 (VII, 124) also mentions this work as 'ascribed to Lord Hervey.' J. W. Croker, in his edition of Hervey 's Memoirs (I, xxv), adds the weight of his authority to Hervey's authorship.
Sakmann thinks (Bernard de Mandeville, pp. 204-5) that Mandeville may have had a hand in the production of Some Remarks. The similiarity in style, however, which Sakmann mentions as an argument for this is not so great as he maintains, and the similiarity in argument which he also mentions, is, as I have shown, not really present, for the author has mis- understood the Fable. In view, therefore, of the matter which I have noted in my last two paragraphs — data apparently unknown to Sakmann — Mandeville can hardly be considered an author of Some Remarks.
• Zoologia / Medicinalis Hibernica: / or, a / Treatise / of / Birds, Beasts, Fishes, Reptiles, or / Insects, which are commonly known and / propagated in this Kingdom: Giving an / Account of their Medicinal Virtues and / their Names in English, Irish, and Latin. / To which is Added, / A Short
M It is stated there that the substance of the article was taken from Birch's life of Mandeville in the General Dictionary. Birch, however, makes no mention of Hervey.
466 Kaye
Treatise of the Diagnostic and / Prognostic Parts of Medicine: The former shew- / ing how by the Symptoms you may know a Di- / stemper; The latter giving an Account of the / Event thereof, whether it will end in Life or / Death. / By B. Mandeville, M.D. / London : / Printed for Charles Kettlewell, in the / Poultry, MDCCXLIV. / (Price 2s. 8d. %} /
Investigation shows that Mandeville's name on the title- page has nothing to do with his authorship of the work. There are two title-pages to the book, the one above noted and one introducing A Short Treatise of the Diagnostic and Prognostic Parts of Medicine. On this last title-page, dated from Dublin, 1739, stands the name of 'John K'eogh, A. B. Chaplain to the Right Honourable, James, Lord Baron of Kingston.' In another copy of the Zoologia, both title-pages of which are dated 1739, K'eogh's name is also on the main title-page (given above in full) which introduces the whole book, as well as on the second title-page. In this copy his name is also annexed to the dedication, which, with the preface, is missing in the 1744 edition of the book mentioned above as having Mandeville's name on it. Both parts of the work being thus ascribed to K'eogh, and the dedication also proving his authorship, attribu- tion to Mandeville is out of the question. The advent of his name on the title-page of the 1744 edition was possibly an attempt of the publisher to take advantage of Mandeville's great fame.
The / World Unmask'd: / or, the / Philosopher the greatest Cheat; / in / Twenty-Four Dialogues / Between Crito a Philosopher, Philo a / Lawyer, and Erastus a Merchant. / In which / True Virtue is distinguished from what usually / bears the Name or Resemblance of it: / . . . / To which is added, / The State of Souls separated from / their Bodies : / . . . In Answer to a Treatise, entitled, / An Enquiry into Origenism. / . . . / Translated from the French. / London: I ... I MDCCXXXVI. /
Objective proof will quickly demonstrate that Mandeville could have had nothing to do with this work — a translation of Marie Huber's Le Monde Fou Prefere au Monde Sage. The original of The Sequel of the Fourteen Letters, concerning the State of Souls Separated from their Bodies, Being an Answer to . . . Mr. Professor R — , which is one of the works translated in this book, did not appear until 1733, and probably not until late that year, for Ruchat's book, to which Huber's was an answer, appeared only in 1733; and Mandeville died in January of that year.
The Writings of Bernard Mandeville 467
The / Divine Instinct, / Recommended to / Men. / Translated from the French. / Exon: / Printed by Andrew Brice, in Northgate-street. / MDCCLI. /
The 1781 edition of this translation of B. L. de Muralt's L'Instinct Divin Recommende aux Hommes has on its title- page 'By the Author of The World unmasked.' If 'Author' here means translator, then, obviously, the work was not anglicized by Mandeville. And if the ascription refers not to the trans- lator, but to the author of The World Unmask'd, then Mande- ville is again out of the question. There is no reason to connect Mandeville with a work so totally opposed to his philosophy of life, and, besides, first published eighteen years after his death.63
F. B. KAYE
Northwestern University
MI suspect that the mistaken attributions to Mandeville of these two translations came about because of the similarity of the titles The Virgin Un- mask'd and The World Unmask'd; and that then, since The Divine Instinct was inscribed, 'By the Author of the World unmasked,' this work, too, was connected with Mandeville. The confusion was possibly fostered by the fact that B. de Muralt, who is, in some bibliographies, mistakenly stated to have written both the originals, has the same initials as Mandeville.
INFLECTIONAL CONTRASTS IN GERMANIC
1. ANALOGY AND CONTRAST. — According to a current phrase of convenience and convention, the two dynamic factors in linguistic development are phonetic laws and analogy. The sphere of phonetic laws has been narrowed somewhat since 1876, when Leskien first established their scientific character, but within reasonable limits they have retained their fundamental importance; the application of the factor of analogy has widened, but little has been accomplished in determining its scope and investigating its psychological basis.
The present paper attempts to take a step in this direction, but at the same time it deviates from the conception of analogy in its technical meaning. In the linguistic sense, analogy may be defined as a process of an associative modification of grammatical forms in conformity with other forms of the same or a similar category; according to the Aristotelian distinction, analogy is based on association by similarity. But association by contrast has also given rise to many mor- phological changes insofar as forms have been modified in non- conformity with other forms, from which they were to be differentiated. If remodeled forms of the first type are termed analogical, the name 'contrast forms' may be applied to those of the second type — to forms of negative association or differ- entiation.
2. SUBJECTIVE AND OBJECTIVE ELEMENTS or INFLECTION. — The average complete sentence contains both subjective and objective factors. Among the former are time, possession, and attitude towards a fact or an object; among the latter, the descriptive elements of manner and quality in the widest sense of the word, including ways of action, quantity, and degree.
The subjective factors are more prevalent in the verb, the objective factors in the noun. Tense, person, and to an extent also modus and genus verbi, are subjective categories of the verb; number, gender, degree of comparison, and some case forms are objective categories of the noun. In the older forms of Indo-European languages in general and in the later
468
Inflectional Contrasts in Germanic 469
Germanic dialects in particular, these constitute the main body of the morphological substance, insofar as the inflection of the verb pertains mainly to tense, mood and person, the inflection of the noun to number and comparison with a secondary emphasis on gender and case. A reference to rela- tively subjective languages, such as Arabic or Magyar, as well as the more objective ones, e.g., the Slavic and Romance languages, will lend relief to this apparently obvious statement. In the former, certain subjective factors of personal interest (for instance, possession) are inflectionally expressed even with the noun, and the system of verbal moods is, at least in Semitic, much more varied than in Indo-European languages; in the latter, the manner of action has been highly developed, in Slavic even to the point of superseding the system of tenses. This preponderance of subjective factors in certain Semitic and Finno-Ugrian inflections, by the way, does not imply a lesser degree of subjectivity for the Germanic dialects; on the contrary, the elements of possession arid personal attitude, far from remaining unexpressed, are so strongly marked in those languages, that they either remained analytic (in the form of possessive pronouns) instead of becoming synthetic (like the possessive suffixes of Arabic and Magyar), or replaced synthetic forms by analytic phrases (modal auxil- iaries, personal pronouns instead of personal endings, compound verb forms). But as far as the morphological structure in the narrower sense, the actual inflection, is concerned, the statement is justified that in Germanic, and to an extent in Indo-European in general, conjugation expresses the subjective, declension the objective side of the language.
3. THE SUBJECTIVE TENDENCY OF GERMANIC. — Contrast association as expressed in speech may arise from objective as well as from subjective elements: The speaker may contrast either such physical factors as number, color, and shape, or di- versities of personal attitude, such as mine and not- mine, now and not-now, here and there. Nevertheless, even objective contrasts are more likely to find formal expression in subjectively (homo-centrically) inclined languages; for instance, the in- creasingly wide divergence between NHG. singular and plural forms indicates a more intensive, concrete consciousness of the relation of the speaker to object or objects referred to (a mental
470 Prokosch
counting, as it were) than the partial or complete disappearance of inflectional differentiation between numbers in modern French.
These two statements might have been ventured a priori, altho in point of fact I arrived at them inductively: First, contrast association must be expected to play a considerable part in the morphology of a predominantly subjective language, such as Indo-European in general, Germanic especially, and New High German most of all; second, contrast association is peculiarly adapted to become a factor in the subjective elements of conjugation, but in highly subjective languages it may also invade the comparatively objective categories of noun, gender, number, and case.
To prove these tentative statements in full would require a comprehensive analysis of the morphology of various groups on a comparative basis. The present sketch, far from being comprehensive, merely attempts to set forth a number of illustrations of the actual formative effect of contrast asso- ciation within the limits of the old Germanic dialects. Perhaps some of them are somewhat recklessly chosen rather with a view to their fitness as striking illustrations of the contrast principle than on account of the historical certainty of their genetic interpretations; but that can hardly be avoided in the preliminary development of a method that is supposed to serve as a basis for new explanations instead of merely confirming well-established ones.
With the Germanic noun, contrast association has created many new forms, but it has not affected its original inflectional structure; with the verb, its effect has been much more far- reaching. While we may not be quite certain of the exact structure of the Indo-European conjugational system, we may doubtlessly assert that it was fundamentally different from the Germanic verb system, and I shall try to show that the latter owed its origin largely to the element of contrast. But as it seems more practical to proceed from a discussion of detailed forms to the presentation of a broad principle than to follow the inverse order, I shall first enumerate a few illustra- tive noun forms.
Inflectional Contrasts in Germanic 471
THE NOUN
4. TYPES or CONTRAST. — Theoretically three directions of contrast association might be established within the de- clension of nouns. First, the contrast of numbers, an objective contrast which, however, may be of paramount importance in the speaker's mind, overshadowing most other grammatical categories; second, the contrast of gender, an objective con- trast in historical times, but in view of Brugmann's theory of the origin of IE. noun genders we may assume that it origi- nated in part at least from the subjective differentiation between the concrete and the typical; third, the contrast of cases, which may be subjective or objective, according to their function.
I. The Contrast of Numbers
5. THE IE. FORMS. — Without going into what Brugmann used to term 'glottogonic speculations' concerning the actual origin of the IE. plural forms, their outward appearance in late Pre-Germanic times, at a period not too far removed from the emergence of a separate Germanic group, may be summed up in this way: (1) The nominative plural of the vocalic classes closely resembles the nominative singular, but it is differentiated from the latter by a fuller form of the suffix: -os,-eies/is,-eues/us versus -os,-is,-us. The feminine plural in-as may have been modeled after the masculine -os, or it may have originated independently from -d-es, like -os from -o-es.
(2) Originally, the -s of -os, -as, etc. was perhaps identical with the singular -s, but soon it came doubtlessly to be felt as a plural characteristic; as such it appears, (a) in the -es-sufnx of consonantic stems, (b) as a secondary -s-addition to the corresponding singular ending in the accusative plural in -ns <-m-s and the various forms of the dative-instrumental plural in -mis, -mas.
(3) The genitive plural represents a contrast to the accu- sative singular; the functional kinship of the two cases is well preserved in Slavic, but appears in other languages too, especially in adverbial expression of time, extent, and mannner. As with the nominative, the contrast is expressed by a fuller form, the lengthened ending -dm versus the -om (-dm, -im, -um, -m)
472 Prokosch
of the singular, or the reduplicated -onom. (Reduplication as a plural characteristic occurs also in the Vedic nominative masculine plurals in -asas, which are generally supposed to have a counterpart in OE. -as, OS. -os, and perhaps other Gc. plurals; cp. 7.)
These types of endings constituted the Pre- Germanic plural as a contrast group against the singular. It is character- ized either by fuller forms or by the termination -s, which may or may not have been a generalization from the nominative plural, and which goes back, ultimately, to the -s of the nominative singular of masculine vowel stems.
6. THE GERMANIC DEVELOPMENT. — This nucleus of con- trast formation was bound to disintregrate thru the action of phonetic laws, and thus to lose its characteristic group differentiation from the singular, a process that actually did take place in most languages, notably in Slavic, where the case relations superseded the contrast of numbers. In Ger- manic, however, the elements of contrast were revived and strengthened in spite of phonetic disintegration. Often, it is true, such contrast formations followed the lines, if not of actual phonetic laws, at least of phonetic inclinations; fre- quently, however, new forms were created in defiance of normal phonetic evolution, retarding or entirely inhibiting the action of phonetic laws; lastly, forms of regular phonetic derivation were transferred to grammatical groups in which the phonetic postulates did not exist — thru 'analogy,' Systemzwang, in the usual sense of the term. It is not always possible to draw sharp lines between these three types of the relation between contrast creation and phonetic development of inflectional forms.
7. THE NOMINATIVE PLURAL. — The most widely spread result of the contrast tendency between singular and plural appears probably in the nominative plural masculine in -s, which holds wide sway in all Germanic dialects except Old High German: Goth, dagos, ON. dagar, OE. dagas, OS. dagos. True, this form is susceptible of various explanations; the stand- ard view, founded by Scherer (Streitberg, U. G. p. 230), which traces the OE., OS. forms to IE. -oses, Ved. -dsas, is possible, but rather far-fetched and open to the objection
Inflectional Contrasts in Germanic 473
that it arbitrarily separates these forms from the OHG. and probably also from the Gothic and Old Norse forms.1 Taking the factor of contrast into account, we arrive at this hy- pothesis: We assume a very early Gc. contrast group singular *doz>os: plural *doz>os; in order to preserve the greatest possible contrast of numbers, the regular action of the law of final syllables was retarded in the OE. and OS. plurals, while it took its usual course in the singular forms; the question why this was not the case in OHG. will be taken up below (9, Note 3).
8. THE DATIVE PLURAL. — Contrast of numbers may also have been the cause of the generalization of the instrumental ending in -m for the plural of the syncretistic instrumental- dative-ablative-locative case; this consonantic form seems to have been selected for the sake of differentiation from the corresponding case of the singular (Goth, daga: dagam). It is characteristic that the adjective gave the preference to the -w-form, the 'pronominal ending,' for the singular too; as is still apparent in modern German, its usual connection with a noun led to the result that the differentiation of cases was expressed mainly in the adjective, the differentiation of numbers in the noun.
9. NEW HIGH GERMAN. — While in English and Norse contrast plurals have not materially progressed beyond the stage of the old dialects, in German, and most of all in High German, the process of contrast creation has continued down to modern times. Since this has been traced very clearly and, for our purposes, with ample completeness by M. Diez, Analogical Tendencies in the German Substantive (University of Texas dissertation, 1917), I need but allude to the extension of the -en- and -er- endings and the umlaut. The spread of the latter, however, is so interesting that a few additional remarks may be granted. It was potentially contained in comparatively few Pre-Germanic forms — the «-stems and in part the «-stems and root-stems. Phonetically, it seems to have been of Celtic origin (cp. author, Sounds and History of the German Language, p. 146 f); but this discovery of a new linguistic device was so well in keeping with the Germanic inclination towards contrast
1 ON.-aR may, of course, be explained ias IE. — Uses; Goth, -os is com- patible either with OHG. or with OE., OS.
474 Prokosch
forms that the most lavish use was made of it without any regard to phonetic conditions; indeed, an entirely unphonetic umlaut, ij, was created in violation of all phonetic laws, but in conformity with the use of this new device for the creation of contrast forms.
NOTE 1: Compare Sounds and History of the German Language, p. 147: "While un-Germanic in its phonetic character, mutation is perfectly in agree- ment with the articulating habits of Celtic (Romance), Slavic, Finnish, etc. Therefore, it is reasonable to assume that the palatalization of intervening consonants and thru this the mutation of the accented vowels, started among the Celts in the new homes of the Germanic colonists. However, as soon as such forms as gast-gesli had become establisht, this new vowel exchange seemed equivalent to the old vowel exchange (Ablaut) in gab-geben and was transferred to an ever increasing number of similar grammatical forms, regardless of whether their stem vowels had ever been followed by i or not. This explains the immense extent of 'analogy' in the case of vowel mutation: starting out as an un-Germanic process, it gradually became a thoroly Germanic psychological factor, a new kind of Ablaut, as it were.
NOTE 2: According to Diez, p. 15, Umlaut is phonetically justified only in about 80 masculines, but this number has been quadrupled, 'by analogy,' in Standard New High German. It is clear that this analogy was an effect of the contrast tendency. In the modern German dialects, the £/>«/aM*-plural is, according to Friedrich, Die Flexion des Hauptwortes in den heutigen deutschen Mundarten (Giessen dissertation, 1911) "heute die beliebteste, ja vielfach an Zahl starkste Flexion des Maskulins."
NOTE 3: The early systematization of the Umlaut as a plural characteristic may have been a reason why OHG. did not, like the other dialects, retain the -5 of the nominative plural; the inhibition of the phonetic law was less necessary than in the other dialects because a new plural sign was developing.
The reason why 'there has been absolutely no disposition to expand the field of the Umlaut-plural where feminines and neuters are concerned' (Diez, p. 18), lies doubtlessly in the fact that the n- and r-plurals soon came to be felt as the most legitimate plural forms for these genders, and gram- matical expansion moved in their direction. The treatment of this process by Diez is very instructive.
II. The Contrast of Genders
10. THE GERMANIC W-STEMS. — The contrast of genders, like that of numbers, shows its first beginnings in Pre-Ger- manic and is well-developt in all old Germanic dialects; but its further development in historical times is largely confined to German, even more so than the contrast of numbers.
Inflectional Contrasts in Germanic 475
If Brugmann's theory be accepted, the feminine (as well as the neuter) was originally a mere variety of the masculine, the former being distinguished in part by fuller suffix-forms (-os, -om: as, -dm). This condition is well preserved in many IE. languages, but in Germanic it became a nearly indis- pensable mark of distinction between the two main genders. The 0-/a-classes as well as the i-class show numerous symptoms of this differentiation, but the most conspicuous examples appear in the treatment of the w-stems. Perhaps a slight beginning of the same tendency, soon to be obliterated in the general leveling, may be recognized in Latin hominem — regionem; but in the Germanic «-stems vowel quantity became a conclusive mark of gender; no other explanation is necessary for the Gothic contrast gumins, gumans: tuggons.
This leads to what I believe to be a safe explanation of the much-discussed OHG. «w-forms. In my opinion, they represent a contamination between w-forms and ow-forms; in the masculine, n developt phonetically to iin (hanun), but in the feminine, n > un was lengthened to un, assisted by competing 0«-forms. The existing phonetic inclination towards the change of o to u before a tautosyllabic nasal may have given additional support.
11. NEW HIGH GERMAN. — For the surprisingly sharp differentiation of genders in the later development of the German dialects, one of the most typical instances of leveling according to contrast groups, I refer to Diez, p. 11 and p. 19 (perhaps also to Sounds and History of the German Language, p. 181 f). The old distinction between strong and weak nouns had nothing to do with gender, but became the basis of the modern German differentiation of genders; for the feminine, an 'amalgamation of the strong and weak declensions' (Diez p. 11) took place, and the masculines remaining in the w-class are chiefly such that denote types (in the sense of Latin scriba, nauta: Knabe, Bar, Schwabe) — reminding of the original desig- nation of the 'feminine gender.' — Cp.SHGL.,p. 181: "Different genders tend towards different declensional classes; masculines are apt to enter (or remain in) the o- and ^-classes, feminines, the w-class, neuters, the o- and s-classes." (This passage does not mention the significant fact — alluded to on page 186 —
476 Prokosch
that the w-masculines that enter the o-(i-) class are mainly those that do not denote types of living beings.
III. The Contrast of Cases
12. CASE DIFFERENTIATION, which is so highly developt in Slavic, is of comparatively little importance in Germanic. Aside from details of minor significance the one fact might be mentioned that the only case that is still clearly distinguishable in most Germanic dialects, the genitive case, happens to be that grammatical category of the noun which is most apt to express subjective interest, while the dative and accusative cases have mainly syntactical functions. It might be suggested that the unphonetic distinction between voiceless s in the genitive and voiced z in the nominative of Norse and West- Germanic masculines and neuters may be due to a striving for case contrast.
13. ANIMATE AND INANIMATE. — The contrast between animate and inanimate beings is also of considerable importance in Slavic, but of little consequence in Germanic; cp. SHGL. p. 185 f.
THE VERB
14. THE GERMANIC VERB SYSTEM. — The influence of contrast on the noun declension is limited to the remodeling or transfer of individual forms; at best, it might be claimed that the NHG. differentiation of declensional classes according to genders constitutes the nucleus of a new grammatical principle on the basis of contrast. But the dynamic effect of this linguistic factor on the Germanic verb, the main stay of the subjective element of the sentence, is surprisingly far- reaching. It is not confined to the retardation or inhibition of phonetic laws, or to the leveling of forms according to con- trast groups; we witness a general upheaval of the inherited structure of the verb system, a consolidation of forms greatly beyond the most liberal definition of syncretism, and the crea- tion of new grammatical categories solely on the basis of subjec- tive contrasts. The combination of the factor of contrast with the standard interpretation of the Germanic conjugation seems to go far towards clarifying some of the most involved problems of this chapter of grammar.
Inflectional Contrasts in Germanic 477
15. ACTIO versus TENSE.: — The standard view, pregnantly presented by Streitberg, U. G. p. 276 ff, assumes for IE. a preponderance of the differentiation of actiones verbi over tenses; that is, in the period before the separation of dialects the ob- jective factor of the manner of action seems to have been the basis of the internal structure of the verb, especially of vowel gradation, while the subjective factor of tense (the chronolog- ical relation of the action to the speaker's stand-point — the question of 'now' or 'then') was expressed mainly by secondary means, such as the augment and the reduplication. Of the five or six tenses that are thus claimed — rightly or wrongly — to have been superimposed over the system of actiones verbi (Streitberg, §192), Germanic has preserved, or recon- structed, only two, the present and the form termed preterit. The weak preterit — whatever its origin may have been — doubtlessly attained its tense function in compliance with the strong preterit, and the latter must therefore form the starting point for the consideration of the whole problem.
The Strong Preterit
16. OBJECTIONS TO THE STANDARD VIEW. — Aside from a few forms, especially the WGc. 2nd singular, the Gc. strong preterit is quite generally considered a direct continuation of the IE. perfect tense — a view that is expressed with the greatest assurance by Streitberg, U. G. p. 81: "Der Ursprung des schwundstufigen e ist im schwachen Perfektstamm (Perf. Plur. Akt. usw.) zu suchen. Alle Erklarungsversuche, die ihn nicht zum Ausgangspunkt wahlen, miissen a priori aus me- thodischen Griinden als verfehlt betrachtet werden. Denn es kann kein Zufall sein, dass nur der Plural des Perfekts, nicht der vollstufige Singular (aber auch nicht das schwund- stufige Partizip Perf.) den Vokal e kennt."
I am far from disputing the weight of the obvious reasons that support this view, but I cannot refrain from attaching equal importance to certain arguments against it:
First of all, the lack of reduplication in the great majority of forms is a disturbing factor. No satisfactory phonetic explanation has ever been given, in fact, such an explanation seems to be out of the question in view of the circumstance that the reduplicating verbs in Gothic do not differ phoneti-
478 Prokosch
cally from the non-reduplicating verbs: Why should, for instance, haihait preserve its reduplication, but *baibait be contracted or otherwise changed to bait?2 — To resort to the leveling influence of the e-plurals of the fourth and fifth classes (Streitberg's "schwundstufiges e") is not only phonetically, but also logically objectionable: in deriving *namum from *nenm9mes, *nenem9mes we first accept its origin from a redup- licated form like *wewrt9mes as a matter of course, and then uti- lize this unproven hypothesis for its own proof, in order to substantiate the derivation of the unreduplicated *wurd- from a reduplicated *wewrt-.
It is equally futile to refer to the type *woida — the preterit- presents — as a model for the loss of the reduplication; true, this type never had any reduplication, but only for the reason that it had never possessed past meaning, but had always remained a strict present type.
NOTE: The form group that we are accustomed to classify as the IE. per- fect type proper, namely the type (X4)Xoi7ra-foZ5a, was apparently an original noun form (Hirt) and as such denoted merely a condition attained — "den erreichten Zustand." The perfect without reduplication never went beyond this meaning: foZ5a = '(my) knowledge' = 'I know.' The reduplication stresses the action that preceded the attainment of this condition, and is, therefore, a conditio sine qua non for the imputation of preterit meaning to a 'perfect' form. In other words: folda has always been a present tense, denoting, just like Xoiinh (cp. OE. laf 'remainder') nothing but a condition, an accomplished fact; XeXotira, however, denotes the condition brought about by leaving, with special emphasis on the act as such: 'I am gone.'
Considering the extreme contrasting tendency of the Germanic verb, which will be pointed out below, the existence of the unreduplicated preterit-presents might rather be expected to have worked for the preservation of the redupli- cation, as a significant tense characteristic, than for its abandon- ment. If, indeed, any analogical fusion of the two classes had taken place, a transformation of groups like skal — skulum in the direction of stal — *std;lum would have been more likely than the inverse process. This fact and the remarkably
1 Some of the reduplicating verbs, like kalian, have the same stem vowel in the present and perterit forms, and for these the striving for differentiation (contrast) of tenses might be urged as a sufficient reason for the preservation of the reduplication. But this does not cover the reduplicating verbs with vowel gradation, like letan — lailot.
Inflectional Contrasts in Germanic 479
consistent preservation of the old 2nd singular form of the preterit-presents (skalt, etc.) instead of an otherwise probable WGc. analogical formation *skuli or *skdil(i) point in the same direction: The small, tho intrinsically important group of preterit-presents holds such an isolated position within the Germanic verb system that it is entirely too bold to ascribe to their present forms such a thorogoing influence upon nearly all strong preterits as the abandonment of the redupli- cation would indicate.
Furthermore: The 'schwundstufige e' of classes IV and V, in spite of the multitude of efforts, still presents a serious problem as long as it is treated as a more or less regular phonetic development of a reduplicated perfect type. A similar difficulty is encountered in any phonetic explanation of the WGc. type *het from *hehait.
Finally, we cannot but be surprised at the slight repre- sentation of aorist forms in the strong preterit. In other IE. languages the aorist forms seemed peculiarly adapted for preterit function: but the Germanic preterit is said to have preserved only some scattered forms of this important type (cp. Streitberg p. 281). This is all the more surprising in view of the fairly considerable number of aorist presents. Is it likely that (at least in Norse and Gothic) the preterit should show hardly any traces of a form that is so well fitted to serve as a historical tense?
17. THE Loss OF REDUPLICATION. — The problem may best be attacked at those points where the standard theory is weakest: the disappearance of the reduplication and the e-plurals.
Concerning the former point, H. Hirt (ZZ. 29, 303 ff. and IF. 17, 298 ff.) made the significant observation that the redupli- cation disappeared in Latin and Germanic to nearly the same extent. Adding to this the factor of contrast, we arrive at the following conclusion: Among the IE. languages, Latin is second only to Germanic in point of subjectivity. Like Ger- manic, it has practically replaced the actiones verbi by 'tenses'; again like Germanic, it has created a new tense type (misnomed 'perfect') combining the functions of the perfect and the aorist. But unlike Germanic, it has chosen the method of assigning to each verb either an aorist or a perfect (dixi, legl: pepuli,
480 Prokosch
cecidi) and endowing either form with the double tense function — while Germanic (if I may anticipate my theory) has estab- lisht for all strong verbs a compound paradigm containing both aorist and perfect forms. It is clear that this reduction of three tenses to two, while weakening or abandoning the differentiation of the manner of action, greatly intensified the contrast of time.
18. THE ^-PLURALS. — As to the origin of the type nemum, it is hardly necessary to offer new arguments to show that it may legitimately be claimed as an aorist type. From the abundant bibliography on the subject it may be sufficient to mention: Gustav Meyer, IF, 5, 180 ("Es steht nichts im Wege, in jenem o des [albanischen] Prateritums ebenf alls idg. e zu sehen und diese albanische Perfektbildung mit den bekannten und viel erorterten Perfektbildungen gotisch setum, metum, qemum, lit. seders, begqs, lat. sedi, legi, veni gleichzusetzen,") ; Brugmann, IF. 3, 302 ff (umbr. prusikurent 'prommtiaverint' an e -perfect, cognate with Lat. inseque); Reichelt, Btr. 27, 63 ff (concerning the Aryan passive aorist of the type acdri, asddi, agdmi) ; Collitz, Das schwache Prdteritum, p. 199 ("Erwagt man nun, dass das -e-im Plural der 4. und 5. Ablautsreihe (nemum und setum) ganz aus dem sonstigen Schema des Ablautes heraustritt, und dass zum Systeme des lateinischen Perfekts der idg. Aorist erhebliche Beitrage geliefert hat, so wird man dahin gefiihrt, den Ursprung des e ausserhalb des eigentlichen Perfektstamms zu suchen. Auf Grund des Lateinischen liegt es am nachsten, an einen alten Aorist zu denken. Das konnte dann aber wohl nur der alte einfache Medialaorist gewesen sein, dessen 3. sg. im RV. sddi, mit Augment d-sdd-i lautet")-
There seems to be at least as much weight of argument for considering these forms as aorists as there is for defending them as perfect forms; a final decision between the two views on a strictly historical and phonetic basis is not to be expected. Thus the attempt is justified to use either of them tentatively in a pragmatic outline of the Germanic tense system and to give the preference to that interpretation which will be more consistent with an outline that offers acceptable solutions of the problems involved.
19. THE TENSE CONTRAST IN GERMANIC. — Of the numer- ous possible, but more or less problematic actiones verbi that
Inflectional Contrasts in Germanic 481
may be attributed to the IE. verb, three at least seem indis- putably certain:
(1) Durative action, characterized by the normal grade of the stem vowel (Xeurco).
(2) Completed action (condition) (\OITT-, foid). Its most typical aWawJ-characteristic is o — the vowel of comparative relaxation, well in keeping with the meaning of the form (see SHGL. p. 106). The regular reduction of this o in the plural forms is a natural consequence of their oxytonon accent.
(3) Momentary (perfective, resultative) action. Within the system of vowel gradation, the reduced grade seems to be its primary mode of expression (XITT-) ; but the actual linguistic material shows that the lengthened grade is a very common device for these 'aorist' forms (see above). I do not see how such an apparent anomaly can be explained phonologically, or, indeed, how this conclusion can be avoided: The e-ando- grade being preempted for the durative and complete actions, the perfective or aoristic action was expressed by whatever remaining vowel grade happened to offer the most distinct contrast compatible with convenience of pronunciation. In the diphthongal series, this was the reduced grade; in the consonantic series of light bases the omission of the stem vowel would have yielded inconvenient forms, at least in languages without augment (*nem-: *nm-, *sed-: *sd-, *ed-: *</-); there- fore the other alternative, the lengthened grade, was resorted to, so that *nem-: *nem-, *sed-: sed-, *ed-: *ed- represent contrast pairs of the same significance as *leip- : *lip-, *deuk- : *duk-, *wert-: *wrt-,
20. THE STEM VOWELS. — If, for the sake of argument, this process be tentatively admitted, the further development in primitive Germanic times may be imagined to have been the following:
The IE. differentiation of verb forms served the objective contrast between actiones verbi; the general Germanic shift- ing in the direction of subjective contrasts led to the creation of a contrast between the time of the speaker and any other time — or rather, a potiori, the past time. The great major- ity of simple a&/aw/-verbs express duration,3 and therefore
* For instance, in Old Slavic, out of the whole number of simple, non- derived verbs only about eight are perfective, all others are durative.
