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THE  JOURNAL  OF 
ENGLISH  AND  GERMANIC 
PHILOLOGY 


FOUNDED  BY 

GUSTAF  E.  KARSTEN 


MANAGING  EDITOR 
JULIUS  GOEBEL,  UNIVERSITY  or  ILLINOIS 

ASSOCIATE  EDITORS 

H.  S.  V.  JONES  AND  G.  T.  FLOM 
UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 


CO-OPERATING  EDITORS 

HERMANN  COLLITZ,  JOHNS  HOPKINS  UNIVERSITY 
GEORGE  O.  CURME,  NORTHWESTERN  UNIVERSITY 


.  , 

WILLIAM  W.  LAWRENCE,  COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY          /  $  O  G   3  & 
CLARK  S.  NORTHUP  CORNELL  UNIVERSITY 


CLARK  S.  NORTHUP,  CORNELL  UNIVERSITY 


VOLUME  XX 
1921 


PUBLISHED  QUARTERLY  BY  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 
URBANA,  ILLINOIS,  U.  S.  A. 


PD 
i 

T7 


COPYRIGHT,  1921 
BY  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 


Slfr  (Jlnllrjjiutr  $tt*a 

GEORGE  BANTA  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

MENASHA,  WIS. 


* 

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. 


50  Brett 

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. 


60  Brett 

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. 


62  Brett 

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. 


64  Brett 

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. 


66  Brett 

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. 


68  Brett 

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. 


Psychological  Abnormalities  in  August  Strindberg         69 

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. 


70  Brett 

"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. 


Psychological  Abnormalities  in  August  Strindberg         71 

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. 


72  Brett 

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- 


74  Brett 

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. 


76  Brett 

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 


78  Brett 

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. 


80  Brett 

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- 


82  Brett 

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. 


84  Brett 

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. 


86  Brett 

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. 


88  Brett 

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. 


90  Brett 

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. 


92  Brett 

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. 


94  Brett 

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. 


96  Brett 

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. 


98  Brett 

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- 

99 


100  Campbell 

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 


102  Campbell 

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.) 


Reviews  and  Notes  117 

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 

[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 


Reviews  and  Notes  151 

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 


152  Uhlendorf 

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 


154  Uhlendorf 

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 


Reviews  and  Notes  155 

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 


158  Roedder 

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. 


Recent  Research  in  Germanic  Philology  159 

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. 


160  Roedder 

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 


Recent  Research  in  Germanic  Philology  161 

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." 


162  Roedder 

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. 


Recent  Research  in  Germanic  Philology  163 

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. 


164  Roedder 

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. 


Recent  Research  in  Germanic  Philology  165 

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 


166  Roedder 

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. 


Recent  Research  in  Germanic  Philology  167 

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 


168  Roedder 

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. 


Recent  Research  in  Germanic  Philology  169 

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 


170  Roedder 

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. 


Recent  Research  in  Germanic  Philology  171 

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. 


172  Roedder 

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. 


Recent  Research  in  Germanic  Philology  173 

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. 


174  Roedder 

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 


Recent  Research  in  Germanic  Philology  175 

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. 


176  Roedder 

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). 


Recent  Research  in  Germanic  Philology  177 

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 


178  Roedder 

(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. 


192  Knowlton 

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. 


194  Knowlton 

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. 


196  Knowlton 

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. 


198  Knowlton 

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. 


200  Knowlton 

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. 


202  Knowlton 

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. 


244  Wocke 

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. 


Reviews  and  Notes  245 

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 


246  Wocke 

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. 


Reviews  and  Notes  247 

"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) 


248  Wocke 

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, 


250  Wocke 

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 


260  Van  Home 

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. 


Reviews  and  Notes  261 

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. 


Reviews  and  Notes  263 

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 


Reviews  and  Notes  265 

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 


Reviews  and  Notes  267 

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. 

291 


292  SchWte 

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. 


294 


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- 


296 


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, 


298  Schutte 

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. 


302  Schutte 

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. 


306  SchUtte 

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 


308  Schiitte 

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. 


310  Schiltte 

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. 


312  Schutte 

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. 


314  Schiitte 

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. 


316  Schutte 

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. 


The  Editor  of  the  London  Magazine  347 

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. 


348  Zeitlin 

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. 


The  Editor  of  the  London  Magazine  349 

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. 


352  Zeitlin 

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. 


The  Editor  of  the  London  Magazine  353 

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. 


358  Gudde 

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. 


360  Gudde 

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. 


362  Gudde 

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)?" 

399 


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 


Reviews  and  Notes  403 

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. 


404  Price 

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.' 


430  Kaye 

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). 


> 


432  Kaye 

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. 


434  Kaye 

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.' 


438  Kaye 

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]. 


440  Kaye 

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. 


442  Kay; 

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 


444  Kaye 

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, 


446  Kaye 

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. 


448  Kaye 

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.' 


450  Kaye 

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.' 


452  Kaye 

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.' 


The  Writings  of  Bernard  Mandeville  453 

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, 


454  Kaye 

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. 


The  Writings  of  Bernard  Mandeville  455 

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. 


456  Kaye 

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. 


The  Writings  of  Bernard  Mandeville  457 

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.  . 


458  Kaye 

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. 


The  Writings  of  Bernard  Mandeville  459 

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. 


460  Kaye 

(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. 


The  Writings  of  Bernard  Mandeville  461 

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 


462  Kaye 

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. 


The  Writings  of  Bernard  Mandeville  463 

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 


464  Kaye 

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. 


European  Agent  of  the  Journal  of  English  and  Germanic  Philology 

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SHAKSPERE'S  SOURCES 

Published  in  English  and  German 
by  the 


Volume  I 
KING  LEAR 

CONTENTS 

I.  Galfredus     Monumeten-      ©alftcb   toon    Wonmoutf),    @Je= 
sis,  Historia  Britonum  fcfjtdjte  bcr  SBrtten 

II.  Holinshed,  Chronicles  J&oltnSIjeb,  Sfjrontf 

III.  Mirour  for  Magistrates       (Spiegel  bcr  DBrtgfcttcn 

IV.  Spenser,  Faerie  Queene 


V.  The  True  Chronicle  His- 

toria of  King  Leir  Gfjrontfenbrama  t»on  SBnts  fietr 

VI.  Sidney,  Arcadia  <Stbnet)f  2trcobtc 


In  preparation: 

Volume   2:     Sources   of   "Hamlet"    and   "Othello"   by    Max 
Forster,  Professor  at  the  University  of  Leipzig. 

Volume  3:  Sources  of  "Romeo  and  Juliet"  by  Rudolf  Fischer, 
Professor  of  the  University  of  Innsbruck. 

A.  MARCUS  &  E.  WEBER'S  VERLAG 
Bonn 


P.D    The  Journal  of  English  and 
1        Germanic  philology 
J7 

v.20 


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