482 Prokosch
the regular IE. employment of the e-grade for durative, pre- sentic action did not require any modification. The main types of non-durative action, comprising what in other IE. languages are known as aorist and perfect forms, were merged into a compound paradigm whose sole functional charac- teristic was the non-presentic, i.e., past meaning: the Ger- manic Preterit. The selection of either aorist or perfect forms seems to have been directed by a compromise between con- trast tendencies and phonetic utility. First of all, the preterit form had to be sufficiently distinct from the corresponding present form; secondly, between two forms that were suitable from that point of view, the preference was generally given to the form that was phonetically better fit — a very elastic crite- rion, to be sure, but fairly definite in its practical application after all.
21. THE ENDINGS, too, were a compromise. Their most probable derivations are these:
The 1st and 3rd singular in all dialects, and the 2nd singular in Gothic and Norse are unquestionably perfect endings.
The West-Germanic 2nd singular, according to Fierlinger's hypothesis (KZ. 27, 430 ff) has the ending of a thematic aorist; the acceptance of this view depends, of course, on one's attitude towards Sievers's statement (Btr. V 104 ff) that Gc. -iz after a short radical syllable is retained as -i in WGc. If this ending be interpreted as a transfer from the optative, the general basis of my theory is not materially affected.
The plural endings are highly problematic. For the first person I share the general view that it goes back to the IE. perfect ending -antes = Sc. -imd; the 3rd person in -un, doubt- less = IE. -#/, is an abnormal form for an IE. perfect and should rather, with Chad wick, IF. 11, 189, be classed as an aorist ending. The 2nd person in -up is clearly analogical, the vowel having been introduced from the 1st and 3rd persons; it is also admissible to assume such an analogical transfer from the 3rd to the 1st person (cp. Dieter p. 383), in which case this form, too, should be assigned to the thematic aorist (-um for -am).
It is clear that the WGc. -4 of the 2nd singular, if an aorist ending, is phonetically justified only in the first three classes, from which it was transferred to the long vowel forms *ndm[i],
Inflectional Contrasts in Germanic
483
*sdt[i\, *for[i], *het[i]; on the other hand, the -nt of the 3rd plural belonged originally only to the aorists with lengthened grade (Chadwick, 1. c.: Goth, berun = *bhernf) and was analogically substituted for the -ont of the thematic aorist forms of the first three classes: *tiz,un for
22. PARADIGMS. — Using the OHG. preterit of the 2nd class as an illustration for the first three classes, we arrive at the following paradigms:
IE
Aorist
dukdm
duk6s(i)
Perfect dedduka
dedouktha dedduke
OHG
Preterit
zoh =
zugi = zoh =
duk6me(s) dedukam&s zugum =
duktt(e)
deduk-?*
zugut =
Perfect without redup- lication
Aorist
Perfect without redup- lication
Perf. without redup- lication or Aor., with athematic ending
without redup-
duk6nt(i) deduk-?* zugun =
The OHG. class IV may illustrate classes IV and V:
IE. OHG.
Aorist Perfect Preterit
nernm nendma nam = Perf.
cation
nems nendmtha nami = Aor. with analog, ending
nemt nendme nam = Perf. without redupli-
cation
nemme(ri) nennfim&s namum =• \ nemte nenm-?* ndmut = />Aorist
nemnt nenm-?* namun = )
The assumption of such a combined paradigm in which the aorist forms have a slight preponderance over the perfect forms explains in a satisfactory way the loss of the reduplication and the 'Schwundstufen-e,' which latter, of course, no longer deserves that term, and overcomes the difficulty of the mysterious disappearance of the aorist forms from preterit function.
* Ending not preserved in Gc. and not certain from other languages.
484 Prokosch
23. AORIST PRESENTS. — The occurrence of aorist presents does not in the least interfere with this theory. Verbs whose meaning made forms of perfective action more common than those of durative action ('come,' 'step/ 'close,' 'strike') would self-evidently use the aorist form (reduced grade) for the present, as the normal tense. This did not preclude the reappearance of the aoristic element in the combination preterit. — OE. cuman, ON. koma, OHG. cuman offers the interesting phenomenon of the use of both possible aorist stems, *qm- and *qem-, in differ- ent tense functions; the exact parallelism in Sc., Gk., and Lat. points with certainty to a prehistorical functional difference (active versus medium?), but its exact scope is obliterated. — The w-forms of the second class (such as Goth, lukan) are best explained on the basis of an arbitrary, i. e., unphonetic, con- trast lengthening: *lukan > lukan establisht a contrast with the preterit plural lukun. The transformation of the aorist presents of the 1st class is due to the same factor; witness, for instance, the transfer of *wi$an to the fifth class in ON. (vega), its change to a durative present form in Gothic weihan and OHG. wihan, and its partial change in the same direction in OHG. wigan. — Gc. *etan uses the long-vowel aorist throughout the whole preterit; the reason might possibly be the rather 'bodiless' appearance of the perfect form *at, in comparison with other preterits; however, it is to be considered that we cannot know what the result of the contraction of a vocalic reduplication with a would have been in Gc. ; perhaps *eat = *et?
24. VERNER'S LAW would seem, at first glance, to present a serious objection to this theory. The long-vowel aorists appear to preclude its action. But the difficulty is only an apparent one. In the 4th class, of course, instances of Verner's Law cannot occur. For the 5th class, however, it is not very much of an exaggeration to say: It is not true that Verner's Law has been in force in this class! While it occurs with great regularity in the first and second classes, in the fifth class the exceptions are far more numerous than the rule. — Gothic, having leveled the effects of grammatical change, does not offer any material. In Norse, the Germanic voiced and voiceless spirants are not differentiated in the dental and labial series; v$ <*waih: vqgom may have kept the change from its previous membership in the first class; sid and lesa
Inflectional Contrasts in Germanic 485
have no grammatical change. In OE. we find the change with seon, gefeon, cwefian, wesan, but not with lesan, genesan. OS. has it in the case of quedan, sehan, wesan (but sahun is common in CM), while lesan (and perhaps ginesan and gehari) have given it up — if they ever had it. In OHG. we find regularly warun and scattered instances of larun, quatun (but Ludw. 30 quddhun, T. regularly quddun, O. more frequently quddun than quatun; Braune p. 279), but in general the OHG. fifth class is free from grammatical change (jesan, gesan, kresan, ginesan, gifehan, fnehan, gehan, giscehan, sehan, wehan cfb not exhibit it at all).
This is a remarkable circumstance. If the grammatical change had been transferred from the first two classes to all available verbs of the fifth class, it would hardly seem strange; but we find it with complete regularity only with wesan, which, on account of its atonic character, would be more inclined anyway toward voicing a non-final spirant, and with fair frequency in *qepan, which occurs very frequently as an enclitic or a proclitic. The s- verbs, aside from wesan, are almost entirely exempt; OHG., which is very consistent in the gram- matical change of the first and second classes, shows few traces in the fifth class; on the whole, it is much easier to account for the OS. and OE. examples as being modeled after the first two classes, than to explain the all but complete absence of grammatical change in the other two dialects.
25. THE SIXTH AND SEVENTH CLASSES must be treated together. In dealing with the 'light bases' I have retained the usual numbering of the classes for the sake of convenience. From here on it will be necessary to depart from it, because it is my opinion that the so-called sixth and seventh classes constitute the equivalents of classes I-V as represented by heavy bases, with some leveled intrusions of light base verbs, especially in the old sixth class. It is self-evident that as a foundation for this view I accept entirely the Wood-Brugmann theory of the reduplicating verbs, and also, to an extent, Brugmann's explanation of the sixth class. — I submit the following tabulation of classes VI and VII.
(Analogical forms are in brackets; unreduplicated preterit forms, unless analogical, are printed in bold-face italics.)
486 Prokosch
A: Normal Grade B: o-Grade C: Reduced Grade
I. IE. ei oi 9i OE. het G. haihait G. haitan
II. IE. eu ou 9u OE. hleop G. *haihlaup G. -hlaupan
III. IE. tf-(gn-) tf- (on-) a/- (aw-) ON. helt G. Aaf&o&i G. &a/</a» OHG. [hialt]
ON. [/<?££, *^wg] G. faff ah G. fdhan OHG. fetlC, [Jiang] IV-V. IE. e £ 3
(a) G. o/, hof G. o/a», hafjan
(b) G. r«/a« G. rafr# OHG. *rat [rial]
(c) G. too^aw
Phonetically, there can be no objection to this synopsis. The treatment of long diphthongs in Gc. is sufficiently well known to substantiate all of the equations with the possible exception of e+liquid or nasal and consonant. It is very probable that these groups were shortened to e/+, en-{- in the same way as the other long diphthongs, but in view of the scarcity of material it seems possible that e from e in the group en- had remained open at a time when the e in IE. en- had already become close or even changed to *; thus, forms like geng, feng may be phonologically correct, or they may have been compromises between phonological *ging, *fing and analogical geng, feng.
The distinction between the fourth and fifth classes is of no consequence with the heavy bases; with the light bases, it is necessary on account of the vowel of the participle, but with the so-called sixth and seventh classes the stem vowels of the present and participle show the same grade.
From the point of view of contrast formation this group of verbs forms a most interesting chapter of grammar — a chapter for the understanding of which the contrast principle seems to be an indispensable key.
The distribution of the tenses over the vowel grades must seem arbitrary, but the inconsistency is an apparent one, brought about by the fusion of several verb types in one group.
The great majority of verbs in these classes are aorist presents, u e., verbs of primarily perfective meaning. Thus
Inflectional Contrasts in Germanic 487
we find in the old sixth class such meanings as 'strike, go, raise, step, injure, take', in class VII '(take) hold, call, leap, fall, beat, catch, summon' and many others that may have changed from originally perfective to durative meanings. Their present stems require normally the reduced grade and should therefore be found in column C — which is consistently the case with the diphthongal classes and IV-V (a). Sub- class IV-V (b) shows presents with the normal grade of heavy bases — and, characteristically, these verbs are preponderantly durative in meaning: 'let, advise (ponder), sleep, know, blow, mow, sow, sweep, twist.' IV-V (c), finally, has verbs of durative-iterative meaning with the o-grade.
The preterit of the seventh class is in Gothic and the well- known scattered forms in Norse and WGc. a regular, redupli- cated perfect, while the typical Norse and WGc. preterits show normal e-grade, as far as the extant forms are phonetically admissible; the phonologically abnormal e-forms of the third class (OHG. hialt, etc.) are obvious results of leveling, and the same is true of the wide spread of eo in OE.; for Norse and WGc. e in the types ON. r£p, OHG. riat, see below.
The seemingly chaotic condition of class VII is aggravated by the suggested combination with class VI, but this is required by the character of these verbs and by the peculiar way in which the principle of contrast has affected both classes.
A comparison with certain Latin verbs is apt to give the clue:
IE. 9 (Reduced Grade) d, e, o, (Normal Grade
Latin vado (perfective) vado (durative)
labo ( " ) labor ( " )
scabo (present) scdbi (preterit)
pango ( ) pacem (noun)
capio ( ) cepi (*capi] (preterit)
facio ( ) fed (preterit)
datus (participle) donum (noun)
ratus ( ) reri (present)
lapsus ( " ) labor ( " )
The parallelism with Germanic is striking: wadan is an aorist present, wop, its phonological contrast, is a preterit; the same is true of skaban — skdf,hafjan — hof; redan and slepan
488 Prokosch
are durative presents, and their Norse and WGc. preterits are obvious levelings, substituted doubtlessly for contrast forms with the reduced grade: *rap, *slap. My explanation is this:
As stated above, the great majority of heavy base verbs are perfective in^meaning; therefore, they have aorist presents, with reduced grade. There exists a regular reduplicated per- fect, preferably with 0-grade, which is preserved in Gothic. In Norse and West-Germanic, however, preterit function was assigned to the normally durative form, with normal grade, merely by force of contrast; the 'usual' form (that is, with perfective verbs, the reduced grade) became the present, while the less usual form indicated that which was not present, or the preterit. Facio — fed, capio — cepi (cdpi) show the be- ginning of a similar process in Latin, while Greek -ri-flrj-jiu — e-077-Ka, (5I-5co-/u — e-5co-Ka suggests that this distribution of tenses was not an inherited, but a secondary condition.
The few durative verbs with heavy bases, like Goth, redan, would have offered the possibility of contrast forms like Latin ratus, lapsus (Goth. *rap, *slap), but the well-establisht «-form of the first class (het) was transferred to these forms in Norse and WGc. — a process akin to the later spread of eo in OE., ia in OHG.
Why the type hof, skof shows Gc. 6 instead of e does not require any justification; the normal grades of heavy bases with simple vowels do not possess the same elasticity of qual- itative gradation as do the light bases; for instance, *st(h)d-, *6e-, *do- alternate only with *st(h)9-, *6»-t *d9-, but not with, say, *st(h)e-, *do, *dd-. Occasional forms of gradation, like frrjyvvfu — eppcoya, Goth, letan — lailot are probably secondary formations.
Old class VI and our sub-class IV-V (c) still require some comment. Most verbs of class six are clear aorist presents of heavy bases, e. g., Goth, skaban, alan, anan, hafjan. But there are a few light bases, like faran, frapjan. For the latter, I accept Brugmann's view, that we have to deal with causative (or, in part, iterative) formations, but I believe that their preterits would regularly have been *ferum, etc., for the plural, and probably *far or *fer for the singular — forms that were replaced by the o-forms, presumably on account of the re- semblance with the infinitive forms of the types far(j)an and hafjan.
Inflectional Contrasts in Germanic 489
A few iteratives of heavy bases were formed like far(j}an, namely, the type of Goth, \oopan, flokan, wopjan, blotan, flokan, OE. blotan, blowan, growan, rowan, spdwan, etc. In Norse and WGc. they formed analogical preterits like OE. bleot, ON. blet, OHG. (*pleoz) plozta.
I believe that my hypothesis covers all problems of these two classes — unless the question be raised why the old perfect of the seventh class was preserved so much more clearly than that of all other classes, and especially why it was standardized in Gothic. Perhaps there can be no conclusive answer to that question; but the fact should be taken into consideration that forms like stigun, nemud had been aorists since IE. times, while het assumed that function in the Gc. period, by mere force of contrast, and therefore entered later into competition with the perfect than the aorists of the light bases. As to the monopoly of the reduplicated forms in Gothic, it might be assumed that the prominence of Gc. e < ei in the simple preterits of this class had something to do with it; since Gothic did not differentiate Gc. e and &, it could not create contrasting analogy forms like OHG. sliaf, but retained saislep, and the model of this type may have preserved haihait in preference to het; it is quite likely that unreduplicated preterits of the latter type were current in actual Gothic speech. The gradated type lallot (see above) is a Gothic peculiarity, apparently created in accordance with type \oai\odp.
Verner's Law cannot be used either for or against this interpretation of classes VI and VII. It is not worth while to point out in detail that grammatical change occurs only sporadically in these classes — a fact which would, apparently, support my view. There has been a great deal of leveling at all events, and it would be idle to try to find out in which direction this has taken place.
26. THE WEAK VERBS offer an important contribution to the contrast factor insofar as the weak preterit, whatever its origin may have been, certainly did not denote past tense in Pre-Germanic, but rather some actio verbi or genus ierbi; Brugmann's and Collitz's interpretations may be equally correct, insofar as several types of verb forms may have been consolidated into one aorist type, just as the sixth class contains preterits of radically different origin. For the purposes
490 Prokosch
of this discussion, the essential point is this: sokjan was an establisht durative (iterative) present; any other forms of the same stem were bound to disappear or to assume non- presentic function, that is, if they survived, they became preterits, and for some reason, perhaps on account of their distinctiveness, ^-derivatives monopolized the field to the exclusion of other formations (of which Slavic, for instance, possesses an abundance).
* * *
27. CONTRAST IN GERMANIC PHONOLOGY. If the element of contrast occupies such a dominant position in Germanic morphology, it would hardly seem too audacious to look for traces in Germanic phonology too. One may easily be led too far by such a search (as for instance, concerning the psycho- logical origin of the Gc. consonant shift), but at least one aspect of the Germanic treatment of sounds seems quite clearly to point to a striving for contrast, namely, the diver- gent treatment of IE. long and short vowels.
In Slavic there is a marked tendency to subdue the con- trasts of quantity by an inverse distribution of the intensity of articulation; long vowels were apt to be relaxed, short vowels, to be narrowed (a>o, o>a), and this led gradually to a complete leveling of quantitative differences. In Germanic, on the other hand, long vowels were narrowed and short vowels relaxed (o>a, a>d). This resulted in an increase of contrast between the two series which is still apparent in the consistent, tho not unchanged, retention of quantitative differences in modern Germanic languages, most of all in German.
E. PROKOSCH
Bryn Mawr College
"GERTRUDE OF WYOMING"
Sophisticated people have usually taken a certain interest in the country, and ever since the days of Theocritus, literature has reflected this interest in its glowing pictures of rustic life. Even in the most artificial days of the eighteenth century Pope in his "Pastorals" showed the grace, beauty, and happi- ness of the existence of shepherds. With the rise of the new feeling for romance in the same century, this attitude toward rural life became intensified, and writers vied with each other in painting it in the most glorious colors, making the country people models of virtue and their existence quite idyllic. Campbell's "Gertrude of Wyoming" offers us an example of just such primitivism.
"Gertrude," however, is not the first instance of primitivism in the work of Campbell. In a passage of "The Pleasures of Hope"1 (1799), a lover imagines the life he will lead when he has married his sweetheart. They will dwell, not in the sumptuous splendor of some magnificent town house, but in
Some cottage-home, from towns and toil remote Where love and lore may claim alternate hours, With peace embosom'd in Mali an bowers!
In the vicinity, the young husband will wander musing upon the beauties of nature, and in the evening he and his devoted wife will enjoy the coziness of their little home, listening to the howling of the storm outside and beguiling the hours by reading choice bits of literature. This passage, though by no means an example of primitivism in every way, nevertheless indicates what Campbell considered a little earthly paradise, made up of love, literature, the beauties of nature, and a humble position in society.
"Gertrude of Wyoming,"(1809) however, is a much more important example of primitivism and shows some additional elements. The village of Wyoming, situated in a natural paradise in Pennsylvania, is inhabited by various nationalities, which have come from Europe to find peace in the New World. The leading man in the community is the old Englishman
1 II., 85-188.
491
492 Bierstadt
Albert, who acts as judge of the people in patriarchal wise. His wife has died, leaving him alone to bring up their lovely child Gertrude. One day an Indian named Outalissi appears, bringing a white boy about Gertrude's own age. The child and its mother were saved from the hands of hostile savages, but having lost her husband in the general massacre, the lady died, begging the friendly red men to take her boy back to civilization. Albert is overjoyed to receive the lad be- cause the latter's mother and grandfather were his friends. Since his mission is now accomplished, Outalissi departs, bidding an affectionate farewell to his young charge. The second canto presents a picture of the village of Wyoming some years later. In the mean time, changes have taken place, for young Waldegrave, the rescued boy, has returned to England, and Gertrude has grown to womanhood. One day as the lovely girl is reading Shakespeare in a sheltered nook in the forest, she is surprised by a handsome young stranger. At his request she conducts him to her father, and, after a short discourse, he overjoys them by revealing himself as Walde- grave. Since he and Gertrude were formerly devoted as children and time has not lessened their affection, they are married with great rejoicing. The third canto begins with an account of the wedded happiness of the young couple, who roam about joyfully in the beautiful woods near the village. Unfortunately this Arcadian life is interrupted by the outbreak of the American Revolution, which fills the country with the bustle of war. One evening an aged and withered Indian bursts into the village. Although no one knows him, he begins caress- ing Waldegrave affectionately, with the result that he is finally seen to be Outalissi. Rousing himself from his blissful reverie over his former charge, he announces that a hostile force of Indians is marching to sack Wyoming. Indeed no sooner has he said the words than the attack begins. The aged Albert and Gertude take refuge in a fort near by, while the battle rages outside with all the unearthly noises and unspeakable horrors of savage warfare, until the American forces finally drive off the Indians. In the moment of victory, however, a tragedy occurs, for both Gertrude and her father are shot by a skulking Indian marksman. Waldegrave clasps his mortally wounded wife to his bosom; they take an affectionate farewell; and
"Gertrude of Wyoming" 493
Gertrude expires in her husband's arms. In the midst of the general grief, old Outalissi in a war song exhorts Waldegrave to follow him that they may be revenged upon their enemies.
Many of the elements in "Gertrude" can be traced to their sources. Campbell's friend and biographer Beattie informs us that the poet began to sketch the work in the latter part of 1806. Now since Scott published his successful "Lay of the Last Minstrel" in 1805, we cannot help supposing that Camp- bell in attempting his first long tale in verse, was following in the footsteps of the greater man, who was his friend. Like most poets, he was inclined to write the sort of verse that was popular at the time, and occasionally his attempt came directly after the other man's success. Instead, however, of using Scott's meter, Campbell preferred to employ that of his favorite "Castle of Indolence," though he did not care to imitate its scattered archaisms.
Again, Campbell had a family interest in America. His father had resided some years in the country before marriage, and two of his brothers chose Virginia as their home. In fact at one time, the poet himself thought of migrating to the New World and entertained his imagination, as he tells us, with pleasant ideas of "mooring in the mouth of the Ohio." These facts naturally enough would incline him to treat an American subject. In addition, in his compilation "The Annals of Great Britain," he had just recently described the destruction of the beautiful village of Wyoming.
More important than any of these as a source was Chateau- briand's "Atala," which was published in 1801. In this, the aged and blind Indian chieftain Chactas relates to the European Rene the story of his youthful love for Atala. While he was a captive among hostile Indians, the girl fell in love with him, and loosing his bonds, accompanied him in his flight through the wilderness. A melancholy possessed her however, arid she continually repulsed her lover's advances. At length, upon their arrival at a French mission, conducted by Father Aubry, Atala became mortally ill and confessed that she was gloomy because her mother, a Christian Indian, had devoted her to perpetual chastity. Father Aubry told her that the bishop of Quebec could absolve her from this unjust vow, but Atala replied that, in fear of violating her
494 Bierstadt
chastity, she had taken poison, which was now producing its deadly effect. She died shortly afterward and was interred with the deepest sorrow by Chactas and Father Aubry.
Campbell borrowed various details from this French work. Most important of all, the name of his Indian Outalissi is that of Chactas' father, who is several times mentioned, but never appears in Chateaubriand. Neither this name nor the other points that are to be mentioned come from William Bartram's "Travels through North and South Carolina," from which Chateaubriand took several facts and which Camp- bell knew, if we may judge from a note appended to a later edition of "Gertrude." Bedier has carefully investigated Bartram and other sources of "Atala," and is obliged to confess that he does not know where the name Outalissi comes from.2
Again, apropos of the words "poured the lotus horn"3 in "Gertrude," Campbell has a footnote in the first edition: "From a flower shaped like a horn, which Chateaubriant (sic) presumes to be of the lotus kind, the Indians in their travels through the desert often find a draught of dew purer than any other water." Thus we have an actual mention of Chateaubriand in connection with "Gertrude." The passage which Campbell is referring to is almost certainly one in "Atala" where Chactas and his love are roaming through the wilderness and living upon any food they can get: "Quelque- fois j'allois chercher parmi les roseaux une plante dont la fleur allongee en cornet contenoit un verre de la plus pure rosee."4 Here are to be found travelling Indians, the pure dew, and the horn-shaped flowers. To be sure, Chateaubriand does not call the plant a lotus, as Campbell says he does, but the change from a horn-shaped flower among the reeds to a lotus would not be difficult. Especially when we consider Camp- bell's careless scholarship, which is demonstrated in this very note in the undesirable spelling Chateaubriant, the change appears insignificant.
In "Gertrude," Campbell played ducks and drakes with zoology and incurred ridicule by putting tropical animals
* "fitudes Critiques," 266. (Article "Chateaubriand en Amenque: Ve'rite' et Fiction") Paris, 1903.
8 1., stanza 25.
4 Chateaubriand, XVI., 60. All references to Chateaubriand are to the complete edition in twenty-eight volumes, Paris, 1826-1831.
"Gertrude of Wyoming" 495
in a temperate climate. When urged to change them years afterward, he refused because "they had been through so many editions." His probable source for the passage, the prologue to "Atala," which describes the lower Mississippi River, is more or less incorrect, but Campbell makes the joke even better by innocently removing the poor tropical beasts to a still more northern climate. Though Chateaubriand's prologue is only a few pages long, it is a veritable menagerie and botanical garden combined. Among other things are mentioned flamingoes, buffaloes, squirrels, mocking birds, doves, humming birds, crocodiles, palm trees, and magnolias.6 All of these, with a magic wave of his pen, Campbell transports in a trice to the environs of Wyoming and scatters them where- ever wanted through the pages of his poem.6 In only one case has Campbell taken his accompanying phrases from Cha- teaubriand; "And playful squirrel on his nut-grown tree" seems to reflect, "Des ecureils noirs se jouent dans Pepaisseur des feuillages."
Furthermore, the same short prologue of "Atala" says that Chactas had been in France for a time contemplating the splendors of civilization, but had returned again to his native wilds. There in his blind old age, he was accompanied by a young girl as Oedipus had been by Antigone.7 From this passage Campbell very probably got the idea of a similar con- trast in age and sex between Gertrude and her father, for the early death of the mother contributes nothing to the story. Besides, in the figure of Albert, a youth spent partly in civilized Europe is opposed to an old age passed in primitive America, just as it is in Chactas.
"Atala" abounds in references to Indian life, and from it Campbell may have taken the idea of introducing similar ones in "Gertrude" for the purpose of local color; in fact a few of his references, such as the Manitous8 or sagamite,9 may
• All these occur in XVI., 21-23.
• They are to be found as follows in "Gertrude": flamingoes, I., stanza 3; buffaloes, II., 2; palm trees, II., 11; magnolias, II., 5; squirrels, I., 3; mocking birds, I, 3; doves, II., 12; humming birds, II., 12; crocodiles, I., 26.
7 Pp. 24-25.
8 "Gertrude," I., stanza 17; Chateaubriand, XVI., 28.
• "Gertrude," I., 19; Chateaubriand, XVI, 32.
496 Bierstadt
be taken bodily from Chateaubriand. Again, Campbell's description of a view toward the setting sun along the course of a river with the high banks or "ridges burning" in the eve- ning light10 may have been suggested by the voyage of Chactas and Atala: "Le fleuve qui nous entrainoit couloit entre de hautes falaises, au bout desquelles on apercevoit le soleil couchant."11 Furthermore, Waldegrave's intention in case he found Gertrude and Albert dead on his return,-
I meant but o'er your tombs to weep a day, — Unknown I meant to weep, unknown to pass away.12
sounds as if Campbell had remembered Chactas' mourning over Atala's grave: "Ayant ainsi vu le soleil se lever et se coucher sur ce lieu de douleur, le lendemain au premier cri de la cicogne, je me preparai a quitter la sepulture sacree."15
In both tales, massacres take place, cutting short the lives of virtuous people. In the epilogue to "Atala," the author learns that Chactas and Rene both fell when the French destroyed the tribe of the Natchez,14 and that, at another time, Father Aubry and his colony of Indian converts were slaughtered with tortures by hostile savages.15 Finally, one might say with some possibility of being right that Camp- bell took from Chateaubriand the idea of naming his work after the heroine.16
Aside from the matter of details, there is a great similarity between the moods of the two works, and since two or three sure borrowings have shown that Campbell took suggestions from Chateaubriand, one cannot help supposing that he got some of his general spirit from the same source. Both works
10 II., stanza 2.
11 Chateaubriand, XVI, 62.
12 II., stanza 20.
18 Chateaubriand, XVI., 123.
14 Chateaubriand, XVI., 131, 132.
15 Chateaubriand, XVI., 132, 133.
18 After working out the resemblances between "Gertrude" and "Atala" independently, I discovered that H. M. Fitzgibbon in an edition of Campbell's poem (Oxford, 1891) had observed (p. 10, note) numerous similarities between the two in details. Of the minor points I have noticed, he remarks upon Outa- lissi, the animals and plants, and objects characteristic of Indian life. He totally neglects, however, to call attention to the resemblance in larger matters, such as tone or story, and to the resulting primitivism of "Gertrude."
"Gertrude of Wyoming" 497
are glorifications of the New World, where people live among the beauties of an unspoiled nature. The scenery in both is luxuriant, such as befits a paradise, though Chateaubriand is able to make it far more gorgeous than Campbell because of his greater descriptive power. He saturates his prologue with this spirit of rich and wild beauty and Campbell, accord- ing to his ability, does the same at the beginning of each canto of "Gertrude." Speaking of the Mississippi, Chateaubriand says: "Mais la grace est tou jours unie a la magnificence dans les scenes de la nature: tandis que le courant du milieu entraine vers la mer les cadavres des pins et des chenes, on voit sur les deux courants lateraux remonter, le long des rivages, des iles flottantes de pistia et de nenufar, dont les roses jaunes s'elevent comme de petits pavilions."17 A similar attempt at richness is to be observed in Campbell:
But, high in amphitheatre above,
His arms the everlasting aloes threw:
Breathed but an air of heaven, and all the grove
As if instinct with living spirit grew,
Rolling its verdant gulfs of every hue.18
Nature plus the new world must equal extreme innocence of mankind, according to the Rousseauistic doctrine that man was naturally good and that all vices sprang from civil- ization. Accordingly in "Atala," we find father Aubry presid- ing over a colony of Indian Christians who are ideally virtuous. No laws are necessary. He has taught them only to love each other, and, as a result, though working separately, they will- ingly turn in all the fruits of their toil to a common store. In like manner, Wyoming is an Arcadia, and Albert takes the place of Father Aubry, acting as judge on the rare occasions when one is necessary. In fact, it looks as if Campbell might have taken the patriarchal position of Albert from Father Aubry.
In both works, the Utopia is completed by a passionate
love affair which the authors have made as romantic as possible.
Both heroines are models of character. Atala will commit
suicide rather than break her mother's vow. Gertrude has eyes,
That seemed to love what'er they looked upon.
17 XVI., 21.
18 II., stanza 10.
498 Bierstadt
At the highest point of the two love affairs, the authors do their utmost to make the emotions as tense and the settings as rich as possible. In "Atala," the lovers are in the midst of deep, luxuriant forests, the night is dark, the woods are murmuring, and a thunder storm rumbles in the distance; all forms a suitable background for the powerful emotions within their breasts. In "Gertrude" in "over-arching groves in blossoms white," the marriage takes place, and, full of tender affection, the heroine hides her face on her husband's breast.
In addition, both writers, in picturing Indian life, paint it in far more ideal colors than it probably deserved. Chactas and his beloved Atala have the souls of most sensitive and poetic Europeans — of the romantic type of course — and, again, Atala is so heroic that rather than break her mother's vow, she commits suicide. In the same way, in "Gertrude," Outa- lissi, though a noble stoic of the woods, shows the tenderest affection for his young charge Waldegrave and is moved by the final tragedy to shed the only tears that ever stained his cheeks.
A similar catastrophe in the two works breaks up the Arcadia by taking the heroine and leaving the poor hero to wander forlorn. In both cases, yet greater happiness was in store for the lovers, — in "Atala," through their marriage, and in "Gertrude," through the birth of a child. The death of the heroine in each case is the occasion of a scene as full of pathos as lay in the author's power. Chateaubriand, the ex- ponent of religiosity, takes the opportunity to glorify ecclesiastical ritual and devotional feeling, whereas Campbell, the sceptic, omits all mention of religion. The contrast between great happiness and great grief afforded by both tales, being an excellent example of the irony of fate, is dear to the romantic heart. Accordingly Chateaubriand revels in the gloom of the scene, and justifies Gautier in calling him the inventor of modern melancholy. Campbell brings out the tragedy and pathos at the close of his story, but, being more of a normal man than Chateaubriand, he cannot be said to gloat over it.
Beattie informs us19 that the original of Albert was Mr. Wynell Mayow, a friend of the poet's, and a letter of Camp-
19 II., 78, in W. Beattie, "Life and Letters of Thomas Campbell," 3 vols., London, 1849. Campbell entrusted Beattie with the task of writing his life and gave him the necessary materials.
"Gertrude of Wyoming" 499
bell's20 indicates that Miss M. W. Mayow, his daughter, was the model for Gertrude. t Neither of these statements of course vitiates our conclusions about "Atala" and "Gertrude." From Chateaubriand's work, Campbell selected certain traits for his characters, and then completed the figures by taking suggestions from some of his friends' personalities.
Beattie has also printed21 two or three pages from a German novel by August Lafontaine, called "Barneck und Saldorf," which he thinks may have had some influence on "Gertrude." In the passage, a German relates how in childhood he lived with his parents not far from the Hudson River. The mother was of gentle birth, and hence her husband was particularly distressed at her toiling over hard work to which she was not accustomed. One day, a party of English and Indians appeared and killed the parents, but the child was saved by the arrival of some German soldiers. Thus ends the extract, which, we are told, is the only part of the novel "which bears the slight- est resemblance to 'Gertrude of Wyoming.' " Since neither the Harvard nor the Boston Library possesses the book, I have had to rest content with the excerpt. The only proof that Beattie can give of Campbell's having read the story is that the poet had previously asked Scott to send him a list of German works that might well be translated. Whether Scott did it, whether "Barneck und Saldorf" was on the list, and whether Campbell read the tale are yet to be shown. At most, the German novel furnished the idea of a massacre of Europeans by Indians and the consequent breaking up of a devoted mar- riage, but it should be observed that the colony is very far from a Utopia. Accordingly, though this novel could well be combined with the other sources as contributing part of the subject matter of "Gertrude," in default of surer proof that Campbell read it or of greater similarities between the works, it must be decidedly rejected.
Finally, a word must be said about the possibility of in- fluence from the "Castle of Indolence" upon "Gertrude," an influence which has been occasionally assumed to exist by readers of Campbell. Except in meter, Thomson's poem is not similar to Campbell's; the plot and characters of "Gert-
20 Beattie, II., 121. » III., 427 ff.
500 Bierstadt
rude" are entirely different, there is no semi-burlesque element, and the Spenserian archaisms of Thomson are wholly wanting. In fact, the only point, besides meter, in which any influence might be discerned, is the treatment of nature. The castle of Indolence is situated in a dale in the midst of luxuriant scenery, producing a drowsiness upon beholders.22 Similarly, the landscape about Wyoming is characterized by a rich beauty, but, being unsuitable to the story, the sleepy effect is omitted. Furthermore, both the castle of Indolence and Albert's home are in valleys — not a striking similarity — and there is one verbal resemblance: in Thomson the reader learns that in the vicinity "stock-doves plain"23 (a verb), and in Campbell, he is told about "stock-doves' plaining."24 In view of the fact that Campbell was extremely fond of the "Castle of Indolence," it is very likely that he was confirmed by it in a desire to make the setting of "Gertrude" as rich as possible. Nevertheless, since the poet probably derived his ideas of the innocence of the New World, the noble life of Indians, and an idyllic but tragic love affair from Chateaubriand, one is inclined to believe that the luxuriance of nature in "Gertrude" is mostly due to the same author, particularly because Chateau- briand exemplifies the quality far more strongly than Thom- son.
It is interesting but not very profitable to speculate in what order the various influences on "Gertrude came into play. Presumably, Campbell began with the desire to write another long poem besides "The Pleasures of Hope." Since a didactic poem would be rather old fashioned, he determined to try the tale in verse, a genre which Scott had just shown was popular, and in order not to follow his brother poet too closely, Camp- bell adopted another meter — that of "The Castle of Indolence" and its successors. His family interest in America and the mention of Wyoming in his "Annals" may then have led Campbell to choose as his subject the massacre in this village, with the result that he went for details to "Atala," another book on America. More probably, however, he had already read "Atala," which imprinted itself especially deeply on
12 1., stanzas 2-5. 23 1., stanza 4. 14 IL, stanza 12.
"Gertrude of Wyoming'' 501
his mind because of his interest in America. When he first thought of writing a tale in verse, he then inclined to a prim- itivistic love plot like Chateaubriand's, and soon remembered the Wyoming massacre as a suitable catastrophe for the story. Finally he filled out the characters of Albert and Gertrude from his friends, the Mayows.
The primitivism of "Gertrude" is utterly unreal like that of its prototype "Atala." Since the scenes of both were far removed from the haunts of sophisticated European readers, the authors thought they might give free rein to their imagina- tions, and consequently constructed fairy lands, charming to be sure, but, when compared with reality, as insecure as castles imagined in the clouds.
ALBERT MORTON BIERSTADT
University of Wisconsin
While Sebastian Brant, the famous author of the Ship of Fools, was city clerk of Strassburg, he received one day in the year 1501 the following strange letter from his friend Jakob Wimpfeling, the well-known Alsatian humanist, who was also
1 For the controversy between Jakob Wimpfeling and Thomas Murner the following books and letters have been taken into consideration. 1501. Wimpfeling's letter to Sebastian Brant. Jan. 13, 1502. Wimpfeling's Germania with preface of Oct. 14, 1501, printed
Jan. 15, 1502. (not 1501, as in the original print). Feb. 16, 1502. Murner's letter to Wimpfeling, in which he admits that he is
the author of another Germania. June 14, 1502. Murner in Solothurn at the meeting of the Franciscans of his
province delivers an oration. July 24, 1502. Murner's letter to Geiler von Kaisersberg, in which he accuses
Geiler of having attacked him in one of his sermons. July 26, 1502. Wimpfeling replies to this letter in the name of his friend
Geiler and criticizes Murner severely, making uncalled for remarks about
his father. Aug. 21, 1502. Murner's Germania Nova is printed. It is suppressed by the
magistrate of Strassburg by an order issued in the same month. Aug. 29, 1502. Wimpfeling's letter to Murner, censuring him for the publica- tion of his book.
Sept. 2, 1502. Murner's reply to this letter. Sept. 1502. Declaratio Jacobi Wimpfelingi ad mitigandum adversarium.
Declaration of Wimpfeling to conciliate his adversary. Sept. 1502. Defensio Germaniae Jac. Wimpfelingi. Defense of Wimpfeling
by his pupils. Nov. 1592. Versiculi. Further defense of Wimpfeling by admiring friends, and
condemnation of Murner. Nov. 1502. Murner's reply to all his opponents in his 'Honestorum poematum
condigna laudatio, impudicorum vero miranda castigatio." Worthy praise
of the just poems, rightful chastisement of the unworthy ones. 1505. Murner laureate by Emperor Maximilian at Worms. 1515. Murner dedicates his translation of Virgil to Emperor Maxmilian who
had made him a court chaplain. 1520. Murner dedicates his "Appeal to the Nobility of the German Nation"
to his Emperor Charles V. 1648. The German version of Wimpfeling's Germania, edited by Hans Michel
Moscherosch. Reprinted with introduction and notes by E. Voss. Wis- consin Academy 1907.
502
Two Alsatian Patriots of the Sixteenth Century 503
living at that time in Strassburg. It was written in Latin and in translation reads about as follows:
In defense of the Roman King whom not only the flatterers of your con- temptible rival, but also secular preachers daily revile while apparently they are preaching the word of God, and further to offer to this free city the material to defend itself and clear itself from all guilt, in case some day it should be blamed for having mixed up in this feud, having tolerated these invectives against the emperor, for that purpose I send you the draft of a little book, which has fallen into my hands in a curious way. If your leisure permits, read it. And if you think that it does not contain anything bad and that it is not an unworthy book, you may communicate its contents to friends of whom you are sure that they know how to keep a secret. But under no circumstances must anybody find out from whom you received it. You may say that it was sent into your house while you were absent. You see how much danger there might be connected with this for the body and soul as well as for the reputation of the author. See to it that you soon tear this little note into the smallest bits or cast it into the flames. If you should consider the treatise entirely unworthy of being read, throw it also into the fire straightway so that it may be reduced to ashes.
In this strange letter Wimpfeling refers to his little book Germania, the subject of this paper. Why he should have acted in such a mysterious way, it is hard to understand. But if he had any scruples about the publication of the book, Sebastian Brant must have succeeded in clearing them away completely, for with a dedication to the city council of Strass- burg, dated October 14, 1501, the book was printed and left the press in January of 1502, not in January 1501 as printed by mistake. In his dedication to the members of the city magis- trate Wimpfeling makes the following important statement which clearly indicates his reasons for publishing the booklet.
"Many people are of the opinion, most reverent members of the Council, that your city of Strassburg and the other cities on this side of the Rhine towards sundown had been once upon a time in the hands of the kings of France. Through this the named kings are at times encouraged to reclaim these cities which from the time of the emperor Julius Octavianus down to the present day have always belonged to the Roman and not to the French Empire and have always closely adhered to it. Thus the Dauphin Lewis, the first born son of Charles VII of France, when in 1444 he invaded Helvetia, which is also called Alsatia, gave amongst other causes of his expedition also these, that he had to look after the rights of the house of France which extended according to his statement up to the Rhine, and for that reason he wanted to besiege your city of Strassburg.
This error arose from an all too limited knowledge of the old Histories or written Chronicles, and the delusion of the French is strengthened by the fact
504 Voss
that we too sometimes wrongly believe that such is true and that some of our citizens have a stronger leaning towards the French than the German Empire. For we send from us at times to the French king ambassadors who are Semi- French (Semi-Galli) and when these are kindly received by the French, they use to agree with them and show themselves favorable to them in the hope that if the kings of France should gain our lands, they might under their rule attain honor and offices which they are convinced they could not possibly gain as long as the Roman eagles are ruling here.
But I hope to be able with God's help to prove for the common best and benefit of your city, first by convincing deductions, second by trustworthy documents, and finally by the most reliable historians that your city and the other cities on the Rhine have never been subjected to the French."
In fact, however, Wimpfeling's Germania was to serve a double purpose. In his dedication to the City Council he dwells only upon the first one. But his book is divided into two distinct parts, in accordance with the object he had in mind when he wrote it. In the first part the author wished to show his patriotism. By the hand of history he tried to prove, convincingly he thought, that the western Rhineland had never been subjected to the Gauls, that these regions since the time of the emperor Augustus had been genuine German provinces; that they had never been in French possession and that on that account France had no right to make claims upon the Alsatian cities. Roman emperors had hailed from Italy, Trace, Arabia, Pannonia and Illyricum, but never from Gaul. Charlemagne and his successors, whom some people were eager to designate as Frenchmen, had been Germans. Through Charlemagne the Roman Empire had come down to the Germans. Gaul had never extended up the river Rhine and Julius Caesar had been ignorant of the fact that the Vosges Mountains and Austrasia formed the border line between Gaul and Germania.
For the sake of historical truth it must be stated here that Wimpfeling's proofs often rest on rather weak support. The existence of an old Celtic population in Alsace cannot be dis- puted. And if Wimpfeling criticizes Julius Caesar, because he puts the boundary line of Gaul up to the Rhine, we must admit that the author of the Commentaries was right in spite of the statements of Wimpfeling.
But whatever we may have to say against this first part of Wimpfeling's Germania from an historical and critical point of
Two Alsatian Patriots of the Sixteenth Century 505
view, he surely deserves praise for his patriotitism which speaks out of every line. It may be well also to remember that in those days we could hardly expect an historical treatise that would satisfy the modern scientifically trained histor- ian, for the sources that are accessible to the modern scholar had not been opened up to the would-be historian at the beginning of the sixteenth century. And we should at the same time remember how dangerous it is under all circum- stances and at all times to write historical treatises when blind fanaticism in the name of patriotism leads the pen of the historian. We know, however, that the German Emperor Maximilian everywhere confronted French intrigues, which after his death even induced the French king Francis to become an aspirant for the German Imperial Crown. Obviously attempts were made after the unlucky battle of Dornach and the peace treaty of Basle 1499, in which Basle was lost to the Empire, to seperate also Strassburg from the Roman Empire and to put it under French dominion.
It may be true that the second part of Wimpfeling's Ger- mania was really much nearer to his heart than the first part, for, if in the first part Wimpfeling, the patriot, speaks, in the second part the humanist Jacob Wimpfeling comes to express his innermost feelings. Here he dwells at length upon the study of the Humaniora and the education of the youth. And after well meant admonitions to the Council and the citizens of Strassburg to cultivate all virtues and good morals, and espe- cially to look with favor upon the liberal arts and letters, he advances his proposition of establishing a new City School between the grades and the university, a gymnasium in the true and literal meaning of the word, a Vahtschul as he calls it in the German rendering of his Germania that was also submitted to the City Council alongside with the Latin version for those members of the Council probably that were a little rusty on their Latin. This German version of the Germania, however, was not put into print during the life time of Wimp- feling. It was rescued from oblivion 147 years later at the end of the thirty years war (after the signing of the treaty of Miinster and Osnabriick) by another German patriot, also a native of Alsace, by Hans Michael Moscherosch. In 1907
506 Voss
it was republished by me in the Transactions of the Wisconsin Academy with an introduction and notes.
I am however only concerned in this paper with the first part of Wimpfeling's Germania, the earliest attempt to my knowledge of writing a history of Alsace and discussing the question of the nationality and state allegiance of the Alsatians.
Wimpfeling's treatise was favorably received by the magis- trate of Strassburg and as a token of appreciation he was given twelve gold ducats. Wimpfeling's friends and admirers among the humanists not only in Alsatia, but all over the empire were proud of his publication and praised him for it in poetry and prose after the fashion of those days. But there arose all at once opposition to his book from a direction from which Wimpfeling hardly would have anticipated it, from a young Franciscan scholar, who thus far had been on especially friendly terms with the venerable humanist. This opponent was Thomas Murner.
After having spent seven years since his admission to priest- hood at the very early age of nineteen, in all the leading univer- sities of the continent, Thomas Murner returned to Strassburg in 1500 and soon made a name for himself as a popular preacher, following in the foot-steps of Geiler von Keisers- berg, the famous preacher at the Strassburg cathedral.
After reading Wimpfeling's Germania this young scholar, fresh from the universities where he had taken part in many a debate, could not help noticing some of the very weak points in Wimpfeling's argumentation. And for sheer fun, if not deviltry, for he was a born satirist and his pen ever flowed easily, he sat down and wrote a reply, a refutation of the Ger- mania, taking issue with the learned Wimpfeling. Of course he had no thought of ever publishing this whimsical produc- tion.
And, when soon after this, he was once more a guest at the hospitable home of Wimpfeling and the question of the much talked about Germania, for it must have created some sensation, was broached, he probably in his youthful spirit was bold enough to dare to get himself into a debate with his venerable master, and in the course of it let it out that he knew of another Germania that by no means agreed with Wimpfeling's de- ductions. However, as soon as he discovered how chagrined
Two Alsatian Patriots of the Sixteenth Century 507
and offended and hurt Wimpfeling became after this hasty and unexpected overture, Murner regretted what he had said in his youthful eagerness and his love of a spirited debate and on February 16, 1502 sent the following letter to Wimp- feling.
Thomas Murner to Jacob Wimpfeling. I was foolish enough to see you dearest father and best teacher in a most absurd light. I regarded you a differ- ent Wimpfeling than the man I have beheld with my eyes, devoted to all the humanities of a better life. Wherefore I declare, trusting to your paternal clemency, that I am the author of Uiis lucubration against your Gcrmania, Let these things to which I have given expression by my irate pen be lulled and destroyed, because I was guilty of distrusting you. Nevertheless I send ( you the unfinished manuscript. I beg that I may be yours, best master, hoping that you will regard me most loyal to you. From our cloister on the 16 of February 1502.
Wimpfeling, who was very vain and spoiled and who could not stand any criticism, as we know from the many and bitter controversies in which he was involved, took a dislike, it seems, after this incident to his young friend, although he had good reason to consider the whole matter closed and ami- cably settled. For Murner had himself acknowledged his folly, had handed over to him his unfinished manuscript, the reply to his Germania, and had authorized him to destroy it. We have no reason, however, to surmise that Wimpfeling broke entirely with Murner, but their friendship had probably cooled considerably, perhaps also on the part of Murner.
The correspondence between Wimpfeling and Murner was opened up again in July, when Wimpfeling took it upon him- self to reply to Murner in the name of Geiler von Keisersberg, to whom Murner had addressed a letter in which he com- plained that Geiler had attacked him in one of his sermons. We have good reason to believe that Geiler was perfectly sincere and innocent in this matter, that he never thought of offending or ridiculing Murner publicly. Wimpfeling's letter however contained passages that were meant to hurt and that did hurt Murner, especially where he refers to his father in such an offensive and certainly uncalled for manner. He speaks of him as a former common cobbler, who later became a quack lawyer.
This letter to which other things may have come that are beyond our control, but which it would not be difficult to point
508 Voss
out, the opposition of the friars to the plans and projects of Wimpfeling with reference to the newly to be established City School, unguarded remarks on the part of Wimpfeling, the anger of the Semi-Galli whom Wimpfeling had so severely censured and accused of lack of patriotism, all these things taken together induced Murner to rewrite his refutation of Wimpfelings' Germania after all and to publish it in book form.
When Murner's printed booklet which bore the title Germania Nova, came into Wimpfeling's hands, he was simply beside himself. He now wrote another letter to Murner in which he put aside all former restraint, and the break between the two men became complete. I cannot go into the details of this literary fight, into which all the friends and pupils of Wimpfeling were drawn and which finally degenerated into a coarse attack upon the person of Murner, the culprit who had dared to attack the venerable master. Of course Murner, too, wielded his pen to pay his opponents back in their own coin. He was accused of everything bad imaginable and finally charged with lack of patriotism as well as with downright treason. It is against this latter attack that I wish to defend him. For this purpose it will be necessary to examine more closely the little book that aroused such terrible anger and opposition.
In the foreword Murner states that the object of his treatise, is to throw light upon the early history of Strassburg which had been treated by certain people more in a poetic than in an historical manner. The first point that he makes against Wimpfeling reads: Galli fuere Romanorum reges. Whether he would have translated it: Gauls or Frenchmen have been Ro- man kings, I do not know, for the chief trouble both in Wimpfel- ing's and Murner's so-called historical treatises is this, that the single Latin word Galli must serve both of them to express the three words meaning Gauls, Franconians and Frenchmen. Charlemagne, maintains Murner, was a Gaul and a native of Austrasia belonging to Gaul. Only later in life Charlemagne preferred to call himself a German.
Wimpfeling had tried to prove the German descent of Charlemagne by the German proverbial saying: You could not do that even if you were as clever as King Pippin. From
Two Alsatian Patriots of the Sixteenth Century 509
this he drew the following conclusion: Since Charlemagne was the son of Pippin, and Germans were not conversant with foreign names, Pippin must, of course, have been a German. To this Murner cleverly replies: But King Arthur and the knights of his Round Table as well as king Solomon live in German proverbs, but nobody would call them German on that account. Therefore Wimpfeling's deduction must be wrong. And if Wimpfeling calls attention to the fact that Charlemagne wrote German books, that he gave his children German and not French names, Murner remarks, that it must not be forgotten, however, that Charlemagne had a French education, that he spoke French, just as the present emperor Maximilian masters both German and French. And if Char- lemagne resided in Germany, built German churches and cloisters, founded German cities and strongholds, even chose his burial place in Germany, again it should be remembered that Charles had been in Paris and Rome as well, that it was he who founded the university of Paris and that he certainly had done as much for France as for Germany.
If Wimpfeling maintained that the German tribes would not have recognized Charles as their ruler, if he had not been German, Murner calls attention to the fact that Charlemagne did not come to Germany as a conqueror like Caesar and Augustus, but in order to spread the Christian faith and that as Christians the Germans had cheerfully submitted to his rule.
That Strassburg belonged once upon a time to Gaul is further proved, according to Murner, by the lily of the arms of the Free City, which proof even Wimpfeling had not entirely rejected. It is further proved by the colors of the flag of the city of Strassburg about which Wimpfeling had written again more like a poet than a historian. For the colors of the flag of the city go back to a special honor bestowed upon the city by Charlemagne for the bravery that its citizens exhibited in the wars against the infidels.
But (and this is important for Murner, the patriot and loyal Alsatian) since the same emperor, already before the divi- sion of the Empire had raised Strassburg to the position of a Free City of the Empire, the question of the reclaiming of Strassburg by France could not be raised at all, nor was it right to speak in this connection of Gallic servitude. It was
510 Voss
true that the city later when an attempt was made to annex it to France, changed its flag and put the picture of the Holy Virgin on it, because she saved the city from the enemy. From this fact dated also the oath of the Strassburg citizens and the inscription upon the city seal, which reads: Holy Virgin, pray the Father to protect the people and the city. In the same academic way Murner tries to prove that Gauls ruled over the region of Strassburg. King Clovis, he says built the tower of Strassburg, Pippin was a subject of Chilperich, therefore a Gaul. Later, it is true, the Roman Empire and Alsace with it, passed by the will of God over to German Kings, and on that account God would never permit that Strassburg should again be united with France.
And towards the end of his Germania Nova Murner takes up the unjust reproach of Wimpfeling against those Strass- burgers who were said to have acted unpatriotically when sent to France as ambassadors. This reproach Murner calls an insult not only to the ambassadors but to the whole city which knew well enough whom it should pick out as ambassador, for in the whole Empire the citizens of Strassburg were known as good and loyal Germans. Finally Murner asks Wimpfeling not to receive this booklet in an unkindly manner, because it had only to do with the matter that he had treated and not with his person, for he respected his learning and his unblem- ished moral conduct of life very highly.
This is in a few words the outline of Murner's much talked about, but, I am afraid, little read book, the Germania Nova, which he published together with the address he had given at Solothurn during the meeting of the Order of his province in June of 1502.
If we look at Wimpfeling's Germania and at Murner's Germania Nova a little more closely, we cannot help detecting that both of these treatises are full of factitious statements, and that misconceptions have crept in, for, as I have mentioned before, there was not yet a science of history at the beginning of the 16th century.
Germania cisalpina was included by Roman authors in Gallia belgica, but the land itself was inhabited by people of German descent, so that with regard to the soil this region could be included in Gaul, but with regard to the population
Two Alsatian Patriots of the Sixteenth Century 511
and its language it belonged — and that is true today — to Ger- mania.
The question of Charlemagne's nationality has been raised anew quite recently by the Academy of Paris, but not conclu- sively decided. That his mother tongue was German, his biographer Einhard attests, but the position of his father as Majordomus (Stewart) in Neustria and Burgundy as well as his birthplace make the whole matter again debatable and uncertain. Both Wimpfeling and Murner, steeped in the traditions of their time, make statements that we cannot accept. Wimpfeling and Murner both call Charlemagne the founder of the university of Paris, it was founded, however, much later, in 1206. Wimpfeling talks of Austrasia at the time of Caesar, Murner of Clovis as the founder of Strassburg Cathedral (in reality the cathedral was built during the 15th century), Murner of Charlemagne who made Strassburg a free Imperial City (that happened also much later). As I have pointed out before, the worst misstatements and mis- understandings, however, are due to the fact that the Latin word Galli now is applied to the old Celts in Gaul, now to the Merovingian Franconians and then again to the French of later centuries. If, however, the opponents of Murner who had been called into the arena by their master Wimpfeling, make it a point to slander Murner, and especially to accuse him of lack of patriotism, even calling him a traitor, I wish to say a word in his defense. As they did not read his book they entirely overlooked the fact that he as well as Wimpfeling considers the claims of the French upon Strassburg and the other Alsatian cities as entirely without foundation. However unimportant Murner's little book may have been, it hardly can be called traitorous and dangerous to the Empire.
Nevertheless Wimpfeling and his followers succeeded in winning the Council of Strassburg entirely over to their side. On the second of August 1520 Thomas Murner was summoned to appear before the Magistrate in session, and he had solemnly to swear, not to give the books that he had written against Wimpfeling out of his hands, nor to sell them or give them away without the knowledge and pleasure of the City Judge and the Council.
512 Voss
That explains why the little book that aroused such an animosity and furore amongst Wimpfeling and his admiring friends has become so rare. As far as we know there is only one copy of the original in existence now, the one in the Library of the City Council of Luzern in Switzerland (Helvetia). Of the 600 copies that were printed, only six had been sold, and the printer also had to swear that he would not reprint or republish it in any form. This order of the Council of Strass- burg was confirmed, no doubt at the instigation and through the influence of Wimpfeling's friends, by the Emperor Maxi- milian. In 1503 the latter sent his secretary Peter Voltsch expressly to Strassburg to prevent the exportation of a book with the contents of which he was hardly familiar, but the author of which he created two years later at Worms a poet laureate, a sure proof that Murner was certainly not looked upon by the authorities as a man who might endanger the safety of the Empire, betray his own country, and play into the hands of the French. The same emperor appointed Murner a few years later a court chaplain, and in recognition of this fact Murner dedicated to Emperor Maximilian his translation of Virgil. And to his successor Emperor Charles V Murner dedicated his famous "Appeal to the Nobility of the German Nation," newly edited by myself in Braune's reprints of rare books of the 16th and 17th centuries. Murner 's loyalty and love of country is further shown in a great many passages of his other writings. For with Wimpfeling and others he sees the chief reason for the downfall and helplessness of the Empire in the disobedience of the princes, in the spirit of resistance against the Head of the Empire, and like Wimpfeling he preaches reform and a change of mind and tactics.
In such vein certainly no one could write who planned at the same time, as his enemies maintained, the downfall of the Em- pire and the dismemberment of his native country.
ERNST Voss
University of Wisconsin
ZUM ALTNORDISCHEN VOKALISMUS
Altnordisch MA: MEG-UM
H. Osthoff hat in seinem Aufsatz "Das Praeterito-praesens mag" (P. B. Beitr. XV, S. 211-218) meiner Meinung nach die von Kluge1 herriihrende Ansicht widerlegt, dass dem germ. *mag drei verschiedene Ablautsvokale im Pras. ind. plur. (d.h.ti:e:ft, *mag-um, *meg-um, *mug-um) zu grunde liegen. Doch lasst Osthoffs Darlegung, wie mir scheint, namentlich mit Rlicksicht auf das Nordgermanische und dessen Verhaltnis zum Urgermanischen viel zu wiinschen iibrig. Um altn. md .•meg- urn richtig zu verstehen, werden wir daher Osthoffs Beweisfiihr- ung im Einzeln genauer priifen miissen.
a) Osthoff hebt (S. 212) mit Recht hervor, dass altisl. meg-urn nicht aus einem urgerm. *meg-um hatte hervorgehen konnen, wie dies Kluge (ibid., S. 62) behauptet. Ebensowenig aber ware fur urgerm. *meg-um altisl. *mjqg-um2 ( = got. *mig~ urn) zu erwarten, wie dies Osthoff annimmt. Hier ware keine weitere Brechung (d.h. Diphthongierung) des zu grunde liegen- den I am Platze (d.h. urnord. *mig-um ( = got. mig-um)> *mJQg-um), da sonst beim starken Verbum trotz des u der Endung der ungebrochene Vokal I immer bestehen bleibt, wie z. B. im Prat. plur. der I. Ablautsreihe, wo sicher kein "urgerm. £," sondern urgerm. I ( = indo-germ. £) zu grunde liegt, z. B. bit-urn, stig-um zu bita, stiga Inf. Der Mangel der weiteren Brechung des Stammvokals findet vielleicht in der schwachen Betonung des Verbs seine Erklarung. Jedenfalls begegnet beim altisl. starken Verbum nur die Diphthongierung eines zu grunde liegenden e (vor einem a der Endung) namentlich
1 Vgl. F. Kluge, "Beitrage zur Geschichte der germanischen Conjugation," Q.F. XXXII, S. 62 £.: "Zu dieser Wurzel aber konnte der 1. Plur. Perf. ur- spriinglich nicht anders als idg. mamaghmS=germ. meghm6=megum gelautet haben; augenscheinlich ware das an. megum dieser Grundform gleich. Die Formen der iibrigen Dialecte waren leicht begreiflich: sie waren zu erklaren aus dem Bestreben der Sprache, den sonst nicht auftretenden Ablaut, a:i (mdga migmf) in den gelaufigeren Ablaut a:a(skdla skolumi) umzusetzen oder durch Uniformirung in a:a umzuwandehi."
* Vgl. Osthoff, ibid., S. 212: "Hatte aber nicht aus einer solchen form viel- mehr ein aisl. *ntJQg-um(=got. *mig-um) hervorgehen sollen?"
513
514 Sturtevant
bei Liq. (/, r), wie z. B. bjarga, gjalda Inf. aus alterem *bergat *gelda (vgl. ahd. bergan, geltan).
tibrigens scheint Osthoff mit Kluge zu meinen, dass das I der aufgestellten Form *meg-um fur das Urgerm. berechtigt ware, obwohl Osthoff em got. *mig-um fiir alter als ein altisl. *mJQg-um halten muss. Wie das Got. lehrt, ist kein e fiir das Urgerm. ausser in der altgerm. Brechungsgestalt vor h oder vor r anzunehmen.3 Osthoff hat sich hier, gerade wie Kluge, No- reen, u.a., noch nicht von diesem "urgerm. e" befreit, welches den Blick fiir die Entwickelung des nord.- und westgerm. I schon langst triibt. Zu welchen Folgerungen Kluges Theorie iiber "urgerm. £" in bezug auf aisl. meg-urn gefiihrt hat, zeigt sich z. B. bei Mollers4 verwickelter Hypothese iiber die Ent- stehung von urgerm. *e ( = #) im Plur. der V. Ablautsreihe der starken Verben. Zu grunde liegt hierbei die Annahme, es sei in aisl. megum "urgerm. e" bewahrt; doch muss nach den Ge- setzen des nordischen Vokalismus hier ein sekundares I vor- Hegen, da weder beim Verbum noch beim Subst. ein I ( = indo- germ. £) vor einem u der Endung lautgerecht bestehen kann.
b) Was die Ubertragung des Stammvokals aus dem Opt. auf den Ind. plur.+Inf. anlangt, hat Osthoff (S. 212 f.) mit Recht auf den gleichen Vorgang in Mhd. hingewiesen. Er scheint aber der Meinung zu sein, dass im Hochdeutschen diese Entlehnung aus dem Opt. erst in mhd. Zeit begonnen habe, wohl weil im Ahd. der i-Umlaut von u anscheinend fehlt. Da aber •der i-Umlaut des u gewiss viel fruher vollzogen war, als zu der Zeit, wo er in der Orthographic bezeichnet wurde,5 so ist mit •der Moglichkeit zu rechnen, dass diese Entlehnung in ihren Anfangen bis in die ahd. Periode zuriickreicht, und dass Formen wie z. B. ahd. mug-urn, durf-um (wenigstens im Spatahd.) auf eine Linie mit den mhd. mug-en, diirf-en zu stellen sind.
Da Osthoff weiter das Altnorw. — Altschw. nicht neben dem Altisl. herangezogen hat, hat er auf dem nordgerm. Sprachgebiet
3 Vgl. H. Collitz, "Segimer: Oder germanische Namen in keltischem Ge- wande," /. E. G. Phil. VI, S. 253-306, 1907; und neuerdings "Early Germanic Vocalism," M. L. Ns. XXXIII, S. 321-333, 1918.
4 Vgl. H. Mollers Rezension von Kluges Schrift (Beilr. zur Gesch. der germ. Conj.) in Engl. Studien III, S. 154 f.
5 Vgl. z. B. spatahd. ibUo (Merigarto, 2, 64), mmllen (Georgsl., 37, HS.), die der Orthographic nach auf den i-Umlaut von tf weisen, vgl. Braune, Ahd. Grammatik*, §32, Anm. 4. Fur weitere Beispiele vgl. P. B. Beitr. XXI, S. 292.
Zum Altnordischen Vokalismus 515
einen auffallenden Parallelismus mit dem aisl. meg-urn Ind. plur. (nach meg-a, -ir, -i Opt.) unbeachtet gelassen, namlich altnorw.6 pyrfa Inf.: pyrf-om Ind. plur. nach pyrf-a, -ir, -i Opt. ( = altisl. purf-a: purf-um, purf-a, -ir, -i).
Schliesslich hat Osthoff diese Entlehnung aus dem Opt. bei demjiingeren schwachen Prat, der Praterito-pras. im Altisl. nicht in Betracht gezogen, vgl. z.B. kynna neben kunna; pyrfta neben purfta; mynda:minda neben munda; mtfnda: menda neben monda; und skylda:skilda neben skulda. Die Form skulda ist im Altisl. ziemlich selten und ist eher als eine im Altisl. vorkommende altnorweg. Form7 zu betrachten. Demnach ware bei altisl. skolo die lautgerechte Form des Ind. prat, durch die umgelautete Form des Stammvokals aus dem Opt. ganz und gar verdrangt, ebenso wie bei altisl. mega.
Diese Entlehnung des Stammvokals aus dem Opt. bei dem jiingeren Prat, der Praterito-pras. im Altisl. geht derselben Ent- lehnung beim alien Prat, parallel; man darf sie sogar als Fort- setzung desselben Vorgangs betrachten, und daher dient diese Tatsache zur weiteren Bestatigung von Osthoffs Annahme iiber die Entlehnung des I in altisl. meg-um aus dem Opt. (meg-a, -ir, -i usw.).
c) Osthoffs Auffassung der Wurzel *mug- als sekundare Entwickelung (S. 213-15) scheint mir durchaus richtig zu sein. Da der Stammvokal u der Pluralformen tatsachlich weder im Got. noch im Altisl. vorliegt, miissen ja im Westgerm. die Nebenformen des Plur. mit u (vgl. ahd. — alts. — altfries. mug-u(n) gegen ahd. mag-um, angs. mag-on) als sekundar gelten. Dass aber die Ablautung mag. -mug-urn, mdhta, auf das Westgerm. beschrankt sei, wie dies Osthoff behauptet,8 kann man nicht zugeben, weil auch im Nordgerm., d.h. im Altnorw.-Altschwed.,9 der Stammvokal u,, sowohl wie a, im
• Vgl. J. Thorkelson, "Islensk sagnord," S. 30 f.
7 Vgl. J. Thorkelson, ibid., S. 57.
8 Vgl. Osthoff, ibid., S. 215: "Die ablautung mag:mugun, mohta muss eine jiingere, im westgerm. oder gar erst im sonderleben der einzelnen westgerm. dialekte durch analogiewirkung hervorgerufene sein." Und S. 212: "mug- erscheint nur westgermanisch, und zwar hier neben mag-; das geringste ver- breitungsgebiet besitzt das nur skandinavische meg-."
• Vgl. Noreen, Altisl. Grammatik,3 §515, Anm. 1; Fritzner, Ordbog over det gamle norske sprog1 II, S. 618, 742; Haegstad, Madet i dei gamle norske kongebrev, S. 27.
516 Sturtevant
Inf. und im Ind. plur. (vgl. mug(h}a: mag(ti)a Inf. und mug(h)- om:mag(h)-om Ind. plur.) tatsachlich vorliegt und noch in mnorw.-mschwed. Zeit10 fortlebt. Daher lasst sich der Um- bildungsvokal & nicht auf das Westgerm. beschranken, sondern muss auch dem Nordgerm. zugeschrieben werden, das hier eine dem Westgerm. parallele Entwicklung zeigt. Da aber im Altisl. keine Umbildungsform *mtig- bezeugt ist, muss man diese Form auf dem altnorw.-altschwed. Sprachgebiet als eine im Sonderleben des Nordischen durch Analogiewirkung nachtrag- lich (d.h. nach der urnord. Zeit) entstandene ansehen. Im Westgerm. hingegen, wo samtliche Dialekte11 die Nebenformen mit n aufweisen, kann diese Neubildung schon der urwestgerm. Grundsprache angehoren. Die Einfiihrung des Vokals u im Nord.- und Westgerm. entsteht wohl zum Teil aus dem Bestre- ben der Sprache, den Stammvokal des Plur. von dem des Sg. zu differenzieren und dieser Umstand kann vielleicht den Grund erklaren, weshalb das Altisl. im Gegensatz zum Westgerm. keine Nebenformen mit ti aufweist. Im Altisl. waren schon die Stammvokale von urgerm. *mag:*mag-um im Sg. und im Plur. verschieden geworden (d.h. md:*meg-um, d:e statt &:ti). Diese Differenzierung (d.h.ft:e) der Stammvokale kann aber nicht dem Westgerm. zugeschrieben werden, weil hier die Ubertragung des umgelauteten Vokals (e) aus dem Opt. auf den Ind. plur. erst in mhd. Zeit erfolgte. Freilich machte sich auch im Westgerm. die Neigung geltend, die urspriinglich glei- chen Stammvokale im Sg. und im Plur. zu differenzieren, aber abweichend vom Nordischen so, dass der Vokalismus sich nach dem Muster der IV. Reihe der Praterito-pras. richtete (vgl. urwestgerm. *mag:*mag-um, das spater in den einzelnen Sprachen zu *mag:*mug-um umgebildet wurde nach dem Muster von *skal:*skul-um, *man:*mun-um usw. der IV. Reihe, die auf einer Stufe mit der III. Reihe *kann:*kunn-um steht).
Sicher muss man aber Osthoff gegen Kluge hinsichtlich der Ursprunglichkeit der drei Ablautsvokale in germ. *mdg-, *m£g-, *mtig- recht geben; erstens weil altn. meg-urn geradezu gegen ein urgerm. *meg-um spricht, und zweitens weil die nord.-
10 Vgl. Haegstad, ibid., S. 19.
11 Im Angs. tritt dieses « nur im Opt. (d.h. mug-e) und zwar erst ganz spat auf; vgl. Sievers, Angs. Grammatik3, §424, 10.
Zum Altnordischen Vokalismus 517
und westgerra. Formen mit u als sekundar gelten miissen. In seiner Beweisfiihrung aber iibergeht Osthoff das Zeugnis der nordgerm. Dialekte (d.h. des Altnorw.-Altschwed.), die auf die sekundare Entwickelung ebenso klar weisen, wie die westgerm. Dialekte.
d) Wohl mit Recht glaubt Osthoff (S. 215 ff.), dass sich urgerm. *mag:*mag-um aus einem alteren *mdg:*mag-um der VI. Ablautsreihe entwickelt habe. Angesichts des griechischen /MJX-, fJ-a-x- (vgl. auch altir. mdm) wird wohl auch germ. *mag von einer indogerm. a-Wurzel ( = germ, d) abstammen, deren Tief- stufe ( = germ. &) in dem Nomen *mah-ti-z ( = got. mahts) er- halten ist. Wie erklart sich aber die Ausgleichung der Stamm- vokale zu Gunsten des Plur. (*mag-um) gegen die sonst bei der VI. Ablautsreihe ubliche Ausgleichung zu Gunsten des Sg., vgl. *mdt:*mat-um zu mdt:mdt-um und *dg:*ag-um zu dg: dg-um?
Osthoff meint (S. 217 f.), dass der Einfluss des vokalgleichen Synonyms *kann auf den Sg. (d.h. alteres *mdg) bestimmend gewirkt habe. Eine Parallele hierzu sieht er in dem jiingeren altn. knd:kneg-um, kndtta (vgl. ahd. bi-kndhen, alts, bi-kntgan, angs. ge-cndwan), das nach dem Muster von dem gleich be- deutenden md:meg-um, mdtta umgebildet ist.
Wenn aber ein urgerm. *mdg Sg. nach *mag-um, *mahta, *maht- usw. unter Mitwirkung von *kann zu *mag umgebildet ware, so sieht man nicht recht ein, weshalb eine lautgerechte Pluralform *mag-um nach der Pluralform *kunn-um nicht gleichfalls zu *mug-um hatte umgebildet sein sollen, zumal in ihrer geschichtlichen Gestalt die Ablautsvokale gleich werden (vgl. *mag:*mag-um) und diese gleichen Stammvokale nicht, wie bei *kann:*kunn-um, den Unterschied der Stammsilbe des Sg. von der des Plur. deutlich erkennen lassen. Tatsachlich kann aber, wie Osthoff schon richtig gezeigt hat (vgl. oben, c) die Pluralform *mug-um nicht fur das Urgerm. gelten, da sie eine sekundare Umbildungsform der jiingeren Sprachen dar- stellt. Eine Umbildungsform *mag Sg. (gleich *kann) wiirde dann nach Osthoff fur das Urgerm. gelten, nicht aber die Um- bildungsform *mug-um im Plur. (gleich *kunn-um), weil diese erst in westgerm. Zeit entstanden ist.
Gegen die Annahme, bei der Entwicklung des a in urgerm. *mag habe der Vokal des gleich bedeutenden *kann mitgewirkt,
518 Sturtevant
sprechen eben die Verhaltnisse im Nord- und Westgerm., wo die Mitwirkung von anderen Praterito-pras. die Umbildung der Pluralform zur Folge gehabt hat (vgl. z. B. westgerm. *mag: *mag-um>*mag:*mug-um nach *skal:*skul-um, das auch auf einer Stufe mit *kann:*kunn-um steht). Weiter will hier der vermeintliche Parallelismus im Altn., den Osthoff zur Stiitze seiner Annahme herangezogen hat, wenig bedeuten, denn im Altn. war vom Sg. aus (vgl. md:knd aus alterem *kndw) schon das ganze Verbum knd:kneg-um, kndtta nach dem Muster von md:meg-um, mdtta umgebildet worden. Bei urgerm. *magan hingegen ware nach Osthoff nur die Singularform (d.h. *mag) durch das Verbum *kunnan (d.h. *kann) beeinflusst worden. Die Uniformierung der Ablautsvokale in urgerm. *mag:*mag- um aus einem *mdg:*mag-um darf man dem Einfluss von an- deren Praterito-pras. aus dem Grunde nicht zuschreiben, weil sonst (d.h. ausser bei der VI. Ablautsreihe) die Stammvokale des Sg. und des Plur. pras. verschieden waren.
Daher glaube ich mit Professor Collitz,12 dass nicht das Vorbild von *kann, sondern vielmehr das Vorbild des Subst. mahts (urgerm. *mah-ti-z mit Tiefstufenablaut) auf den Voka- lismus von *mdh:*mag-um bestimmend gewirkt hat. Dazu kommt noch weiter der Einfluss der schwachen denominativen Verba in Betracht, die den gleichen Stammvokal wie in dem entsprechenden Nomen enthalten (ebenso wie got. magan Ini.:mahts Subst.).
Dass got. mag von einer indogerm a-Wurzel ( = germ. 0. d.h. alteres urgerm. *mofi) kommt, hat Osthoff wahrscheinlich ge- macht, aber der Grund, weshalb *mdh:* mag-urn zu *mag: *mag-um (gegen *6g:*og-um und *mdt:*mdt-um) ausgeglichen ist, bleibt immer noch zweifelhaf t.
II
Altnordisch KAUPA: KEYPTA: KEYPTR
Das altn. schwache Verbum kaupa:keypta:keyptr zeigt eine auffallende Unregelmassigkeit darin, dass das Pras. nach der at-Konjugation (kaupi 1. Pers. sg., kaupir 2.U.3. Pers. sg.) flektiert, wahrend im Prat, und im Part. prat, die umgelautete Form des Stammvokals (d.h. *au>ey) auf ein weggefallenes
"Vgl. H. Collitz, "Das schwache Prateritum," Hesperia I, S. 115 f.
Zum Altnordischen Vokalismus 519
»(;') und daher auf ein schwaches Verbum der jaw-Konjugation weist. Schon Noreen1 und Cleasby-Vigfusson1 fiihren die um- gelautete Form des Prat, und des Part. prat, auf eine Grundform auf *-atjan zuriick, die dem got. kaupat-jan entsprechen soil. Professor Collitz aber hat wohl das Richtige getroffen, wenn er sagt ("Das schwache Prateritum," Hesperia, S. 44, §18): "Der Umlaut in altn. keypta, p.p. keyptt darf schwerlich mit Cleasby- Vigf. mit got. kaupatjan in Verbindung gebracht werden, sondern wird auf ein verlorenes Prasens *keypa weisen."
Professor Collitz' Gesichtspunkt scheint mir vollstandig richtig zu sein, denn danach lassen sich die umgelauteten For- men neben den nicht umgelauteten ganz einfach aus den ver- schiedenen Lautverhaltnissen erklaren, welche bei der jan- und der af-Konjugation im Altn. herrschten. Das einzige Schwierige dabei ist der Umstand, dass in ein- und demselben Verbum die at'-Konjugation nur im Pras., dagegen die jan- Konjugation nur im Prat, (daher auch im Part, prat.) bestehen blieb. Sonst schwanken2 viele Verba im Altn. zwischen der jan- und der ai-Konjugation, aber wesentlich nur so, dass die eine Konjugation durchweg als die nor male erkennbar ist, wahrend die andere Konjugation nur in gewissen Fallen (in den Personal-Endungen oder durch Lautveranderungen) her-
1 Vgl. Noreen, Altisl. Grammatik,3 §230, Anm. 6: "keypta ist kjyptda zu einem einst vorhandenen verb *k$ypta (got. kaupatjan)."
Vgl. Cleasby-Vigfusson, Icelandic Dictionary, unter kaupa.
* Vgl. z. B. die schwachen Verba gd, hafa, kligja, lid, nd, segja,lrua,pegja, die zwischen der ai- und der jaw- Konjugation schwanken; die jaw- Formen oder die Spuren derselben treten nur in Pras. auf. Vgl. weiter leiga (erst in jungerer Zeit leigja);leigda:leigdr, und steika (neben steikja) :sleikta:steiklr; da der Stammvokal dieser beiden Verba nicht umlautsfahig ist, stimmen samtliche Formen (ausser im Pras.) der az-Konjugation mit denen der j'aw-Konjugation uberein.
Fiir dieses Schwanken zwischen der ai- und der /an-Konjugation im Alts. — Altfries. — Angs. vgl. Sievers, "Zur Flexion der schwachen Verba," P. B. Beilr. VIII, S. 90 S. Sievers will in diesem Schwanken einen schon in urgerm. Zeit. eingetretenen Zusammenfall der beiden Konjugationen sehen, dessen Erklarung vielleicht auf Mollers urgerm. Synkopierungsgesetz (Beitr. VII, S. 474 f.) der inneren *a, *o beruhe.
Angesichts der Tatsache aber, dass das Angs., das Altfries. und zum Teil das Alts, dazu neigen, das/ der /aw-Konjugation auf samtliche schwache Verba auszudehnen, wird man wohl uberhaupt das Schwanken zwischen der ai- und der /an-Konjugation als sekundare Erscheinung ansehen miissen (vgl. H. Collitz, "Das schwache Prat.," Hesperia I, S. 93-97).
520 Sturtevant
vortritt. Bei kaupa:keypta:keyptr hingegen erscheinen die beiden Verbal-Klassen (d.h. die ai- und die y<w-Klassen) in festem Austausch.
Es miissen also bei dem Verbum kaupa irgend welche be- sonderen Umstande geherrscht haben, die diese singulare gegen- seitige Erganzung der ai- und der yaw-Klassen der schwachen Verba veranlassen konnten. Ich werde daher im folgenden den Entwickelungsvorgang bei dem Verbum kaupa-*keypa darzulegen versuchen.
Es haben im Germanischen nach dem Zeugnis der einzelnen Sprachen von Anfang an immer zwei schwache Konjugationen von diesem Verbum bestanden, namlich der d- und der jan- Typus; d.h. d-Typus, urgerm. *kaupdn = got. kaupdn, mhd. koufen, alts, kdpon, angs. ceapian; jan-Typus, urgerm. *kaup- jan, ahd. koufen, mhd. koufen (keufen), alts. (far)-kdpian mndd. kb'pen, angs. cy~pan.
Demnach muss schon in urnordischer Zeit altgerm. kaupdn der o-Konjugation in die aj-Konjugation iibergetreten sein,3 denn im Altn. hat sich keine Spur der alten d-Konjugation erhalten. Altn. kaupa ist also im Prasenssystem ein denomina- tives Verbum, welches seinem Wesen nach entweder zu der d- oder zu der ai-Konjugation hatte gehoren konnen (vgl. kaup
(dn)
n. a-Stamm, *kaup-ain > kaupa eigentlich 'Kauf machen,' 'handeln.')- Da das Verbum aber im Pras. nach der ai-Kon- jugation flektiert, muss es in urnord. Zeit (nach skorta) gelautet
O)
haben: *kaupa, *kaupta, *kaup(a)t.
Es fragt sich also, weshalb die <w-Konjugation (d.h. kaupa) die ^aw-Konjugation (d.h. *keypa aus urgerm. *kaup-jan) im Prasenssystem ersetzt hat, zumal umgekehrt im Prat, (bezw. Part, prat.) die Formen von *keypa (d.h. keypta:keyptr)
(» die af-Formen (d.h. *kaupta:*kaup(a)t) ersetzt haben.
8 Vgl. umgekehrt das IJbertreten der a j-Konjugation in die tf-Konjugation im Ahd., namentlich in Frankischen, z.B. bei Otfrid, der stets z. B. zildn statt des sonst herrschenden ziltn schreibt. Der Umtausch der beiden Konjugationen zeigt sich waiter bei Otfrid in klagtn, wisfn, usw. neben den normalen klagdn, wtsdn, usw.; vgl. Braune, Ahd. Grammatik* §369, Anm. 2, sowie namentlich Marguerite Sweet, "The third class of weak verbs in Prim. Teutonic," Am. Journ. of Philology, 14 (1898), pp. 417 ff. u. 450 ff.
Zum Altnordischen Vokalismus 521
Man muss zuerst den Umstand in Erwagung ziehen, dass im Pras. schwache Verba ohne Umlaut des Stammvokals au sehr haufig vorliegen (d.h. bei der d-Konjugation). Daher erscheint kaupa im Pras. ganz regelmassig und natiirlich. Im Pras. hat also kaupa altes *keypa wohl aus dem Grunde ver- drangt, weil hier die nicht umgelauteten Formen von kaupa ein viel engeres Verhaltnis, als die umgelauteten Formen von *keypa, mit der Form des entsprechenden Nomens (d.h. kaup) zeigen. Im Pras. fallt sogar die Form des Verbs kaupa haufig mit der des Nomens (namentlich bei Kompositis) zu- sammen,4 so z.B.
at han KAUPI (3. Pers. sg. opt.) KAUPI, 'dass er einen Ver-
gleich mache,'
at KAUPA (Inf.)y<?r<£ (KAUPA-JQrd, Subst.),
peir KAUPA (3. Pers. plu. ind.) belki (KAUPA-balkr, Subst.),
et ek KAUPA (1. Pers. sg. opt.) brefi (KAUPA-bref, Subst.), usw.
Im Prat, ohne Mittelvokal liegt hingegen bei der schwachen Konjugation ein nicht umgelauteter Stammvokal au, wie er fiir kaupa im Prat, nach der az-Konjugation anzunehmen ware
(/>) (also *kaupta), sonst vor.6 Alle sonstigen denominativen Ver-
ben mit einem Stammvokal au gehen nach der ^-Konjugation und zeigen daher regelmassig den Mittelvokal a, so z.B. auka aukada aukadr (auk, n. Subst.) hausta haustada haustadr (haust, n. Subst.) launa launada launadr (laun, n. Subst.) raufa6 raufada raufadr (rauf, L Subst.) sauma saumada saumadr (saumr, m. Subst.)
4Vgl. z.B. das denominative Verbum erschatten (Schall, Subst.) im Nhd. Im Prasenssystem hat die schwache Konjugation (d.h. erschatten) die alte starke Konjugation (vgl. ahd. scellan, mhd. schellen) verdrangt, jedoch bleibt im Prat, und im Part. prat, noch die alte starke Form neben der neuen schwachen be- stehen; d.h. erscholl:erschotten neben erschattte:erschalU.
1 Eine Form wie z. B. baugda ohne Umlaut statt beygda Prat, zu beygja Inf. (got. us-baugjan) begegnet ganz vereinzelt, vgl. kqttrinn beygdi kenginn (S.E., Gylfagynning, XLVI); in A. M. lautet die Stelle aber, kqttrinn baugdi hdngit nach dem C. R. Letztere Lesart in A.M. ist wohl als verderbt anzusehen; jedenfalls liesse sich baugdi nur als eine nachtragliche Bildung ansehen, und kann daher nichts fiir eine in urnord. Zeit entsprechende Form beweisen, wie man sie'bei *kaupta voraussetzen muss.
' Neben raufa der tf- Konjugation liegt auch reyfa der jan-Konjugation teilweise mit gleicher Bedeutung) vor, d.h. 'ein Loch (rauf, f.) machen,' 'durchbohren,' 'rauben.' Zwischen raufada: reyfda Prat, und *kaupta:keypta
522 Sturtevant
Eine Form wie *kaupta statt *kaupada stiinde doch ganz ver- einzelt da, und hatte also sonst keinen Anhalt in der Geschichte der Sprache gefunden.
Andrerseits gab es von der altesten Zeit her eine ganze Menge von jan-Verben (besonders kausative Verba der II. Ablautsreihe) mit ursprunglichem *au der Stammsilbe, welches im Prat., sowohl wie im Pras., den i-Umlaut (d.h. ey) im Altn. zeigen musste; so z. B.
deyfa (got. ga-daubjan) deyfda deyfdr
dreyra (got. ga-drausjan) dreyrda dreyrdr
heyra (got. hausjan) heyrda heyrdr
hleypa (got. us-hlaupjari) hleypta hleyptr
leysa (got. lausjan) leysta leystr, usw.
Es lag also nahe, im Prateritum die ganz vereinzelte Form *kaupta der af-Konjugation durch die regelmassige Form *keypta der jaw-Konjugation zu ersetzen. In Einklang damit ist auch das Part. prat. *kaup(a)t durch keyptt ersetzt worden. Im Prasenssystem hingegen sind die nicht umgelauteten Formen von kaupa (wenigstens insoweit es die Stammsilbe betrifft) ebenso regelmassig als die umgelauteten Formen von *keypa. Im Pras. also wird die Ausgleichung zwischen den beiden Kon- jugationen durch andere Einflusse als im Prat, bestimmt worden sein. Hier musste die Wahl zwischen den beiden gleich berechtigten Typen (d.h. mit oder ohne Umlaut) schliesslich zu Gunsten desjenigen Typus ausfallen, welcher dem ent- sprechenden Nomen naher lag (d.h. zu Gunsten von kaupa ohne Umlaut, entsprechend dem Nomen kaup ohne Umlaut). Fur das Prat, hingegen kommt dieser Umstand nicht in Betracht, weil die nicht umgelautete Form des Prat, ohne Mittelvokal (d.h. *kaupta) als ganz vereinzelt und unregelmassig erschienen ware. Es lag naher sie trotz der Ubereinstimmung des Stamm- vokals au mit dem des Nomens (kaup} durch die regelmassige, umgelautete Form (d.h. keypta) zu ersetzen. Dieser Ersatz wurde wohl weiter durch den Umstand begiinstigt, dass der
besteht aber kein Parallelismus, weil hier der Unterschied in den beiden For- menreihen nicht nur auf dem nicht umgelauteten (au) und dem umgelauteten Stammvokal (ey), sondern auch auf dem Vorhandensein oder Fehlen des Mittel- vokals (a) beruht.
Zum Altnordischen Vokalismus 523
Opt. prat, der ai-Konjugation in Ubereinstimmung mit den jaw-Formen gleichfalls den *-Umlaut aufwies, vgl. *kaupta Ind. prat.;aber *keypt-a, -ir, -i, usw. Opt. prat., gerade wie der Opt. prat, von *keypa (d.h. keypt-a, -ir, -i).
Der Entwickelungsvorgang des schwachen Verbums kaupa im Altn. lasst sich also folgendermassen darstellen:
<u-Konjug. kaupa (kaupta) (*kaup(a)t)
jatt-Konjug. (keypa) keypta keypt(t)
Aus dem oben Dargelegten wird es klar, dass es uberhaupt nicht no tig ist, die Formen keypta:keypt(t) (gegen kaupa Inf.) auf eine Grundform mit dem Suffix *-atjan (vgl. got. kaup-atjan) zuriickzufiihren, um den ^-Umlaut des Stammvokals erklaren zu konnen, wie herkommlich angenommen wird. Diese An- nahme ist um so weniger wahrscheinlich, als die Verba mit dem iterativen Suffix -atjan im Altn. sonst keine Spur eines i- Umlautes hinterlassen haben.7 Die obige Erklarung hingegen geht einfach von dem Gesichtspunkte aus, dass hier Ausgleich- ung zwischen zwei Typen der schwachen Konjugation stattge- funden habe; ein Vorgang, welcher ganz natiirlich ist, nur dass sonst in der Geschichte der Sprache gewohnlich entweder der eine oder der andere Typus vollkommen durchgef iihrt ist.
Erst nach Vollendung dieses Aufsatzes ist mir Erik Noreens Abhandlung8 iiber dasselbe Thema zu Gesicht gekommen. Noreens Aufstellungen weichen hier von der herkommlichen Ansicht iiber eine Grundform *kaupat-jan ab und verdienen daher besondere Beriicksichtigung.
Noreen will aisl. keypta (keyptr), sowohl wie aisl. selda (seldr), auf eine urgerm. Grundform ohne Bindevokal (d.h. *kauf-to, *sal-d$) zuriickf iihren. Seine Hypothese griindet sich wesentlich auf die in Larssons Ordforradet i de alsta islandska handskrifterna belegten Formen kev/t Part. prat. nom. sg. neutr. (Elucidarius) und caufti Prat. sg. 3. Pers. (Cod, A.M. 645 402). Das/ in caufti ( = kaufti) miisse man, meint Noreen, als ur- spriinglich betrachten, weil — trotz der herkommlichen Ansicht
7 Altn. idta ('ja sagen,' 'bejahen') aus urgerm. *ja-atjan (vgl. ahd. gi-jfaen) hatte lautgerecht *cela ergeben mussen, aber das Stammwort ja hat die Be- wahrung des j bewirkt und den nicht umgelauteten Vokal eingefiihrt (Vgl. Folk. u. Torp, "Norw.— Dan.— Etym. Worterbuch" I. S. 472, unterjatte).
8 Erik Noreen, "Fvn. selda och keypta," Sprakvetenskapliga Sallskapets i Uppsala Forhandlingar, 1916-1918, S. 95-101.
524 Sturtevant
/
— kein Beweis dafiir vorliege, dass im Aisl. urspriingliches pt in/2 iibergegangen sei; caufti habe sich also nicht aus urgerm. *kaup-i-dd, sondern aus urgerm. *kauf-td entwickelt. Spater aber seien im Urnord. urgerm. *kauf-td und *sal-dd nach dem Vorbild der grossen Mehrzahl der schwachen Praterita mit Bindevokal * umgeformt worden, d.h. urgerm. *kauf-td, *sal-dd >urnord. *kauft-i-dd, *sald-i-do, woraus sich dann die histor- ischen aisl. Formen mit i-Umlaut, keypta und selda, laut- gerecht entwickelt hatten; keypta setze naturlich ein *keyfta (ebenso wie keypt Part. prat, ein *keyff) voraus. Den Grund zu dieser Umbildung sieht Noreen in der allgemeinen Neigung der schwachen Praterita, ihren prateritalen Charakter deutlicher erkennen zu lassen.9
Gegen die Auffassung, ein j'-Prat. *kaup-i-dd liege dem aisl. keypta zu Grunde, spreche, meint Noreen10 (S. 96-97) ent- schieden die Tatsache, dass niemals, auch nicht in den altesten Handschriften, *keyp-pa mit p der Sumxsilbe, sondern immer regelmassig keyp-ta mit t der Sumxsilbe begegnet. Dieser Umstand, sowohl wie der, dass ein / statt p vor t in cauf-ti steht, deute unbedingt auf urspriingliches / und daher auf eine urgerm. Grundform *kauf-td ohne Bindevokal hin.
Noreens Aufstellung einer Grundform *kauf-to statt *kaup-i- dd erscheint mir durchaus berechtigt. Um den i-Umlaut in aisl. keypta erklaren zu konnen, nimmt er aber weiter an, ur- germ. *kauf-td ware spater im Urnord. zu *kaup-i-ddn umge- bildet worden. Viel einfacher ware doch die Annahme, dass das au in *kauf-to (woraus aisl. caufti 3. Pers. sg.) sekundaren Um-
9 Vgl. S. 99: "I syfte att fortydliga formernas preteriala karaktar." Als Beispiel dieser Neigung fiihrt Noreen westgerm. wista (ahd. wista, angs. wiste) gegentiber gemeingenn. *wiss6 an. Man sieht aber nicht recht ein, wie der prateritale Charakter von *kauf-td nicht geniigend deutlich erkennbar ist, da das / der Suffixsilbe unverandert geblieben ist. Bei *wiss6 (aus vorgerm. *wit-t6) hingegen fehlt das t der Suffixsilbe. Urgerm. *wiss6 und *kauft6 stehen also nicht auf einer Linie, da bei *wissd (im Gegensatz zu *kauftd) das t nicht mehr vorhanden ist, um das Prat, deutlich zu erkennen zu geben.
10 Vgl. S. 96-97: "Direkt oriktigt ar Heuslers pastaende Aisl. Elementarb. s. 110 att "kaupa hat ein j-Prat. : keypta, keyptr." I sa fall skulle vi ju aldst ha *keypj>a, en form som ej existerar."
11 Vgl. S. 98: "For att forklara i-omljudet i de bada, som vi maste antaga ursprungligen bindevokallosa, preteritiformerna selda och keypta uppstalla vi nu den hyptotesen att urn. *sal-dd, *kauf-td till likhet med det overvagande flertalct svaga preterita ombildats till *saldidd, *kauftidd."
Zum AUnordischen Vokalismus 525
laut durch Analogic wirkung nach den iibrigen langsilbigen y<w-Prat. erhalten hatte, d.h. urnord.-urgerm. *kauf-td > aisl. keyf-ta>keyp-ta nach dem Vorbild des Typus hleypta (aus urgerm. *hlaup-i-do). Diese Erklarimg des ^-Umlautes (also als sekundar) in aisl. keypta (gegeniiber caufti ohne Umlaut) erscheint um so natiirlicher, als die Annahme einer Umformung von *kauf-to zu*kaupt-i-dd sich schwerlich mit dem vonNoreen angegebenen Grunde rechtfertigen lasst, namlich dass sich der prateritale Charakter von *kauf-td durch die Umbildung *kaupt- i-dd deutlicher zu erkennen gebe (vgl. oben Fussn. 9). No- reens Annahme einer Umformung des urspriinglichen *kauf-to zu urnord. *kaupt-i-dd scheint auf der Ansicht zu beruhen, urspriingliches t in aisl. keypta stehe nicht in Einklang mit dem ^-Umlaut, da urspriingliches t nicht zu einem y-Prat. hatte gehoren konnen. Diese Ansicht liesse sich aber erst dann gelt- end machen, wenn festgestellt wird, dass der i-Umlaut in keypta gleichfalls urspriinglich ist. Wie schon angedeutet, ist aber aller Wahrscheinlichkeit nach der ^-Umlaut in keypta nicht ursprunglich, sondern sekundar (nach dem Typus hleypta), und demnach wiirde er sich ganz gut mit urspriinglichem t vertragen.
Noreens Annahme hingegen, dem aisl. keypta liege urgerm. *kauj-td ohne Bindevokal (statt *kaup-i-d6) zu grunde, scheint mir jedenfalls den Vorzug zu verdienen. Wie Noreen mit Recht hervorhebt, spricht hierfiir nicht nur das in der altesten Zeit begegnende / statt p der Suffixsilbe, sondern auch die von Noreen aus Larssons Ordforrdd angefiihrte umlautslose Form caufti ( = kaufti). Diese Form caufti ist aber nach dem Vorbild des normalen Typus der langsilbigen schwachen ya«-Praterita mit ^-Umlaut zu keypta umgebildet und schliesslich durch diesen normalen Typus vollig verdrangt worden.
Auch im Westgerm. spricht anscheinend fur eine Grundform ohne Bindevokal (d.h. *kauf-td) das in den alts. Essener Glossen einmal belegte Part. prat, ferkdft, mit / statt p. In den Wer- dener Glossen begegnet auch der Dat. plur.ferkdpton, diese Form aber gehort wohl zu einem Nom. sg. *ferkopid, ist also aus *kdpian regelrecht entwickelt. Nach dem Zeugnis des alts. ferkdft ware gleichfalls das Prat, des jan- Verbs urgerm. *kaup- jan auch im Westgerm. auf eine bindevokallose Grundform *kauf-td ( = urnord. *kauf-td) zuriickzufuhren.
526 Stur tenant
Diese Annahme wird welter durch die in den einzelnen west- germ. Sprachen vorkommenden Formen des Prat, bestatigt. Ahd. kouf-ta hatte ebenso gut aus *kauf-to als aus *kaup-i-dd entwickelt sein konnen. Zu alts, kdpian ist das Prat, nicht belegt, aber die mnnd. Form begegnet ohne Umlaut und mit ft statt pt, d.h. kofte (kochte). Nur angs. c$pte (mit *-Umlaut) scheint auf *kaup-i-dd zuriickzugehen, die Form c$pte konnte aber ganz gut (ebenso wie aisl. keypta) Neubildung12 statt *ceafte sein.
Diese westgerm. Praterita gehen alle auf einen Inf. urgerm. *kaup-jan zuriick und dasselbe wird auch fiir das Nordgerm. (d.h. aisl. keypta zu *keypa) anzunehmen sein, da im West.- und Nordgerm. die Verhaltnisse im Prat, gleich zu liegen scheinen. Fiir das West.- und Nordgerm. waren dann die Grundformen aufzustellen:
urgerm. *kaup-jan Inf. : *kauf-to Prat, woraus
ahd. koufen (aus *koufjan) : koufte alts, kdpian
Westgerm.
mnnd. kdpen : kofte (kochte}
angs. c$pan :c$pte (statt *ceafte)
Nordgerm. aisl. kaupa (statt *keypa) : keypta, caufti (Cod. A.M. 645 4°2).
Es stiinde dann aisl. keypta: caufti auf einer Linie mit west- germ, (angs.) c$pte:mTind. kofte, und aisl. *keypa auf einer Linie mit westgerm. (angs.) c$pan, (mnnd.) kopen, (alts.) kdpian usw.
Weshalb hat aber im Aisl. die Form kaupa Inf. der ai- Flexion die Form *keypa verdrangt? Diese Frage, die ich oben zu erklaren versucht habe, hat Noreen iiberhaupt nicht in Betracht gezogen, wohl weil er der Meinung ist, es habe nie ein alteres anord. *keypa existiert. Dagegen aber spricht nicht nur das Zeugnis der westgerm. Sprachen, sondern auch die Tatsache, dass die urgerm. bindevokallosen Prat, (von den Prat.-pras. abgesehen) am haufigsten zu dem jaw-Typus der schwachen Verba gehoren;13 selbst *sal-dd, das Noreen wohl
11 Vgl. H. Collitz, "Das schwache Prateritum," Hesperia I, S. 44, § 18.
13 Ausser dem jaw-Typus bildeten die Verba *haban und *liban der ai- Flexion anscheinend urspriinglich ihr Prat, ohne Mittelvokal, vgl. H. Collitz, "Das schwache Prateritum," Hesperia I, S. 95 f. Fur das Urgerm. aber ware
Zum AUnordischen Vokalismus 527
mit Recht auf eine Stufe mit *kauf-td stellt, geht auf einen Inf. *sal-jan zuriick (vgl. besonders die -A^-Klasse, die Noreen (S. 98-99) anfiihrt, wie z. B. *sok-jan: soh-td, *work-jan: *work-td, *punk-jan:pdh-td usw).
Noreens Auffassung der Entwickelung des aisl. keypta scheint mir in erster Linie daran zu leiden, dass er das Nord- germ. nicht geniigend in Zusammenhang mit dem Westgerm. gesetzt hat. Sonst hatte er z. B. auch fur das Nordgerm. die beiden Typen dieses Verbs (d.h. die jaw-Klasse und die d- Klasse, urgerm *kaup-jan und *kaup-dn) vorausgesetzt. Nach dem Westgerm. zu urteilen batten diese beiden Typen von An- fang an bestanden und sind demnach als gemeingermanisch zu betrachten.
Die Frage beschrankt sich eben nicht, wie es nach Noreens Beweisfiihrung den Anschein hat, auf die Erklarung der Ent- wicklung des aisl. keypta, sondern sie schliesst die Erklarung der Prasensform kaupa (der <w-Konjugation) mit ein. In seinem Verhaltnis zu diesem Prasens lasst sich das Prateritum keypta nicht verstehen, wenn man nicht die entsprechenden westgerm. Formen zum Vergleiche heranzieht.
Ill
Altnordisch SELDA: SELDR, SETTA: SETTR
In seiner Abhandlung "Zur Frage nach dem /-Umlaut" (P. B. Beitr. XVIII, S. 451-454) hat Axel Kock gezeigt, dass sich altisl. sel(l)da nicht aus einer dreisilbigen urnordischen Form (*sal-i-pa), sondern aus einer zweisilbigen mit zusammenstos- sendem Id (*sal-da) entwickelt haben muss. Die altesten altisl. Handschriften brauchen im Prat, und Part. prat, bei schwachen Verben mit kurzer Stammsilbe ausnahmslos das Zeichen />, wenn in urnord. Zeit. ein Vokal nach dem I verloren gegangen war, aber das Zeichen d, wenn I schon in urnord. Zeit mit dem folgenden Konsonanten zusammenstiess (vgl. Kock, S. 452). Hieraus zieht Kock mit Recht den Schluss, dass, gleichwie das
die ot-Flexion dem betreffenden Verbum (*kaup^jan) nicht zuzuschreiben, da man nordgerm. kaupa der ct-Flexion gegeniiber west- und ostgerm. *kaup-6n nicht als urspriinglich ansehen darf (vgl. oben Fussn. 3).
528 Sturtevant
altisl. prat. ml(l)da dem got. wilda entspricht, so auch altisl. sel(l)da schon in urnord. Zeit zweisilbig gewesen sei und zusam- menstossendes Id gehabt habe (vgl. Kock, ibid.). Die Form selda kann sich also nicht, wie die iibrigen kurzsilbigen Prat., aus einer dreisilbigen urnord. Grundform entwickelt haben, wie z. B. valda aus *val-i-pa.
Die Urspriinglichkeit des Id in selda, meint Kock (S. 451, f.), werde noch weiter durch die Tatsache bewiesen, dass die ostnord. Formen desselben (d.h. altschwed. s aide: solder) nicht neuschwed. zu *salde:*sald, sondern zu salde: said ge- worden sind. Diese nachtragliche Entwickelung der Formen im Ostnord. weise unbedingt auf eine Grundform *salda, nicht *sal-i-pa, weil kurzes a im Altschwed. vor der Lautverbindung Id nur dann verlangert sei, wenn das I dental war und schon in urnord. Zeit mit folgendem d zusammenstiess; also urnord. * soldo > altschwed. salde > salde und sodann sdlde > salde gleich- wie andere a in a ( = 6).
Da nun urspriingliches *sal-da zweisilbig war, so sei (vgl. Kock, S. 453) durch Analogiewirkung nach den langsilbigen jaw-Praterita, die zu dieser Zeit gleichfalls zweisilbig waren (wie z. B. fell-da, verm-da), der umgelautete Vokal e des Pras. an Stelle des lautgerechten a im Prat, und im Part. prat, (na- mentlich im Westnord.) eingetreten, vgl. westnord. selda:seldr, altschwed. salde: solder, seltener salde: s alder, altgutn. dagegen seldi:selt.
Kocks Erklarung der westnord. Formen selda :seldr als Um- bildungen nach den langsilbigen jan-Pi&i. scheint mir im Gegensatz zu Wadstein1 und Moller2 ohne Zweifel richtig zu
1 Vgl. E. Wadstein, "Eine vermeintliche Ausnahme von der /- Umlautsregel im Altnordischen," P. B. Beitr. XVII, S. 422 ff. Hier behauptet Wadstein im Gegensatz zu Kock, dass auch nach kurzer Wurzelsilbe der MJmlaut laut- gerecht eingetreten sei; demnach miisse man die kurzsilbigen nicht umgelaute- ten Prat., wie valda, vakta usw., als Analogiebildungen ansehen und zwar nach den kurzsilbigen "bindevokallosen" Prat., wie z. B. unpa der ai-Klasse zu una Inf. 'zufrieden sein.' *Telda Ind. (mit "lautgerechtem" t-Umlaut) neben tdda Opt. sei zu talda geworden nach dem Muster von unpa (neben ynpa Opt.).
1 Auch H. Moller ("Kunpa und das 7-Prateritum," P. B. Beitr. VII, S. 472, Anm. 1) h It die Formen selda: seldr, setta: settr fUr lautgerecht; er erklart sie aber als Reste einer germ. J-Konjugation, entsprechend dem lat. Imp! . auf -tbam, part. -Uus, also selda aus germ. *salida~n, seldr aus *saltda-z.
Zum Altnordischen Vokalismus 529
sein.3 Nur hat Kock einen, wie mir scheint, wichtigen Umstand ausser acht gelassen, der wohl zur tibertragung des e aus dem Pras. auf das Prat. ind. wird beigetragen haben, namlich die Tatsache, dass der Vokal e im Opt. prat, vollig lautgerecht 1st. Da selda Opt. prat, gleich z. B. fel(l)da Opt. prat, lautgerecht den i-Umlaut erhielt, so ware die Umbildung des Ind. *salda zu selda (im Anschluss an fel(l)da Ind.) um so leichter, zumal bei den urspriinglich "bindevokallosen" Prat. (d.h. der Prater- ito-pras.) die Optativform haufig die Indikativform ersetzte, wie z. B. mynda, mtfnda an Stelle von munda, monda, und skylda an Stelle von skulda usw. Ein alter Opt. prat, selda hatte dem- nach die lautgerechte Form des Ind. prat. *salda ersetzen kon- nen; jedenfalls kann aber die Optativform zur Umbildung des Prat. ind. nach der umgelauteten Form der langsilbigen yaw- Prat, ind. beigetragen haben.
Die Entwickelung des westnord. setta:settr (statt *satta: *sattr) geht nach Kock4 der von selda :seldr parallel. Zwar habe das Verbum setja in Ubereinstimmung mit selja im Prat, und Part. prat, die Formen westnord. setta: settr, altschwed. satte: satter, seltener s&tteisatter, altgutn. settr; vgl. westnord. selda: seldr, altschwed. salde: solder, seltener s&lde.'scelder, altgutn. seldi:selt. Es werde aber bei diesen beiden Verben (d.h. *sal-i-pa und *sat-i-pa) zwischen zwei verschiedenen Perioden der Apokopierung des * zu unterscheiden sein.
Kock hat schon festgestellt (vgl. oben), dass der Verlust des Mittelvokals in *sal-i-pa alt sein muss. Es liegt aber kein Grund vor anzunehmen, dass er in *sat-i-pa ebenso alt wie in *sal-i-pa ist, d.h. dass der Wegfall des -i- in *sat-i-pa alter ist als bei den iibrigen kurzsilbigen yaw-Prat., wie z. B. in valda aus *val-i-pa. Hatte der Mittelvokal in setta von alters her gefehlt, so ware statt tt ein 55 (ebenso wie in altnord. vissa= got.-ahd. wissa) zu erwarten.5
* Vgl. H. Collitz, "Das schwache Prateritum," Hesperia I, S. 69, 180, Anm. 1. Auf Seite 69 sagt Professor Collitz: "Im Ostnord. ist der alte Vokal bewahrt; das westnord. e stammt wahrscheinlich aus dem Prasens."
Nach Kocks Erklarung stammt das e aus dem Pras. im Anschluss an die PrSt. der langsilbigen jcw-Verba. Dieser Erklarung schliesst sich auch A. Heus- ler an in seinem Altisl. Elementarbuch,1 §319, 3.
4 Vgl. Kock, a. a. 0., S. 454: "Prat, und part, setta: settr sind wie sel(l)da: sel(l)dr zu erklaren. Setta hat das e durch analogiewirkung bekommen (vgl. die isl. pratt. festa, lesta, tnerkta, berkta etc. etc.,) und satte ist die altere form."
1 Vgl. H. Collitz, "Das schwache Prateritum," Hesperia I, S. 180, Anm. 1.
530 Sturtevant
Westnord. setta:settr lasst sich also schwerlich genau so wie selda:seldr erklaren, wie dies Kock behauptet, denn zur Zeit, als *salda:*saldr nach dem Muster der zweisilbigen vermda: vermdr, fel(l)da:fel(l)dr usw. zu selda:seldr umgebildet wurde, kann dreisilbiges *sat-i-pa noch weiter existiert haben, und daher wird man westnord. setta:settr eher als eine jiingere Bild- ung und zwar nach dem Muster von selda:seldr ansehen mils- sen.
Kocks Annahme (S. 454) einer direkten Umbildung nach den langsilbigen yaw-Prat, (wie z. B. festa, lesta, merkta, berkta usw.) verkennt den Einfluss des kurzsilbigen yaw-Prat, selda, welches als die unzweifelhaft altere Form das Muster fur die Umbildung des kurzsilbigen *satta zu setta wird dargeboten haben, abgesehen von dem Einfluss der langsilbigen jaw-Prat., die dann ihrerseits wohl weiter zur Umbildung werden beige- tragen haben. Ohne das Beispiel von selda: seldr (das eine Grundform *salda nicht *sal-i-pa voraussetzt) ware *satta: *sattr (vgl. got. satida: satips) vielleicht nie zu setta :settr umgebildet worden. Eine Parallele hierzu bietet das altisl. kjdsa, welches erst durch das Beispiel des Verbs frjdsa nach dem Muster der reduplizierenden Verba im Prat, umgebildet wurde.6 Bei frj6sa:kj6sa aber liegt der Ausgangspunkt zur Analogie- wirkung klar am Tage (d.h. in dem auslautenden 5 der Stamm- silbe), wahrend der Konsonantismus von setta keinen solchen Ausgangspunkt zur Umbildung nach dem Muster von selda gewahrt; denn alle iibrigen kurzsilbigen yaw-Prat, mit anlau- tendem 5 oder auslautendem t bewahren uberall noch laut- gerecht den nicht umgelauteten Stammvokal a im Prat., so z. B.
semja samda samdr
sedja sadda saddr
letja latta lattr
metja matta mattr
Es fragt sich also, weshalb im Westnord. gerade nur das Verbum setja1 dem Muster von selja gefolgt ist.
6 Vgl. meinen Aufsatz "Uber Neubildungen bei altnordischem frjdsa: kj6sa,"J.E.G. Phil. XVI, S. 499-514.
7 Die sonstigen Formen des Ind. prat, mit umgelautetem Stammvokal, welche Wadstein zur Bestatigung des lautgesetzlichen i- Umlauts bei den kurz- silbigen 7'o«-Verba herangezogen hat, werden von Kock (S. 432 ff.) entweder als urspriinglich langsilbige jan- Verba oder als ganz vereinzelte, jiingere Neu- bildungen abgclehnt.
Zum Altnordischen Vokalistnus 531
Im Westgerm., wo die Verbal tnisse ahnlich wie im Nord- germ. liegen, begegnet bei den kurzsilbigen jaw-Verba (mit aus- lautendem Dental der Stammsilbe) umgelauteter Stammvokal im Prat, haufig neben dem nicht umgelauteten, vgl. z. B. alts. setta: satta (gleich westnord. s^/a: ostnord. satte), letta:latta, quedda: quadda. Die Form mit e ist natiirlich Analogiebildung mit Ubertragung des e aus dem Pras., ebenso wie in westnord. setta. Der Umstand, dass im Nordgerm. die Form setta mit Umlaut sich im Westnord.8 festgesetzt hat, wahrend die Form ohne Umlaut nur im Ostnord. (d.h. altschwed. satte neben scette) erscheint, ist nicht auffallender, als dass im Alts, die beiden Formen neben einander herlaufen, deren Lautgestalt, ebenso wie im Nordgerm., zum Teil auf dialektischer Entwick- lung beruht. Ebenso weist das (Frankische) Ahd. (namentlich Isidor) Umbildungsformen der langsilbigen jaw-Prat, mit Zwischenvokal (wie z. B. sendida, araughida) gegeniiber den sonst fast iiberall vorliegenden apokopierten Formen (vgl. santa, -oucta) auf.
Die westnord. Formen selda:seldr, setta: settr lassen sich leicht als Umbildungsformen erklaren, aber der Grund, weshalb sie gerade auf dem westnord. Sprachgebiet samt einem Teil des ostnord. Sprachgebiets (vgl. das Altgutn.) die lautgerechten Formen verdrangt hatten, oder weshalb nur setja und nicht die iibrigen kurzsilbigen jan- Verba mit auslautendem t der Stamm- silbe gleich setja nach dem Muster von selda:seldr umgebildet wurden, lasst sich, wie bei manchen ahnlichen Dialekteigen- heiten, nicht mit Sicherheit ermitteln.
Erst nach Vollendung dieses Aufsatzes bin ich mit Adolf Noreens neulich erschienener Behandlung9 dieses Themas (aisl. setta, settr) bekannt geworden. Da Noreens Auffassung dieser Frage eine ganz neue Ansicht bedeutet, so mochte ich hier seinen Aufsatz kurz besprechen.
Noreen halt mit Wadstein (Beitr. XVII, S. 422 ff.) den i- Umlaut in aisl. setta, settr fur lautgerecht. Jedoch ist seiner
8 Im Westnord. hat Wadstein (ibid., S. 422, Anm. 3) jedoch auf einen Plur. soldu in dem Dipl. norvegicum 2, 275 aufmerksam gemacht. Demnach ware ein verloren gegangenes *satta im Westnord. nicht unmoglich.
9 A. Noreen, "Nagra fornnordiska preterita, I. Fvn. setta," Sprakveten- skapliga Sallskapets i Uppsala Forhandlingar, 1916-18, S. 91-93. Vgl. auch H. Pipping in Studier i nordisk filologi VI :5, der gleichfalls Kocks Auffassung der Entwicklung von aisl. selda entgegengetreten ist.
532 Sturtevant
Meinung nach der i-Umlaut im Prat, und im Part. prat, der kurzsilbigen jaw- Verba nur da lautgesetzlich, wo die Stamm- silbe auf Dental endigte. Hinsichtlich des Wegfalls des -i- im Prat, liegen die Verhaltnisse, meint er (S. 91), ahnlich wie im Westgerm., wo gleichfalls der Verlust des -*- nach kurzer Stamm- silbe, die auf Dental endigte, als gleichzeitig mit dem Verluste desselben nach langer Stammsilbe anzusehen sei, also z. B. alts. latta, quadda, satta, skudda wie dopta, sanda gegeniiber swettida, nerida usw. Da der Ubergang urgerm. *.sa/-i-a*d>urnord. *sat-ta gleichzeitig mit dem Ubergang von urgerm. *ddm-i-do>mnoTd. *ddm-da eingetreten sei, so habe urnord. *sat-ta gleich *dom-da den i-Umlaut lautgerecht erhalten, und sei spater also laut- gerecht zu aisl. setta geworden, ebenso wie *ddm-da zu aisl. djmda. Ostnord. satte, satler miissten dann Analogieformen sein nach dem Vorbild des Typus velja, valpa, valpr.
Zur Stiitze der Annahme, dass bei den kurzsilbigen jaw- Prat, das -i- nach auslautendem Dental der Stammsilbe friiher als nach anderen Konsonanten verloren gegangen sei, weist Noreen (S. 92) auf das Beispiel der Part. prat, anord. mettr (zu metja) und huettr, neben huattr (zu hvetja). Diese Formen, mettr und huettr, sieht Noreen, ebenso wie aisl. settr, als die ur- sprunglich lautgerechten an. Im Prat, aber habe nur *sat-jan die lautgerechte Form mit ^'-Umlaut (d.h. aisl. setta) bewahrt, da die iibrigen Verba dieser Klasse, gerade wie ostnord. satte, nach dem Typus velja, valpa umgebildet seien.
Fur die Annahme, dass bei dem Prat, und dem Part. prat, der kurzsilbigen jaw- Verba die Synkope des -i- friiher nach Den- tal als nach anderen Konsonanten erfolgt sei, spreche weiter (S. 92) die Tatsache, dass die Part, prat., deren Stammsilbe auf Dental endigte, niemals, wie die iibrigen Part, prat., die langere Form mit i, sondern immer auch in den altesten Handschrif ten nur die kontrahierte Form haben, wie z. B. immer fluttr, gladdr (wie valpr), niemals aber *flutipr, *gladipr (wie valipr).
Den Grund, weshalb nur *sat-jan die "lautgerechte" Form mit *-Umlaut im Prat, und Part. prat, bewahrt habe, wahrend alle iibrigen Verba dieser Klasse nach dem Typus velja, valpa, valpr umgebildet worden seien, sieht Noreen (S. 93) in dem Um- stand, dass das Verbum setja viel haufiger gebraucht wurde als die iibrigen Verba dieser Klasse. Als Parallele hierzu weist er auf das Beispiel von neuschw. dro (anord. eru) 3. Pers. plur.,
Zum Altnordischen Vokalismus 533
das auf Grund seines uberwiegend haufigen Gebrauches die laut- gerechte Form bewahrt hat, anstatt die regelmassige Endung a der 3. Pers. plur. im Prasens anzunehmen, wie dies sonst bei den Prat.-pras. der Fall ist.
Noreens Annahme, dass der Wegfall des -i- in *sat-i-dd im Nord.- und Westgerm. alt sei, erscheint mir durchaus berech- tigt. Dafiir spricht vor allem ahd. saz-/a = alts. sat-ta. Ist aber im Nordgerm. fur den Wegfall des -i- wirklich bei dem Den- taltypus *sat-i-do ein alteres Datum anzusetzen als bei alien anderen Typen der kurzsilbigen yaw-Prat., wie dies Noreen be- hauptet? Um den Wegfall des -*- in *sat-i-do als gleichzeitig mit demselben in *dom-i-dd zu erweisen, zieht Noreen die Ver- haltnisse im Westgerm.10 zur Hilfe heran. Hier deuten aber die Verhaltnisse nicht darauf hin, das bei den kurzsilbigen jan- Verben der Wegfall des -i- im Prat, nach Dentalen alteren Da- tums ist als nach anderen Konsonanten. Im Gegenteil begiins- tigt das Westgerm. die Auffassung, dass das -i- des Prat, ebenso friihzeitig nach gewissen andern Konsonanten als nach Dentalen weggefallen war, und zwar namentlich nach /, k oder p,n wie z. B.
Westgerm. Nordgerm.
/ I
alts. tellian:talda aisl. telja:talpa
ahd. zellen:zalta
k k
alts, wekkian.'wahta aisl. vekja.-vakpa1*
ahd. wecken : wahta (wakta)12
P P
ahd. stepfen: stafta aisl. glepja: glappa
10 Vgl. iiber alts, satta, setta, angs. setta usw. namentlich auch F. Krtier, "Der Bindevokal und seine Fuge im schwachen deutschen Prateritum bis 1150," Palastra No. 125, Berlin 1914, S. 35 ff.
11 Praterita der j'aw-Verba, deren Stammsilbe auf g endigte, wie westgenn. — nordgerm. *hug-da, *lag-da, *sag-da (zu *hug-jan, *lag-jan, *sag-jan) gehoren nicht hierzu, denn diese j'an-Verba bildeten ihr Prat, anscheinend ursprtinglich ohne Mittelvokal; vgl. H. Collitz, "Das schwache Prateritum," Hesperia I, S. 93 ff., §19; S. 105, §22. Man beachte aber, dass auch hier die nord.- und westgenn. Prateritalformen gegeniiber den im Gotischen begegnenden Formen mit nachtraglich eingefiihrtem i (hug-i-da, lag-i-da) auf einer Linie stehen.
"Anord. vakpa steht anscheinend auf einer Linie mit westgenn. (ahd.) wak-ta (urgerm. *wak-i-dd), denn westgerm. wah-ta konnte auch auf ein urgerm. *wah-t6 ohne Mittelvokal zuruckgehen; vgl. H. Collitz, a.a.O., S. 32, §6.
534 Sturtevant
Hier stehen alle diese Praterita im Westgerm. auf einer Linie mit den entsprechenden Typen im Nordgerm.
Da nun im Westgerm. der Wegfall des -i- im Prat, bei diesen Typen als gleichzeitig mit demselben bei dem Typus satta anzusehen ist, so ware dasselbe auch fiir das Nordgerm. anzu- nehmen, dessen Prat. *satta ( = ostnord. satte) nach Noreens eigener Auffassung auf einer Linie mit westgerm. satta steht.13
Zwar nimmt Noreen mit Recht an, nordgerm. * 'satte stehe auf einer Linie mit westgerm. satta; da aber im Westgerm. kein Grund vorliegt, die Form satta fiir alter als talda, wakta, stafta zu halten, so hatte gleichfalls im Nordgerm. die Form *satta kaum alter als die Formen valpa, vakpa, glappa usw. sein konnen, denn ebenso wie im Westgerm., laufen im Nordgerm. letztere Typen anscheinend dem Typus *satta (vgl. gladda, samda, latta, matta, usw.) parallel. Es hatte also der i-Umlaut in aisl. setta kaum zu der alteren anord. Umlautsepoche (wie in *ddm-i-dd zu dfimdd) gehoren konnen, weil im Nordgerm., sowie im Westgerm., kein Grund vorliegt, die Form * satta fiir alter als z. B. die Form talda zu halten, wo der ^-Umlaut lautgerecht fehlte. Wenn nordgerm. *satta ( = ostnord. satte) auf einer Linie mit westgerm. (alts.) satta steht, so diirfte man weiter folgern, dass nordgerm. (aisl.) setta sich mit westgerm. (alts.) setta deckt, dessen e natiirlich aus dem Prasens herstammt.
Noreens Meinung, das e in aisl. setta sei (gegeniiber dem a bei dem Typus valpa) lautgerecht, steht also nicht in Einklang mit den Verhaltnissen im Westgerm., die er doch zur Stiitze seiner Ansicht herangezogen hat, denn im Westgerm. deuten die Verhaltnisse ebenso klar wie im Nordgerm. darauf h'in, dass das e in setta sekundar ist.
Weiter darf man das ganzliche Fehlen der unkontrahierten Formen der Part, prat., deren Stammsilbe auf Dental endigte, nicht mit Noreen (S. 92) als Beweis dafiir ansehen, dass der Wegfall des -i- bei diesem Typus auch im Prat, friiher als bei alien sonstigen Typen eingetreten sei. Da sonst im Anord., ebenso wie im Westgerm., die Formen des Part. prat, mit und ohne Zwischenvokal neben einander stehen konnten, so liesse
18 Man wird also annehmen diirfen, dass im Gemeinnord. — und — westgerm. der Typus satta auf einer Linie mit dem Typus talda, iiakta usw. steht.
Zum Altnordischen Vokalismus 535
sich das Fehlen der Formen mit Zwischenvokal bei dem Typus settr, gladdr, fluttr usw. dadurch erklaren, dass hier die Formen mit Zwischenvokal schon in vorliterarischer Zeit durch die kontrahierten Formen verdrangt waren. Bei diesem Typus muss also irgend welcher besondere Grund zur Differ enzierung der beiden Formen vorhanden gewesen sein. Diesen Grund mochte ich in denjenigen kurzsilbigenj-Part. prat, sehen, deren Stamm- silbe auf den Dental d oder p (also nicht d, t) endigte. Hier hatte die Wahl z. B. zwischen *glad-ipr und gladdr Czu gled-ja: glad-da) schon vorliterarisch zu Gunsten des gladdr ausfallen konnen, weil gladdr im Gegensatz zu *glad-ipr ein auslautendes d- der Stammsilbe entsprechend dem auslautenden d- der Stammsilbe im Prat, glad-da aufwies. Bei diesem Typus besteht das Eigentiimliche darin, dass das auslautende d (/>) der Stammsilbe im Prat, schon zu d geworden war (also gled-ja: glad-da), und da sonst alle kurzsilbigenya«-Verba gleichen Kon- sonanten im Auslaut der Stammsilbe des Part. prat, wie des Prat, enthielten, so hatte im Einklang hiermit die Form gladdr ohne Zwischenvokal den Vorzug vor der Form *glad-ipr mit Zwischen- vokal erhalten. Von dem Typus gled-ja (mit d oder/> im Auslaut der Stammsilbe) hatte sich dieser Differenzierungsvorgang auf die iibrigen Part. prat, der kurzsilbigen jaw-Verba ausbreiten konnen, deren Stammsilbe auf den Dental d oder t endigte, so z. B. fluttr statt *flut-ipr (zuflytja) nach dem Vorbild des Typus gladdr statt *glad-ipr (zu gledja).
Noreens Annahme (S. 92), die Part. prat, mettr (zu metja) und huettr (zu hvetja) sprachen fiir die Urspriinglichkeit des i- Umlautes in settr, erscheint mir schon deshalb misslich, weil er keinen zwingenden Grund angegeben hat, weshalb die Formen mettr und huettr als die urspriinglich lautgerechten anzusehen sind. Zwar sind mettr und huettr auf eine Linie mit settr zu stellen, aber damit ist nur gesagt, dass alle drei Formen dem- selben Wege gefolgt sind, und die Frage bleibt immer noch unbeantwortet, ob hier das e urspriinglich oder sekundar ist. Wenn Noreen (S. 92) mit Gislason (Njdla II. 121) das Part, prat, huettr als "et med settr analogt participium av hveija" erklart, wird er wohl recht haben, aber es ist damit nicht be- wiesen, dass die Form settr ursprunglich ist. Man empfindet diese Liicke schmerzlich, denn ist das e in settr sekundar, so miisste es wohl auch in huettr als sekundar gelten. Unter diesen
536 Sturtevant
Umstanden kann ich nicht recht einsehen, wie uns bei dieser Frage das Heranziehen der Formen mettr und huettr aus der Not hilft.
IV
Altnordisch OXUM: UXUM
Neben dem regelmassigen Prat. plur. dxum zu vaxa 'wa- chsen' (VI. Ablautsreihe) steht im Anord. auch die unregelmas- sige Form uxum. Da der Ablautsvokal ft liberhaupt nicht zu dieser Reihe gehort, muss man die Form uxum als eine nach- tragliche Analogiebildung ansehen.
Heusler1 sieht in uxum eine Neubildung nach dem Muster von dem Prat. plur. der II. Ablautsreihe, wo infolge des Weg- falls eines auslautenden *h im Prat. sg. die urspriinglichen Ablautsvokale *au: u im Prat, als 6:u erscheinen, wie z. B. fid (aus *flauh) :flugum; wonach 6x: uxum neben 6x: dxum.
Wenn aber Heuslers Hypothese richtig ist, so fragt es sich, weshalb diese Art Neubildung gerade auf das Verbum vaxa beschrankt sein sollte, denn es besitzen ja im Anord. keine der iibrigen starken Verba der VI. Ablautsreihe eine entsprechende Nebenform im Prat. plur. Ware 6x:6xum nach dem Muster von fi6:flugum zu 6x:uxum neugebildet, so sollte man er- warten, dassauchz. B. s(u)6r: s(u)6rum zu s(u)6r:*surum oder 6k:6kum zu 6k:*ukum usw. umgeformt ware.
Unter diesen Umstanden geniigt Heuslers Annahme zur Er- klarung der Neubildung uxum neben oxum offenbar nicht. Es muss also das Muster zu dieser Neubildung anderswo gesucht werden; vorzugsweise da, wo im Prat, die Ablautsvokale 6:6 mit Nebenform u im Plur. stehen, gerade wie bei 6x: dxum, ux- um.
Letztere Lautumstande finden sich tatsachlich im Prat, der reduplizierenden Klasse der II. Reihe vor, wie z. B. idk:idkum, iukumz zu auka 'vermehren' ids:i6sum, iusum zu ausa 'schopfen' und hlidp.'hlidpum, hlupum zu hlaupa 'laufen.'
JA. Heusler, Aisl. Elementarbuch, §311, .3: "Der Plur. Prat, uxom 'wir wuchsen' (neben 6xom) ist Neubildung nach der Proportion: fld:flugom *> 6x: uxom"
2 Die Nebenformen dieser Verba mit & sind zweifelsohne die jiingeren und besassen allerWahrscheinlichkeit nach urspriinglich kein i (also *ukum, *tisum,
Zum Altnordischen Vokalismus 537
Es steht also nichts im Wege anzunehmen, dass 6x: 6xum zu dx:uxum nach dem Typus idk: idkum, iukum (und nicht nach dem Typus fld:flugum) neugebildet worden ist. Diese Annahme wird namentlich durch zwei Umstande bestatigt.
1) Es steht dx:dxum, uxum auf gleicher Stufe mit i6k: idkum, iukum, indera neben dem gleichen Stammvokal 6 im Sg. auch die gleichen Stammvokale 6 und & im Plur. neben ein- ander liegen, wahrend bei fld:flugum keine Pluralform mit dem Stammvokal 6 (d.h. *fldgum) vorliegt. Ferner sind die betref- fenden Verba 6x:6xum und idk: idkum beide im Prat, voka- lisch anlautend, was die Analogiewirkung wohl weiter wird befordert haben.
Nach dem folgenden Schema
auka, idk: idkum, iukum, aukinn
vaxa, 6x: dxum, uxum, vaxinn
sehen wir leicht, wie 6x:6xum nach dem Muster von idk: iukum zu dx: uxum hatte umgebildet werden konnen.3
2) Mit dx:dxum scheinen die Praterita dk:dkum und 61: dlum ganz auf einer Linie zu stehen. Weshalb haben also die Plurale dkum und dlum sich nicht zu *ukum und *ulum weiter entwickelt? Den Grund dafiir mochte ich in einem semato- logischen Momente vermuten, namlich darin, dass die Be- deutungen von vaxa 'wachsen' und auka 'vermehren' einander besonders nahe liegen. Vaxa darf geradezu als gleich bedeutend mit intransitivem aukisk (Medio-pass.) aufgefasst werden (d.h. 'wachsen' = 'sich vermehren,' 'zunehmen'), wie z. B. das
wie hlupum, gebildet), so dass das i hier (in iukum, itisum) wohl erst spater aus dem Prat. sg. entlehnt ist; vgl. A. Noreen, Aisl. Grammatik,3 §96, Anm. Nach Cleasby — Vigffisson (Icelandic Dictionary) erscheint aber anord. hlupum als moderne Form neben alterem hljupum.
Mit anord. hlupum ist die vereinzelte angs. Form hlupon einer angs. Chronik (neben hltopon) zu vergleichen (vgl. F. Kluge, "Die germanische Reduplikation und ihre Geschichte," Q. F. XXXJI, S. 85). Die Form hlupum hat sich aber im Nordischen unabhangig von angs. hlupon und in viel spaterer Zeit eingestellt.
Heusler sieht in den Formen iukum, iusum, hliipum, ebenso wie in uxum, Neubildung nach dem Muster fl6:flugum (Aisl. Elementarbuch, §315, 2).
3 Da alle iibrigen reduplizierenden Verba der II. Ablautsreihe die Neben- form mit u im Prat. plur. neben der Singularform mit 6 haben, diirfen wir annehmen, dass 6x:uxum Neubildung nach i6k:iukum und nicht umgekehrt i6k:iukum Neubildung nach 6»:uxum ist. Ausserdem. ist vaxa, das einzige Verbum der VI. Ablautsreihe, welches eine Nebenform mit u im Prat. plur. hat.
538 Sturtevant
Subst. auki 'die Vermehrung' zeigt, das sich ebenso gut als 'Zuwachs' iibersetzen lasst.
Ein Seitenstiick zu der Umbildung des Paars 6x: 6xum zu 6x:uxum nach dem gleich bedeutenden i6k: (idkum), i&kum liefert ahd. mag:magum 'konnen/ welches nach dem gleich bedeutenden kann:kunnum (eigentlich 'kennen/ 'verstehen') zu mag:mugum umgebildet worden 1st (vgl. H. Osthoff, "Das Praeteritopraesens MAG," Beitr. XV, S. 211-218). Dabei ist der Bedeutungsunterschied zwischen anord. vaxa und auka geringfiigiger als der zwischen ahd. magan und kunnan.
ALBERT MOREY STURTEVANT
Kansas University
ANOTHER "FAUST"
Another "Faust" — just what does that fact signify? Is it piety toward Goethe that keeps the old story green in the German mind? Or is it the subject itself that carries the appeal?
Freiligrath's characterization, "Deuschland ist Hamlet!", is acknowledged to be more than a telling phrase; and it was Goethe's description of Hamlet which the revolutionary poet had in mind — the man of fine sensibilities, capable of the noblest and profoundest thinking, fatally reflective in a sit- uation that called for action. "Sein bestes Tun ist eben Denken." Freiligrath would not have been provoked to write the poem a quarter of a century later. And yet — his criticism hits at one of the most irradicable traits of German nature. There is something of the "melancholy Dane" in most of the heroes of German literature, not a little of him in Faust. Certain it is that if the day is past when Germany can be called Hamlet, it is a perennial truth that every thinking German is a Faust: not the old magician, nor yet the superman, but the Faust which Goethe rendered typical of a people who tend to "Griibelei." "Das Faustproblem ist ewig, weil jede Zeit es wieder gebart," says the author of the latest Faust version.1
This play is no "Symbolyzetti Allegoric witsch Mystifizinski" Vischer parody, but a dignified and very able treatment of the subject by Ferdinand Avenarius which appeared in Munich early in 1919. Unlike most of the Faust- writers, Avenarius has passed by the beginning of the tradition, taking up the story just where the first part of Goethe's "Faust" leaves it. In other words, it is another Faust, z-weiter Teil. As such it naturally follows the same general theme as Gothe's, that is, the salvation of one who has greatly sinned, and brings the career of Faust to the same sort of conclusion. The link with Faust, ersler Teil is effected by means of a Vorspiel. The action is then developed in five Handlungen, the first and third of which are divided into four Aufzuge each. There is no list of characters
1 Germany has produced more than two dozen dramatic or near-dramatic versions of Faust within the last hundred and fifty years.
539
540 Puckett
— an omission of less importance than in Goethe, since the dramatis personae are comparatively few. The dedication consists of two words: "Den Werdenden."2
The following detailed account of the action may be accept- able in view of the present inaccessability of the book:
The gloom of the prison scene in the first part of Goethe's "Faust" is continued, somewhat intensified and perhaps unduly realistic, in the Vorspiel. Against the background of a stormy night gibbets appear, showed up from time to time by flashes of lightning. In the foreground a monk is leading the exhausted Faust toward a fire in the lee of a wall, the ruins of the burned house of the executioner. The spot — later mentioned as the Rabenstein — is uncanny: the situation is made more so by voices in the wind. One of them, evidently that of Gretchen, and symbolizing Faust's conscience, sings just as in the prison scene, but breaks off in ghastly fashion when she feels the executioner retain her head in his hands. Mephistopheles appears suddenly, and banters Faust for nosing about in the grass for "tote Siinderinnen" (Lebendig sind sie ja nett, aber nicht gerichtet). Whereas the Faust of earlier days was athirst for knowledge and wished to know the height and depth, the weal and woe of all life, he is now bowled over by the first uncomfortable experience:
Ei nein, das erste, was der Rede wert, Zum sanften Biisser hat's den Herrn bekehrt: Der Uebermensch schopft aus dem Tatenstrudel Die Gotter-Weisheit vom gebrannten Pudel: Du, Doktor Faustus, als ein Pilger trabst, Ein Monchlein neben dir, zum Papa Pabst!
Faust is but slightly roused by these taunts. He replies that reviling the church is common practise, but that the religious instinct survives in us none the less. He then wakes his fellow pilgrim and continues on his way. The monk, who does not like the looks of Mephistopheles holds up cross and rosary as he leaves with Faust. Mephistopheles cowers
1 Avenarius' "Faust" is in reality apart of a cycle of five tragedies in which the poet proposes to develop the remarkable theme "Vom wachsenden Gott." The titles of these tragedies are Baal, der Gott des Hasses; Jesus, der Gott der Liebe; Aposlata, die Reaction der Antike; Faust, die Gottheit im Menschen; Mysterium, das in die Zukunft weist. — Editor.
Another "Faust" 541
before the cross, acknowledging the power of Him whom it signifies. He gnashes his teeth, but then collecting him- self, ends the scene with a truly Mephistophelean apostrophe to the moon:
Du in der Nacht gehenkter Schadel da,
Du bast's erreicht. Einst warst du auch solch Ding
Wie das hier: grtin und bunt von frechem Leben.
Jetzt bist du Eis. Sie sind zu dumm f iir dich,
Sie girrn zu dir und rammeln unter dir —
Verstanden sie die Zukunft, die du zeigst:
Sie hielten heulend sich die Augen zu.
Du meinen Sieg versicherndes Symbol,
Dir bet' ich dankend, du mein Augen trost!"
Certainly a strange mixture of old Teutonic Gotterdammerung and a more modern scientific cosmogony.
The first Handlung treats of Faust's Italian pilgrimage and its lesson for him. It is Carnival in Rome. In the first Aufzug Faust, by liberating some birds with which certain masqueraders were amusing themselves, brings upon himself their wrath and the attention of the prince, whose steps he has mounted. From his conversation with the prince we note that Faust has awaked from the delusion that the Popes or anyone could absolve him from a sin which he brought on himself. (Als konnte / Ein andrer losen, was ich in mich band. And again: Ich fand ihn Vater, aber heilig nicht). His present state he describes by saying:
Nichts ist in mir als ein Nichts, nur dass Dies Nichts nach Fiille schreit, ja schreit, und dass Die Inbrunst dieses Schreis mir Leben ist. . . Die Eisen meiner Schuld — sie fielen nicht, Ich fxihl' sie noch, und bis mein Atem lischt, Werde ich sie f uhlen — doch ich trage sie Als Last nicht mehr, als Stiitzen trag ich sie. . Stark bin ich worden, und so f iihl ich, dass Der Schwachling nur in Reue sich zermurbt: Wer einmal niederriss, soil dreifach baun.
The failure of the church to satisfy Faust is not surprising, for his pilgrimage to Rome is not a religious one but an aesthetic one. This is first made clear by his description of his journey. He knelt with the monk at every wayside shrine; but unlike the monk he saw not the cross before which he knelt, but noted
542 Puckett
rather how the way to Italy brought him further and further into the sea of mountains, until finally one day he saw the southern sun warming the shepherd and his flocks on the Italian slope of the Alps. Even in a description so objective as this, Faust is still subjective; for when the prince, whose commonplace thought and expressions contrast markedly with the poetic imaginings of Faust, presses for details about the Alps and their inhabitants, Faust says, "davon sprach ich nicht, ich sprach von mir." Small wonder that the prince dubs him a "Griibelgeist" and distinguishes between the northern and southern temperaments as follows:
Ihr sprecht wie einer, der nicht reden kann Von irgendwas, als dem, was ihn bewegt. Wir sind hier anders, nordischer, wir sprechen Auch um der Schonheit willen, auch im Spiel.
As if to prove the truth of this remark, guests of the prince, among them a poet, a Humanist, an architect, a painter, and a scholar, come in and pour Faust's ears full of the ideas with which each is overflowing. The conversation is in the tone of Humanism, and the scene is brought to a close very appro- priately by the breathless announcement of a belated guest to the effect that a sarcophagus at the Capitol has been opened and found to contain a perfectly perserved woman, the most beautiful in the world. The party breaks up to go view the marvel.
The second Aufzug, which is brief, introduces the Helena episode indicated at the close of the first. We are shown the room at the Capitol where the Swiss guards are having difficulty in restraining the curious crowd. At last they clear the room and lock it from without. Then in the darkness a red flame appears, out of which Mephistopheles steps. At his command Helena arises. For a moment she is rigid as a statue. She raises heavy hands to cover her eyes. Then she opens her eyes, stretches out her arms slowly — and laughs.
In the third Aufsug the motif is carried further. In the garden of the prince Mephistopheles, posing as an oriental physician, is explaining to the company how he has cured the sleeping beauty of all save a certain lack of memory. Faust and Helena pass across the scene; the former still in search of the answer to his problem, the latter the beautiful
Another "Faust" 543
but utterly soulless creature we might expect. This is her answer to Faust's questionings:
Schwerfalliger, der immer wissen will!
Was habt ihr denn vom Wissen? Suchen, Irren
Und dunkle Tat und Allerlei, wovon
Mir zu erzahlen Ihr nicht lassen konnt.
Liesset Ihr's endlich! Meine Welt ist licht,
Weil das mir fehlt, was der da heilen soil.
Vergesst das Einstmals und geniesst den Tag!
Helena does not rise above this philosophy in her conversation with any of her admirers. By night, when Faust comes to claim her, he learns that she has a rendezvous with the prince, and even with His Holiness. In disgust and rage Faust thrusts at her with his dagger, only to have the weapon shatter. Instead of a woman, a statue stands before him, and Mephis- topheles' mocking laughter brings him to himself. Mephis- topheles invokes the pact when Faust shows no desire to continue adventures of this sort further, but Faust refuses to be awed. He asserts his mastery over his presumptuous servant and bids him be gone from his presence. . . Thus ends Faust's quest for happiness in the sensuous and the beautiful. Significantly this end is marked also by his repudiation of Mephistopheles.
The fourth Aufzug completes Faust's Italian education. Leaving Rome with his monk who is like himself disgusted with it, he wanders into St. Peters at Vincoli. In the dim interior only the everlasting light is burning, but through the windows can be seen passing the light of the carnival revelers. The brother kneels and prays. Presently Michael Angelo accompanied by a servant bearing a light enters and works at his statue of Moses at the tomb of Julius. Faust engages him in conversation, propounding his ever present question of the summum bonum. This time he is fortu- nate in his man, who is not a " jesting Pilate" but a thinker and seeker like Faust. He ends his answer to Faust with the words:
Du sprichts von Brudergeist, nach dem du suchst?
Es sucht durch dich, das Unbekannte sucht,
Und sagt durch dich wohl, was du selbst nicht weisst,
Zu Unbekannten, wie der Funke springt,
Den Unbekannten, die es sucht. — Ich dien'.
544 Puckett
To all other questioning the gray-haired sculptor only repeats the words, "Ich dien'." With this motto the act ends; with this new philosophy of life the pilgrim goes back to his native land.
We next find Faust — that is, at the beginning of the second Handlung — as an assistant to a professor in a German university. The scene is a dissecting room. Two conflicting actions trans- pire on the stage at the same time. In the rear the professor and Faust are busy with the students. Between teacher and and pupil is shown to exist the ideal relationship: each is devoted to the other. The professor is without dogma, big, liberal, with a zeal for truth. At the front of the stage is a man of exactly the opposite type, a Domherr. In the intervals of quiet at the rear, he talks in low tones with the monk con- cerning the danger to the church from the heresy so preva- lent just then. Luther is mentioned, but there is abroad other "Irrlehr, ja Gottlosigkeit im Doktormantel." It soon develops that Mephistopheles in the disguise of a student has urged the canon to have the monk watch Faust and the professor for heresy. It is a bitter task for the monk, for he is fond of Faust but he accepts it in loyalty to the church. As servants are about to carry out the dissected corpse, the canon openly defies the professor by demanding the body in the name of the Church. The students line up on the side of their master, but the latter waves aside the conflict, saying that they are done with the body. The spectator realizes, of course, that the crisis is only postponed. After every one has left the stage but Faust and the professor, the chill of the canon's hostility still lingers. Faust especially sees things in their darkest colors. When the pro- fessor speaks of spring (it is in the last day of the winter semester), Faust thinks of frost, the late frost that kills the hopeful green of spring.3 The feeling of each is justified very swiftly by what follows. A traveling student enters, bringing the professor a sealed book from an anonymous scholar who has just died. This mysterious volume gives the pro- fessor proof of the earth's rotation. The professor, carried away with this information, gives no heed to his wife who rushes in to tell him that the servants of the Inquisition are after
3 One is reminded — perhaps the author himself had it in mind — of Cardinal Wolsey's soliloquy on the fate of man.
Another "Faust" 545
him. He breaks out into a beautiful eulogy of the sun, just setting, which gives to the canon, who enters at this moment, the necessary evidence against him. With dignity and satisfied with his life's fulfillment, the professor goes to meet his end.
With the third Handlung the action is speeded up. Faust, like Gothe's Gotz, is drawn from his personal affairs and his brooding out into the maelstrom that followed the Reformation —the peasant uprising.
The first Aufzug represents a preacher, not unlike Vansen in "Egmont," stirring up the peasants against their masters. The group disperses at the approach of some troopers, who ride up with a peasant in tow — literally in tow, for a cord around the peasant's neck is fastened at the other end to the tail of one of the horses. These savory gentlemen, overbearing, cruel, and beastly, tarry long enough before the tavern to prove the truth of much that the preacher has said. As they pass on, the group, reassembling, mark them for revenge.
So much for the ominous background. Faust becomes involved in the movement when in the second Aufzug, he objects to a sermon of the canon directed against the professor. Faust mounts the pulpit himself, gathers around him the students present, and instructs them to go forth to start the insurrection.
The third Aufzug, laid at a country school house, reminds us more particularly of "Gotz." A knight, captain of the revolt, holds a brief council with some of the peasant leaders, who are bloodthirsty and — winethirsty, being incidentally al- ready somewhat inebriated. We hear much of the exploits of one Deix, not present. Against the wish of Faust, the school- master, and the knight, Deix is chosen to lead the peasants against a strong fortress called the Grafenstein.
The scene is then changed to this castle after it has been stormed by Deix and his men. The peasants are seen leading off prisoners, looting, and otherwise making merry. Some few protest to Deix against the cruelty and indecency of the proceedings. This leader, by his devilish sarcasm — for he is none other than Mephistopheles — stirs up the rest rather than pacifies those protesting. One woman is particularly vicious, and urges the burning of a priest whom someone has dragged out of hiding. Faust appears on the scene in time to
546 Puckett
make an earnest but unavailing effort to stop such excesses. He turns for help to the leader, and recognizes him for the first time. Mephistopheles meets his interference with scorn. Only when Faust commands him on the basis of the pact to prevent the thing does Mephistopheles agree to save the priest. It is, of course, the moment the devil has been waiting for. And Faust himself, though in deep disgust at Mephisto- pheles and all these proceedings, accepts the pact again because he needs supernatural aid. He complains that all his efforts fail because he can not get at the real source of authority:
Wohin ich komme, komme ich Zu spat, und wo ich greife, greif ich leer. Und grade darum brauch ich dich.
Believing that the kaiser will do the right thing, if only the truth can be presented to him, he demands to see the kaiser. This Mephistopheles is ready to do, remarking, however, that to break through the barrier of sycophants and officials is the most difficult sort of task.
The fourth Handlung, true to tradition, retards the action. Into it Avenarius has packed most of the irony of his play, even as Goethe made courts and courtiers ridiculous in the first act of "Gotz." Against the background of burning castles and a wronged and revengeful peasantry we have depicted the cause of it all: the pompous folly of a selfish court and a bigoted church. The personification of the sit- uation is the young kaiser, described by Mephistopheles in the remark:
Seine Majestat
Sind in dem Alter, da das Gockelchen Das Krahn erlernt, doch sind sie trotzdem noch Weich wie ein federloser Spatz im Nest, Drum packt man sie in Zeremonienrocke.
Very naturally, each courtier is intriguing for his particular interest. Among them the chancellor is supreme. He aims at power, and is absolutely unscrupulous in attaining it.
The act takes the form of an audience by the emperor. The treasurer pleads for money, the honest captain for soldiers to put down the revolt, the prelate for more wealth and power to make the church safe. The weakling kaiser makes a per-
Another "Faust" 547
functory answer to these demands. The chancellor, whose ambition is to create an empire on which the sun never sets causes his majesty to give audience to an adventurer who has been with the Spaniards in America. The tale of European greed and Indian naivete which the stranger reluctantly tells is, if possible, a little more charged with irony than the rest of the act.
Faust penetrates this circle by the aid of Mephistopheles who has made himself jester to the emperor. He introduces Faust as a fellow fool; not without a certain humor for Faust's pleading for the exploited masses sounds like the veriest non- sense in that company. It is received as such.
After the audience is over, the chancellor detains Faust to ascertain what manner of man he is. Perhaps he attains this end. Of greater interest to the spectators is the chancel- lor's revelation of himself; for to Faust, whom he expects to put out of the way, he bares his soul. It is not exactly "eine schone Seele."
The act ends in an odd way. The chancellor calls the guard to take Faust, but the latter is so little concerned that he turns his eyes toward the invisible and talks with the Demon of Darkness. Faust, in his attempts to serve his fellow- man, has met so much evil that he is tempted to believe in this moment that in evil lies the ultimate power. He wants this power. Paradoxically enough he wants to wield it against the evil he has seen among men. For it he is willing to sacrifice his life eternal — his most priceless possession. But when Satan de- mands that he worship him, Faust can not bring himself to that. He turns to the guard and is led away.
If the fourth Handlung is filled with the irony of human existence, the fifth is equally rich in those emoluments which come to the brave soldier of life who keeps the faith — the re- wards of the spirit. Instead of irony, Avenarius brings in the full force of his idealism in this last act.
The setting itself is in keeping: in the place of the palace, school, or tavern of the other acts we have the open country — a mountainside in the twilight. We catch sight of a hermit's cave, before which the everlasting light shows us an altar adorned with a skull and a cross.
548 Puckett
In these significant surroundings the knight, the school- master, and the survivors of the student company are making their last bivouac. None of them is in doubt as to their fate on the morrow, and yet, conscious of having done their best, they are reconciled and cheerful. One of the students sings a song to Comrade Death. The knight has opportunity to show his self-control when he sees his castle, only a few miles distant, go up in flames. The frailness of human handiwork in comparison with the eternal scheme of things is further set forth in words of the schoolmaster which might be taken as a very good expression of Avenarius' Weltanschauung:
Das Bild, das wir vom deutschen Reich ersehn, In uns ersehn, wir hielten's f iir des Reichs Lebendgen Kindskeim in der Zukunf t Schoss Und meinten: die Geburtshilf will's von uns. Es war kein Kindskeim, Freund, es war ein Bild, Ertraumt von uns im Wirrschlaf dieser Zeit.
Ritter:
Wird's auch mit uns vergehn? Schulmeister:
Steht eine Weid' am Fluss und spiegelt sich. Die Well, die hebt ihr Bild, die Weide schaut's, Die Welle geht, das Bild zerbricht, die neue Hebt wieder eines auf und bricht's auf neu. Der Baum trinkt von der Welle, und er bleibt, Verandert sich, und wachst, und andre Bilder Nun schon vom grossern Baume hebt's ihm zu Dort aus dem Fliessenden. Keins nimmt er an, Aus aller Bilder Wellen aber trinkt er. Die Wellen heben, spiegeln und vergehn, Der Baum wird gross.
Faust, returning from his mission to the emperor (he had told the chancellor that no prison could hold him), brings a discordant note into this scene. He is despondent and disgusted :
ich bringe Hohn,
Verdienten, dass ich nicht beim Leisten blieb, Magister schustern, Pfaffen olen half, Und schliesslich gar die Wahrheit niitzen wollte, Statt schon zu predigen, dass sie allzeit herrscht.
Apparently the philosophical pilgrim was never further from saying to the passing moment, "Stay, thou art so fair!" And yet that moment is imminent.
Another "Faust" 549
As if to sever the last bond to the earthly, comes the monk, mortally wounded, with the news that the professor has been burned at the stake. Faust thus loses his only friend. But the message which he sends to Faust — identical with Galileo's famous sotte voce, "it moves nevertheless" — is proof of the triumph of the mind over the body, and fortifies Faust for his final hour. When his companions in arms have lain down to sleep and Faust is left alone, that hour is upon him.
As at the end of Goethe's "Faust," Gretchen appears for a moment. Her significance for all Faust's career is made clear by her words:
Aber all deine ganze Krankheit lang
Bin ich um dich geschlichen,
Und nie gewichen —
Bei deinem Erbarmen
Mit den Armen,
Durch ihr Gesicht
Sah ich dich an —
Heinrich, erkanntest du mich denn nicht?
She hints also that he has won his fight. But the role she plays is not that of Goethe's Gretchen, who intercedes for Faust and, as it were, opens the pearly gates for him. Avenarius objected strongly to Goethe's closing lines, "Das Ewig-weib- liche zieht uns hinan": he found Faust's entrance into some- thing like an erotic paradise and altogether unworthy end for such a career. And so his Gretchen dies away in an echo before Faust reaches his supreme victory.
Metphistopheles, who realizes now that Faust's soul is out of reach of any harm he can do it, comes to get what satisfaction he can out of the temporal part of his companion. He is still bound by the pact, however, and so when Faust demands to see the future of mankind, he conjures up the pic- ture for him.
Presumably Mephistopheles meant to give just so much of this picture as he saw fit: the evolution of the human animal from the lower forms and its heritage of brute passions. But before the scene is over, he has a suspicion that God has taken the thing out of his hands; and so it is. A human face, gigantic, insanely distorted, develops out of the kalei- doscopic visions that have appeared. This is the image of humanity as Mephistopheles would have him see it:
550 Puckett
Das ist der heiligen Menschheit Haupt —
Nur leider der Vernunft beraubt:
Die Viecherseelen,
Die sein Him besessen,
Sie haben's mit der Zeit
Ihm ausgefressen,
Das aber heisst:
Zum feinsten prapariert — . '
Hohl erst ward's reif,
Dass es die Welt regieft!
Faust, disregarding Mephistopheles, speaks with the face which loses its distorted appearance gradually as it succeeds in ex- pressing itself. It tells Faust that it is honor and greed, suckled by the animal in man, fed by the blood of those sacrificing them- selves, guided by love and rage — in short, it is a thing half devilish, half divine. By this time Mephistopheles sees the trend of this development and seeks to drive the vision back into the limbo from which it came. But Faust cries in ex- altation:
Damon! Es bleibtf Es bleibt! Nicht du, nicht du bist's, der die Erde treibt! Das Sehnen ist's, und wenn's den Leib zerreibt, Das Schaffen wird, und ewig formend hebt, Gott ist's, der lebt! (zum Gesicht) Du bist die Menschheit, die im Suchen irrt!
The face has now lost all its grossness. The features are those of a noble type, resembling Goethe in his best years. Just before it fades from view, it supplements Faust's definition with, "Die Gottheit bin ich, die im Menschen wird." This is for Faust his greatest moment. Raising his hands to heaven in ecstacy he recognizes that it is God whom he has sought, and God within him who bade him seek.
But what of Mephistopheles? This realization of the divine event to which all humanity moves, has left him out of account and put him in a fury. He has no power to destroy the soul, but he can kill the body. When Faust says to him in contempt, "Du da, du bist nicht mehr!", he springs upon him, strikes his heart, and then disappears in the ground. Faust sinks, but triumphantly — cheerfully accepting his fate, even as his fellow soldiers asleep on the ground around him. The serenity of the scene during the last moments is most
Another "Faust" 551
fitting. The stars have come out, and now nothing is to be seen but the expanse of the heavens in all their beauty. A profound quiet reigns. After a long pause the curtain slowly descends.
Such, then, is the new "Faust." As I said at the outset, it is not a parody like Vischer's play. But Avenarius himself confesses his agreement with Vischer's criticism of the second half of Goethe's "Faust." Vischer, it will be remembered, revolted against the indefinite and unsatisfactory nature of the second part. He resented particularly the snobbishness of those scholars who pretended to find profundity where there was none. It was against the "hochnasige Kritiker," these "Goethepfaffen" more than against Goethe himself that he put forth his satirical skit. On the other hand he considered the first part of "Faust" a magnificent, inimitable fragment which challenged completion. The problem appealed strongly to his philosophical nature, and he actually did sketch the plan of a second part himself. That he did not execute it is due to a conviction which he finally reached,, "dass niemand es Goethe gleich kann, der ja im Alter sich selbst es nicht gleich tun konnte."
Avenarius follows Vischer even up to this discouraging conclusion but not in the acceptance of this conclusion as a de- terrent. Taking the promise that the Faust theme is capable of being continued ad infinitum, he maintains that a poet should not let his impulse to imbody it anew be suppressed by the fear of appearing ridiculous as a rival of Goethe. It appears, however, that Avenarius carried the idea of a new "Faust" about with him for forty years before he summoned courage to enter the ranks with it.4 He confesses that the play might never have been written had it not been for the war, which unquestionably revised many previously accepted values and stirred poetic depths that had been long dormant.
Without knowing in the least how he had conceived his "Faust" before, we can make only a vague estimate of the effect of the war on its composition. It must be that a well defined plan simply ripened under the influence of those fateful years, for in no ordinary sense can this be called a war- See his article in Kunstwart, April 1919. I am indebted to this article for all my information concerning the genesis of his "Faust."
552 Puckett
play; certainly not a Tendenzstiick. War there is in the play. The rapacity of the stronger nation (the story of the explorer), the unholy ambition of the chancellor, the arbitrariness and the injustice of the government, the ravages of brute passions set free, may all be echoes of the holocaust of 1914—1918. But they are hardly more than echoes. His picture of a people in arms is decidedly more poetic than political. Similarly, the idealistic conclusion — that might does not make right, that the good cause does not perish with its defenders — is the sort of justice which is more usually called poetic than historic.
The newness of this Faust version does not lie then in an adoption of the garb of the hour. Avenarius, whose poetic ability has sometimes been doubted, is universally admitted to be possessed of a sound artistic sense; such an instinct kept him from spoiling his theme with anything cheap and transitory. He is aiming, like Goethe, at nothing short of the universal; in this case, the universal problem of good and evil. It is on his conception of this problem that he bases his apology for presenting the world with another "Faust."
Those who have read Vischer's farce (or even Baumbach's Marchen, "Die Teufel auf der Himmelswiese"), will recall that Dr. Faust is not enjoying all the delights which the here- after is supposed to hold for those who have been saved from the wrath of God. The poor wretch has to teach school; and tristissime dictu, he must expound a poet's version of his earthly pilgrimage that is, Goethe's Faust, II Teil. The reason for this probationary state is the fact that his salvation as depicted by Goethe has been too easy. Avenerius also takes this view as his starting point, naturally for a more serious treatment. Perhaps the most fundamental difference between Goethe and Avenarius consists in just this. To Avenarius' mind, the manner of Faust's salvation is the real Faust theme, it is the answer to the whole problem of good and evil. He wants his Faust saved not by a pardoning word of the deity, but by the victory of the divine in his breast over the evil there. For Faust there must be no moment of complacency — no rest, in fact, for it is a fight till death. No assurance of any sort that he will win is given him. His final victory is predicted by his growth, but he is not allowed to realize it until the last moment. It is an evolution, the meaning of which does not dawn on
Another "Faust" 553
him until Mephistopheles shows him the evolutionary develop- ment of the race. The lesson of service he learns from Michael Angelo; that of devotion and sacrifice, from the professor, the knight, the students. He acquires the passion of doing things for others, which reaches its highest point when he offers his hope of eternal life in exchange for the power to help his fellow man. Unquestionably as high an ethical pinnacle as any Faust could attain.
In comparison with Goethe — and one must be continually testing other Faust versions by Goethe's — this high ethical ideal is stressed more, is more in evidence. One would not be apt to accuse Goethe of having subordinated the aesthetic to the ethical; it is just possible that such a verdict may be brought against Avenarius. In analyzing the Faust legend Avenarius makes two statements which throw light on his conception of the theme: "Und schliesslich kommt das zu- stande, woran wir so gewohnt sind, dass wir uns erst bewusst machen miissen, wie hochst erstaunlich es ist: ein Sunder, der sich dem Teufel verschrieben hat, wird dem deutschen Dichten zur teuersten Verkorperung des Idealismus." And: Das tiefste Treibende in der Faustsage war, sehe ich recht, das sehnende und suchende und meist ganz unbewusste, ganz versteckte religiose Gefiihl." The first sentence might be applied to almost any of the Faust poets from Lessing on; the second one, with slight modification, represents Avenarius' conception of the Faust saga.
Perhaps Avenarius is naturally religious. Or it may be that the crisis of the war turned his thought more into those channels. Or again, he may have considered the religious element essential to the play in view of its presence in the tradition. Whatever the cause, religion, both formal and real, permeates the play. From the prolog to the last curtain, there is scarcely a scene without some visible manifestation of the church. Among the characters there is a preacher, a monk, a canon, a pope, a prelate, a hermit, and a schoolmaster who has once been a priest. The rosary, the cross, the everlasting light, the chapel, the cell, the wayside shrine are scattered throughout the action. A sermon is preached, extreme unction is given, and a heretic is burned.
554 Puckett
If this were all, one might attribute it to local color neces- sary to a Reformation drama. But there is more than religious form here. Faust's education, as can be seen from the outline given above, is a religious one, culminating in the recognition of the doctrine of Christian atonement and salvation. Meph- istopheles is made to acknowledge the power and significance, not of the God of Goethe's prolog, but of Christ and his cross. When the monk exorcises him he says to himself:
Mich beisst's wie Flohbiss, das verdammte Kreuz! Ich pfeif , ich spuck drauf, ich zerknack's, das Luder, Wo ich den Dreck nur an den Kleidern seh . . .
(auflachend)
Was, alter Herr, Dich selbst beliigst du auch? Dass lass den Pfaffen! Ich veracht' es nicht: Ich hass das Kreuz: der, dem es dient, hat Macht, Und ihm beliebt's, mich seiner Macht zu ducken.
He even shows a knowledge of Christ's teachings:
Zwar hast du recht, am Kreuz du, das stirbt nicht, Was Herbstens welkt. Ja, war' das Saatkorn tot!
But note particularly what spells defeat for him in the end:
Dich glaubte ich endlich reif, da sagt ich's ihm,
Dem Herrn der Nacht . . . (wieder im Spottton) dem Chef,
(wieder duster) und wie zu Jenem Im Judenland einst auf den Berg er trat, Kam Satan hin zu dem (wieder in leichtem Spottton) :
und machte Offert
(wieder duster) Und alles, was er bot, und alles, was Die Holle nur zu bieten hat, und alles, Wofiir wir alles gaben — Alles — Alles . . . Fur einen Tell wovon schon ich dereinst . . . (zwingt den Gedanken weg. Knirschend) : Ihm war's noch nicht das Knie zu beugen wert. Fur andre seine Seligkeit! Und bietet Sie uns: "da nehmt — ich geb's fur andre!" Grausen Mach mir das Wort: fur andre. Was durchgliiht Von ihm, fur uns geladen ist's mit Blitz. . .
There is one advantage certainly in having a Leitmotif so patent as it is here: the unity of action becomes a simple matter. All the action in this "Faust" is indesputably germane. It is more: it is beautifully proportioned. As far as critics of Goethe are agreed on anything, they seem to be agreed on
Another "Faust" 555
the lack of these qualities in the second part of his "Faust." It is natural that Avenarius should have made especial effort to avoid an error so often charged to his predecessor. In doing so, he kept his play well within the bounds of practical stagecraft. There is that in the Faust theme which tends to drag the poet loose from his moorings in the workaday world, with the result that a Faust drama too often turns out to be a book drama. Such can not be said of the one in question. It is altogether actable; and in a land of subsidized theatres where the artistic has a chance, it should find its niche among the classics.
It should — unless a certain brusqueness and colloquial flavor of its language shunt it, despite its philosophy, into the class of naturalistic productions. Avenarius, who found the second part of Goethe's "Faust" most valuable because it is a rich collection of the confessions of the poet grown wise with age, must also have recognized the unabated ability of the oct- ogenarian to write beautifully. Why didn't he imitate the style even though the plot was not to his liking? The answer is doubtless evident enough: the style is the one thing he could not imitate. This we might forgive him had he substituted something of his own which would not allow us to miss so much the smoothness and beauty of Goethe's verse. It is on just this that I would make my one really unfavorable criticism of Avenarius' play: for a theme so lofty he uses a medium altogether too inadequate. There is an absolute dearth of fine lines in the play. He had neither the serenity of Goethe, nor the rich, sensuous beauty of Grillparzer, nor the terse aptness of Hebbel. He has written his "Faust" in an age when poetry in the drama is all but dead.
And yet we are glad that he did write it. All honor to his courage in breaking the spell that has too long hung over the Faust theme. His play is proof enough that it was worth while to do so.
H. W. PUCKETT
Columbia University
SHAKESPEARE AND AESCHYLUS
Numerous parallelisms between Shakespeare and the Greek tragedians have been indicated, especially by James Russell Lowell1 and J. Churton Collins.2 The two following similarities, which have not been pointed out so far as- 1 know, are not offered as evidence of familiarity with Greek drama on Shakespeare's part, but merely as coincidences.
1. Antony's use of Caesar's robe in his funeral address strongly suggests the passage in the Choephori of Aeschylus in which Orestes displays the blood-stained cloth or garment which the murderers had thrown about his father, Agamemnon, to overcome his resistance to their weapons. Julius Caesar, Act III, Sc. II, 175 ff.
Antony
You all do know this mantle . .
Look! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through: See what a rent the envious Casca made: Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd; And, as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Caesar follow'd it.
Kind souls, what ! weep you when you but behold Our Caesar's vesture wounded? Look you here, Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.
Choephori, 981 ff.
Orestes . . . Spread it out with your own hands; approach and stand about it, and show this net for a man, that our father ... the Sun — may see my mother's unclean work ...
Did she do it, or did she not? — Nay, I have a witness in this vesture, that it was dyed by Aegisthus' sword. It is the welling blood which hath aided time in spoiling the many hues of the embroidery. — At last, at last, he himself is before me; I utter his praises; I make his lament.3
1 "Shakespeare Once More," 1868. Cf. Lowell's Writings, Vol. Ill, Cam- bridge, Houghton Mifflin and Co., 1890.
2 "Shakespeare as a Classical Scholar" in Studies in Shakespeare by J. Churton Collins, Westminster, A. Constable and Co., 1904.
3 This and the following extract are taken from the literal translation by A. W. Verrall in his edition of The 'Choephori' of Aeschylus, London, Macmil- lan and Co., 1893.
556
Shakespeare and Aeschylus 557
2. The ghost scene at the banquet in Macbeth is more than a little reminiscent of the conclusion of the Choephori, in which the Furies of the murdered Clytemnestra appear to Orestes the matricide, but are invisible to the others. Macbeth, Act III, Sc. IV. 50 ff.
Macbeth never shake
Thy gory locks at me.
Lady M.
This is the very painting of your fear; This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said, Led you to Duncan.
Macb. If I stand here, I saw him. Choephori, 1046 ff.
Orestes. Oh, see, see!
Are those slave-women? Gorgon like . . . with raiment dusk . . . and mul- titude of branching snakes!
Citizen. What fancies whirl thee . . . ?
Or. There is no fancy in this trouble for me. In very truth these are my mother's enraged pursuers.
Cit. It is because the blood is yet fresh upon thy hands: hence the con- fusion that invades thy brain.
Or. Ye do not see them, but I do.
ORAL SUMNER COAD Columbia University
REVIEWS AND NOTES
LIFE OF GOETHE. P. Hume Brown: With a Prefatory Note by Viscount Haldane. 2 Vols. Holt & Co. 1920.
There has of recent years been something like a little hailstorm of Goethe-biographies. Gundolf in Germany, Croce in Italy, Thomas in America and now Hume Brown in England all have helped to prove the fascination of genius and its ability to make men of various political and ethnical attachments transcend their affiliations and join in a common worship. Among books on Goethe written in the English tongue this latest contribution is sure for a long time to come to hold a commanding position and to help rivet that reverence for the great sage established among us by Carlyle and Matthew Arnold.
The prefatory Note by Viscount Haldane tells us that Pro- fessor Hume Brown — Historiographer Royal for Scotland and Professor of Ancient Scottish History and Palaeography in the University of Edinburgh — for many years cherished the ambition of making the greatness of Goethe, who was his favorite teacher as well as his favorite poet, clear to his compatriots, and that in pursuance of this plan he visited Germany in company with Lord Haldane in each year from 1898 to 1912. The result of these studies was published in part, under the title "The Youth of Goethe," as early as 1913. At the time of the premature death of Professor Hume Brown in 1918 the work was finished in Ms. with the sole exception of a chapter on "Faust II." Using a few notes left by Professor Hume Brown, Lord Haldane himself wrote this chapter con- fident that his familiarity with his friend's ideas justified the attempt to reproduce his thought.
Significantly the book is called "Life of Goethe" and not "Life and Works of Goethe." And indeed 800 pages record the events of this rich career with minute care, tracing Goethe's growth from the early period of crowded inner tumultuousness to that of inner harmony and outward placidity, and from egoism to a cultivation of the social instinct. In consequence of this preponderant concern in Goethe's soul-evolution and a less pronounced interest in his writings as works of art, the passages dealing with Goethe's inner growth (as notably Chapter XVI) and with his relations with commanding person- alities like Schiller (Chapter XXV) or Wilhelm von Humboldt, Fichte and Schelling (Chapter XXVI) are the most satisfactory. Everywhere the author betrays intimate acquaintance with the details of his hero's life. Whether his control of Goethe-liter- ature is equally comprehensive the comments on the "Thea- tralische Sendung," "Benvenuto Cellini," the "Italienische
558
Reviews and Notes 559
Reise" or "Dichtung und Wahrheit" would lead one to doubt. Mistakes, like the one implied in the statement that the "Ital- ienische Reise" reflects opinions no longer held by Goethe at the time of its publication (p. 323) are, however, not frequent. It is equally doubtful whether Professor H. B. is always cognizant of the profound effect of many of Goethe's works — perhaps inferior in themselves — on the entire trend of German letters. So we are not made aware that the "Unterhaltungen" stand as the source from which all later short-story writing flowed nor that the notes on "Benvenuto Cellini" are virtually the beginning in Germany of that "Renaissancism" — that reverence for an age of great artists — which later, formulated by Jakob Burckardt and best expressed by C. F. Meyer, was to play so significant a part in her intellectual life of the last century. In the discussion of the "Wahlverwandtschaften" we miss any hint that this work opens a new chapter in the history of the novel and that, whatever its shortcomings, it is a forerunner of the great stories of Balzac, Flaubert, Bourget and others, in which character is conceived as an organ- ism growing and decaying in response to its own laws.
In accordance with the general trend of this biography to treat Goethe's literary output as the greatest summation of wisdom in literature rather than as a series of poetical creations, the comments on poems like "Der Wanderer" (p. 102), or "Der Paria" (p. 626f.), or on the "Spriiche in Prosa" (p. 657f.),or under "Der ewige Jude" (p. 156ff.), or again on the " Wander jahre" (p. 695fL), or on "Winckelmann und sein Jahrhundert" (p. 515f.) altogether eclipse the treatment of the lyrics in general or the dramas or the other novels. Few readers might agree with the author's summary condemnation of the scene "Wald und Hohle" in "Faust" (p. 726) or with the char- acterization of the style of "Iphigenie" and "Tasso" as merely "studied pose" (p. 558). When he overstresses the painfulness, and morbidity of "Die Braut von Corinth" (p. 505f) and hardly mentions "Der Gott und die Bajardere" (p. 507) he perhaps allows himself to lapse into that prudery from which he is generally admirably free. For neither Goethe's relations to Frau von Stein (Chapter XV) nor even those with Christiane Vulpius (p. 382ff.) — which have so irked all the Sacred Cows of virtue for this many a year — draw from him any but the sanest comments.
With all its excellence, however, this latest Goethe-biography is not likely to gather a large audience. The specialist, though sensible of the dominant note of thoroughness and solidity, will miss any new or lifted vision. The zeal of the general reader is likely somewhat to abate at the sight of two bulky volumes and upon nearer acquaintance even more at the quantity of detail dealing with Goethe's minor works.
560 Mead
But if the book will not be largely read by the general — as the sprightlier but far less sound and important biography by Lewes is to this day — a large number of its paragraphs will be studied and pondered by those capable of recognizing in it the most dignified monument so far erected to Goethe in the English speaking world and especially by those capable of appreciating it as an admirable vehicle for a realization of the great German's importance as the safest guide and friend for our distraught generation.
CAMILLO VON KLENZE College of the City of New York
A HISTORY OF MODERN COLLOQUIAL ENGLISH, by Henry Cecil Wyld. New York, E. P. Button & Co., 1920. Pp. xvi+398.
This is a remarkably illuminating and important book, and to readers who have not closely followed the trend of English linguistic study during the past decade or two the con- clusions it presents will prove startling. At every turn the reader gets new assurance that this is no mere rewarming of the older discussions of the subject, but a fresh statement based upon a rich collection of data hitherto largely neglected.
The book is divided almost exactly into two halves, the first half containing an introduction, followed by a discussion of dialect types in Middle English and their survival in the modern period, and an examination of English from the fifteenth to the close of the eighteenth century. The greater part of the second half is devoted to a close study of the history of pronunciation in the modern period — the vowels of accentuated syllables, and the vowels of unstressed syllables; to changes in con- sonantal sounds; and to notes on inflections. The concluding chapter gives a very engaging account of the development of Colloquial Idiom.
Professor Wyld clearly recognizes, as every student of evolu- tion must, .that from the nature of the case language does not change overnight, and that while one group of speakers are moving in one direction another group are lagging behind or moving in another direction. And hence at the outset he warns against the tendency, too strong even among professional in- vestigators, to mark off sharply defined periods indicating when the language as a whole entered upon new eras of develop- ment.
That the history of English pronunciation is one of extreme difficulty is obvious from the fact that only in our own time has there been even an approximately successful attempt to interpret the often baffling data. Before the researches of Child,
Reviews and Notes 561
Ellis, and Sweet, practically nothing had been done with the important question as to how English was pronounced in the time of Chaucer and of Shakespeare, and only an occasional comment was made on the obvious differences between Alexan- der Pope's pronunciations and our own as indicated by his rimes. Then came the monumental work of Ellis and that of Henry Sweet, relying largely upon the old orthoepists, and to a less degree upon rimes in seventeenth and eighteenth cen- tury verse. The old orthoepists and grammarians, although obviously destitute in most cases of a rudimentary under- standing of phonetics, were treated by Ellis and Sweet with great respect and their decisions carefully registered and com- pared. Where their statements were blind or confused much ingenuity was employed in making their meaning intelligible and, if possible, consistent. But in a very important passage Professor Wyld points out the change in the attitude of more recent scholars.
"In former days, when those great figures of English Philology Ellis and Sweet were in their prime, these men, and others who followed limpingly in their footsteps, believed it to be possible to construct, almost entirely from the accounts given by the Orthoepists, a fairly exact chronological table of vowel changes, and to say with confidence, such and such was the shade of sound in the sixteenth century, this or that other shade in the seventeenth, yet another in the eighteenth, and so on. As I have already indicated above, I cannot find any such sure foundation in the statements of the old writers upon which Ellis and Sweet relied, and when I compare these statements with the testimony of the other kinds of evidence, I become more than ever distrustful of the results which were formerly accepted so confidently, less inclined to be dogmatic as to the chronology of vowel changes. For one thing, quite recently many scholars have been led to put back the beginnings of the modern vowel system, anything from one to two hundred year's earlier than the date to which Ellis and Sweet assigned the rise of this. If this is justified, then it follows, since the formerly- received chronology was almost entirely based upon the testi- mony of the old grammarians, that these have misled us, and that much of the system of minute chronology derived from them crumbles," p. 190.
Any one who has spent sleepless nights — as the present reviewer must confess to have done — in trying to extract con- sistent statements from the old orthoepists will read Professor Wyld's declaration of independence with a sigh of relief.
One or two other passages of similar tenor may be cited.
"For the present writer it is a question open to discussion, though many will think this an impiety, whether this new source of information has not been rather a curse than a blessing to
562 Mead
English Philology, and whether we have not been bamboozled for the last thirty or forty years by these early writers on Eng- lish pronunciation, into all sorts of wrong ideas," p. 99.
And in another place where he takes up the seventeenth century "authorities" he comments:
"The great difficulty with all these writers, supposing that some definite conception can be gathered from their statements, is to decide how far their accounts are reliable .... The safest test to apply is that of the evidence derived from the Verneys, Mrs. Basire, and the Wentworths. Pronunciations which recur in these sources, but which are nevertheless charac- terized as vulgar, careless, or barbarous, by the grammarians, may safely be accepted as belonging to the Received Standard of the day," p. 168.
This safer evidence brings us to the most distinctive feature of Professor Wyld's book, the critical study of old spellings. Probably every thoughtful modern reader of old books has stumbled upon spellings clearly indicating a pronunciation different from that of his time and has jotted them down with- out venturing to make a systematic collection. In Diehl's Englische Schreibung und Aussprache and in Zachrisson's notable examination of the English vowels in Englische Studien, lii, 299 ff., considerable use is made of this source of information.
But Professor Wyld, in the wide range of his investigation and in the critical skill with which he sifts his material, easily distances his predecessors. He lays emphasis upon the fact that the spoken language is the real speech and that carefully written documents and literature printed in conventional spelling furnish comparatively slight evidence as to the actual contemporary pronunciation. This evidence, on the other hand, he finds abundantly in familiar letters, in diaries, and in memo- randa obviously intended for the eye of the writer only. Before the printers and lexicographers imposed their standards, average men and women wrote as they best could, producing strange combinations to represent phonetically the sounds they intended. We might almost say, the worse their spelling, the better, for the less conventional it is, provided only it is phonetic, the more illuminating it is. Obviously, the spellings of no single writer can be cited as conclusive evidence for any pronunciation. He or she may be exceptionally provincial, but one bit of evidence confirms or corrects another, and the con- current proof that independent writers of a recognized social class pronounced in a certain fashion becomes at length entirely convincing. The very fact that the writers are not trained phoneticians and that they are caught off their guard gives us confidence that we may trust their unintentional testimony.
Fortunately, too, the old orthoepists themselves often con- firm our conclusions. "We might disbelieve, or hesitate as to
Reviews and Notes 563
the interpretation of any one authority, if unsupported by other evidence, but when all tell the same tale, when we find Pope rhyming neglects with sex, the Verney ladies and Lady Went- worth writing respeck, prospeck, strick, and so on, and the writers on pronunciation before, after, and contemporary with these personages deliberately stating that final / is omitted in a long list of words which includes the above, then we must admit that if all this is not conclusive evidence on the point, it will be impossible ever to get any reliable information regarding the modes of speech of past ages.
But the case for taking these various indications seriously becomes stronger when we discover that the existence of many of these, to us, peculiar pronunciations is established by occa- sional spellings reaching far back to the fifteenth century, and beyond that into the M. E. period itself," pp. 283, 284.
The significance of the conclusions deduced from these spellings the author had already outlined on pp. 70-71: "The net result of an examination of English speech as a whole during the fifteenth century leads us to the conclusion that before the close of that century, not to attempt more particular definition, the Modern Period of our language had begun."
Throughout the book the argument is cumulative and on the whole far stronger than if it rested upon the dictum of a professed orthoepist or two who might mistake his preferences for the best usage of his time. Needless to remark, the investi- gation is often complicated rather than helped by the old orthoe- pists. But through all the maze the author never loses the thread and he combines all the evidence in a plausible, if not in every case demonstrable, conclusion. An excellent example of his ingenious and cautious reasoning appears in the account of the chronology of vowel changes, pp. 191-194, and in the detailed discussion that follows, up to the concluding chapter on Colloquial Idiom.
To readers who have given little attention to the history of English pronunciation the book will bring many interesting surprises. A single instance must suffice:
"At the present time in the Received Standard as spoken in the South and Midlands, and in the Regional dialects of these areas, no distinction is made between whine and wine, between which and witch, white and Wight, etc. The only excep- tions are those speakers who have been subjected to Scotch or Irish influence, or who have deliberately chosen to depart from the normal practice for their own private satisfaction," p. 311.
Well-bred American speakers may vainly resent the un- doubted facts presented in the foregoing passage, but in any case they will not be likely to follow the example of their English cousins. American and Colonial English lies outside the author's field, and he wisely refrains from complicating his
564 Mead
survey by attempting an interminable task. But no historian of American speech can venture to neglect this notable examina- tion of everyday English, in which more than one so-called Americanism is found to have most respectable English ancestry.
As for the book as a whole, it is too much to expect that Professor Wyld's solutions of thorny problems will in every case win universal assent, though it is not too much to say that he approaches no disputed question without a critical sifting of all available data. In no case does he attempt to slur the difficul- ties in the way of attaining certainty in these matters, and in the spirit of modest scholarship he frankly presents various prob- lems for which he has as yet no satisfactory solution. The study of the history of English as a living, spoken language is indeed so modern that a multitude of questions still remain untouched.
"Among the general problems still to be solved may be mentioned: — the precise extent and character of both Regional and Class dialect influence upon Received Standard during the seventeenth and eighteenth centures; the divorce of prose style from the colloquial language of the day which may appear in any language from time to time, and which research might possibly show occurred among the latest Elizabethans and their immediate successors, and again towards the end of the eight- eenth century; the precise linguistic results, if any, of the Civil Wars upon our language, whether in conducing to laxity of pronunciation and grammar, or in modifying the diction of conversation or of literature; the beginnings of the reaction in favour of the 'regular and solemn' style of pronunciation and grammar, and the progress of this movement in colloquial and literary English down, roughly, to the Early Victorian period; the rise of bogus pronunciations, based purely on the spelling, among persons who were ignorant of the best tradi- tional usage; the gradual process by which many of these ob- tained currency among the better classes The whole
question of unstressed vowels is a virgin field for the young investigator. ... It would be an interesting inquiry how far the falling off in the quality of prose style among the general- ity of writers after the third quarter of the eighteenth century is related to social developments," pp. 187, 188. "The whole question of Modern lengthenings and shortenings requires special investigation, which at present is lacking," p. 257.
This list might easily be extended, but here is surely enough to satisfy a reasonable appetite for years to come.
In this ingenious and stimulating book we have found much to admire and little to blame. The workmanship is careful throughout. Misprints are very rare. Furnivall appears cor- rectly on p. xii, on pp. 86, 89, Furnival, In a few pages a letter is blurred or obliterated, but for this the author can hardly be censured.
Reviews and Notes 565
But to most readers the lack of an index will seem very regrettable. In searching for some particular word one may now spend an hour without finding it. Doubtless an index was considered and ultimately rejected, partly because of the enormous labor it would cost and partly because of the inevit- able added expense. But the very fact that the labor would be great is a convincing reason why an index should be added without undue delay. No reader can hold in mind all the scattered facts, and they are too important to be allowed to suffer neglect.
Whatever the judgment on these and some other details this is assuredly a book that no student of English speech can safely neglect. And even the general reader, notwithstanding the technical character of many of the discussions, may derive great pleasure and profit from a multitude of passages. The style is never dry and the author is no pedant. Even a novice may be allured into the study of old-fashioned English after reading a passage like the following: "Do we realize that if we could, by the workings of some Time Machine, be suddenly transported back into the seventeenth century, most of us would find it extremely difficult to carry on, even among the kind of people most nearly corresponding with those with whom we are habitually associated in our present age, the simplest kind of decent social intercourse? Even if the pronunciation of the sixteenth century offered no difficulty, almost every other element which goes to make up the medium of communication with our fellows would do so.
We should not know how to greet or take leave of those we met, how to express our thanks in an acceptable manner, how to ask a favour, pay a compliment, or send a polite message to a gentleman's wife. We Should be at a loss how to begin and end the simplest note, whether to an intimate friend, a near relative, or to a stranger. We could not scold a footman, com- mend a child, express in appropriate terms admiration for a woman's beauty, or aversion to the opposite quality. We should hesitate every moment how to address the person we were talking to, and should be embarrassed for the equivalent of such instinctive phrases as — look here, old man; my dear chap; my dear Sir; excuse me; I beg your pardon; I'm awfully sorry; Oh, not at .all; that's too bad; that's most amusing; you see; don't you know; and a hundred other trivial and meaningless expressions with which most men fill out their sentences," p. 360. And there are scores of other passages hardly less enliven- ing.
Readers unaccustomed to phonetic discussion will do well to begin with the chapter on Colloquial Idiom, of which the foregoing passage is a part, and then take up the chapter on the English of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries,
566 Larsen
along with the introductory chapter. The impetus thus gained will be likely to carry them through the book.
When may we hope to have a treatment of Colloquial Ameri- can English equally authoritative and delightful?
WILLIAM E. MEAD
Wesleyan University
Gudmund Schiitte: OFFERPLADSER I OVERLEV BRING OG STEDMINDER. Studier fra Sprog og Oldtidsforskning no. 112. V. Pios Boghandel, Kjobenhavn, 1918.
The object of the author has been, through a comparative study of historical, archeological, and legendary sources, and of place names, to localize the sacrificial places of pagan Denmark and to suggest further problems for a systematic . investigation of the centers of early worship thus established, w
After a brief review of the earlier work in the same field, Mr. Schiitte passes to a survey of Classical evidence concerning the large general sacrifices (mas seof ringer) in Central Europe. This section is little more than a summary of Worsaae: Al- mindelige Bemaerkninger om Betydningen av vore store Mosefund fra den aeldre Jernalder. Vidensk. Selsk. Forhandlinger 1867, p. 242 ff., referred to by the author. Mr. Schiitte finds no references to Scandinavian customs, but cites such accounts of Gallic and Germanic rites as may throw light on the sit- uation in Denmark.
The author next approaches the sacrifice of special works of art, either singly or in pairs. He cites the report of Strabo that the Cimbri, terrified by the landing of the Roman fleet in Jutland, A. D. 5, sent to Augustus their most sacred sacri- ficial bowl. This he considers a sacrifice to appease the angry gods. The emperor, a god even to the Romans, certainly would appear as such to the Cimbri. As a parallel he suggests the silver bowl of Gundestrup bog.1
The instances hardly seem parallel. The first is an offering to buy off an hostile attack; the second is the deposit in a bog of the sacrificial object broken in such a way as to be of no further use. The custom of destroying sacrificial objects thus deposited is familiar; its significance is unknown. At all events the two cases, granted that they are parallel, would hardly justify Mr. Schiitte's establishment of a localized sacrificial type, "det kimbriske kedeloffer" (i. e., the Cimbric Bowl offering) .
In the same group, he places the "sun-chariot" of Trund- holm Bog, the two Dejberg Waggons, the Langaa Waggon, and the two gold horns of Gallehus. In the first and last case
tophus Miiller: Vor Oldtid, p. 572.
Reviews and Notes t 567
the author's conclusion seems correct; in the second and third, however, he has failed to refute S. Miiller's theory that the deposits have been made in connection with ordinary human burial.
In the next two sections the author discusses the large sacrificial deposits in the North from the period of the mi- grations. Historical references to the custom are all from the end of the pagan period, — Thietmar of Merseburg, Adam of Bremen, Ibn Fozlan; but archeology suggests an earlier origin. The author's most significant point in this section is his argument for the existence of common rites and rituals in Sealand, Jutland, Sweden, Norway, and Russia. The chief basis for the claim is the constantly recurring initial H in the names of objects and places of sacrifice. A comparison with the Celtic prevalence of initial C leads to the suggestion of borrowing from that source through Cimbric mediation. At times the point is stretched too far. F. ex. it is hard to accept an interpretation that finds in the legend of Eormenic's vengeance on Randver a veiled account of the sacrifice of the son together with his hawk and hound. Nevertheless the significance of the sacred H has been fairly certainly estab- lished.
That the large bog-deposits are of sacrificial origin has been suggested by several archeologists. Mr. Schiitte's analysis strengthens this interpretation. An interesting bit of evidence is added if the interpretation of Helgekvipa Hjqrvarps sonar str. 8 is correct:
"Swords I know lying in Sigarsholm, fewer by four than five times ten."2
Mr. Schiitte considers Sigar Odin in disguise and the passage evidence of a sacrificial deposit in honor of Odin. His further substantiation of the interpretation through the Sikling legends of Hagbart and Signe, whose death he considers an Odin sacrifice, is untenable.
In the sixth section, on folk tales of treasures deposited in lakes or bogs and their origin in pagan rites, the argument is harder to follow. The material is elusive and the author makes it prove too much.
Sections seven to eleven list the evidence of names for the localization of sacrificial places. A mass of interesting material is submitted, but the discussion is hard to follow because the author fails to state the period from which a given name is first known. Names like Soljerg or Hokebjerg f. ex. are of no value unless they are of early origin. However, the author's demonstration that names of possible sacred origin usually occur in groups strengthens his argument, — one name might
* Trans, quoted from B. Thorpe.
568 Goebel
be a chance occurrence, but four or five hardly. In his analysis of the Herred names, he again proves too much. The conscious arrangement of Herred names with the "sacred initial H" according to a formula HXXHXHHXHXX is impossible.8 The list of names4 seems to have been handled arbitrarily — some even to have been omitted.
In conclusion, though many of the separate cententions of the author cannot be accepted, the general mass of evidence is of value. The varied material from history, legend, and place names, all points in one direction; and Mr. Schutte's demand that the results be considered in the undertaking of further archeological investigations is more than justified.
HENNING LARSEN
Iowa City, Iowa
MARGARET FULLER. A psychological biography by Katharine Anthony. New York, Harcourt, Brace and Howe 1920. Pp. V, 213.
The purpose and method pursued in this welcome new biography of one of the most exceptional as well as often misrepresented American women is best described by the author in her preface to the book: "My purpose," she says, "has been to apply a new method to old matter. I have not tried to unearth fresh material or discovered unpublished evidence. The sources from which the facts are drawn are well-known volumes given in the bibliography at the end. But the following pages are less concerned with a chronology of facts than with the phases of a complex personality and a manifold life. It is an attempt to analyze the emotional values of an individual existence, the motivation of a career, the social transformation of a woman's energies. . . In short, Margaret was a modern woman who died in 1850. The legend she left cannot be truth. It was created mainly by unemancipated men; Chivalry and Puritanism combined to distort the picture. For this reason, her life demands a vindication from certain quarters which too long have failed her. Feminisme oblige. Her story needed to be told by someone who could sympathize with her struggles and affirm her ideals. Therefore, while striving for realism and impartiality, the following study does not pretend to avoid the warmth of the advocate."
That Miss Anthony tried to arrive at the realities of Margaret Fuller's personality and career chiefly by the means of modern psychological analysis assures her work from the
3Cf. Steenstrup: Damn. Riges Hist. I, 453 for origin and naming of the Herred.
4 Evidently taken from Kong Waldemars Jordebog, though the author fails to state this.
Reviews and Notes 569
very start the grateful attention of every progressive literary critic. While the disciples of Freud and Jung in Germany, Austria and Switzerland have for the last decade successfully employed the methods of the new psychology to the study of mysterious characters and phenomena in literature, history and mythology, traditional literary criticism in this country, chiefly academic, has deliberately shut out the new tight and has adhered faithfully to the fossilized procedures which characterize the textbooks in usum delphini in high school- and college classes. Hence the legend surrounding Margaret Fuller, the origin and growth of which Miss Anthony describes as follows: ''She wanted elbow-room and scope, — claiming her emotional rights with the same conviction as her economic and political rights. In acting upon her beliefs, she did not escape the fatal 'breath of scandal' and the consequent loss of a one hundred per cent respectability. This made her apologists uneasy and therefore prone to forget her. But as long as the generation of women who had known and loved her survived, she did not lack for sympathetic advocates with posterity. At last came a time, however, when the published reminiscences of her Transcendental friends formed the only portrait which remained. The personality which emerged from their memoirs is the contradictory and pretentious caricature which survives under the name of Margaret Fuller.
"The truth is that the men who made the book about Margaret gave a better portrait of themselves in that volume than they did of its subject. For instance, they created a legend about her having a neck like a serpent, which she 'would wind about and make as serpentine as possible.' Several of them dwelt upon this serpentine association with great enthusiasm, and seemed to think it quite an original inspiration. Woman — wisdom — serpent: — it is a combination to which the long road of man's memory seems easily to lead. Horace Walpole could find no more satisfactory insult for Mary Wollstonecraft than to call her 'a philosophizing serpent.' The conscious memory of the Puritan is short, but his unconscious memory endureth forever."
It is little known that many passages in Margaret Fuller's letters, which are deposited in the Boston Public Library, were obliterated or blotted out with ink either by their recipients or some later fraudulent hand. There is no doubt in the review- er's mind that, were it possible to decipher these passages, the reasons why the legend had to be thrown about the apostate of Puritanisni would become still clearer, and Miss Anthony could adduce yet stronger proofs for the conflict between powerful human passions and violent Puritan inhibitions which constitutes the tragic struggle of Margaret Fuller's life. That she did not succumb in this struggle but ultimately
570 Goebel
gained her liberation was due entirely to the paramount influence of Goethe, as Miss Anthony points out, summing up her convincing analysis of Margaret's inner development by saying: "In Margaret the force of Puritan tradition was fast wearing away; she had hovered for long between Goethe and Emerson and Goethe had in the end prevailed."
The biographer thus verifies the results of Dr. F. A. Braun's notable study Margaret Fuller and Goethe (New York, Henry Holt and Co., 1910), published more than a decade ago and reviewed in the JOURNAL at the time. Unfortunately the author of this study which blazed the way to a deeper compre- hension of our intellectual pioneer, has not lived 'to enjoy the complete vindication of his views which the faithful guardians of the Puritan Fuller myth, such as Braun's unin- formed critic in the New York Nation, at the time sought to quibble away by casuistic quotation and shallow profundity.
Although Miss Anthony does not claim originality for her undertaking as far as the discovery of new sources or unpub- lished evidence are concerned, her work abounds in flashes of thought which make familiar characters and events appear in a new light. Speaking of Margaret Fuller as one of the best impromptu talkers in an era of great talkers she remarks: "Coleridge and Carlyle were Titans with the tongue and, in America, Alcott, Channing and Emerson were the leaders of a talker's guild which centered around Concord."
In view of the absence of enduring effects upon American literature of the Transcendental movement what could better characterize its champions than this acknowledgement of their extraordinary capability for the rhetorical.
Again in her brief and lucid discussion of Transcendental- ism and Margaret Fuller's limited share in it1 the author makes the highly suggestive observation that instead of a transient and isolated phenomenon of New England life, as commonly presented, the Transcendental movement was in reality a part of the spiritual revolution then sweeping over Europe. How much paper, ink and foolish theorizing could have been spared by doctor's candidates and others, eager to solve the Trans- cendental mystery had they been able to take this historical point of view. In the absence of a comprehensive historical study of the revolutionary movement in question it is to be regretted that the author has not delineated more in detail the general background upon which Margaret Fuller's manifold public activities rise. Her participation, though half-hearted, in the communistic Brook Farm experiment, her association
1 Here, too, Miss Anthony corroborates Dr. Braun who, much to the dis- comfort of the Puritan myth-worshippers, established the fact that Margaret Fuller was too deeply imbued with the spirit of Gothean realism and freedom to share the Utopian views of the transcendental coterie.
Reviews and Notes 571
as a militant journalist with Greeley, the pioneer of socialism, her advocacy of the woman movement, her admiration for Goethe and for things German, and, finally, her connection with Mazzini and the Italian revolution, all issues which were as unpopular in America then as their present-day con- tinuations, with the exception of the woman movement, are now, place her in the forerank of the champions of human progress and fully justify the biographer's successful effort to restore her memory in the annals of American literature and civilization.
JULIUS GOEBEL
RICHARD WAGNER VON MAX KOCH- Dritter Teil,1859- 1883. (Geisteshelden: Dreiundsechzigster bis funfundsech- zigster Band.) Berlin; Ernst Hofmann & Co. 1918. XVI + 774 pages.
"Inter arma silent musae" may explain, to a certain extent, the comparative dearth of Wagner literature in the last seven years. One outstanding achievement is, nevertheless, to be chronicled, the completion of Max Koch's third and last volume of his Wagner biography. The text was, to be sure, in press at the beginning of the war, but Koch was interrupted in his proofreading by the call to arms, and the final revision was not complete until 1917, the work then appearing in 1918, eleven years after the publication of the first volume.
In his review of Koch's first volume (M. L. N. April, 1908), Professor von Klenze prophesied that the completion of this Life "would be likely to make of this work the most com- prehensive Wagner biography that we possess." The finished achievement fully justifies this judgment and we have now in Koch's completed work the Wagner Biography par excellence and one of the few really classic works in the great mass of Wagner literature. To be sure, it can not rival Glasenapp in wealth of material or fullness of detail, nor is it so stimulating and suggestive as Chamberlain's dazzling Life, which on every page rouses the reader to admiration or contradiction. Never- theless, it far surpasses the former in judicious selection of the important as it does the latter in accuracy and reliability, in freedom from bias and Tendenz. The reader might perhaps welcome a still greater departure from the Glasenapp fullness and a nearer approach to the brilliant interpretative writing of Chamberlain. Oscar Wilde somewhere postulates for true artistic composition the utmost possible estrangement from facts. The inclusion of fewer facts concerning the cabals in Munich, Berlin and elsewhere would assuredly have enabled Koch to make certain passages more artistic and inspiring.
572 Pope
In every respect Koch was admirably fitted for undertaking this work. As one of Wagner's first champions he brought to his task an indispensable love for his hero, while his philo- logical and literary-historical training enabled him to maintain the objectivity of view, the independent critical judgment, the ability to use sources scientifically which have, unfortu- nately, been lacking in so many writers in this field. Only in rare cases does Koch show unnecessary regard for the living members of Wagner's family. Such passages, however, in no wise indicate any prejudice on Koch's part in his discussion of Richard Wagner. Even Wagner's opponents are treated objectively and their motives appreciated.
In Koch's Wagner, appearing as it does in the series "Geisteshelden,"it is natural that preference should be given to the significance of Wagner's life and works, his relationship to cultural movements of his time and indebtedness to the great minds of Germany and other lands rather than to a more technical discussion of purely musical questions. In any case, however, Koch, the literary historian, would have adopted this method of approach. He acknowledges, to be sure, in his foreword that his neglect of musical questions had been criticised by reviewers of the first two volumes and states that publisher and author had planned together to have a separate musical section written by a technically trained specialist, a feature which may still appear in a future edition. In the present work numerous references to music-technical treatises are given in the Bibliographical Notes. It is significant that there is no Wagner biography that treats strictly musical questions more at length than does Koch, who concludes from this fact that, as Hans Sachs says: "Wohl muss' es so sein." Certainly Wagner's own wish and conception of his life work demand a general treatment of the dramatist and outstanding figure in modern European culture rather than a more restricted treatment of the technical musician. The interrelationship of inspiration in the arts belongs to a field scarcely cultivated as yet, but in Wagner's case it can already be seen that his musical production and his art form were, to a large extent, due to the inspiration derived from the literary works of all periods and countries. More than any other biographer Koch has shown the influence of German and foreign writers upon Wagner. Conversely Koch emphasizes Wagner's influence, not only upon music but also, chiefly through the Bayreuth festivals, upon German art and culture in general, and upon the drama and theatrical technique in particular.
Since the completion of Koch's first volume, much important source material has been rendered accessible, notably the Auto- biography and the many collections of letters. All this has, of course, been utilized in volume II and III. Koch's attitude
Reviews and Notes 573
toward Mein Leben is that of critical coolness. By no means are all statements of Mein Leben accepted at their face value, especially where the statements of the Autobiography disagree with Wagner's letters. The whole treatment of the Wesen- donk episode is, according to Koch, far from agreeing with Wagner's assurance of "unadorned veracity" as given in the preface to Mein Leben.
Even Koch was unable to command the immense material at his disposal and each succeeding volume of his "Wagner" surpassed the former in size until in Vol. Ill we have 609 pages of text as compared with the 392 of Vol. I, while bibliog- raphy and index carry us to page 774. This disparity will doubtless be adjusted in later editions. One might wish that the long discussions of Wagner's conflicts with his adver- saries, for example, the account of the vexatious and sordid relations in Munich, might have been abbreviated. Koch has included such discussions "in order that the conscience of the present might be aroused to a greater appreciation of hard earned cultural gains." Certainly the inclusion of so much such matter has made Koch's Vol. Ill less fascinating reading than Vols. I and II in spite of the great achievements chronicled. On the other hand, Koch has shown commend- able restraint in his discussion of Wagner's aesthetic and philosophical writings, judging wisely that for posterity the art works themselves are of greater amd more lasting worth than the labored and sometimes prolix theoretical disquisitions written to explain and defend them.
Vol. Ill carries us in Books V and VI from Wagner's residence in Paris (1859-1861) and the unfortunate Tann- hauser fiasco to the final achievement at Bayreuth and Wagner's death. Comparable with the role played by Liszt and Weimar in Vol. II is that given to Billow and Munich in this final volume. Less space is devoted to Wagner's development — he had attained the zenith of his powers in Vol. II — than to the less edifying struggle against court cliques, theatrical cabals or calculated neglect. Such passages are doubtless necessary, but often somewhat tiresome. Whenever Koch is in his own familiar literary-historical field, as in the discussion of the genesis and working out of the Meistersinger or Parsifal, the reader's interest quickens immediately. New and illumi- nating is Koch's rehabilitation of King Ludwig as a true patriot whose vision and statesmanlike wisdom were of no avail in the hopeless struggle against the short-sightedness and narrow-mindedness of the Bavarian court. In the end Munich's rejection of Wagner and the Nibelungen-Theater proved to be an immense financial as well as artistic loss to the Bavarian capital.
The concluding pages of the really valuable work would have been more edifying if the disagreeable but momentary episode
574 HUlebrand
of the "Gralsraub," i. e. the refusal of Germany to reserve the Parsifal rights for Bayreuth, had been less emphasized. Moreover, Koch's work, objective as it is in its treatment of Wagner himself, would have been even more classic if all per- sonal polemics had been banished, still less space devoted to the House Wahnfried, and all slurring remarks omitted that have no bearing on Wagner himself. For example, on page 148 the harsh criticism of Gerhard Hauptmann is quite gratuitous, as are the slighting remarks about America, page 523 and elsewhere. In the first enthusiasm of the war and the pardon- able pride of the professor in uniform, it was perhaps natural that Koch should sign himself "Major d. L. und Kommandeur des I. Bataillons etc.," and should "feel the spirit of Wagner hovering over the German banners." But it was the Breslau professor and philologist and not the soldier who wrote the Life of Wagner. The completion of the text before the outbreak of the war fortunately prevented the introduction of other patriotic but irrelevant matter. In general the practice of discussing an earlier master's probable reaction to political events occurring decades after his death is an interesting and comforting but wholly unscientific procedure.
We must blame the times, which were out of joint at the publication of Vol. Ill, rather than printer or publisher for the wretched paper of the book and the many blurred pages which disfigure the Bibliographical Notes and the Index to the three volumes. The notes in themselves are most valuable and comprehensive, the index convenient and fairly complete. Typographical errors are surprisingly few. In a future re- vision, Koch will doubtless remodel the few carelessly written sentences which escaped him in this first edition.
To conclude: No Wagner student can afford to be without this classic biography and all those interested in Wagner and his art, whether as scholars or laymen, must feel a deep debt of gratitude to Professor Koch, who may well be congratulated upon the successful completion of what was evidently for him a labor of love.
PAUL R. POPE
Cornell University
THE STONYHURST PAGEANTS. Edited with Intro- duction by Carleton Brown. Hesperia, Erganzungsreihe, Vol. VII. G6ttingen,1920.
The Stonyhurst pageants may lay claim to preeminence in three ways, as being the latest and longest and dullest of Old Testament play cycles. They are preserved in a single fragmentary manuscript at Stonyhurst College in Northern Lancashire. Nothing is known of their history, not even how
Reviews and Notes 575
or when they came into the possession of the College. The sole published reference anterior to the present edition was a brief mention by Joseph Stevenson in 1872 in his account of the Stonyhurst MSS. Professor Brown, therefore, has made available to the curious scholar a group of religious plays of whose very existence that scholar was probably ignorant.
Although the external evidence regarding date and author- ship of these plays is lacking, Professor Brown has by skillful induction found out a good deal about them. The manuscript is written seemingly in the hand of the author, who copied from an earlier draft; this would account both for scribal errors and for numerous interlinear emendations, in the same hand with the rest of the text, which could only have been made by the author. Although nothing can be learned as to his precise identity, enough evidence lies in the plays to give him an approximate location. The language has many northern and especially Lancashire forms, and this taken in connection with the present home of the manuscript points to a Lancashire source. On philological grounds the editor fixes the forward date of composition as "no later than 1625." His evidence con- sists here entirely in the use of the possessive form it, and in the absence of its, which according to the New English Dictionary appeared between the death of Shakespeare and the publication of the first Folio. Slight as this proof may be, it is not likely to cause much dispute. The upward date is more clearly established by Professor Brown's discovery that the author had made use of the Douay version of the Bible, published in 1609-10. The comparison of passages leaves in my opinion no doubt upon the matter. Whether the plays were written at home or at the English College at Douay by a Lancashire man, whether by a priest or by a layman, are questions too hard to answer. Professor Brown, influenced by an air of scholarly breeding and particularly by a large acquaintance with Plautus, believes that the author had clerical training. There is no evidence, however, that the plays were written as part of any Jesuit plan of propaganda. They seem to be just what their medieval forebears were — devout dramatizations of Old Testament stories for the edification of man.
The manuscript is in mutilated condition, large portions being gone from the beginning and end, as well as a section from the middle containing the thirteenth pageant; yet even at that its 8,740 lines far exceed any other English cycle of Old Testament plays. This remnant comprises the latter half of Jacob (No. 6), Joseph (7), Moses (8), Joshua (9), Gideon (10), Jephtha (11), Samson (12), Saul (14), David (15), Solo- mon (16), Elias (17), Namaan (18). The thirteenth pageant was probably Ruth. Professor Brown conjectures for the first five the Creation, the Temptation and Fall, Cain and Abel,
576 Hillebrand
Noah, and Abraham. How many have been lost at the end there is no telling. The handling of end-links makes it likely that the plays are divided into at least three groups, the first comprising 1-7, the second 8-12, and the third 13-18, and this might mean that each group was intended to be played on a single day. The huge size of the whole cycle would make such a division necessary.
The unknown disciple of Douay who composed these plays was an author by zeal rather than by inspiration. As a poet, to paraphrase a popular jest, he may have been a good priest. He knew Plautus well and used him, and no doubt he knew something of the older miracle cycles; Professor Brown has even caught doubtful echoes of Henry V and Othello. But he was not of the literary world. He was singu- larly out of date in 1620. He employed the ambling four- teen-foot line that was moribund in 1590. His technique would have been naive in the early fifteenth century. He tells his stories in a series of brief scenes without stage directions or breaks in the text, the close of each scene being marked by an "exit-speech" to show that the stage is cleared. Time does not exist for him. His "plays" would be more accurately described as biblical conversations, so devoid are they, for the most part, of structural sense, passion, humor, and all the arts of playwriting. His feeling for character is elementary, his people are wooden and his situations are rigid. The humor of the Second Shepherds' Play and the dramatic imagination of the Abraham and Isaac are far from him. His one virtue is fidelity to the Bible, which leads him into interminable wastes of narrative. Had he lived three hundred years earlier the influence he might have had in shaping the youthful drama would lend interest to his dullest pages. As it is, his plays, with one exception, possess no stimulants to curiosity that might stifle the reader's yawn. That exception is the frag- mentary 18th pageant of Namaan. Here, for some reason not quite clear unless that the writer was driven back upon his own invention more than with the other stories, appear un- expected qualities of imagination and humor. Here the re- fining influence of Plautus is most apparent. Rude as it is, this piece, in comparison with the others, is more nearly a play, and bears witness that the dramatist was beginning to learn a few things about his craft.
I have said enough, I think, to show that these plays are no great addition to English drama. Their editor, in fact, makes no claims of that kind for them. They have a certain interest, as does any anachronistic survival, but their actual importance is very small. They will occupy hereafter but a brief paragraph in literary history. Professor Brown did well to publish them; at least I cannot see that he did ill. But I am
Reviews and Notes 577
informed by a footnote that a young lady of Bryn Mawr has made a study of the influence of Plautus on the Stonyhurst pageants. That impresses me as very nearly zero in graduate theses.
HAROLD N. HILLEBRAND University of Illinois
VON LUTHER BIS LESS ING. Aufsaetze und Vortraege
zur Geschichte unserer Schriftsprache von Friedrich Kluge.
Fuenfte durchgesehene Auflage. 1918, Verlag von Quelle
& Meyer, Leipzig.
In these highly instructive and interestingly written essays, twelve now in number, the distinguished Germanist of Frei- burg University sketches the history of modern German, giving us vivid pictures of the painful struggles the vernacular had to pass through before it could free itself from the oppres- sive fetters of Latin domination and secure for itself the possibilities of national growth and gradually develop from a bewildering variety of dialects, presenting claims to individual recognition, to that unity and perfection of literary speech which reached its culminating point in the German of Goethe and Schiller. Why this modern literary German is pre- eminently a middle German dialect, we learn from essay No. 3. How it came that the Oberdeutsch of Switzerland did not pre- vail or the Low German of Northern Germany, the author tries to make clear in essays 5, 6 and 7. How the national purity of the vernacular was in a fair way to be utterly vitiated by the Romanizing tendencies of the 17th century, we are told in essay No. 9. What dangers threatened from the attitude of Upper Germany, essay No. 10 emphasizes. The debt modern German owes to Goethe and Schiller is well set forth in the concluding numbers 11 and 12.
In the preface the author craves the indulgence of the reader for the reason "dass die Darstellung nicht uberall die gleiche ist." We can well pardon such a shortcoming, also that the original title of the book has been kept in spite of changes that are not in conformity with it. But the reviewer frankly confesses to a feeling of disappointment that the distinguished author has not seen fit to modify some of his views that seem no longer tenable in view of what modern research has established. On these things I expect to speak somewhat at length in my forthcoming review of the author's ninth edition of his Etymo- logical Dictionary of the German language.
OTTO B. SCHLUTTER
Note: With regard to seiuer in my 'Nachtrage zu den Ahd. Glossen' (July number, page 387, line 12) note that there ought to be a bar over the r. In the editorial note on page 390, last line but one, strike out 'was.'
578 Hillebrand
A STUDY OF THE NEWE METAMORPHOSIS: Written By J. M. Gent, 1600. By John Henry Hobart Lyon, Ph.D , Litt. D. Columbia University press. New York, 1919.
Dr. Lyon's monograph on The New Metamorphosis is in the nature of a scholarly note expanded to the size of a volume. It amounts in fact to hardly more than a description with ex- tracts of a manuscript, and an inquiry into authorship. When one has got through its two hundred odd pages one had learned that the bulky poem contained in Additional MSS 14,824, 14,825 and 14,826 was undoubtedly written by Jervase Markham for his amusement and that it contains a quantity of matter inter- esting to the student of Elizabethian manners without anything of great importance to literature. The reader then perhaps wonders whether these points could not have been made in an article of fifty pages, and whether they are worth a whole book. He may think as I do, that if the poem is not worth printing in toto it would better have been left to its former obscurity. The scholar is always happy when works buried in manuscript are made accessible in print. But although the sixty pages of extracts with which Dr. Lyon's treatise closes do give one a taste of the poem, they are of little value for scholarly reference — they leave the poem nearly as remote from use as it was before. Therefore I am in doubt as to the wisdom of pub- lishing a book which does so little in proportion to its size.
These reservations made, praise is easily accorded to the exact and businesslike methods which govern the exposition. The book falls into three sections, one describing the manu- script and the poem in great detail, one discussing in equal detail the chances of authorship, and one presenting a combing of passages. The New Metamorphosis, a huge poem of deca- syllabic couplets in twelve books extending through three manuscript volumes, was acquired by the British Museum in 1844, since when it has rested in neglect except for scattering references and a brief description by Miss Lucy Toulmin- Smith in the Shakespeare Allusion-Book. The title page bears the inscription, "Written by J. M. gent. 1600." Dr. Lyon believes that the date indicates not the completion of the manuscript, but rather the beginning, and that the composi- tion occupied approximately the years between 1600 and 1615. The thing is an unwieldy satire; a gallimaufry of allegory, lecture, reminiscence, invective, description, and narrative, plentifully besprinkled with the author's opinions and experi- ences. Passages relating to Ireland, to Essex, to Cadiz, and particularly to London, give a topical interest which con- stitutes the poem's chief value. The stories with which this pudding is thickly sown will not, so far as I am able to judge, add much glory to literature. Nor is the verse superior
Reviews and Notes 579
to the devastating average of the Elizabethan literary hack. The best that can be said for it is that here and there a strength born of sincerity commands the reader's respect.
Dr. Lyon feels justly confident that he has established the identity of "J. M." with Jervase Markham. The only others who have been guessed, John Marston and John Mason, are easily proved to have no claims upon the poem, whereas Markham agrees in point after point with the author's de- scription of himself. From hence forth the authorship should cease to be an open question.
Because my opinion of The New Metamorphosis is slight, and in order that the reader of this review may have a taste of a more favorable estimate, I shall close with a paragraph from Dr. Lyon's critical summary:
It gives to the student of literature a collection of stories, voluminous in bulk and comprehensive in theme, in which are found homely wisdom, engaging fun, scathing invective, generous admiration, simple devotion, and fervid patriotism. The manuscript, indeed, brings a new luster to the reputation of an interesting and attractive personality. Markham has long been regarded as the author of his day on rural occupations and recreations. He has given the student valuable information concerning the use of horses and the profession of the soldier. But in The Newe Metamorphosis he takes honorable place in another field in which he can justly claim an added appreciation. He may paint his canvas with a coarse brush, boldly splashing and smearing his effects; he may want subtlety and imagination; he may lack tenderness. Still his manly vigor, honest warmth, genuine appeal, and spontaneous flow of vigorous, clear and unstudied narrative give worth to the manuscript. The Newe Metamorpho- sis is of interest because it is the work of Markham; it is of value because of its own merits.
HAROLD N. HILLEBRAND University of Illinois
ENGLISH PHILOLOGY IN ENGLISH UNIVERSITIES. An Inaugural Lecture delivered in the Examination Schools on February 2, 1921, by Henry Cecil Wyld— Merton Professor of English Language and Literature in the University of Oxford. Oxford, Clarendon Press, pp. 46, 1921.
The matters discussed in this lecture are obviously a reflection of the investigations brilliantly illustrated in the author's work on Modern Colloquial English. They present not merely a criticism of the relative unproductiveness of English linguistic investigation but offer a variety of practical suggestions applicable to institutions in America.
The lecturer, who has recently been appointed to the chair held for many years by the well-known Anglo-Saxon scholar, Professor Napier, pays at the outset a just and graceful tribute to his predecessor and then goes on "to consider some aspects" of English philology "as it now exists in English Uni-
580 Mead
versities and to indulge in some aspirations for the future." He calls attention to the "astonishingly small proportion" of the graduates of "the English Schools of the Universities" that "ever are, or ever will be, heard of again in connection with the subject to which they devoted their lives as under- graduates."
He recognizes the great worth of the achievements of Ellis and Morris and Sweet and Skeat, but he dwells upon the general lack of first-hand work in English philology in England and re- marks: "In such circumstances it is useless to expect a large body of teachers of the first quality, for .... these can only be found among those who are themselves investigators .... There is no OE. Grammar of an exhaustive character, by an Englishman, based on a first-hand acquaintance with the princi- pal texts of all the dialects.". . . The English universities "have not apparently inspired their students with the desire or the capacity to make any serious contribution to our knowledge" of Old English "or of the innumerable problems concerning
it There is no complete ME. Grammar in existence
which deals comprehensively with the phonology, inflexions, and syntax of all the dialects. There is not even a fairly complete concise account of phonology and inflexions. . . . There is no exhaustive bibliographical guide by an Englishman to ME. manuscripts, to representative texts and editions, and to the various monographs relating to them. There are two works of this kind, one of considerable size, compiled by Americans, and both published in Germany. . . . When we turn to what has been done in this country for the historical study of English since Chaucer, the outlook at present is even bleaker than that in Middle English."
Notwithstanding the pioneer work of Ellis and Sweet, their investigations, declares Professor Wyld, have been continued almost exclusively by Continental scholars — Horn, Jespersen, Ekwall, Zachrisson. Modesty led him to ignore his own very significant work. He goes on to say: "From this brief survey it will appear that English Universities, for all their Schools of English, have not, on the whole, produced or pro- moted constructive work in English Philology. Sweet and Ellis, the great English philologists of the last age, owed nothing of their knowledge to their own Universities, and indeed received but small recognition from these. Their fame was and is greater abroad than in this country." This depressing summary the lecturer tempers somewhat by complimenting some of the editions by English scholars of works in Old and Middle English, and he especially lauds the great Oxford Dictionary as an achievement that "should act as a continual inspiration to all of us who are labouring, however humbly, in the field of English studies." But he regrets that in general
Reviews and Notes 581
the University Schools of English have cooperated so in- adequately in the work.
In this unsparing expose of the shortcomings of the English Universities in the study of the native tongue, I have preferred to allow Professor Wyld to state the case in his own words. The English are at times refreshingly frank in their self- criticism and permit themselves to utter what, if it came from a stranger, would be hotly resented. From this point the lecture proceeds to offer practical suggestions of work that might be attempted in the universities, and, in particular, at Ox- ford.
Too much of the philological work in the English univer- sities hitherto has been a glorified process of cramming, but, says Wyld, "Is it putting it too high to say that a successful course of instruction is one that is felt to be a perpetual voyage of discovery, in which indeed the teacher is the leader, but in which all share? In such a scheme the dogmatic lecture plays but a very small part after the initial stages, and dependence upon the text-book wellnigh vanishes altogether. . . ."
Thought of in this way, English Philology has indeed "an in- tensely human interest"; "human history, human thought and passion flash and tingle through every fibre of human speech. . . . The student should feel, very early in his studies, that he is not a mere passive onlooker, but is to become an active partici- pant in the game of discovery and inquiry. . . . When once the beginner understands that he too may make discoveries, and that to do so is vastly more interesting than to adopt an attitude of passive receptivity to the lore of the text-book, then he becomes a real student. He comes gradually to grasp the aims and methods of true learning."
An essential part of the equipment for such work is obvi- ously what in Germany and in America is called the seminary library and what Professor Wyld calls a Teaching Library. "In this Class Library or Teaching Library, . . . the experiments, the first tentative efforts at independent work will be made. Under the direction of his teacher the student will begin the work of research — the solution of simple problems, the searching out of facts not too hard of discovery — it matters not whether they have been discovered before or not; the main thing is that the young student should carry out the operation for himself, and should thus put into practice the scientific methods in which he is being trained. ...
These laboratory classes should begin as soon as a candidate enters the English School. . . . The sooner the pupil can escape from leading-strings and from an atmosphere too closely resembling that of his Secondary School, the better use he will make of his time at the University. ... It is futile for a man who has always trusted to others for his information,
582 Mead
whether in text-books or lectures, to say suddenly, 'Go to, I will now carry out some research.' Unless he has learnt how to research. ... he will be incapable of research. He does not know what questions to investigate nor how to set about the business. Some part at least of the necessary training must, I think, be undergone before graduating. Failing thus, the period of actual production must be considerably postponed."
In all this is much that is already familiar to teachers in progressive American universities, but as striking a new note in the routine of English university work the program outlined by Professor Wyld is of the highest significance. He goes on to suggest specific problems, mainly linguistic, not beyond the powers of keen young students, and points out some of the questions already touched upon in the History of Colloquial English.
The entire address arouses high hopes for the future of advanced English Study at Oxford and inclines one to think that at the oldest of the English universities the American student wishing to learn philological method so as to do in- dependent work may most profitably stay.
WILLIAM E. MEAD
Wesleyan University
ERRATA
Instead of 'translations' in last line of third footnote on page 406 read 'Translators,' and insert the words 'of the important' after 'most' in the same line.
The author of "Goethe's Lyric Poems in English Translation prior to 1860" wishes to call attention to the fact that her monograph was completed and, as a doctoral thesis, deposited in the Library of the University of Wisconsin in June 1913, two years before Dr. E. G. Jaeck's book appeared and that owing to the exigencies of the war the printing of her monograph was delayed until 1919, with the result that the bibliography makes reference only to publications available up to June 1913.
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Volume I KING LEAR
CONTENTS
I. Galfredus Monumeten- ©alftcb toon Wonmoutf), @Je= sis, Historia Britonum fcfjtdjte bcr SBrtten
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